An alarm rang out, a young man’s hand slapping down to shut it up as he looked up at his ceiling, his groans falling on deafened ears. Standing up, he looked at his bedside table, where a usb drive sat, something he had received a few months before. The name attached to it made no sense to him – he did not know anyone calling themselves ‘Oilman’ - but he would take a look at it after he got something in his gullet.
Light streamed in through the windows, the beginning of the dawn showing over the nearby hills. A Western Alliance flag flew in his yard, the mix of the former American and Canadian flags a welcome sight.
“Well, start of another annoying day. Kind of glad to have today off.” As he walked towards his bedroom door, his stereo started up, his queue starting off with some alternative rock.
Jamming along with the song that played, he tapped his phone, noticing that someone had left two messages. Pressing the replay switch, he stood by, pulling socks out of his dresser as the speaker played them back.
“Message one. Message received - ‘Victor, we got your proposal in today. We’re very excited to begin working with the genius programmer who coded the operating system that the Western Alliance runs on.”
He sighed. He hated doing programming, but it paid the bills, and it got the government to leave him alone. Most people had to worry about the government putting their hands in their pockets, but since he was in the government’s pocket, he barely had to worry about funds.
Of course, he still worked. Last time he tried to sit at home without work, it almost drove him insane.
“Message two. Message received - ‘This is a priority transmission. You do not know who I am, nor would you recognize the name of my organization. However, I felt a need to reach out and contact you as soon as possible. We’ve got a proposition for you, and we’d like to-”
“Phone, skip and delete message.”
“Message skipped. Message deleted. You have no new messages.” Victor smiled. He did not like to be bothered on his day off, and a message from someone who would not leave their name and number was not something worth his time.
Grabbing his shoes, he slipped them on quickly, grabbing his wallet, keys and jacket, staring down at his pajamas. The forecast had called for slightly nippy weather, so he thought it would be a good idea to forgo regular clothing.
Opening the front door, however, proved to be something else entirely. Two unmarked black vehicles sat parked in his driveway, stiff-necked suits staring him down as he left his house. Sighing, he ignored them as he walked past.
“Victor Hernandez, sir. We need to talk with you immediately! It’s regarding-”
“If it’s regarding any programming, this is my day off. You can go to hell for all I care today.” Raising his middle finger, he flipped off the suits, walking slowly away. The coffee shop would not be empty long at that time of morning, and he hated waiting in line for his coffee.
“Sir, we’re not who you think we are. We need you to-”
“I thought the finger would have told you to fuck off. Leave me alone. I already do my duty for this nation, and I don’t care what you say, I’m not going anywhere with you.” Leaving the suits behind, he smugly stared ahead, looking for the coffee shop sign. Spotting it quickly, his steps hastened.
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The coffee shop was incredibly empty, save for the single barista on duty. He was always a hoot and a holler for Victor, having some incredible story to tell. If he remembered right, the barista’s name was… Ghost. Sitting down at the table he preferred, Ghost laughed as he saw his favorite customer from his vantage point.
“Morning, Victor. Paper’s there for ya. I’ll get your morning dose of black gold here in a minute.” Victor smiled, picking up the paper. The headline was something stupid about the Western Alliance’s approach to the United Neo Soviet Republic, and how the Neos were supposedly ‘baby-killers’ and ‘heathen people-eaters.’ He had stopped paying attention to the news a while ago, when the last important thing that had been reported was the release of his government operating system. Ghost set down his coffee, dropping a single sugar cube into the cup of Victor’s morning wake-up fuel.
“Thanks, Ghost. How’s life here?”
“Can’t really complain. I’ve got about two hours until the morning rush for coffee and toasted bagels, so I’m pretty much ready to go. Oh, did you hear? Someone who the Neos claim was Western was discovered in downtown Moscow, a hole the size of a phone pole through his chest.” Victor stopped for a minute, raising an eyebrow as he drank his coffee. Continuing to look through the paper, he barely heard the door open again, the sound of clean and crisp shoes echoing through the quiet shop.
“Victor Hernandez. We need to-”
“Can’t a guy drink his coffee in peace? This is my day off, so once more, fuck off. You’re being rather annoying, and since you’re not wearing identification, you’re not government, so I don’t have to listen to you. Good day, and fuck off.” Victor finished his cup of coffee, leaving the money for the coffee, as well as a tip for Ghost’s trouble. He stopped when one of the suits gripped his shoulder.
“Sir, this is urgent. If you don’t listen-”
“If I don’t listen? You’re preventing me from going home, you are unlawfully detaining a citizen, and you are pretending to be government agents. Talk to me again, and since I have sufficient charges, I will be able to get you lot locked away. Have a good day.”
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Victor entered his house, closing the front door quickly before any of the ‘suits’ decided they wanted to try following him inside for a chat. Locking his three deadbolts as fast as he could, he took a deep breath. If they had been real suits, they would have shown their identification as soon as they started talking. Tossing his keys into a bowl just out of view of the front windows, he walked into the kitchen, closing the blinds as he went. While he normally would leave his windows open, those suits had spooked him something good, and his paranoia was starting to trickle back in.
