Everybody Wants To Rule The World 1

1 - Daylight


They will cover the face of the ground so that it cannot be seen. They will devour what little you have left after the hail, including every tree that is growing in your fields.

-- Exodus 10:5


The military truck stopped right in front of the perimeter set up by the forces that arrived earlier. Blinking lights, wooden yellow fences, soldiers with M16 carbines; the usual military perimeter surrounded the small part of the city which fell victim to a vicious attack last night.

And nobody knows who or what did it. Terrorists? An experimental weapon? A huge bomb? Many more questions branched out of the other questions as the days go by, and the government doesn't have anything in their hands to show to the public. Most of the public believe that this is a major cover-up; groups have begun to emerge dedicated to finding a link between these attacks and the government. So far they haven't found anything, and the government isn't doing anything to stop them. They just let them do as they please.

Others who tried to investigate the sources of these attacks also wound up with nothing. Everybody's growing more concerned since this is the third attack in Quezon City. Three separate districts all suffer the same fate of mysterious deaths and destruction.

And this is the third district to be visited by Adam Blaine. The muscular 'super-soldier' of the military stepped out of the truck and passed by the yellow fence. Thick black hair gelled into spikes; body seemingly toned by God himself, and scars on his face to prove his worth, that's how you identify Adam among the others. He gained the moniker 'super-soldier' because of his feats during the terrorist takeover of the Sunshine Hotel in California. The seemingly impossible odds of five soldiers against twenty-two terrorists were won by the brave acts of Adam, and now he's Captain 'super-soldier' Blaine.

The captain entered the dark-green tent erected near the fence where the other soldiers convened. Adam faced a barrage of salutations as he went in which he warmly received.

"Any updates on the situation?" Adam asked.

One of the soldiers handed him a clipboard, "Here's the latest, captain."

His eyes quickly read the contents of the clipboard. Still no leads on the suspect, or suspects. Just damage reports, casualties, and no survivors.

He handed the clipboard back to the soldier then sighed. Adam faced the same situation in the past two districts he visited. Nobody came up with anything. They're all clueless, and no one can provide anything that can be considered as a lead. The incident is starting to appear as if the perpetrators have stealth suits.

Adam went out of the tent and personally surveyed the damage. Most of the small buildings were destroyed, houses severely damaged and piles of burnt wood and corpses lay across the streets. Vehicles were smashed, bullet holes were everywhere, and some of the corpses have blunt objects sticking out of their bodies. It was as if the people here fought a battle amongst themselves.

The nearby buildings and homes who weren't affected by whatever this is recall nothing about that night. They didn't hear anything, nor did any kind of destruction take place. It was a quiet night, vehicles passed through without any trouble at all, and the air is silent. They just scratched their heads as they woke up and saw what just happened to their neighbors. Their houses were virtually untouched while a few kilometers everything's turned to rubble.

Adam stopped next to the corpse of a man in his 50's, lying face down on the asphalt, his head impaled with a wooden stake. His corpse lay near the ruins of a Dunkin' Donuts venue where many more corpses are inside, making the place look like a ruined mausoleum. He continued moving forward where more and more corpses litter the streets, some are even inside their cars, faces pressed against the steering wheel smeared with blood. Everyone suffered from different yet horrific kinds of deaths.

Finally he came upon the other end of the perimeter where five soldiers stood guard. Adam sat on a bench near the tent, the same one on the other side where he entered, and lit a cigarette. As he blew puffs from his mouth, he contemplated on what he just saw.

They're all the same. The three districts. All the same.


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The vast chamber lay in the darkness, nothing can be seen, not even a faint sliver of light. Nothing can be heard as well. It's like you're inside a void, absolutely nothing is present except for the assurance that you're stepping on something solid, probably a steel floor.

"Progress is exceptional. I am pleased with all of the reports."

A deep male voice spoke, it echoed throughout the chamber.

"A little bit more, we just need to see something."

Six dark blue lights illuminated the very center of the chamber, revealing a black Eye of Horus painted on the floor. A man emerged from the top side of the painting, his face completely shrouded in darkness. Only his gray business suit is present, along with his right hand clutching a flip-top phone.

"I have issued a regroup in the next two hours. I'll make sure that they're ready."

Slowly he flipped his phone shut and dropped it into his pocket. He tilted his head upwards and basked on the dark blue light, but still he kept his face hidden in the darkness. Someone might be watching him, he didn't dare risk exposure.


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Armand took a small bite of his shawarma as he sat on a bench in the Quezon City circle, Again Paul is late, as always, and Armand is always the first one to arrive in the meeting spot. He wore a blue hat which covered his semi-bald hair, a blue shirt and black pants with matching rubber shoes. The dripping sandwich on his left hand served as his breakfast since Paul did state that this meeting is a very important one.

