Uplift Protocol: Issue 4

Issue 4: Roswell

“Yes, I do believe humanity will be one of the greatest assets to Unity. Their lust for exploration. A drive for more knowledge. The things they have done to each other is a perfect testbed. Thoth’s contributions to Humanity’s level of disarray is appreciated. I have my doubts about his overall stability though. He is highly volatile in my estimation. ” –Ishtar, Head Researcher of Earth.

“This is Agent Micheal Brookes. We have a situation here. The ballon is up. It’s not human, I repeat it's not---“ Last known communication with agents in the field. ---From the Files of Roswell. (Circa 2075, After the formation of Operation Osiris.)

Roswell

New Mexico(USA)

July  1st, 1947

Micheal Brookes took a long drag from his cigarette. Tonight was unusually cool. Barely any wind.  The brass up in Washinton wanted him to investigate some sort of cult activity. Only one word to its name though: Unity. 

“Heh, with everything we’ve gone through you’d think we’d leave cults behind.”  Even to him, his words sounded hollow. I just need a coffee. That was it.

All around him, in the pre-dawn light, stores stood empty. He grimaced as the ashes fell upon his gray slacks. A faint whiff of perfume hit. Like Jasmine and vanilla. The quiet clack of heels on concrete. He turned. The woman was long-legged, blonde and buxom. Just the way he liked them. Her deep blue eyes peered up at him. Her deep read lips parted, “Got a light for a dame?” Her dress was black. Brookes shook his head like he was coming up from a deep dive. While good looking, most women didn’t distract him this way.

A small flame appeared. She took a drag herself, one of those classy long black cigs ladies favored nowadays. Some sort of design was imprinted on her wrist but his eyes kept coming back to her lips. A sharp pinprick brought him out of his daze.

The watch. His watch. Programmed for his defense.

Something wasn’t right here. Normally the damned thing went off when someone was trying to drug him. That needle hidden inside filled his bloodstream with adrenaline. His heart was racing. The blonde just winked and sauntered away. Black heels barely leaving any trace behind. Not even a hint of her perfume remained.

*****

Ishtar watched this exchange with some scientific interest. Earthers still had very primitive devices. While that watch did indeed counteract her mutated abilities, what this planet called “demis”, was fairly common among the denizens of the Multiverse. The Keepers employed many such experiments, failed or otherwise. He walked silently behind the blonde. How quaint. She might prove useful. He could feel the hunger within her. To control. Yes, he would take this one. He waited until the target was far enough away from all prying eyes. His black pitiless orbs saw everything. No matter what path this woman followed, it always fed into Unity,  his long gray fingers wrapped themselves around the hilt of the stunner. 

He sent a signal along the Keeper Null-Network:

///Seducer Class Found. Commencing With Capture.///

*****

Catherine Bel kept her gait steady as she wandered down the quiet streets of Roswell. The dim glow of the streetlights gave her some small comfort. A backwater little town within these United States but it was hardly the worst place she had ever been in. The hotel was just ahead. Its warm golden lights a welcoming sight. 

Faint pressure along her neck made her turn. A sudden intake of breath. The scream dying in her lungs before it could begin. An entity no taller than the spook man in the gray suit,  around 6 feet or so, loomed over her. Pain blossomed in her forehead as she tried to reach out with her gift to probe the shadowed being. It grasped her. Surprisingly gentle.

None of that little bird, it seemed to whisper to her. 

It was gravelly. Its eyes pulling her under. Something dark yet beautiful awaited her there.

Undisclosed Location

New Mexico(USA)

July  2nd, 1947

                Bel opened her eyes to a plain white room. Its padded walls reminding her of an insane asylum. Her breath hitched. Gasping, she rolled around on the bed, fearing the worst. But her hands and feet responded as normal. She sat up. Except for her smokes, everything else, including her clothing was present. She hugged herself and pulled her knees up to her chest. 

            Muttering: “Ok, maybe that spook did have something on me.”

 

            No response. 

            She chuckled. An edge of desperation entered her voice.

“ Alright! You can stop the presses now! I confess! I’m just a small-time pickpocket! I never hurt anybody!”

