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Parasite is the third part of The Underground series

Chapter 27 of 29

Silencing the Voices

There was something about survival that made someone not question their life.

Those who had kissed certain bullets in their lives knew what this felt like. Such things as survivor's guilt wasn't really a factor in the direct wake of such an event. One simply accepted that you were lucky enough to make it out alive. Afterward, that moment would be a constant reminder that you were simply living on borrowed time. Some day the reaper would return to collect. Only his reaper wore a black rain-soaked trenchcoat with two fiery green eyes.

The doctor sat at his desk in the darkened loft apartment, littered with random scientific equipment. His new place was a far cry from his estate he burned down a few months ago, giving new meaning to the term 'down sizing'. But it worked for what he needed, which wasn't much anymore these days. He had just planned on spending the rest of his days in this lonely, forgotten industrial building that had been converted to apartment space.

The only light came from his small laptop computer which resided on his metal desk amongst other papers. Dr. Robert K. Openshaw saw his computer as his only link to the outside world. To be honest, his supposed "death" was a welcomed relief. No longer would the tired otter be harassed by the forces that be. It took him so many years to rid himself of their influence. Now that society accepted that he'd passed he finally was free.

When he heard the eerie creak of one of his windows opening, and the slow, quieted thumps on his hard wood flooring, it worried him little. One of the things about living on borrowed time is that you know you're running out of it with every breath you take into your body. You've already accepted your mortality and the fact that you will die. After that, it becomes so much easier to live with. This was why, for the second time, when he heard the assassin approach, Dr. Openshaw did nothing.

"I could have killed you." The midnight black fox said aloud, his deep voice like an earthquake to the silence that developed in the room, stepping from the shadow of the dark loft. Even the rain outside seemed to quieten down, and almost disappear entirely. "One of those shots, right through your skull, burn down the mansion myself, no one would have ever known who was responsible."

The middle-aged otter leaned back in his desk chair, face moving out of the radius of light provided by his computer. His aged eyes scanned over this mercenary and took in how much he had changed over the years. The overall physique was familiar enough, but the difference lay in the details. His naturally wide frame had matured, leaving the fox with brawny shoulders and legs. Given, he looked like hell right now; limping slightly with white gauze wrapped around one ear. He had been so young back then, attitude full of youth and energy. Openshaw sensed something darker about him now.

"Yes..." Openshaw stated aloud. "Yes, I know you could have..."

The dark figure remained fixed in place for a second. Then slowly, his paw moved to inside his jacket, pulling out what looked like some form of a forty-five automatic pistol.

"And for some reason I didn't." He confirmed, making Openshaw start to feel a little nervous. "But don't thank me. You have someone else to thank for your borrowed time."

"Then please, pass along my gratitude." Openshaw politely replied in a low tone.

"You knew I was going to be there that night." The would-be assassin continued in his dark voice. "You knew I was waiting for you, and you didn't try and stop me or anything. Hell, you had Federal Agents in your home, standing twenty feet away from me, and you didn't try and do a thing to stop me."

"We both know that wouldn't have made a difference..." The Doctor explained in a calm rational way that was unique to him. "It would have only added to the body count, and some kid somewhere would be growing up without his daddy."

The dark assassin's eyes narrowed at his words. "You wanted to die that night."

"I was ready to die." Openshaw corrected, pushing his small, rectangular glasses, thick around the frames, up his nose. "I never said I wanted to die."

"What about tonight, Doctor?" The dark menacing figure asked him. "Are you ready to die now?"

Seeing where this conversation was going, the otter grew quite for a minute. It was a deduction that didn't require any of his Ph.D.'s.

"Yes..." He replied almost inaudibly, looking back at the fox.

The otter's eyes darted to the chair in front of Openshaw as this mercenary's black paw snapped to it's back and pulled it out. The feet scraped against the tile floor, creating a low howl as he did so. Fur on the back of his neck standing on end, the Doctor remained fixed in his position as he watched the black fox take a seat. Carefully, he set his pistol on the desk with a clunk, barrel facing Openshaw, however, his paw never moved from the weapon.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but you're not going to die tonight, Doctor." The fox's paw traced over the gun slowly. "But you've got a hell of a lot to answer for. You can start with explaining why you've been in my dreams."

This caused Openshaw to raise an eyebrow in surprise. "So you dream now?"

"Good to know it surprises you too." Alias leaned forward, eyes narrowed and hostile. "You know who I am, don't you?" He asked straight up. "And I'm not talking about knowing I'm the guy who killed Ursprung and Miles. I mean you know me."

He felt a guilty stab in his gut as memories flooded his aged mind. However, Openshaw knew he couldn't avoid this forever. What he could reveal to the mercenary might sway his mind as to if he would kill the doctor tonight or not.