The emails which he sent last night were images of the UVB-76 taken directly from the internet. The accompanying text said that the station stopped its regular broadcast since last week up until now. Armand was a bit disappointed since he expected something else from Paul, something bigger and juicier than this.

Armand took great interest towards these attacks ever since the first one took place right near his home. He remembered riding his bike home; he literally passed by that district in an attempt to get back home as fast as he could. He didn't see anything unusual; everybody's doing their nightly business. Drug addicts here, hookers there; cars pass by, teenagers on their strolls. Everything's just damn normal.

Then the next day he woke up to the news of that district obliterated. The same hookers, the same addicts and teens he saw that night now lay as lifeless and mangled corpses on the ground. He tried to visit the place but was stopped by the military as they set their perimeter around. He tried to ask his friends, his fellow nurses, but they're all empty. They just received the bodies into the hospital without even a single clue on what just happened.

The second attack erupted near the clinic where he was assigned to. Armand remembered watching the smoke rise out of the buildings in the clinic's water tower. Bodies came into the clinic as if the district is a corpse factory. Bullet wounds, stab wounds, slashes, slit throats, broken bones, snapped spines, the macabre list goes on.

The third attack took place last night, and he was asleep in bed, momentarily awakened by Paul's text message. The early-morning news provided a bird's-eye point of view on the district which lay in ruins yet other nearby buildings and houses lay untouched.

Armand's next bite of the shawarma left a trail of mayonnaise trickling down his mouth. A hand appeared out of nowhere which wiped it off; his head darted upward and saw Paul's grinning face.

"Late again eh, you never do change," Armand said with a smile.

"I'll never change. Well, not for you," Paul sat next to Armand.

Paul wore his usual white shirt and brown pants with brown leather shoes. The media company which he worked for didn't have strict regulations towards work wear, so Paul gets to wear whatever he wishes. His short curly hair is what makes him identifiable when he's with a huge crowd, along with his favorite pair of shades.

"Saw the news earlier? Another attack," Paul said.

Armand finished his shawarma then tossed the wrapper on a nearby trash bin. He wiped his lips with a napkin then answered, "Yeah. Tragic. Fortunately I'm not near it this time."

Armand then asked, "Don't have anything to leak Paul? I'm sure your network has something now."

Paul smiled. NATV, the television network he's currently working in, doesn't have anything about the attacks. Hell, all of the networks don't have anything at all as well. They all broadcasted the same headlines: "Mysterious attack rocks city."

"Mysterious attack leaves hundreds dead."

"EXCLUSIVE! District reduced to rubble by unknown weapon."

"Nope, nothing for you Chang. My current assignment, however, is to personally visit the district and conduct interviews on those who lived nearby," Paul said, addressing Armand with his nickname.

"Great. Better have something for me when you come back," Armand said, face evident with glee.

"You better have something for me too. Do some snooping on the corpses in your clinic; something might come up from whatever you might find there."

Armand laughed. He despised sneaking into the morgue since he never liked corpses. He always felt like those lifeless bodies are watching him from behind, waiting to pounce on him.

"So what is this meeting all about?" Armand asked, he remembered that Paul did say something about importance in this meeting.

"Oh yeah, this," Paul fished out a piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and showed it to Armand.

December 21, 2012. Abaddon, Xanadu, Demi, Gyro, Ofel (Ophel), Aztec… Six.

"What the heck is this?" Armand scratched his head in confusion.

"I found this in my mailbox last night. It was placed inside a small envelope with my name written on it, and the person who sent it placed BY as his name."

"Probably a prank, I mean, it doesn't really make any sense at all to be of help."

Paul folded the paper and dropped it into his pocket, "Who knows? This might come in handy. Won't hurt anyone if I keep it right?"

Paul's phone suddenly rang. Quickly he answered it. After ten seconds he flipped his phone shut.

"Okay they're calling me now, see you later Chang," Paul stood up, patted Armand's shoulder, then quickly left.

"Okay, bye!" Armand decided to stay for a few more minutes in the park. He recalled the names in the paper Paul showed him.

Abaddon, Xanadu, Gyro, Ofel, Aztec, Demi.

December 21, 2012. The Mayan doomsday prophecy.

Armand set upon himself to check the internet later about these names. He'll try to make sense on what that note is about.


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Adam finished his third cigarette and stood up. His personal inspection yielded no results, his men didn't come up with anything. He'll return to base empty-handed, just like how he returned from the past two districts he visited.

He passed through the same path he took earlier. Saw the same corpses but this time they're now being hauled off by soldiers. Volunteer workers and the city's development authority worked to clean up the mess. Adam ignored them all; he fixed his gaze straight ahead and out of this devastated hellhole.

Just as he was about to board the military truck, his phone vibrated. He stepped away from the vehicle and fished out his phone.

"Captain Blaine."

Silence.

"Who is this?"

What he heard next made him walk away from the truck. Adam knew that this is going to be a very long conversation.