Soul Stalkers
*One Year Ago*
“There comes a time in every man’s life where he must choose to believe in something greater than himself.”
The speaker paused to let that sink in to the crowd. Many heads bobbed up and down, followed by murmurs of agreement with his opening sentence. He looked around and slowly stared at everyone. He was a scrawny, older gentleman with a head full of gray, scruffy hair. His thick glasses made his green eyes look twice as big as anyone else’s. The three-piece suit looked uncomfortable, as beads of sweat were already forming along his forehead. It was a decent size crowd, approximately fifty people in attendance.
“For many of you, that time is at hand. We are at a crossroads, people. The world is slowly dying, and it is because we have let un-godly and un-natural practices become an accepted way of life!” He struck the podium hard and elicited a few jumps from the audience.
Samuel sat there listening. An impressionable teen, like most of the others there: poor, hungry, looking for a way to fit in. His family had been moved out of the projects when the city decided to tear down all of those dilapidated buildings and small businesses to make room for corporate skyscrapers and a stupid dog park. He left school at the age of sixteen in order to work in a small recycling facility, sorting metals, plastics, and glass to help his mom pay the bills after his father died three years ago in some freak accident. He never got to say goodbye to his dad. Apparently the body was such a mangled mess that a closed-casket ceremony was the only form of closure to be had. His mother opted for a cremation afterwards. Samuel keept a small leather pouch, decorated with beads, filled with his father’s ashes tied loosely around his neck.
“First, it was the freedom of them niggers, then bitches’ rights, and what do you know? Them filthy faggots got their way too. NOW, we’re expected to sit back on our asses and allow machines to be treated as equals?”
A hush fell over the crowd. A few people gasped in shock, putting their hands over their mouths, looking around for dissenters. A large, muscular black man stood up and began making his way to the front. You could see anger rising up within like a volcano, ready to erupt. Three men in camouflage gear moved to intercept.
“Hold on brother. I am not your enemy. Please forgive me?” The speaker said calmly, looking directly at the black man. “You must understand, it’s not always easy for me to let go of the old ways, especially when I feel so passionately for what is plaguing our world. I was out of line and will ask God to forgive me, for he has shown me the error of my ways. I have formed a new path of righteousness, and I want you, ALL of you, to join and fight this evil upon us! We are all of His children! We are all brothers and sisters! God is calling each and every one of you to serve in His army!” His face was red with excitement. His arms punctuated each statement as he thrust his finger towards the audience.
The black man stopped and looked up at the speaker and shouted, “Brother?…Brother? Are you shitting me?” His face was twisted and his body shook from anger as he continued, “Fuck you, you white piece of shit! We don’t need another hate preacher setting humanity back to the Dark Ages again with their filth!” Foaming spit flew out of his mouth as he shouted, like a rabid dog lost forever to the infection.
Samuel gawked in anticipation. - Would he run the stage and attack him? Would he leave? Would he sit down? - All of those scenarios raced through his head as he pondered the outcome of each. The black man turned and stormed out of the building, spewing forth vile language with each step he took. Whether or not the other three “bodyguards” could subdue him if he had decided to storm the stage may have had some influence on his decision to just leave. - Maybe he saw that they were armed or something… – Samuel thought to himself. The speaker caught the eye of one of the men who was wearing a black beret and gave him a nod. The other two, in green Berets, resumed their post as the other calmly walked out and stood guard to make sure the angry black man didn’t return to cause any more disruptions.
“There is a conspiracy of evil going on.” The speaker continued as the rest of the crowd settled back down. “Scientists and the government want us to believe that these mechanical men walking around have become self-aware. Some to the point of having feelings. Do you know what is really going on?”
He paused again and looked around as if he was looking for someone to shout out the answer to his question.
“They have given demons, straight from the pits of Hell, easier access to possess and use these robots to deceive and tempt God’s children. Scientists have made a deal with the devil, and your soul is at risk of being taken!” His voiced rose with passion.
Samuel and the others sat there in contemplation. A few shook their head in disbelief. As the speaker went on, talking about the vast demonic alliance and how these servants of Satan were stealing souls from the dead in order to take them directly to hell to raise an army to destroy the church. Samuel and many others soaked it all in. They were nodding in approval, sometimes crying out in agreement, getting fired up. Everything started to make sense to him now. It was like the light of creation going off in his mind. It seemed to answer a lot of questions as to how, all of a sudden, robots were thinking for themselves. It clicked as to how his father’s life was so easily taken. The speech continued on for more than an hour.
