Transcript generated automatically by AI and may contain errors.
Chapter 1: What happens during the initial meeting in the bar?
I move through the seedy, smoke-filled bar toward a well-dressed man at a booth. He's got a thick head of mussy brown hair, a receding chin, and a punched, flat nose. Percy? I ask. I've talked to him via text and on the phone, never in person. His paranoid eyes fix on me.
What time is it?
I almost roll my eyes at the cloak and dagger shit, but I say, Time is a construct that can be manipulated by powerful people. He nods somberly, looking around.
Ear alone?
I thought you were bringing a team, like I asked. Relax, they're outside, monitoring everything. I point to my ear, indicating the earpiece he can't see. Seeing a book of matches with the bar's name on it, I swipe them up. You never know when matches might come in handy.
So what do you need before you can protect me? Haven't I already given you enough?
Percy, you've only told me what a handful of low-level analysts already know. If you want our protection, you gotta give me something to prove your worth. Percy shakes his head, picking up his glass containing only melted ice. I notice his hands look different. One is thicker than the other, with shorter fingers. He puts the glass back without drinking.
"'What guarantee do I have you'll follow through?'
I shrug. "'None, I guess. But you're the one who asked me, remember? I didn't ask you to spill the beans on your employer.' "'I can't do it anymore, man. They treat me like a slave.
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Chapter 2: What is the significance of the tattoo on Percy's neck?
It's unbearable.' As he speaks, I see he has a tattoo of stitches around his neck, like he's a Frankenstein wannabe. I'm about to answer when Garza's voice comes over my earpiece. Be advised, two men heading into the bar now. Can't see their faces because of hats. Something off about them. Copy, I whisper.
What was that? What's happening? Relax, everything's fine.
The door to the establishment opens and in walk two men wearing tan trench coats and sporting baseball caps with the bills pulled low. I glance at them as they scan the bar. For the first time since I started talking with Percy, I know he's important. If he wasn't, they wouldn't have sent these guys. Don't look, I say. Here's what we're going to do.
When I tell you to, you're going to move toward the back door. You know where it is, right? Oh God, they're here, aren't they? They've come to get me. Stay calm and you'll be fine. From the corner of my eye, I can tell we've been spotted. I whisper, reaching out to grab Percy's glass as I slide out of the booth.
Upending the glass with one hand, I shove Percy ahead of me toward the back hallway with the other. Take a left out of the alley. My team will meet you there. I say as we reach the door. I can hear running footsteps behind us. I shove him into the alley and spin around. The two identical men surge forward without a word.
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Chapter 3: How does the protagonist react to the arrival of the two men?
I swipe the top of the glass against the wall, breaking it to produce a sharp weapon. I have a sidearm, as I'm sure these guys do too, but we're not there yet. They weighed in, perfectly synchronous. Luckily, the hallway is narrow, preventing them from flanking me. I dodge a punch, grab hold of the arm, shove the sharp glass into it next to the elbow, and drag it down. Blood spews.
It all takes me too long. I shrug my shoulder to block a hit to the face from the other guy. His fist careens off and still strikes my cheek hard enough to see the headache in my skull. The first guy hasn't registered the gash down his forearm. As I block and dodge punches and kicks from both men, he slings blood all over me. Finally, I see my opening.
I kick the inside of the first guy's knee when he's setting up for another punch. The joint crunches as it breaks. As the second guy tries to kick me in the chest, I block the blow with an elbow and slam the broken glass into his face, sinking shards into one eye. I spin around, run into the alley, and jump into the waiting SUV.
Welch is behind the wheel, Garza's in front, and Percy's in back with me. Weissman clones! I gasp as Welch slams the gas pedal. Percy gasps. They sent Weissman clones after me? Well, I'm guessing it's going to get worse before it gets better. We better get you somewhere secure, Percy. I told you, I know things.
I have all kinds of dirty laundry stored up here.
As he taps his head, I notice more stitches, but these are on his wrist. Now, I'm not so sure it's a tattoo. I turn on the dome light against the night and grab his arm, yanking it over to inspect the tattoo. With a damp rip, his hand comes off, separating at the wrist, at what really are stitches.
