E.N.D.A.Y.S. Page 3

  “Ooooo!” the leader shrieked, sealing his lips shut.

  “This is for your own good, idiot...” Hayes said, once again tugging on the man's tie and forcing the barrel down his throat, chipping a tooth with the undercarriage of the weapon whilst shoving it down his gullet.

  “Stop!” said a secret service agent who had made his way past McCall on to the stage, holding his weapon in shaking hands.

  In a swift movement, Hayes had taken the gun from him, a shot firing in the process, embedding itself impotently in the wall. The crowd screamed in horror, and Hayes jammed the gun back and forth into the Presidential opening, forcing him to fully deepthroat it. Spittle and snot, tears and phlegm dripping onto his hand, down the weapon's matte black finish, absorbing into the micropores in the handle. Finally, Hayes broke through the barrier. The President gasped and proceeded to vomit, copiously and violently.

  Hayes pulled the weapon from the President's throat and dropped it back into the pocket dimension.

  “Someone else can clean that shit up...” Hayes said. “I'm done for the day.”

  The doors to the room burst open as a military unit assembled in formation, weapons aimed at Hayes and McCall.

  “Kali...! An exit would be nice!” he shouted.

  'Yeah...' said Kali. 'On it.'

  She reached to the gesture unit and grabbed hold of the agents' signals, her other hand wildly activating a quick trans-dimensional scan of a potential arrival point. Reaching down, she spun the quantum sphere and as soon as its surface became translucent, slammed her palm down.

  Hayes waved goodbye with a wry smile as he, McCall and the remains of Shay were enveloped in light.

  When the light dissipated, the three of them were back at their point of arrival, Shay's body continuing to leak formerly-vital fluids, which soaked into the cracks between the paving stones.

  “Well that was a clusterfuck...” said McCall.

  “All things considered, it could have been worse....” said Hayes, McCall's fist helping knock the last syllable out of his mouth.

  “Shay is fucking dead, you stupid fuck!”

  'We've got more problems than that...' said Kali, scanning feeds from in-world television networks. 'That entire fuck up was broadcast live to the nation...'

  “Did they get my good side?” asked Hayes, to a jolt of feedback pulsating through his brain.

  'A real nice shot of you.' Kali said. 'And a great big detailed shot of in-world metaleportation... You remember how this was meant to be a covert operation?'

  “They were gonna find out about interdimensional travel sooner or later...” Hayes said, to another jolt of feedback surging through his head, alongside a bout of gastrointestinal distress that Kali was orchestrating from afar. “No need... to get mad about it...” he stuttered, fighting to get words through the mental agony and gas build-up.

  'No need to get mad about it?' she shrieked. 'You have literally fucked every part of this mission up. Your bullshit harassment of Shay got in the way of us saving her, you violated the leader of this whole fucking world on national television and made me have to reveal our super-top-fucking-secret technology to them. You could not have fucked this up any more!'

  “When you say it like that...” Hayes said, still battling the pain in his head, struggling to quash his vomit reflex and maintain bowel control. “Kinda makes it sound like you're blaming me..?”

  Kali could not contain her anger any further. With a fountain of vomit flowing from his mouth and nose, pants swiftly filling with excrement that pitter-pattered out in explosive machine gun bursts, Hayes decided he might as well go for the trifecta, and emptied his bladder.

  §

  “Mister Hayes,” Judge Phillips barked. “That is quite enough!”

  Hayes had decided that theatrics would be helpful to his case, and was demonstrating the position in which he was firing effluence in all three directions.

  “You are excused whilst the judiciary panel discusses sentencing.”

  “Sentencing?!” said Hayes, the wind knocked from his sails. “What about deciding whether I'm fucking innocent of the charges?”

  “Mister Hayes, you are most definitely guilty of all charges. What happens to you now, is in the hands of the panel you are presently disrespecting.”

  “Well, I'll leave y'all to talk sweetly about me whilst y'swan around in those pretty dresses y'got on...” Hayes said, making his way out of the chamber.

  “They are robes, not dresses!” Phillips exclaimed with exhausted exasperation, as Hayes left the room. He glanced at the other judges. “What a fucking arsehole.”

  All the judges concurred. Hayes was a complete arsehole. The perfect anal cavity of a human being for a very shitty job they had lined up.

  1

  25 hours to the end of the world.

  “That trial was a fucking sham.” Hayes said, as he stomped down the corridor towards Tech Ops. His heavy, angry footsteps echoed ahead of him along the chrome walkway, warning others to steer clear of his stride.

  'It's only a sham if their verdict is unfair...” Kali said, with a sigh “You're lucky they didn't sentence you to exile somewhere awful.'

  The mention of 'somewhere awful' brought to Hayes's mind a reality in which the humanoid denizens of the earth evolved directly from fish. The population are hairless, scaled and semi-aquatic. If one was to visit, the stench would remain bonded to all clothing worn in-world for weeks after returning.

  “Awful I could handle.” said Hayes. “It's better than being terminally fucking bored.”

  'Quit your bitching, get your gear, and get to the jump bay.'

  “Please would be nice.”