“In conclusion, my brothers and sisters, we are responsible for saving those precious souls that are being stolen before Judgement Day. We have a mission to release them back to their resting place. Join us, become a member of Anima Illuminate, earn great rewards in Heaven. Liberum mentem captivam! (freedom to the captive mind)” As he ended his speech, he shot his fist in the air and he repeated those last three words with his fist pumping into the air. Everyone joined in, chanting, cheering, and crying.
Samuel walked up to the man on the stage. The two men in green Berets moved to stop him. The speaker held his other hand, palm out, ordering his men to halt in place, and in a swift motion waved Samuel up to the front. Samuel stood there on stage by his side, fist raised in unison, chanting, and a smile beaming from ear to ear with tear marks streaking down his face.
A sentimental note filled Samuel’s head – Finally, a place to belong. -
As Samuel walked home in the cool breeze of the autumn evening, he pulled his jacket tighter around himself and decided to quicken his pace a bit. - Maybe the extra speed will warm me up a bit. – He reasoned. Recalling the events of that evening, his new friends, and the feeling of camaraderie, he had this sense of balance, self-respect, and acceptance. It was like he’d come home after being stranded on a desert island with a bunch of crazy savages. His thoughts fell to his mother – how was he going to explain his getting home late? -
He rounded a corner and came up to the shelter entrance. - Damn. It’s already past curfew – He could have kicked himself for allowing time to slip by that fast. Not only did he have to deal with his mother, but now the staff. His hand reached for the door. Without warning, it flung open in a flash, hitting him in the face, knocking his head back. He stumbled back, straining to maintain his balance as he grabbed his head with his hands. A force hit him square in the chest; he fell on his back, and a blur stumbled in between his legs and then was gone. Two staff members came running out as the door was closing. One almost tripped over Samuel. They both stopped and looked down.
“Oh my gosh, Sam. Are you ok?” A female voice asked in a concerned tone.
“Y-Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just got knocked on my ass is all.”
“Hey, mister; you know the rules. Watch your mouth! There are young children around.” A deep raspy male voice replied. “Speaking of rules, you are over an hour past your curfew!” The man reprimanded him as he outstretched his hand to give assistance.
“I-I’m sorry, Mister Cowl. I know I’m late, but I do have a good reason.” He struggled, a bit wobbly getting up. - Guess I got hit a little harder than I thought. - ”What was up with The Blur?”
“The Blur?” Cowl tilted his head to the side in confusion.
“Yeah, that du-” Samuel tried replying before being interrupted.
“Oh, yes him. I get it now. Yeah, he is a speedy little guy for his size. Apparently he didn’t want to take a bath and got away from his mother. He won’t go far; he’ll be back soon. Funny thing is, he won’t cross the street. He’ll just circle the building a few times and eventually come inside and get his bath anyway.” Mr. Cowl said with a grin.
Samuel smirked as he realized they were talking about Runt. That was what everyone called him. Runt was an eight year old Mulatto that was overweight and always playing in the dirt. His mom was an older, heavyset woman. Could have been his grandma or aunt; Samuel didn’t really know.
“So, Sam; why are you returning after curfew?” The lady spoke up with a frown on her face.
“Yeah, Missus Cowl, I’m sorry about that, too. I was attending a religious ceremony, and it ran late.”
“Well, I guess we can let you slide on that one. Off you go. I’m sure your mother is worried about you. Try not to let it happen again. The rules we have here are for your protection, you know.”
“Yes ma’am. I know. I will make sure to be on time from now on. Thank you.” He smiled as he walked past them on his way upstairs to the third floor to be with his mother.
They were good-hearted people, not incredibly wealthy, but just enough that they ran a homeless shelter for those less fortunate. Most were regulars that needed help getting back on their feet after an extended layoff. Some were carrier bums that came in for an evening meal before heading off to their cardboard box houses. The building was extremely clean despite being located in a run-down area of the outskirts of downtown. The Cowls made sure that those with extended stays and needs assisted with the daily duties of cleaning and maintenance.
