Skooter reports 02/17/13
The deputy director general congratulated Richard and Foche for a job well done. However, they were ordered to go back to base and abandoned the second mission for the moment. Two weeks earlier, Frank and Mayor Chiz , met at their usual place. The two men were discussing about the behavior of Foche being very inquisitive woman. Frank didn’t like it
“So what are you going to suggest, my dear friend,” asked the mayor. “You want to get rid of her?” Frank said no, not really. He wanted the female mutant to be sent back to the machine and be fixed. Frank believed that Foche’s old memory had not been completely erased and should be sanitized for good.
“Because if we don’t totally clean her f---kin brain, we’ll be in trouble in the next few days,” he said. “Well, do as you like,” Mayor Chiz agreed. “No problem with that. And…” he paused. “Don’t forget to bring her down to my place for dinner after fixing her.”
In her bedroom that night, Foche was soundly asleep; she flipped over in her bed when a sudden flash of light ran across her brain. She was disturbed momentarily but surprisingly she went back snoring. She saw a little girl, dressed scruffily, hair disheveled, begging in the street. Her body shivered once, and another flash of light came and the next thing she saw the same little girl crying and screaming wildly as she was being carried forcefully by two or three uniformed men.
Foche opened her eyes and sat on her bed wondering. It was only a dream, she thought. She oftenly dreamt, she knew that, but not as horrible as this. The woman dismissed this as a nightmare, perhaps she overate before she went to bed, that’s why. The woman reached for a glass of water placed nearby. She drank it. Later she was back lying in bed, but still she was greatly disturbed of her dream. Eventually she completely ignored it and went back to sleep.
In Malacanang Palace, the president was alarmed of the horrific incident; first, a senator, then recently a governor and a police general were brutally shot to death. He ordered the Department of Justice and the National Bureau of Investigation to immediately look into this alarming matter and to form a task force to find out who the perpetrators were and should be punished to the full force of the law.
The Philippine National Police believed the responsible assassinators could have been an Islamic terrorist group from Mindanao, whose motive is to create chaos in the Capital Region. All government officials as well as public buildings, airport terminals, landmarks were put on red alert.
Meantime the NBI had a different theory; they blamed the shooting spree to an unidentified foreign looking hired gunman who gun downed a popular senator focusing their investigation on him. They also wanted to find out who this man worked for.
There was a rainstorm the next morning. Foche was ordered to march to the laboratory for regular check-up at least that was what she understood. Walking along the corridor in her black ensemble, she met Richard, formerly Project Sparky 1 and now his codename is Sparky 2.
The woman told him about her nightmare the other night. Richard just shrugged his shoulder and said, “You’re not the only one having dreams like that.” Both walked right into the canteen ordering some burgers and soda for snacks. The male mutant came clean that he too had dreamt not only once but twice, seeing a ragamuffin boy crossing a crowded street, saw him begging for food in front of a restaurant. Then his vision was blocked by a passing bus. When the bus was gone, Richard’s face was saddened, disappointed because the dream just puffed off not knowing what was the end.
“Now where you goin’?” The young man asked as he bit a portion of the burger, followed it with a sweetened soda. She was told to report to Fernandez’ lab, that was her answer. “What for…?” His mandible worked on the food and pushed it down. “They said for a regular check up.” She sipped her soda.
“You know Foche,” he said biting the last part of the bun and the soda pushed it for the last time. “You’re lucky, they pampered you well. You know why? You work well without glitch.”
Foche grinned and replied, “I think you’re right. I just received a reward.” She continued smiling. “And what’s that?” He became curious. She said that she got grounded for a couple weeks. She rose from the chair saying she wanted to see him in the gym and in the firing range in the next few days.
When Richard was alone, two young boys approached him. One of the boys said, “If you don’t mind can we asked something?” It was Caloy who insisted to pull a chair and so with his pal Tony. “Are you Sparky?” Tony was hesitant but wanted to know if he guessed it right. “Nope…never heard by that name, young fellas.”
“Oh yeah, Sparky got blond hair, an Americano,” Caloy cursed his friend. “You stupid pighead.” He went on, “And you are…” The older man replied, “Richard…Richard James Cruz.” He offered a hand and the boys readily took it. “You’re new here, yes?”
“What do you want to know guys?”
“You know, we’ve been wondering what happened to our friends, like Ben and Fiona. You know them?” The man shook his head. “They suddenly just disappeared. We didn’t know what really happened to them,” Caloy seriously said. The older man was quick to give an answer. “Sorry guys, I’d like to help you, but I have no idea and as I said, I don’t even know them in the first place.”
Both Caloy and Tony gave a deep sigh of frustration. Caloy told Richard that they themselves didn’t even know why they are there and where they came from, though this place treat them well. They are mixed up why no one can give answer to their questions. For them it seemed the people around refused to tell the truth. They saw him grinned and pointed a finger at them, “You’ll be next,” Richard jokingly said and left. The boys were wide eyed. They didn’t know what this guy meant by that.
After dinner, the gang of four settled in the open porch. Mayor Chiz was the star of the night enjoying an intellectual conversation with Foche, while Richard and Frank trotted to a far corner of the porch watching the rush of headlights of cars across a six-lane boulevard a few meters from the mayor’s home.
Frank looked backed at the two who sat on one of the wrought iron garden sets. He was glad that Foche’s behavior has changed totally. He gave a sigh and went back chatting with Richard codename: Sparky 2.
Both were disturbed momentarily from the vociferous laughters of Foche and the mayor. The two gentlemen didn’t mind them and let the duo enjoy the night of euphoric chat. Downing a glass of champagne, Foche was asked by the mayor if she is happy as a judge and an executioner. Surprised was she. “What? What do you know about my being a judge and executioner?”
Frank tensely stared at the mayor.
To be continued...
Author Noel Horlanda