  'Do you know I can instruct your nanos to cause permanent erectile dysfunction?' Kali asked.

  “You wouldn't...” Hayes said, a quiver in his voice at the thought of losing one of the few sources of pleasure in his life.

  'Hurry up, or I start dysfunctioning...' she said.

  He could hear her wicked grin, and increased his pace through the hallway.

  Tech Ops lay behind two layers of security. A nanoscanner at the door on the main corridor allowed entry to only agents and techs, and a biometric sensor at a further door to the Ops hub. Hayes laboured a sigh as the scanner identified his nanosig, beeping in approval, the doors swishing open smoothly with a soft gasp. He entered the lobby, leaving the chrome plated hall behind, to be surrounded by a blinding white carbon fibre reinforced polymer. Tech Ops caught fire more often than any other division, and it was deemed that the low thermal expansion of the material was perfect for a department that could explode at any given moment. Hayes scuffed his feet on the floor as he walked to the biometric pad, leaving a trail of black marks behind him, and swiped his finger on the sensor. He growled to himself as he waited impatiently for a tech to arrive, seeing them through a window to an adjacent room as they looked up and discussed fervently which of them would have to deal with him. Hayes knew how much the techs disliked him, how much everyone disliked him. But as far as he was concerned, he had a right to be the arsehole he was, because he got the job done. In one way or another.

  As the discussion came to a close, with several rounds of rock paper scissors, a tech finally emerged. Pale and gaunt, his scraggly long hair curled at the shoulders of a long white labcoat, bag-laden eyes narrowing as he approached the counter.

  “Hayes.” he said, crabbily.

  “Johnson, right?” said Hayes, taking a gamble.

  “Not even close.” the tech said, with a disgruntled sigh. Very few agents bothered to remember their names.

  “Worth a try...” Hayes scoffed, with a shrug. “You got me some goodies for my op?” he asked. “I'd like some things that go bang, preferably in a chartreuse if you have it... Goes with my eyes.”

  The tech pulled up the mission specs on a screen at the counter.

  “Yeah... that's not going to happen.” he said.

  “Fine, anything in mauve? I'm an autumn.”

&
nbsp; The tech continued to scan through the report, not bothering to look up at Hayes. “Mauve is soft summer.” he said, absent-mindedly.

  Hayes craned his neck, trying to look over the counter at the mission specs on the screen.

  “Alright.” said the tech, closing down the screen after approving the specs. “Pretty straightforward, come on through and we'll get you geared up.” he sent the order through and the counter retracted into itself, creating an entrance for Hayes to follow through to the tech's inner sanctum. “Don't touch anything.” he instructed, as he walked ahead of Hayes.

  They went through a door, past rows upon rows of shelving lined with weapons and gear. As their walk continued, they moved through the most advanced technology the Division had at its disposal. Hayes glanced at intelligent nanomesh body armour and pulse weapons, as they continued onwards, through to the more basic smartguns and camosuits, going yet further into the room until they came to a wall at the far end. The tech pulled a navy peacoat from a rail and handed it to him.

  “That doesn't really go with my skintone.” Hayes said, refusing to take it from the tech, who glared at him until he put it on. “What does it do?”

  “It keeps you warm.” said the tech, walking over to a shelf opposite.

  “What do these do?” Hayes asked, inspecting the six brass buttons on the front, each engraved with anchors.

  “They go into the holes on the other side, and keep the coat closed.” said the tech, mostly ignoring him. He turned and handed Hayes a pair of jeans.

  “Camofibre?” Hayes inquired.

  “Denim.” the tech said, going to another shelf and pulling out a black sweater.

  “I'm beginning to think you're making fun of me.” Hayes said, dismayed to find that the gear for the mission was technologically restricted.

  This he should have known, given the verdict, but he wasn't really listening during the sentencing. Rather than face exile, he had been handed a punishment that the judges deemed suitable for his proclivities. Hayes loved his tech; the nanos and lens, pocket dimension holsters and antigrav grips. There was no worse fate for an agent who relied almost solely on technology, than being dispatched for a long-term mission in a mundane world. The reality chosen was one in which the science community only recently proved that gravitational waves exist, had notions of dark matter, but were as of yet unable to establish an understanding of it. Let alone discover its connection to the meta and multiverse lying beyond, of which they were almost completely oblivious. The population dreamed of a future of artificial intelligence and flying cars, space colonisation and curing all disease. But they were more successful at writing novels and movies about such scientific developments than achieving them, and were decades from even the most basic of advancements. It was, all things considered, the worst punishment they could have consigned to Hayes.

  “This is very disappointing...” Hayes shouted through the changing room door, as he put on his mission gear. “Do I at least get a change of clothes?”

  “They're smartfibre, self-cleaning.” the tech said.

  Hayes emerged from the changing room and looked at himself in a mirror. “This is the most boring ensemble I have ever had to wear on a mission.” he said.

  “I feel for you, truly.” the tech said, sarcastically, as he started back along the corridor whilst Hayes glared at his reflection. “Maybe next time you won't drop a vomit-covered gun into a pocket dimension that someone else has to clean. Hurry up, haven't got all day...” the tech said.