“That’s the last blind. Well, if I’m going to check it anyways, might as well see what that thumb drive contains.” Slipping off his shoes, Victor walked into the bedroom, snatching the drive from the bedside table it rested on. Holding it up to his face, he scanned it carefully, looking for any other visual markings beside ‘Oilman’ printed on the front. Sighing, he left the bedroom, walking carefully towards the front room where his computer sat. His holographic television sat ready, the projector mounts aimed in a diagonal path to create any image necessary.
Sitting down, he slowly plugged in the drive, becoming more and more nervous the more he thought about it.
What if this drive is connected to those suits? What if this is their drive?! I can’t take that kind of heat! I’d lose most of my contracts! He swallowed down his fear and loaded the drive, letting his computer scan it for any programs out of the ordinary. As the drive continued to load and be scanned, he pulled the drawer out from his desk, pressing a switch inside to unlock a fake bottom. With the bottom sliding back, he reached in, bringing out his vintage M1911 handgun. While he was not entirely worried, it had always paid to be careful, as some people had sent ‘suits’ at him in the past to threaten him.
“Okay, got a full magazine. Couple extra mags in the drawer. That’s… thirty-six bullets. Enough to take down a small army of suits. Hopefully those guys don’t have body armor if they decide that it’s better to invade my home.” The drive finished scanning, the contents displayed on the monitor.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here- wait. Video files? That’s all? I was worried for nothing! Let’s see what they are, in any case.” Clicking on the video marked ‘Shadowgate’, Victor immediately regretted the decision, as his computer immediately shut down, displaying a strange symbol couple with a language script he had never seen before. Standing up, he backed up, not noticing the holo-projectors starting up. With a flash, something projected itself into the room, wind whipping around as if a hurricane itself was starting to form in his front room. Turning around, Victor faced what had originally been his holo-television transform itself into something wholly alien to his mind.
“The Shadow Protocol has been activated. Repeat, non-agent activation of Shadow Protocol detected. Proceed with secondary contingency.” Victor shifted quickly to his desk, grabbing his handgun and training it on the obvious points of entry, including the front window. Turning to his computer, he noticed the drive laying on the desk, as if it had never been plugged in. Snatching it, he ran out of the room, searching drawers in his house until he found the two things he needed desperately: his custom tablet computer, and his mobile holo-projector setup.
“Gotta get out. Have to get away. They’re coming for me, I know it! Can’t let them win. Can’t let them take me-” He returned to the front room, stopping when he saw the former holo-screen become as smooth as glass, like the surface of a pond. A single individual stood in front of the mirror, though what it was concerned Victor more. The individual was some sort of quadruped, who was tapping the side of the ‘wall’ with a hoof- hoof? - and making their side ripple, the ripples causing Victor’s side to ripple, as if the two sides were connected. Swallowing, Victor stepped forward, startled by his front door crashing down, radios and voices alerting him to the intruders in his home. Grabbing a backpack from near the front window, he packed everything away as quickly as he could, slinging the bag onto his back before aiming his handgun at the door to the study. As a ‘suit’ came around the corner, armed with a rifle that pulsed with an energy like Victor had never seen, he opened fire, pegging the suit in the chest, and knocking him down quickly.
“You won’t take me alive, if you’re here to try to capture me! If you’re Soviet, then dosvidanya, suka!” Turning, he dived headfirst into the rippling ‘wall,’ feeling his entire body become engulfed by something that he knew was not supposed to be a part of his world. He could see the way he had ‘come in,’ the suits staring at the ‘wall’ and looking for him inside. Twisting around in the nonexistent air, he faced the other ‘wall,’ spying the quadriped staring at him with wide eyes- that was abnormal. From his experience, you could barley see the white parts of the eyes of horses, and that looked like a-
“Horse?!” With a flash, Victor flew through the quadriped’s ‘wall’, sailing across the room and slamming into a bookshelf. Groaning, he tried to stand up, holding his side as he looked at the ‘wall’ beginning to shrink.
“Well, there’s no way back now. Why are you staring at me? Go on, shoo!”
“Uh, well, if you don’t mind me askin’, why are you staring at me? I have very important Crystaller duties to perform.” Victor stood up straight, bending over after he slammed his head directly into the low ceiling. Rubbing it, he glared at the quadriped in front of him, anger boiling in his throat.
“Okay, new plan,” Victor muttered, aiming his handgun at the quadriped.
“You’re going to tell me exactly where I am, and then you’re going to take me home.” The quadriped backed up, as if it recognized the implement in his hand. Victor, smiling, knelt down, pressing the gun’s barrel against the quadriped’s head.
“P-please! I d-don’t know anything! I’m nothing important, just a f-former wizard!” Victor sighed, lowering the gun for a second. Pondering for a minute, he looked back down, raising an eyebrow before he began his questioning.
“So, you recognized my handgun. That means you’ve had previous encounters with humanity. Either that or I’m lying on a slab somewhere in a comatose state.”
“I-I’m s-sorry. I t-thought you were with Earthside-” Victor pushed his hand against the quadriped’s muzzle, raising an eyebrow before he continued.
“What’s Earthside?”