After my last post, I left New Zealand. It's only temporary of course, since most of what I own is still sitting in Med's safehouse. Could you watch it all for me until I return?
Anyway, I decided to follow up on those bullets to get my mind off of Cal. It's not something I feel comfortable leaving alone, after all, it did almost kill me. I visited an old contact that the Agency used when trying to track the source of ''not so legal, but not quite illicit'' goods.
The old man runs a pawn shop, he was shocked to see me. Thought I was still with the Agency. Had to correct that. Once he realized I was on my own, he asked me why I wanted to track down the source. I explained the situation, he asked for something in return. I gave him the only valuable in my possession that I'd be willing to part with: the sword that I found when I had been taken. He liked it, said something about it fetching a nice price. He told me some coordinates, said that the man who made the bullets should be there, his signature mark was on the casing.
It wasn't easy to find, the shack was literally right against a cliff. You could see the ocean pretty easily, and I was amazed that the shack was still standing on the cliff. I entered, and there he was: an old man. He looked harmless, asked why I was there. I told him straight up. Then things got a bit funky.
When I sat down, I noticed that he stood up quickly and was able to move very well for a man his age. And there was the rifle he had next to the table, it looked very familiar to me. He offered me a drink, I declined, I'd rather not deal with any of the 'shadier' aspects. He kept insisting that I drink it. I raised it towards my lips thinking: "What's the worst that could happen? Die? That'll only stop me for, what, a few minutes to a few hours."
Then I noticed the smell... Death. I set the glass down before it touched my lips. There was a dead body nearby, and the old man's shirt happened to be bloodstained and torn in one spot...
"Stop the games." - Me
"Games? We're talking business, it isn't a game to me, boy." - Him
"Like hell it isn't! You disgust me, wearing his face like it's yours." - Me
His expression changed as he hefted the rifle. I drew my revolver, even though I knew it would do me no good. We started circling the table slowly, one of us on each side.
"This was a set-up. You made sure that the right proxy would get those bullets didn't you? Or was that proxy really serving you?" -Me
He smiled. "What gave it away?" -Him
"The stench. The blood. Your ego." - Me
"Come now, Carter, we can work this out. You see, you are very special. I like that. I want you to help me." -Him
"And if I refuse?" - Me
"Well..." He made sure I saw as he chambered a round. "We can't have that, now can we? You're useful. Unpredictable. Impossible to guess what you will do next. You are an anomaly. You've been called that before, haven't you? Didn't She call you that? Isn't that why She loved your company? You surprise everyone and everything, nothing can predict what you'll do. That's useful. Join me, we can do so much good in this world! We can bring order to chaos. Everlasting Bliss for all!" - Him
"'Order'? That's what you call inspiring crazed psychos to go on rampages in your name?" - Me
I kept thinking about what he had said. She had said some of those things before, but I never realized. Even the Fears themselves find me confusing. What is it that separates me from others like me? What is different?
I didn't get a chance to ask. "You owe me, Carter. Don't forget that. Make your choice. Stand with me and conquer the world, or die and be forgotten without ever reaching your full potential." - Him
Of course, he just had to remember that, didn't he? Just my luck.
I had to act. Fast. I saw it as we were circling. "Okay. Okay... I've made my choice." I counted down in my head, my timing had to be perfect or else I'd end up hurting myself severely or get shot. "I choose..." Then I did it. There was a window near the table. It overlooked the ocean and the glass had long since been gone. The wood framing looked ready to give at the slightest touch. You can guess where I went...
It wasn't exactly graceful. I felt one of his bullets go past my foot on the way down, it just barely touched but burst into pain instantly. Of course, I'd be lying if I recommended this sort of escape. It would kill you. It killed me. The impact was the worst part, but there was more as well.
I guess the Archangel gave up on looking for me, since I woke up on shore. I found out that a few days had passed, it must've taken a while to reach the shore as a corpse. And now, here I am. Luckily, all of my stuff was stored safely before I met with him and my revolver luckily didn't fall out of its holster either.
All things considered, I'm no worse for the wear. If anything, this created more questions than it had answered. And I also have the Archangel after me. Maybe even more so since I owe him.