Still no response. No clicking of cameras or speakers.

Her voice became muddled with tears. Waterworks always seemed to help the dames in distress, she thought frantically. That will show them! 

She stammered, “I’ll…I’ll register with the Department of Defense if you want me to.”

Yea, the government loved having demis on the payroll. That would certainly give them pause. Her eyes darted around the room once more. There was no door here. Just padded walls. She launched herself from the bed, running her hands along the spongy surface. Her giggles turned to full-on sobbing.

 Endless silence was her only response.

*****

Ishtar gazed down at the frantic human female. The various monitoring devices measuring all of her bio-genetic responses and stimuli. The ceiling was made of much more advanced material than Earth currently possessed. For now, according to Chronos, they must wait. Drive this one to the edge of her mental faculties. Then she would be ripe for the picking. If nothing else, seeing her unravel this way would give him data to use against other human subjects. 

Roswell

New Mexico(USA)

July  3rd, 1947

               

Agent Brookes groaned as the sunlight hit his face full-on. His normally hazel eyes were bloodshot from all the research from the night before. Other than some upset cattle tipping and some weird-ass crop circles. Both of which were proven to be false indicators anyways. Both cases were kids messing around. The crop circle case was cause for more concern. Some emerging demi kid with the ability to summon or create sharp objects. No leads on Unity, or any other kinda non-sense related to it. He rubbed his face. Then went to the bathroom. Time to start another day. He’d give it until the end of the week then tell the higher-ups in Washington to go shove it.

Once outside, looking somewhat put together in his gray suit, red tie firmly pressed, Brookes made his way to Mainstreet. Maybe the church would have some sort of information on this mess. He pulled out the map for the township and found it listed: 1134 High Street. Hopefully, some merciful angels would guide his steps today. 

Church of St. Micheal

New Mexico(USA)

July  3rd, 1947

Father Pennington was just finishing his services for the day when a man walked in. As the parishioners filed out, giving polite greetings, some even handing the pastor some spices. The young man waited until the church was deserted.  His face was very grave. A 5 o'clock shadow on his chin.         

A clipped greeting, “Father.” 

The old priest looked at him, “Are you here for confession my son?”

“No, in fact, I was wondering if you knew anything about Unity.”

His calm demeanor changed. It became one of concern. “Ahh that. I have heard a thing or two. What I have found troubles me greatly. They talk of the end of days. Breaking down the barrier of life and death.” The old man shuddered. Crossing himself. His genial face clouded over with dread.

Pennington continued:

“Some think demis are the basis for all this talk but I believe it comes from something more sinister. It's leading our children astray. This cult doesn’t want to build a future. ”

Brookes took out his notebook, “So where is this particular salesman at?”

*****

Micheal re-checked his notes. Putting the car into neutral. This place looked desolate. Not even the chirping of birds or insects. He had a bad feeling about this. One solitary white building, from the shape of it, a warehouse. For miles around. Banjos started going off in his head. He felt better that he sent a missive to Washington before he went to this place. He gave himself a good slap. 

The full moon, usually a nice source of illumination, felt like a noose around his neck.

“Snap out of it Mike. You have a top line super-secret handgun. Made by nerds in Washington that can give a Demi a run for its money.”

He crossed himself for good measure. 

Be present, O Lord, and protect us through the silent hours of this night, that we who are wearied with the work and changes of this fleeting world, may rest upon Thy eternal changelessness. Amen.

He drew a great breath. Then exited the vehicle. His footsteps absurdly loud in this place. Making him wince as the gravel under his feet crunched with each movement. As he approached the main doors, he paused, checking the perimeter for foes or any kind of life. Nothing stirred. He took hold of the handle and gave it a shove. The double doors swung open. Immediately within were piles of boxes and crates. He walked inside, firearm at the ready, a few dim lights inside guiding his way.

Beads of sweat appeared on his brow as he went deeper within the complex. All the while, the faint ticking of his watch egged him onward. 

Tick. Alive.

