White Ink on a White Page

Herman studied the badge closely. A beautiful badge and design it was, perhaps the most the government could accomplish these days considering the rate of homelessness and unemployment within the country. He grunted as the bus stopped at the airport and he got off. 

The airport was nothing out of the ordinary two terminals ones for arrivals and one for departures. He'd been here only once before, when he'd first arrived to this accursed state. He pulled out his ticket and checked for the gate he needed to get to and then down at the badge.

'When you get to the airport...we'll talk more than,' the words of the clothed man rang in his head. Herman sighed, was he really doing this? Was he really about to get involved within a world of intelligence gathering? He didn't want to go to Germany, Paris or Hong Kong but it was still better then sleeping rough on the street, or worse ending up in the same industry as his sister had.

"Guess there's no time to piss around," he mumbled to himself before entering into the airport.

The place had changed since the last time he'd came through here. Stores were now inside the airport, the long arm of the market had managed to even reach to the waiting rooms next to the flight gates. MacDonald's and a few others quietly sold overpriced fast-food to middle class families waiting for their holiday flights to arrive. Along with that security had become tighter, much tighter.

Ahead of him the security checkpoints now had metal detectors, a new invention which had come out of Oregon a few years prior and had exploded within popularity with government facilities. He felt his badge, it was metal. 

Better time than any, he thought to himself giving his backpack to the airport security guard who began to search through it before walking through the metal detector.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The metal detector whirred a soft beeping before the man next to it held an arm out in front of him.

"Fire arm," the man said holding out his hand.

"Better time than any," he mumbled to himself again before pulling out the badge and putting it in the guard's hand.

The guard raised an eyebrow before walking over to another guard in the corner of the room. They whispered amongst themselves for a few moments before the other one grabbed the badge walked back over to him and then gave the badge back to Hermans.

Hermans sighed.

"Come with us," the guard said gesturing to a room a few meters away.

Hermans obliged and was soon sitting in a white tiled, steel desked waiting room. It was a room typically where border agents would interrogate illegals aliens for their supposed crimes. Now it hosted him.

A few minutes later--although it felt like an eternity in the lifeless room--another man similar to that of the one on the bus came in. He was blond, clean shaven and had a sense of authority around him. Closely behind was the same man who he'd met on the bus.

"Doing well Hermans," the bus man asked, although something was different, his entire accent had changed. It had gone from a harsh Southern accent to something more reminiscent of a Cockney accent mixed with something from New York. However this felt accent felt more natural, less synthetic, less like a manufactured persona. "Hope so," he said. "We've got plenty to talk about now."

"I'm sure we do," Herman said. "You've essentially trapped me in a holding cell."

"Well no hard feelings eh?" the man from bus asked raising an eye. "Just needed to be sure you wouldn't go running from us, or worse, running your mouth about us."

"You're not from around here are you," Herman asked.

"That's not relevant right now," the blond haired man said.

"Then what is?"

"This," the blond man said revealing a large file and sliding it onto the metal desk and over to Hermans.

Hermans sighed. He'd obviously not done enough reading today, well it made sense, he hadn't been able to read the evening paper because he'd been kicked out of his home, guess this was just retribution.

He flipped over the folder and was greeted with the images of him only a couple days before at graduation. Judging by the angle they would've been in the middle of the crowd, but there was something more bizarre.

"There were no cameras on the day of the graduation."

"Well no visible camera's that is," the bus man said.

He began to flip through the files it detailed much of his life at school and at home, however as he came upon to the middle of the folder the bus man put a hand over it and prevented him from flipping it. He looked up at the bus man who simply gave a grin.

"You can't open that until you accept the offer, that magical offer that we gave you. I presume that we gave you enough time to decide."

Hermans sighed. He hadn't really been given a choice, it was probably better if he took the easy option, the less painful option rather then the more painful one. To go willing was to admit that he needed saving to survive but to deny it was to suffer the wrath of the dark suited gods.

