The program had a funny way of sending us on vacation. After dropping six of us, the last of us, off in China, we were given an envelope. The envelope contained information about a target. If we were killed in action our existence would be disavowed and any involvement with the US government would be denied. We all looked at one another and went our separate ways.
The other five finalists were very odd to me. One was from India. Everyone called him Habib. The other two were from Africa. Don't ask me what parts of it. They were called “The Kenyans,” even though they declared to be from Nigeria and Mozambique. Another was from Florida and was as right wing as you could get. During strength training one day he called me a “pinko, liberal Negro.” The last was a quiet one. Too quiet if you know what I mean. Everyone called him “Zero.” He never spoke, never shouted, and never hung around anyone unless he was ordered to. I have no idea where he is from and whenever someone asked L.T would respond with “The fuck’s it’s any of your business?”
I followed a map that was enclosed in the envelope and found my target rather quickly. He was called “The Chef.” I was foolish enough to hope that he was called such because he was an actual chef. It turns out that he had a thing for killing people in the kitchen of a restaurant he owned. I wandered around the building a few times pretending to be lost.
I walked up to two guards stationed at the entrance and pointed to a sheet of paper I had found. As the two looked at it I stuck a small needle like knife I carried into one of their necks right under his chin. He gagged and fell to the ground. The other immediately threw a kick at me that I caught and brought my elbow down hard on his knee forcing it to bend backwards. He collapsed and started to shout. I kneed him in the nose killing him instantly. A few people noticed what was happening and pulled out their cell phones. The time for stealth was over and done for so I burst into the restaurant and ran to the kitchen. There he is.
“The Chef” was the largest Chinese man I had ever seen. He stood about 6’5” and weighed over 300lbs. he smiled at me and threw a butchers knife at me, just missing my head. He nodded to me, picked up another knife, and turned his back to me. Either he was baiting me or he didn't believe that I was a threat to him. I grabbed a tray and threw it at the back of his knee. He spun around grinning. That blow should have at least made him collapse.
Damn you, L.T. I bet everyone else got tiny ass regular folks or old people. I get the damned Yeti that feels no pain. He moved towards me slow and purposely. He kept smiling as he drew a large blade from the inside of his coat and swung at my waist. As his hand passed I jumped up, almost too high, and used an ax kick to shatter his wrist. He continued smiling as he used his other hand to grab me around the throat.
So this is how it ends. In some kitchen thousands of miles away from home. No funeral. No family. Nothing. The room started to go black as I landed blow after blow upon his thick neck. His grip tightened and the world faded away. I woke up surrounded by blood. “The Chef,” lay headless at my side. I stood and almost fell on account of all the blood. I used a small camera that was given to all of us before boarding the plane and took a few pictures before running out of the back door. When I turn the corner after bolting down the alley L.T was standing there drinking a beer and eating a fish on a stick.
“Want one?” he asks. “We need to leave!” I shouted while looking around for police. “I'm finished.” “Slow down, turbo Negro,” L.T said before taking a long swig from his beer. He motioned to a
waitress and said something to her in Cantonese. She nodded and walked away. After staring at her ass until she was out of sight he continued. “Have a seat.” I sat down. “The rest of the kids aren't finished so we gotta wait for ‘em.”
“I just killed a man around the corner and you sit here eating like nothing is wrong?” I accuse more than ask. “What is wrong with you?” “Did you black out?” he asked. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “At any point did you black out?” L.T asked again. “Like, while you was killin’ this fool did you
faint or anything?” “Yes,” I said. “How did you know?” “It's a flaw in the program,” L.T said. “We’re still trying to fix that shit. Just when your brain
accepts that it’s gonna die something happens and y’all shut down. But somehow you manage to get the job done.”
“I cut his head off,” I said.
“Lemme see the picture,” L.T said while holding his hand out as if I owed him money. I gave it to him and he plugged it into a small device. The machine made a small beeping sound and L.T smiled as he looked at the photos. “Damn, Hex,” he said.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. “No. Something is right,” L.T said. “No one else made it back,” L.T told me on the flight back from China a days ago. I didn't know
how to feel about the entire situation. I mean, I'm not a heartless bastard or anything. I didn't know any of the other recruits well enough to shed a tear. I just nodded to L.T and leaned back in my chair a moment before I was gassed.
When I woke up we were back on base and L.T was sitting next to me eating an orange. He nodded to me and squeezed my hand. I tried not to squeeze back but did it before I could stop myself. I had never been in a relationship that lasted more than a week. Guys were put off by my determination towards my goals. Some of them accused me of being a dyke because I didn't want to sleep with them. In actuality I just wasn't all that interested in having sex. But there was something about L.T that was different. Maybe it was his sense of humor. Maybe it was his laid back attitude towards everything. He was the complete opposite of me in almost every way. I could only imagine what he was like when he went through training.
“Why you looking at me like that?” he asked. Before I could answer he held up his hand. “I ain't old enough to be your daddy but I am old. Plus we could never work.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because I actually like you,” he replied. “I usually fuck some chick on missions and never see them again. I don't wanna be tied down or some shit. I get in, get out, and keep it movin’. I don't wanna hurt you like that, Hex. You’re a good person.”
“No I'm not,” I said. “I've broken many hearts in my 18 years.”