Samuel took two stairs at a time to quicken his ascent. He could feel the beads of sweat forming on his brow as he neared the third floor landing. He opened the door to the hallway and turned right. He slowed down to regain his breath. He got to the small apartment he and his mother were staying in and lifted his hand to rap on the door. Before his hand connected, the door flew open and there stood his mother with an angry scowl across her face.
“Samuel Carter Jackson!”
- Uh oh, she is really pissed – His heart sank as his eyes immediately jerked to the floor.
“Where have you been? I swear, if you’ve been doing anything illegal, I am going to throw you out! I’ve told you before, I will NOT have any of that IN MY HOME!” The volume that she used was just slightly lower than a commercial jet crashing into a glass factory. Several doors from along the hall cracked open as curious eyes peeked at the drama unfolding.
“Mom, please; I’m so sorry; let me explain!” He pleaded.
“Get your ass in this house and sit down.” She demanded as she grabbed his arm and pulled him in. She slammed the door and locked it. “Explain!”
“Mom, I wasn’t doing anything illegal. I was attending a religious get together, and I made some friends. The guy that spoke has offered me a job when I’m not with you. We will be reaching out to others.”
His mom looked at him in disbelief. ”Do you have anything from this meeting to prove you were there?” She glared at him, expecting him to stumble over his words or turn away, indicating a lie was about to take place.
“Mom -” He paused, not taking his eyes from hers, “I have this small book that they handed out and encouraged us to read. He said all of life’s answers could be found within.” He pulled the booklet out of his back pocket and offered it to her.
She took it from his hands, continuing her glare, then she looked down at the cover. ”A New Testament?” She spoke in a quieter tone. She flipped open the small booklet to a random page and read aloud, “Every natural animal and plant on this Earth is subject to the respect and balance of human needs and desires. It is our job to aid mother nature in keeping that balance as to not risk a detrimental shift to cause harm.”
She read a few more random passages to herself, closed the book and smiled. She handed the book back to her son and spoke, “Samuel, I appreciate that you didn’t lie to me. I apologize for being so angry a few minutes ago, I was just so worried. I was scared you had been hurt, or worse.”
“It’s ok, mom, I understand. Again, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He stood up and wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. He knew he hadn’t always been the most well-behaved or easy kid to raise.
She squeezed him tightly back. “Sam, I forgive you. But you know that you were out past curfew, and I cannot let that go unpunished. You are grounded for one week. Now go get washed up, eat some dinner, and then get right to bed. We have an early morning at the plant.”
He pulled back with a look of disappointment and said, “Yes ma’am.” No rebuttals; no arguments.
She kissed him lightly on the forehead and swatted his bottom as he turned to go to the kitchen. - Something is very different about that boy – She thought. It made her feel warm and peaceful inside. Seems that finally he has found something he can feel good about. She made her way to bed.
“Mom?” Samuel called from the kitchen.
“Yes son, what is it?
“They want to help me get my diploma, to graduate. I want to do that.”
She stood there with her body twisted, looking back at the kitchen opening, perplexed, astonished, and proud of her son all at the same time. ”Oh Sam. That – that is incredible. I am so happy for you. We will talk about it more in the morning. Good night, my sweet boy. I love you.”
“Ok mom, sounds great! I love you, too.”
*Now*
A voice cracked over the car radio, “Delta Three-Delta Three, this is dispatch, over”
“Delta-Three here dispatch, go ahead, over.”
“10-71 reported, possible Code Purple in Dog Park off of Cheshire, Code 3, over”
Shooting, possible gang activity, Use lights and siren
“10-4 dispatch, ETA – 3 minutes, over and out”.
The engine roared to life as the sirens and lights were activated. Chuck turned to his partner and sarcastically exclaimed, “Never a dull moment, aye Mike?!”
Mike smiled back, “That’s why I love this job!”
The car flew through multiple intersections, engine revved high, sliding through turns, left, then right, then left again, and finally skidding to a stop. There was a body laying on the sidewalk. It was hard to make out in the absence of adequate street lighting.
“Delta-Three to dispatch, 10-97 intersection of 14th and Cheshire, looks like we got an 11-44, investigating, over.”
Arrived at scene, deceased person – coroner required
“10-4 Delta-Three, out.”