Tock. Dead

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

*****

Chronos, with his cloaking suit, walked in lockstep behind Micheal.  Observing how the human moved. He was sturdy material. Had connections in the human government. But not high enough or connected enough to draw the eyes of others. He would be perfect. The Keeper pulled his stunner out. 

He would gather his flock for Unity. 

Using the face of a ghost.

Perfect.

*****

At the very end of the warehouse, a hatch leading downward was slightly ajar. The agent steeled himself and descended the steps. His breath became frosty. Absurdly, a black rotary phone was hooked to the wall near the white door at the end of the hall. He practically sprinted towards it. His fingers felt like butter as he dialed the home office. It felt endless but finally, someone picked up on the other side, feminine from the sounds of it:

“FBI Operator, Badge number?”

He gave it. Then a sound made him turn.

Pitiless black eyes held him in place. It was even taller then he was. It put long gray fingers to its thin lips. Grinning at him. But it was like making a puppet grin. It could mimic it but not reproduce it. Its bald gray dome a thing of nightmares. 

Not here. Not here. Not here. Not real! 

The watch pricked him again. He found his voice, shouted the words into the phone.

“It’s not human, I repeat it's not---“

The entity blinked. Time seemed to freeze. Micheal’s eyes widened in horror. His breath being drawn from his lungs. Then he knew no more.

Chronos looked down at the prone agent for a moment then motioned for Ishtar. By all appearance the form and likeness of Micheal Brookes. “Take him to the ship. Place him in stasis. I will need samples of him to maintain this façade.” 

The other keeper grabbed the human in his arms, hoisted him over his shoulder. Taking full stock of the specimines’ physicality. The primary material of any sentient race was always nice. Then phased out of existence. Cargo safely secured. 

Time sped up again. Then he spoke into the receiver. 

Repeating the badge number.

The other agent replied, “ Badge number confirmed. What was that noise, is there an electrical storm?” Chronos took a moment to consider. Flicking through the various databases in moments for a proper human response. 

“Indeed Washington Actual. Belay my last. I thought I saw some sort of ghost. You never know with Demis these days.”

Slight laughter on the other end. “Understood, check-in at the end of the week. Give us all sitrep then. Washington Out.”

The line went dead. 

Chronos walked through the white door. It was time to give Ms. Bel a choice.

High Earth Orbit

Markav Passive Monitoring Network(USA Prime Sector)

July  8th, 1947

///Highmaker to Horus///: Data Acquired. Keeper Identified. Uploading uncorrupted communication between Keeper Chronos and Washington FBI actual. Store for safekeeping. Human tech is not secure enough to know proper information at this time. Inform Forger High Council. Warn Typherian Ascendency. Warn Council of Five. Convergence Approaching.

*****

Ishtar watched as the containment field materialized around the human. Brookes’ face held a look of absolute shock. He shivered as the fluid climbed higher. He banged on the surface but it was as unyielding as the mountains themselves. He glared at the creature. “WHY!?” His mind was still in a state of confusion. Why in the hell did he go into that damned building without backup?

Ishtar gazed back at him. Whispering in his mind.

Because it was so convenient to take you this way. 

No mess. No-fuss. No damage to the specimen. Its voice grated on Micheal. Like a demon whispering from the depths. The worst part, it was merely stating an observation, like the damned thing had no feeling one way or another. 

It tilted its head to one side, then continued:

Your people have no proper defense against our compulsions. Your animal brain wanted to flee. Chronos and I made you stay. We love finding worlds like yours. Technological infants. In the grand scale of things. So much good material to work with. 

It started humming a tune that set the man’s teeth on edge.

Brookes resumed pounding his fists upon the cage. Damnit! Even the most powerful mental demis couldn’t do what these freaks could. Not without throwing up flags! As the golden fluid reached his neck, his last thought was:

If I survive, I am going to find that giant gray ass ugly you call a leader and kill him. You too you Dr. Frankenstein. 

Ishtar merely gazed back at the man caught in amber and continued his work. There was still much to be done about Ms. Bel. From the looks on the screen, they would eventually bring her to Unity. 

Progress.

 

• Issue 3:  Here
• Issue 5: Here
• Cast: Here