“Shit,” L.T said. “I know you've broken bones, but you and both know that you lyin’. You don't have to be in a rush to grow up and experience shit. It'll all happen in due time. And one day you'll remember how you feel about me and laugh at how silly it was.”
“It's not silly,” I said. “For someone who isn't as old as my father you sure act like it.” He smiled a little at that, kissed my hand and then left the room. The sound of gunfire erupted in the hallway where he had just left. I jumped up to help when I saw that my hand was tied to the bed by a very thin, but extremely strong, line of thread. L.T must have put it on me when I was asleep. Did he know that something was about to go down? I pulled at the string and it began to burn. I shouted in frustration. Just as I began to chew on the thread someone entered the room. The Corps.
“Young love,” he said as he pulled a chair across the room and sat it down hard next to my bed. “Don't say a word. Just let me say what I have to say and then I will be on my way.” He lit one of those strange cigarettes and inhaled deeply. No smoke. “We noticed that L.T had a very unprofessional interest in you a few months ago. He raved about your strength, speed, and agility.”
“I’m going to kill you,” I said. The Corps slapped me hard across the face. “I asked you politely to not talk,” he said. “If you speak again I will shoot you in the face. Then I
will kill your brothers and their families. Then I will find your fathers’ grave and dig him up, re- animate his corpse, then kill him again but not before showing him photos of what I did to you.” He never changed his tone of voice. He never looked away. He was as dead serious as anyone could be without slipping into the dark abyss of madness. “Yes, your father died in an automobile accident last month. We sent him flowers in your honor. He didn't suffer. Driving drunk was not the be
st idea he ever had, I'd say. I see by your expression that you know I speak the truth.” I work at the thread feeling it burn as it dug into my skin. “Don’t waste your time. That thread is unbreakable. If you fire a bullet at it the bullet would slice itself in two. Some call it ‘Angel Hair.’ I call it the best use of taxpayer dollars since the cure for cancer. Shortly you will be re-programmed. Any memories of L.T will be erased. The last few months will seem like a dream in which you acquired a vast amount of knowledge. Normally you would be removed from the program. But I won't allow it. You’re far too valuable to us. By the time you are done you will be a killing machine. Now smile.” I looked down at my legs and considered kicking him with all the force in my body. “I'd kill you dead before even finished bending your knee to connect with that planned kick. Now rest. You have a long week ahead of you.”
The next month was spent breaking me down in every sense of the word. They had removed most of L.T from my brain but not all of it. Before he was killed he gave me a code word to use in case anything ever happened to him. I thought he was being silly. No one would ever kill him.
“Seriously, Hex,” L.T said. “If anything ever happens to me they will fuck with you. They know how special I know you are. They will erase every trace of me from your head.”
“That’s impossible,” I said.
“After all the shit you've seen you still think shit is impossible?' L.T asked. “The cure for every known disease known to fuckin' mankind. Speed that is inhuman. Strength of six men squeezed into your tiny ass frame. Reflexes that would make the fastest squirrel jealous. Weapons that should never have been made. Trust me, they can erase me. But I want to give you something to remember me by. When you hear this word you will remember everything, for better or for worse.” I nodded, letting him know I understood the gravity of this situation. “It'll be a word that isn't used often. But it is used. ‘Apex.’”
I smiled and slapped L.T on the shoulder that day. Now I am glad that he realized what kind of monsters we were working for. One day while sparring someone in the gym two guards were talking. They were laughing and clowning around when one of them said:
“And that was what he called his dog: Apex. Like its the best damned predator ever!”
I collapsed and held my head in my gloved hands. Three guards jumped into the ring to see what was happening when everything went black. I woke up in a bed, tied down from the neck down. My head was held in place by a strong band that wrapped around the bed. I didn't even try and waste energy trying to free myself. I heard a click and a whir and The Corps entered the room.
“Quite a show you put on yesterday,” he said. “You killed two guards and permanently crippled another.” He pulled a remote from his pocket and aimed it at the wall. A large screen came down from the ceiling and there was an image of me in the ring. “We tape every session. Now pay attention. This is my favorite part.” After I was helped up I began to scream an unnatural scream. I sounded like an animal. I peeled my gloves off with my teeth and was tackled by two guards. They threw me down hard and I continued to scream. I kicked one of them in the chest so hard that he flew out of the ring, dead before he hit the ground. The other threw a wild right hook and I ducked and shot him a hard left uppercut that broke his neck. The third guard attempted to run and as he jumped from the ring I leaped onto his back, knees first, shattering his spine. “Amazing,” The Corps said.
“I don't remember any of that,” I said.
“Of course you don't,” he said. “That kind of power and speed isn't natural. That was pure programming. I've never seen anything like that before. Well, there was that one time. A recruit named Hollister. Crazy as a fruit bat. He almost completed the program. Silly kid from Mississippi
that for some reason was just... great. One week before ‘graduation’ he snapped. Killed eight guards and then himself. The entire time screaming 'Uncontrollable!' He broke his own neck. Just grabbed it, and twisted it.” He snapped his fingers to emphasize the sound.
“I don't want to kill myself,” I said.
“What do you want, Hecksford?” he asked. I couldn't tell him the truth. I wanted to see my father’s grave. I wanted to speak with my brothers. I wanted a cheeseburger. I wanted L.T to walk through the doorway and say something funny.
I wanted to kill The Corps. “I want to fight,” I said.
“Good,” The Corps said. “Glad to hear that.”
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