The Ministry Mysterywelt18April 12 2008, 05:25:23 UTC
Reflexively, I kick the crazed guy off of me, turn and pin him to the floor.. “I am not here to hurt you, I was locked up too”, I say to him as blood drips out of my nasal passage and onto his shirt. “Who are you?”
A puzzled face glances up at me. “Honestly, I have no idea”, he says breathing heavily.
“Well then, we had better stick together and help each other figure out what the fuck is going on.”
He nods in agreement. “Sorry about the nose.”
I stop to get a good look at his face. He has short dark hair and tan skin. His face is chiseled, as if he were a battle-hardened navy seal. His eyes, brown with an innocence of a child, but also the pains of an old man. I feel as if I have seen this face before, and not just in passing, but often…like family.
As I get up off of him, I lend my new associate a hand. He accepts.
“It’s funny”, he says getting back to his feet, “I have an odd feeling that we have met before.”
“Yeah…funny…you want to know what’s not funny. That security guard there, the one with the chair through his head…yeah, he tried to take a bite out of me a minute ago. So, I made him a chairman.”
He snickers and then looks confused. “Wait, you just killed someone?”
“More like re-killed. He was already dead. Look at his skin, it’s rotting away.”
“Oh God. How can that be? That’s impossible.”
”Apparently it’s not. How about we just go see if there are any more prisoners in this place.”
Together, we head down a flight of metal stairs into the “war room”. Twenty-five or so monitors of computers are in rows on desktops. The ceiling is at least three stories tall and the walls are lined with blank screens. Inlaid in the tile floor is a large crest with a crown-topped ring around a bird, anchor, and two crossed swords. The words surrounding the crest read: ‘United Kingdom Ministry of Defense’.
“What?!?!”, I mutter, puzzled. “Well, I guess we are in London.”
We look at each other with an awkward pause. A loud noise breaks the silence as we both turn suddenly toward the disturbance.
My new friend looks to me, “Sounds like it cam from behind that door.”
I take aim with the 9mm and slowly walk toward the door. My friend follows me, grabbing a dagger-shaped letter opener from one of the desks. As we approach another loud banging noise erupts from the room. I reach for the knob with my left hand and aim with my right. The knob turns and I swing the door open suddenly. We rush in like a S.W.A.T. unit raiding a meth lab. At the end of the office is a woman in tactical gear throwing boxes of files on the ground and cursing loudly. She turns suddenly and sees us at the entrance.
She quickly grabs her MP5 and unloads a clip into the doorway as we jump back into the war room.
“What the fuck?!?!”, yells my friend. “What did we do to you?”
“Stop firing!”, I yell.
The hiss of the sub-machine gun halts and I poke my head back into the room.
The woman looks shocked and panicked. “I’m sorry…I thought you were someone else”, she says with a British accent.
“What, your ex-boyfriends or something”, says the smartass I just freed.
She smiles at him. “Yeah, something like that.”
“So, might I ask what you are doing”, he inquires.
“I am searching for something. I need to figure something out.”
“Do you know who drugged us and locked us in those rooms upstairs?”, I ask.
A puzzled face glances up at me. “Honestly, I have no idea”, he says breathing heavily.
“Well then, we had better stick together and help each other figure out what the fuck is going on.”
He nods in agreement. “Sorry about the nose.”
I stop to get a good look at his face. He has short dark hair and tan skin. His face is chiseled, as if he were a battle-hardened navy seal. His eyes, brown with an innocence of a child, but also the pains of an old man. I feel as if I have seen this face before, and not just in passing, but often…like family.
As I get up off of him, I lend my new associate a hand. He accepts.
“It’s funny”, he says getting back to his feet, “I have an odd feeling that we have met before.”
“Yeah…funny…you want to know what’s not funny. That security guard there, the one with the chair through his head…yeah, he tried to take a bite out of me a minute ago. So, I made him a chairman.”
He snickers and then looks confused. “Wait, you just killed someone?”
“More like re-killed. He was already dead. Look at his skin, it’s rotting away.”
“Oh God. How can that be? That’s impossible.”
”Apparently it’s not. How about we just go see if there are any more prisoners in this place.”
Together, we head down a flight of metal stairs into the “war room”. Twenty-five or so monitors of computers are in rows on desktops. The ceiling is at least three stories tall and the walls are lined with blank screens. Inlaid in the tile floor is a large crest with a crown-topped ring around a bird, anchor, and two crossed swords. The words surrounding the crest read: ‘United Kingdom Ministry of Defense’.
“What?!?!”, I mutter, puzzled. “Well, I guess we are in London.”
We look at each other with an awkward pause. A loud noise breaks the silence as we both turn suddenly toward the disturbance.
My new friend looks to me, “Sounds like it cam from behind that door.”
I take aim with the 9mm and slowly walk toward the door. My friend follows me, grabbing a dagger-shaped letter opener from one of the desks. As we approach another loud banging noise erupts from the room. I reach for the knob with my left hand and aim with my right. The knob turns and I swing the door open suddenly. We rush in like a S.W.A.T. unit raiding a meth lab. At the end of the office is a woman in tactical gear throwing boxes of files on the ground and cursing loudly. She turns suddenly and sees us at the entrance.
She quickly grabs her MP5 and unloads a clip into the doorway as we jump back into the war room.
“What the fuck?!?!”, yells my friend. “What did we do to you?”
“Stop firing!”, I yell.
The hiss of the sub-machine gun halts and I poke my head back into the room.
The woman looks shocked and panicked. “I’m sorry…I thought you were someone else”, she says with a British accent.
“What, your ex-boyfriends or something”, says the smartass I just freed.
She smiles at him. “Yeah, something like that.”
“So, might I ask what you are doing”, he inquires.
“I am searching for something. I need to figure something out.”
“Do you know who drugged us and locked us in those rooms upstairs?”, I ask.
“Yeah”, she says with an awkward smile. “I did.”
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