Mike turned off the siren and then switched on the cruiser’s spot light and shone it in the direction of the body. There was something odd about it. Chuck got out of the car first and crouched low, using the car as cover, moving towards the front end. He drew his weapon and scanned the area, finger on the trigger guard. Mike opened his door and crouched behind it, drawing his weapon. It was three in the morning, and both officers knew that danger could jump out from anywhere. They both put on their night vision glasses and continued scanning the area. After a few intense minutes, Chuck sounded, “ALL CLEAR!”
“ALL CLEAR!” Mike returned.
They both put their guns away, withdrew their flashlights, and walked towards the body. As they got closer, they both looked at each other in surprise. This wasn’t a human body.
Chuck reached for his neck and clicked the personal radio relay device, “Dispatch, this is Delta-Three, Cancel 11-44. Body is not human. We have another iSAB deactivated.”
“10-4 Delta-Three, DoS will be notified, 10-23, over”
“Standby confirmed, dispatch, Delta-Three out.”
Chuck looked at Mike and sighed. ”This is going to be a long night”.
“Wasn’t there reports of shooting?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, 10-71. Let’s break out the caution poles and block off the area. No doubt, news reporters will be here in a few minutes; we don’t want them contaminating the crime scene.
Mike began looking around the area to find any gun casings, as Chuck went to the trunk and grabbed the caution poles. The caution poles were no bigger than a man’s forearm with a disk-shaped bottom. He laid them in a perimeter around the body – ten yards out. Once he switched them on, a holographic ribbon displayed a yellow and black marquee notice - CAUTION : OFFICIAL PERSONNEL ONLY! – Chuck returned to assist Mike in looking for gun casings.
“Strange. We’ve been searching for over twenty minutes, and I see no signs of gunfire. I barely even see any signs of a struggle.” Mike said in a tone of frustration. ”This is like the seventh one this quarter. What is this world coming to?”
“I don’t know, partner. Would be nice if they wouldn’t leave us in the dark regarding these specific incidents. Uh oh.” Chuck looked up. ”They’ve started to arrive.”
Several news agencies in vans began rolling in like a swarm of locust over a cornfield. News anchors and cameramen began setting up.
“Dispatch, Delta-Three requesting multiple back-ups to assist with media control. We may need to block off more territory if -” Mike was interrupted.
“Delta-Three. This is Chief Sanchez. We are sending you back up. DoS has notified us that they will be there within the hour. We should be able to have things wrapped up before the morning commuters begin traveling through that area. In the mean time, keep the media at bay. You are only authorized to confirm a murder; all other details are deemed classified. Over and out.”
“10-4 chief, out!”
“We’ve got back up coming, Chuck. We just need to hold tight. DoS will be here shortly.”
“Uhm, yes I heard.” He laughed. ”I’ll go head off the press; you keep an eye on things here.”
Mike grabbed a black blanket and laid it over the “corpse” while the news personnel were finished getting set up. Chuck headed over to the far right edge of the caution poles and stepped through. Just then, three squad cars pulled up near the same time. Six junior officers stepped out, and Chuck directed them to their spots along the perimeter. ”Say nothing to the press other than, No comment. I am senior officer on deck and we have some specialists joining us soon. Once they show up, ask for their credentials and then lead them to me,” Chuck instructed his team. They all nodded in agreement and understanding, heading off to their assigned posts.
As the news journalists made their way from their staging areas around their vehicles to the perimeter set up earlier, Chuck moved to greet them. Near the same time, members of the press unloaded a barrage of questions with microphones and lights being shoved in his face.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the press. Please – Please calm down. I am authorized to make a general statement.” Both of his arms were outstretched, with his hands waving, as he waited for everyone to calm down and pay attention to him. Grunts and huffs emanated from the crowd as they pressed forward, eager to hear what the officer had to say. ”Ladies and Gentlemen, I am Sargeant Chuck Meerkez. I have been instructed to let you know that there has been a murder. At this time, no other details can be released. That is all. Thank you.”
“Wait, what? That’s it? What the hell kind of bullshit statement is that?” A large breasted, blonde reporter nastily spoke out. Her top was barely able to hold everything in.
- Obviously she wasn’t hired for her skills. - Chuck thought. ”I’m sorry, but yes; that is it. That is the only statement I’m authorized to give. Please excuse me as I do have to get back to the scene.” He quickly snapped back, tipped his hat, and walked back into the perimeter. Loud shouts and curses echoed from the reporters as they pressed forward. Three junior police officers closed in and began waving the irritated mob back.