I stare at his twitching, severed hand for a moment and the pinkish, non-bleeding innards of his wrist. Meeting his gaze, I note the embarrassed look on his face. If he's in pain, he's not showing it. Who are you, Percy? He grimaces.
Lots of people.
Give me the signal detector, I say. Can I have my hand back? Percy asks, reaching for the appendage. Not yet. Garza hands me the detector and stares at Percy's wrist for a moment before turning back to his laptop.
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Chapter 4: What unfolds during the confrontation in the alley?
I scan the hand with the small black device. Nothing. I give Percy his hand back and then scan him, starting at the head.
What is that?
What are you... The thing beeps at his left knee. Take your pant leg up, I say. He does. As soon as I see the medical staples connecting the black-skinned knee to the pale flesh of his thigh, I jam my fingers in.
Hey!
Ignoring Percy, I dig around in his lukewarm flesh, suppressing a shiver. Then my fingertips find it. I pull the small device out. It's a tracker. We need to get him to site 19, I say, changing the mode on the detection device to scan the tracker's signature. I'll call it in, Garza replies. The sound of something punching through glass is followed by a grunt. Shit, Welch shouts.
Garza's here.
I lean forward to see a hole in the man's chest. Another punch sound erupts, and Welch falls against the steering wheel. The SUV veers toward the sidewalk as my heart careens off my ribs. I'm not sure, but I think I hear a faint beep from the detector. Dropping the detector and the tracker, I lurch between the two front seats to take control of the vehicle, but I'm not fast enough.
We crash into a street light. I'm thrown forward, but avoid injury. Luckily, traffic was too thick for us to be going very fast. As I jerk myself back between the seats, Another bullet punches through the windshield and into the center console where I just was.
Get me out of here!
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Chapter 5: What is the nature of the creatures released from the briefcase?
He has a burlap sack over his head, no eye or mouth holes. He carries a suitcase and one black gloved hand. No way! I think, throat shrinking to the size of a showerhead spray nozzle. They sent the bagman? Whatever Percy knows must be worth a lot to Marshal Carter in Dark. Enough to kill two Foundation agents. Enough to send the fucking bagman.
For a brief, intense moment, my legs vibrate like overtight guitar strings with the urge to flee. But I force myself to stay put, for Garza and Welch. He can't see me, I think. reaching through a slit in the cloak to grab my pistol from its shoulder holster under my suit jacket. I know that the cloak won't make the gun invisible.
The bag man will see a floating pistol, but it's a chance I'm willing to take. Positioning myself behind the vehicle so the sniper won't be able to see the gun, I draw the weapon and point it at the bag man. He whips his suitcase up and opens it toward me before I can slip my thickly gloved finger into the trigger guard.
A dozen papers flutter out of the suitcase and dart toward me as if caught by a violent wind. Only there is no wind, and the papers don't stay papers for long. They morph and expand, looking like large gray birds momentarily before shifting into dark bat-like creatures with four spindly sharp-ended spider legs hanging from their thick, hairy bodies.
Bullet-shaped heads the size of my fist form between flapping wings, muzzles parting to reveal silvery teeth that look like the ends of oversized office staples. The creatures close the distance fast, and there's no doubt they can see me. I fire, blasting four apart before the others are upon me. Their teeth sink through my clothes and into my flesh.
Their spindly legs stab at me, slicing into muscle. Flailing, I run, holstering my pistol as I try to rip them off with my free hand. Still aware of the sniper, I dart into the nearby office building. The security guards yell, their words incoherent to my panicked ears. I imagine that they're seeing a jumble of strange creatures floating around, attacking nothing.
I soon hear their footsteps growing faint as they run away. I find what I'm looking for past the elevators. A door with a grey plastic plaque beside it labeled Custodial. I've managed to keep my face protected by thwarting any attacks on it, but this has left the rest of me vulnerable. I grunt in pain as the things bite and stab.
Bursting into the janitor's closet, I find a bottle of cleaner that looks flammable and spin the lid off. Upending the bottle, I pour it all over me and the creatures. It stings my wounds, making me grunt again. I was hoping the cleaning chemical alone would do the trick, but it doesn't. They continue attacking.