"Let's not fuck around shall we?" the bus man asked raising an eye.

"When do I get a nice suit like the both of you?" he asked.

The bus man grinned while the blond one barely reacted. The bus man reatreated and allowed for the blond one to take over from their. The man was quiet, refined and looked almost sociopathic in nature, he also began to speak like one.

"Herman Harry Newman, you're an extraordinary case," he began. "There are very few with such talents as the ones you contain. You pursue your goals with a tenacity few could match, and once you set your mind to it you see it completed to the utmost capacity."

"You've been watching me since when?"

The blond man didn't even seem to acknowledge the question. "The agency has sought you out for some time but was unsure of where to assign you to. Most layman within the intelligence committee would be quickly overcome and grow jealous of a man such as yourself."

"So then you've assigned me to this phoenix like group? Let me guess..." he held his voice for a moment for unnecessary tension. "It's a group dedicated to returning former US territories taken by the Japanese and Germans."

The blond man shook his head silently. "It's an experimental and important arm of all the intelligence agencies who each control the arm through a representative. It is dedicated to the discovering, research and use or removal of the supernatural, alien or unexplainable."

"Unexplainable?"

The blond man nodded towards the bus man who took his hand off the paper. Herman silently turned the paper over. He was indeed met with something unexplainable. A picture of a tall muscular man with four arms and a sword in hand.

"I see," Herman sighed looking back up. "And I'm supposed to do what? You're going to ask a kid to kill something like that?"

"Not by yourself, no." The blond man said. "You'll be assigned to a team, and in that team you will be discovering, researching, using and or removing--"

"The supernatural, alien or unexplainable. Yep, understood you've told me this already."

The blond man looked towards the bus man before nodding, standing up and leaving the room. It was now just him and the bus man. The bus man leaned back within his seat and lit a cigarette.

"Your friend is weird," Hermans said.

"Ozymandias you mean?" The bus man said rising an eyebrow.

"That's his name?"

The bus man nodded. "Don't worry about him, you'll get used to his antics."

Antics, he seems more machine than man, Hermans thought to himself. Was he really trusting his future with these two men? Seemed like a poor choice on his end. A dangerously poor choice.

Hermans gestured for a cigarette and the bus man was glad to provide it to him, he even provided use of his own lighter. It burned brightly and quietly, the smoke rising and shrouding the white room. In the shroud of smoke the bus man looked even more gruff, his black beard now attracting a new grey tone to it.

"What are we waiting for?" Hermans asked.

"You."

"To do what?"

"To ask questions."

"I'd rather listen than talk."

"Well isn't that fucking brilliant hey?" The bus man said. "Well then... I'll talk. You're team is made up of me as you're commanding officer--oh and by the way the name's Joseph Reed, but you can call me Joseph or Joe--Ozymandias as our team manager and eyes, and there will be another few who you'll come to soon meet."

Great, Herman's thought rolling his eyes. He'd have to spend a lot of time with the blond haired sociopathic Ozymandias. He didn't want to imagine the awkward conversations and strictly joyless work parties he'd organise. Although perhaps with the more carefree attitude of Joseph it would be bearable to a certain degree. He could at least picture Joseph enjoying himself instead of just being an annoying piece of shit.

Herman turned up and studied Joseph closely. The man was far too relaxed. "How long have you been doing this for?"

The man grunted. "How 'bout this love, the more missions we complete the more questions I'll answer. Does that sound like a lovely deal?"

Herman began to rethink his opinions of Joseph. Perhaps he wasn't as fun as he came off to be.

"Then what is our first mission?"

"Your first mission," Joseph said correcting him. "And it's a very simple one, get on your flight to New Haven and we'll meet you there. From there we'll introduce you to the Hole."

"The Hole?"

It sounded ominous, like a dungeon, or something even worse than that. It sounded like a name prisoners would use for solitary confinement. Whatever it was it didn't sound good.