“Boy, they don’t look happy, do they?” Mike said in all obviousness.
“No shit, Sherlock. I hate it when we have to do this. Did you find anything?”
“Not a thing. No shells, no footprints, no signs of struggle; nothing. Not sure where the idea of possible gang involvement came from. Looks to me, the robot just short-circuited.”
A half-hour later, three unmarked black Suburbans pulled up. Nine men climbed out of them, seven were obviously Augments. Each, almost seven feet tall, identical to the next. Their right forearms were replaced with 9mm motorized miniguns, and their belts were fed with a small metal container holding the extra rounds. Their left arm was replaced with a metal prosthetic replacement. Their torsos were enclosed in metal protective bulletproof armor, featuring a symbol painted on the front and back. Their left eyes were covered with a full spectrographic telescoping lens that allowed them to see great distances and in the full range of the electromagnetic spectrum. From the knee down, their legs were replaced with jump rods. The elastic cords allowed them to run at an incredible rate, as well as jump great distances. They were hybrid mechanical humans, generally hired out as mercenaries or bodyguards.
The group of news reporters immediately backed up. Two men, one black and one white, in dark grey pinstriped suits, sporting a matching fedora and Stacy Adams Spat boots, carrying silver, metal briefcases, moved towards one of the junior officers.
“Officer, I am Agent White. Who is in charge here?” The black man said with a deep authoritative voice as he flipped open his badge he’d removed from the inside pocket of his jacket.
“Th-Th-That would be Sargeant Meerkez, p-p-p-please wait here while I get him.” The junior officer stuttered nervously and immediately ran. He ended up falling in his haste as he tripped over one of the caution poles, knocking out the holographic “tape”. He fumbled to place it back upright and quickly excused himself with an apology and ran to get Sargeant Meerkez.
Agent White turned and looked at his partner with no exchange of emotion. The junior officer returned with Chuck. Chuck extended his hand and introduced himself to them. They both showed their badges again.
”I am Agent White, and this is Agent Brown. We are assuming control of this crime scene.” Again, face devoid of any emotion.
Chuck let out a laugh too quickly, and he tried to cover it up with a cough. ”Is both of your middle names’ Ain’t?” His tongue slipped before he could think about what was flying out of his mouth.
“I fail to see the humor in your inquiry.” Agent Brown said with one eyebrow curiously raised, no emotion on his face.
“I-I’m sorry; that was unprofessional. What can we do to assist?” Chuck’s face turned bright red with embarrassment.
“You can get the fuck out of our way. Take your officers and move your caution poles fifty yards out. You will establish a one-block quarantine zone and stay out. Tell the press to go home or be arrested and jailed.” Agent White responded with a stare that was so cold it could have stopped Chuck’s heart.
“Arrested? On what grounds?” Again, Chuck’s mouth slipped faster than the filter in his brain could stop him.
With a sinister smile, Agent Brown stepped forward and extended his left hand, which was wrapped in a white cotton glove. It encircled Chuck’s neck and proceeded to effortlessly lift him up off the ground. Chuck immediately grabbed the Agent’s arm with both hands, trying to get free. Agent Brown’s head titled to one side, still with that smile, dark brown eyes staring into Chuck’s, “We don’t answer to you. You will do what you have been instructed or you will be sequestered. Understand?” His hand squeezed slightly harder, placing emphasis on his question.
In the back of his mind, he could have sworn there was a glimmer that flashed across Agent Brown’s eyes when he said “sequestered.” It sent chills down his spine. He could feel the darkness creep along the outer edges of his eyes as both of his carotid arteries were being compressed, cutting off the circulation of blood to his brain. “Yexks” Chuck struggled to answer with limited head movement up and down, signaling his affirmation.
“Excellent! Thank you for your cooperation.” Agent Brown let Chuck go, and he collapsed to the ground in a fit of coughing. Mike ran to his partner’s side.
The Augments began surrounding the body where the caution poles were, while the junior officers began establishing the extended perimeter. Chuck and Mike began ordering the press to vacate the area as instructed. It wasn’t long before everyone was in place, as the agents had ordered. Agent White knelt down with his briefcase and opened it. Agent Brown grabbed the blanket and removed it from the iSAB laying there, now in a pool of his own lubricant. He knelt down and opened his briefcase as well. The speed and efficiency to which they both worked the scene reminded him of when he and his brother would watch slapstick movies in fast forward. Samples were taken, cameras flashed, and devices with chaotic lights and strange noises scanned over the body.