Stumbling back into the hall, I reach through a well-placed slit in the cloak and grab the book of matches I took from the bar. I hold my breath. As soon as I light one, I go up in flames with a whoosh. The creatures catch fire and suddenly start ignoring me as they flap around or fall to the floor.
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Chapter 6: How does the protagonist escape the attacking creatures?
I already know what I'll find when I get to the SUV. Moments later, I prove myself right. Percy is gone, along with the bag man. When I don't get shot after several moments, I figure the sniper is gone too. They got what they came for. I peer into the front of the vehicle at Garza and Welch as I make my call. Just as I suspected, it will take too long for backup to arrive.
Still, I tell them to track me and end the call. Jaw clenched, I move around the open rear door and peer inside. Percy's severed hand sits on the floor. Absently, I grab it and put it in my outside suit jacket pocket. Then I keep looking. It takes me another minute to verify. When I do, I smile grimly. Smart, Percy.
I grab the signal detector from the floor, hoping I really heard what I thought I heard before we crashed into the streetlight. Looking at the small device's display, my smile turns into a grin. The signal detector just managed to read the tracker's ID before we crashed, which means I'm now tracking Percy, provided he's as smart as I think and he put the tracker back inside himself.
If not, the dot I'm watching on the device's screen is a decoy. I'll find out soon enough. I'm sprinting toward the Marshall, Carter, and Dark building, a huge Gothic-style stone structure. The dot is getting closer. I only managed to beat them here because I commandeered a motorcycle from among the stunned onlookers near the scene of the crash.
I can get around this city real fast on a motorcycle if you know what you're doing. But it's not much of a head start. The dot is two blocks away. I hurry, shoving three special bullets into my pistol's magazine. I got the bullets from the back of the SUV from the same emergency kit I pulled the cloak out of. As a handler team, we never carry any of the big flashy weapons.
We pride ourselves on avoiding situations like the one I'm currently in. I still have the cloak on, which makes me hard to see, but not impossible. I've managed to get most of the soot off, but the gashes put into it by the bat creatures will make me easy to spot up close, which is why I'm hoping they won't notice me until it's too late.
With the pistol loaded and put away, I slide along the wall to a position directly under a security camera next to a metal gate for the building's underground parking garage entrance. With one last glance at the tracker, I shove it back into my pocket and stand perfectly still, waiting. An SUV appears on the street, speeding toward the entrance.
I'm hoping to go unnoticed until the vehicle is through, at which point I'll slip into the building behind it. Then I can surprise them when they park. something twitches in my outside jacket pocket. At first, thinking it's one of those bat creatures, it startles me. Then I remember what it is and return my focus to the vehicle, which slows as it approaches the driveway.
Through the translucent eye holes, I can see four people in the vehicle. The bag man sits in the front passenger seat. A plainclothes man is driving, and another nondescript guy is directly behind him. Percy sits behind the bag man. As the vehicle gate opens, the driver's eyes slide across me. I'm confident he hasn't seen me as he straightens the vehicle to go through the narrow door.
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Chapter 7: What revelation does the protagonist have about Percy?
Pain flares in my thigh, but at least the bone isn't being pulverized against the wall. I fall to the ground, grimacing from all my injuries as I roll. When I come to rest on my back, I have the gun up. I fire through the window, putting one of the specialized bullets into the driver's head. Turns out he's not anomalous. His brains splatter all over the bag man. Three things happen at once.
The SUV starts rolling backwards, the driver having put it in reverse before I killed him. The bag man starts opening his briefcase, and the back passenger raises his pistol to shoot me through the window. I only have two more specialized bullets left, and the bag man is the bigger threat.
Tracking the slow-moving vehicle, I aim past the driver's slumped body and fire both bullets at the bag man before he can get his briefcase open. With no time to see whether my shots have neutralized him, I shift my weapon toward the other man, but I'm already too late. He has me dead to rights.
He squeezes the trigger, but as he does, Percy lurches into view, crashing into the guy with his shoulder. His shot goes wide, ricocheting off the concrete next to me. I fire, blasting one of his eyeballs out. He slumps in his seat. The SUV is now approaching the street. As I get up, I see through the windshield that the bag man is still moving.