"Yes... yes we knew each other... a long time ago..." Openshaw confirmed. "And I know you don't remember any of it... Alias..."

Alias's green eyes narrowed at the mention of his name. Slowly reaching into his coat, he pulled out three pieces of paper. One of them looked like it had almost been burnt, as the edges were transition from white to a dark charcoal, the second was a small map with locations marked by little red dots, and the other looked as if it had been folded and creased many times. The Mercenary tossed all items on the table in front of Openshaw.

"You can start with these," he instructed, "and we'll go from there."

Picking up the charred paper, his eyes scanned over it. It was a bank statement with account numbers. It was a payroll list, accounts where money was to be deposited. As he looked over the list, he saw a familiar set of numbers; his account. Looking at the map, Openshaw could only guess at its meaning. However, he was quick to note it had his name printed at the bottom. It made the Doctor wonder how Alias had gotten ahold of these.

Setting them aside, his fingers moved to the other paper, which was in far worse shape as it was almost falling apart due to the worn creases that gridded the page. This time as his eyes wandered, his heart squeezed with a sense of sadness and regret. In a nanosecond, his mind relived everything that had happened, and how in the end they had all been screwed over.

But none of them so much as her.

His eyes traced over the image of the female zebra, drawn with such care and attention that it almost seemed as if he were looking at a photograph and not a drawing. Everything about the picture was exactly as Openshaw had remembered; from her cropped black hair, down to her smile.

Lost in thought over the painstaking detail of the portrait, a sudden thought hit Openshaw.

"You remember her?" He asked, feeling confused.

"No." Alias stated dryly. "This image has been seared in my mind with a fucking branding iron. I don't know who she is, I don't know what she means to me, I don't know why it's always in the back of my mind, but I'm sick of my life being a bunch of puzzle pieces! So we're going to sit here until I have every question answered to my satisfaction. Then I'll decide if I'm going to kill you or not."

Openshaw nodded understandingly, setting the drawing down. There were a million questions surging through his mind right now. Even the Doctor was confused as to why Alias had this memory. Things had come to pass that shouldn't allow it. It made no sense, but Openshaw knew that there might be time for that later. Right now, it was time to show his cards.

"Alright, Alias." The aged otter started, then paused. "Or is it something else now?" He asked honestly.

"At least now I know who gave me this shitty name." He growled, his thumb slowly stroked up and down the hammer of the pistol probably in a habit of anxiety.

"There is much you should know about your past." Openshaw continued. "We used to know each other." He paused, going back those many years. "Rather well, in fact."

"Well, I hate to be the buzzkill of this little reunion, I don't remember a damn thing about you, Doctor."

"I know... and I partially blame myself for that..." He slowly reached up to his face, and removed his glasses, setting them down on his desk gently. "But I think it's best we start at the beginning, and you already know how the story begins." His paw went to the drawing, rotating it around on the table so she was facing Alias.

"And incidentally, this is how it ended."

The fox's narrowed emerald eyes went from Openshaw, down to the paper, then back to the otter. "I think I'll decide how this story ends." He remained in his position, then slowly leaned back in his chair, taking the pistol with him as he folded his arms across his chest. "I've got all night. Let's here what you've got." He replied in a low tone to which Openshaw nodded.

"Good, it might take awhile." The Doctor replied casually, testing the waters with a friendlier tone. "You weren't always who you are now." He continued, reading Alias's body language. He clearly trusted Openshaw very little, and the middle aged otter couldn't blame him for that. On the flipside, Alias too was a different person; perhaps not anything like who Openshaw knew before. "Your life, like much in the Invisible War, was stolen from you. You were forced to become a razor, an instrument of war that can't think or feel. They took from you what they could, leaving you only your mind as a place of solace. Eventually, they wanted that too, and when you refused, they tried to take everything that was left in you. Then you were stranded, tempest tossed and abandoned in the dark. Confused and alone without even a name or identity to cling to, with one perpetuating question always echoing in your mind: why?" The otter watched as Alias's eyes went from narrowed and defensive, to more that of being taken aback. It took someone who knew him well to read that he was covering for how alarmed he was feeling at Openshaw's insight. In the many ways the young fox might have changed from when Openshaw knew him, there were still certain things that were unique to Alias. His body language betrayed his intended demeanor, but that was a secret the Doctor would keep for both of them. "But all that's about to change."

He watched as The Mercenary's eyes recomposed back to being narrowed; ready for a fight. However, The Doctor remained calm, knowing it was simply his defense mechanisms kicking in. What he was about to reveal to the fox wouldn't be easy to hear. This story wasn't enjoyable, or light hearted. It had no happy ending or good conclusion. But it was his life, the life that was both forced upon, and taken from him at the same time. With a deep sigh, Openshaw looked back at Alias, making eye contact with him.

"It's time for you to know the truth."