Each Agent worked on separate areas, complimenting each other in a symphony of coordinated movements. Seven minutes passed and they both closed their briefcases simultaneously. Agent White depressed a small earpiece and mouthed a few words. One of the Augments walked to the middle Suburban, climbed in, and started it. Two Augments walked towards the body and stood there waiting. The Suburban pulled up parallel to the iSAB body and stopped. The other two Augments loaded it into the back and then climbed in. Agent Brown, closing his hand into a fist, twisted his wrist up to his face and began talking.
“Director, we are finished here. On our way back to The Shop.” – “Yes sir, full deactivation; just like the others.” – “Understood sir, ATA forty-three minutes, twenty-three point two zero seven seconds.”
He let his wrist drop back down to his side as he picked up his briefcase. He looked at Agent White and gave a curt nod. Agent White pressed his earpiece again and mouthed a few more words. The rest of the Augments began moving out, entering the other two Suburbans. Agent White followed them and entered the lead vehicle. Agent Brown walked to the outer perimeter and found Sergeant Meerkez.
“Sargeant Meerkez, a word please.” His tone was less threatening than before.
“Yes, Agent Brown?” His throat was still sore, but he didn’t want to give any impression of weakness or defeat. He stood up straight, shoulders back, eyes directly forward in a confrontational stare-down.
“I want to thank you for your department’s cooperation and speed of execution. Our report to your superiors will reflect your concerted efforts.” Agent Brown extended his hand in a friendly gesture for a shake.
Chuck uncontrollably flinched. Anger settled over his face. He was upset that he couldn’t maintain his front. He reached out and grabbed the hand firmly, “It was our pleasure Agent, I hope your investigation goes well. If there is anything you need from us in the future, feel free to contact our Chief.”
“Excellent, I’m sure we will soon. Have a pleasant day.” Agent Brown spun on his heel and returned to the third Suburban, climbed in, and all three vehicles left.
As the Suburbans vanished out of sight, Chuck walked back over to the squad car and climbed in. Mike was already there. He placed the ring finger of his right hand on a small fingerprint scanner to the right of the steering wheel, and the car roared to life.
“Shit, dude, are you ok?” Mike asked as he was eyeballing the bruises forming over Chuck’s neck, a bit more obvious than he had intended.
“What the fuck was that guy’s problem? He had no sense of humor, and his actions were totally uncalled for!” Chuck replied in an elevated voice of irritation. He rubbed his neck and winced a little. “I guess I’ll be ok. What an asshole!”
“I don’t know, partner. The whole thing didn’t feel right. I mean, who brings THAT much firepower to a “glitch” investigation?” His eyes were wide as his hands flailed in a fit of frustration.
“Oh well, not much more we can do about it now. It’s four o’clock. We still have another few hours before shift change. Do you want to…” He stopped, as he was looking in his rear view mirror to back up and leave. He put the car in park and turned his head around as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. “What the fuck is this now? Did they forget something?”
Mike looked at him in surprise as he whipped his head around to see what Chuck was talking about. Three black unmarked Suburbans pulled up across the street and stopped. One man got out of the lead vehicle and began walking towards the squad car. Chuck turned off the car and opened his door to step out. As he was stepping out, he unsecured the strap that was holding his gun in its holster and he placed his hand on it. Mike followed suit and got out of the car as well.
A tall, lanky black man sporting a bald head and a tightly trimmed goatee, wearing black slacks with an olive drab polo greeted the two men in uniform with a big smile, “Morning officers, I am sorry we were running a bit late. We spoke with your Captain earlier. We are from the Department of Sentience. You must be Chuck. My name is -”
“Let me guess, Agent White?”
“Are you trying to be funny? We don’t go by ‘agent’ anything. I am Doctor Sairja, we are here for the iSAB that was kil – er, uh – deactivated.” A displeased look followed his tone as he held out a plastic identification card featuring his name, job title, DoS logo, with a scanner code at the bottom.
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” Mike exclaimed as he ran back to the car. Chuck just stood there holding the ID card, staring at it in disbelief.
Thank you in advance for any input you can provide.
