Stage One Day Three – Scraps
Here’s a piece of a project that has been bumping around in my mind for almost twenty years now.
In my minds eye this is kind of how I see the story launching.
The rain pattered lightly on the window. Deputy Director Anders Chilton stared at the files on his desk with growing apprehension. Twenty-seven safe houses had been raided in the past three weeks. Safe houses that were supposed to have been decommissioned a decade past. Anders couldn’t bring himself to close the facilities though. What better place to hide agents then where his own government wouldn’t look if things went south. And now these phantom havens have been compromised. To add insult to injury there was no pattern. Some cities they had hit two or three at once Like in Chicago and some Like Houston they only hit one struck across the country in New England then hit another in Houston. And worse yet they have been tagging the walls. “The Ghost has risen.”
The rain steadily increased and was tipping the scales into a full fledged storm. Anders thought it humorous that the weather mimicked the situation that the reports on his desk showed was growing out of control. Thunder shook the building, and the power went down for a brief moment before the generators kicked in. In the quick flash of dark Anders heard a barely audible rustle. When the lights came back up Thomas McTillson stared back across the desk at Anders. The former agent was dripping wet. “You aborted.” The drenched man growled then the power went back out for an instant. Anders would have thought that it was just a ghost from his conscience that still haunted him except for the small pool of water that soaked the reports on his desk and a handwritten note on top that read. “I have risen”.
Fuck. Tommy was alive. Now the pattern fit. Those were all safe houses assigned to extraction of scientist that was being held captive by a small army of Nazis high in the Chilean Mountains. She was some kind of geneticist prodigy that the Nazis wanted to help them perfect their new master race. Tommy being alive would not be good. Anders frowned at the thought of one of his closest friends from the Corps being alive was a bad thing. Tommy was the one thing in existence that Anders feared.
The man once named Tommy McTillson glared up at the silhouette in the office window. Anders knew the game, and he now knew who he was dealing with. Fifteen years in a Nazi torture camp took their toll on the former agent. Tommy knew that he wasn’t all there anymore. Tommy that name seemed foreign to him now. Everything he held dear at one point in time all seemed less. So many times in the past fifteen years he had almost given up. There had only been one thing that had kept him going all that time. Getting even with whoever pulled the plug on that op that led to his capture by the Nazis. Tommy was ghost of a man now. So now he chose to use that mantle as his identity. Ghost shook his head at the thought of tearing down everything he once cared about, but there needed to an accounting. They had to pay for that fifteen years.