  Hayes walked away from the mirror, picking up pace to match the tech's strut, slowing as he came up to shelves of items he had been denied. He grabbed two pocket dimension holsters and latched them on to the hips of his jeans, hiding them under the coat. Hayes hurried along the walkway to catch up with the tech, and grabbed a nanomesh shirt from a rack, shoving it down the jacket's sleeve. Even if the mission was bullshit, he was going to make sure he was properly armed.

  The tech turned at the door, waiting for Hayes to catch up, before getting him to sign for the items he was wearing and opening the counter again for him to exit.

  “Thank you” Hayes spat, as he left Tech Ops.

  The tech rolled his eyes and went back to join the others. “What an arsehole...” he muttered.

  'Did you just steal things?' Kali asked, having watched through Hayes's lens as he fleeced Tech Ops for illicit gear.

  “Mission critical.” he replied, walking along the corridor towards the jump bay.

  'Were you even paying attention to what this mission entails?' Kali asked.

  “Sure. Kinda. I'm sure you can fill in the gaps...”

  The door scanned his nanosig and grunted as it wrenched open, murmuring mechanically to itself as he walked through. Ahead of him stood a jump bay, the centre of all Division activity. A dark cylindrical room from which all missions were launched. At the centre, a pillar of light emanated from the domed ceiling that stood forty feet tall. The floor was concave, curving down from the walls to form a basin two feet deep at the central locus, a hub large enough to traverse up to a hundred agents at a time if required.

  Hayes stepped towards the centre, his lonely footsteps clacking around the room, bouncing off every arced surface.

  “Ready when you are...” he said to Kali.

  'You'd be readier if you actually looked at the mission briefing.' she said, activating a trans-dimensional scan of his point of arrival.

  “I'll get around to it.” he said. “Let's get this show on the road already.”

  'Before the techs realise you stole shit?' she asked, concluding the scan and placing her palm on the quantum sphere.

  “Obviously...” he said, as the room started to hum.

  Kali spun the sphere, light bursting from its core, matrix shifting from solid to liquid as it calculated the jump.

  Hayes flicked the coat open and rested his hands on the holsters at each hip, as the domed ceiling came to life. The formerly smooth surface shimmered, interlocked hexagons of light appearing at the centre, bursting forth along the sides of the dome, continuing down the walls, light rippling along the floor until it reached and consumed Hayes.

  Kali swiped her right hand in mid-air, gesturing the final sequence, and slammed her palm down on the ball.

  GRID DESIGNATION 9415:5643:7543

  Winter had hit 7543 hard. The cobblestones of the alleyway chosen by Kali for the arrival point were caked with ice, making them a hazard for anyone who preferred to remain vertical. The air began to vibrate, hum, barely audibly. Localised air pressure began changing, fluctuating, as if shaking in fear of what was to come. The old redbrick of the buildings at either side started to ripple, reacting in the knowledge that reality was about to be torn apart. Visible light started distorting around the jump site, as though the entire alley were seen through a wine glass. The gravity across the jump site began to oscillate, but any detritus present that might wish take advantage of the change to the forces, was frozen solid to the ground. Tentacles of light ripped a hole in the fabric of reality, folds flapping into the meta as a silhouette stood at the centre of the jump site. He was posed, tall and proud, hands resting at hips. Light around him sucked back into the void. Tentacles receding, the rift sealing behind him.

  “Well, this is a shithole.” Hayes said, as he looked around the alley. “A fucking cold shithole.”

  'That's why Johnson gave you a coat...' Kali said.

  “He said his name wasn't Johnson!” Hayes said, buttoning up the coat's brass fastenings, shivering in the winter breeze as he told his nanos to increase body temperature.

  'Shut up and get to the safe house.' she said, sending the route through to his lens.

  “This is bullshit.” he said, stepping precariously on the icy cobblestones to the street ahead. “Nobody deserves this mundy shit. What kind of world doesn't know how to control its fucking weather?”

  'Annual temperature cycles happen in every reality, Hayes. Deal with it.' Kali said, as she pulled up th
e details for his in-world contact.

  Hayes walked down the street, expressing disdain at everything he saw, from the vehicles spewing noxious gases into the atmosphere to the street lighting, its frequency visually flickering in his lens.

  “Have you seen these readings?” he asked, as he scanned the emissions from the cars. His lens displayed a series of letters and numbers. “It's like they're trying to kill me...” he coughed, theatrically.

  Kali took a look at his readout. 'Hayes, do you know the first thing about chemistry? Those readings say it's mostly nitrogen, water, oxygen, and carbon dioxide... there's a little bit of carbon monoxide, but not enough to do any damage unless you're locked in a box with it.'

  “I'm locked in a world with it... a tiny, bullshit world that can't even escape its own gravity. Do you know how boring that is?”

  Escaping the earth's gravity was less common than Hayes knew. Only nineteen percent of advanced dimensions had developed long distance space travel and colonisation. The majority preferred to stay on home turf and find solutions to problems that existed there, rather than launch into the stratosphere and screw up a host of exoplants.