He steps out and around his open door, the SUV's back tires touching the road. He stops at the edge of the sidewalk and lifts the top of his briefcase just like he did before. I tense, expecting more of those bat creatures to fly out and attack me. Nothing happens. The bagman shifts the case, peering inside at what looks to me like regular papers, pens, and other office supplies.
He tosses the briefcase and rushes toward me. As I take aim, I see where the two Scranton reality bullets struck him high in his chest. There's no blood, but it seems they've worked in a sense. They've at least weakened his anomalous powers. I was hoping for outright neutralization, but I'll take what I can get. I backpedal, firing the rest of my magazine into his chest. He keeps coming.
The pistol clicks empty a moment before my back hits the metal garage gate. His leather gloves creak as his fists tighten. I swipe at his head with the pistol, but he ducks and slams a fist into my stomach. Gasping, I double over. He punches me in the temple. Frightening flashes of two bright colors pulse in my mind. When they fade, I find that I'm on the ground. The pistol is gone from my hand.
The bag man is leaning over me with a sharp letter opener in one hand. He grabs a fistful of my cloak with one hand and proceeds to slice it open with the mail opener. Gathering my strength, I throw a punch at his head. He knocks it away easily and slams my head into the concrete. Painful colors erupt in my skull. The thing in my pocket twitches.
Dazed, I glance toward the SUV, which is now stalled with its back wheels against the gutter across the street. Percy is hopping across the road, legs bound together and his arms secured at the elbows behind his back. He'll never get here in time. The thing in my pocket twitches some more.
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Chapter 8: What happens during the final confrontation with the bag man?
It's trying to get out. Thinking about Welch and Garza, I stare at the bagman's burlap. What's underneath the mask? He pays me no mind as he finishes cutting the cloak, tossing the flaps aside to reveal my shredded, bloody suit. Pulling my dress shirt out of my waistband, he shoves it up, revealing my stomach. The letter opener will make quick work of shredding my guts.
Take off the mask, you coward! I shout, throwing a lazy left-handed punch at him. He catches it by the wrist and slams the letter opener into my forearm. I shriek in pain as the blade skewers my arm, but I still manage to reach into my right outside jacket pocket, freeing Percy's squirming hand. I throw the hand at the bagman's head.
As he reaches up to get the thing off, I grip both his arms, struggling with all I have and grimacing against the pain. Percy's hand grips a handful of burlap, and gravity does the rest as I give the bagman a yank toward me. The mask comes off. My gaze fixes on the screen like orbs that pass from the Bagman's eyes, barely noticing the other details of his strange face.
At a glance, it seems the Bagman has more in common with Percy than with me. His face seems to be made of puzzle piece slivers from a thousand different people, young and old, big and small, white, brown, and black. His hair is a chaotic mash of long and short, brunette and blonde, white and gray. Bald spots add to the jumble.
Unlike Percy, there are no stitches securing all these disparate parts together. They blend almost seamlessly, held together by some anomalous force that I've weakened with the two Scranton reality bullets. But it's the eyes that draw my focus. There are no eyelids, just orbs that look like they've been carved from a computer screen. A scroll of endless data populates them.
moving so fast it's hard to discern. There are cells of spreadsheets with black and red numbers, internal company memos, Marshall Carter and Dark's charter and founding principles, names, addresses, and payroll data. I'm staring into the eyes of a profit-seeking corporation personified, and suddenly those eyes are gone, ripped from my vision as something blurs in front of me.
Blinking, I turn to see Percy on top of the Bagman, having just tackled him despite his hobbled state. Moving as quickly as I can, I pull the letter opener out of my arm with a groan and lurch toward the Bagman. As the tip of the tool meets the right eyeball, the screen-like orb cracks, fragmenting into a kaleidoscope of colors.
I slam it down again and again until I break through the hard material, sinking the metal deep into it. The colors disappear as it goes black. I do the same thing with his left eyeball. With the letter opener, I slice through Percy's binds. He grabs his severed hand, and we run around the corner to where I've parked the motorcycle. As we ride away, I focus on staying conscious.
In the process, I wonder why they didn't send more people out to help the bag man. Surely there were people inside the building. Then I remember the flashes of cost-benefit analysis I saw in the entity's eyes. Maybe they had thrown all they would at it. Maybe the cost of more people would be too great.
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