Wednesday, November 6, 2013

The Watchmen Files // Chapter Seven

Hey everyone!

   I'm back with a new chapter of The Watchmen Files! Yep, another one :) So here we go!

Alright, I'll admit, it's got an odd name, right? Well, let's stop my jabbering to read on and find out!

   A man who looked as if he was in his late twenties (really he was in his thirties, but his 'ability' kept his features young) stared, absorbed at one of his many computer desks, typing away as he had been doing for hours. The only light source in his office was from the computer screen that shone it's white man-made light on his stern face, illuminating his sharp features. He whiped the sleep from his ice-blue eyes and continued working vigorously on the system as he had done for days, weeks, months.
Vielleicht sollte ich ein Nickerchen machen (Maybe I should take a nap), he pondered in his native German, mentally noting that he hadn't slept for... searching his extensive memory, he recalled about two weeks and four days ago when he had last slept. Or gone outside. But it didn't matter, he had work to do. Watchmen work. It was work that needed to be done, why shouldn't he be the one to do it?
   The near silence was broken by the sound of the front door opening and two pairs of pattering feet, along with some chattering back and forth. It was only a few moments later that the door to his office was opened, and his wife Jackie was tapping her foot just outside. He didn't look up, but he could feel her icy glare.
   He grunted, hoping it was enough to make her go away.
   "Hans," he could hear the frustration in her voice as she flipped the lights on. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."
   He winced at the light, sighed dramatically, and turned slightly in his chair. "I'm working."
   She ran her hand through her rich chocolate hair before continuing, "Do you know what day it is?"
   "Of course," he stated, "It's July twenty-fourth."
   Now it was her turn to sigh. "Yeah, but what happened today."
   He blinked cluelessly.
   "Oh, you know that ten year old son of yours?" she questioned in a sarcastic tone, "he's got this game that he likes to play, you may have heard of it, it's called baseball?"
   Dr. Kruger just shrugged. "So?"
   Her composure turned from sarcastic to stern in a split second. "You were suppose to be there!"
   "Yes, well I've been working-"
   "He quit!" She nearly yelled. "He's not gonna to play anymore-"
   "Going to," he corrected her. "He is not going to play anymore. Gonna is a mispronunciation of going to-"
   "You're not even listening to me," she fumed in response to his correction.
   "I am listening, obviously."
   "No, you're not. Mason," she turned and shouted out the door, "come in here!"
   "Aw, Mom!" Mason wined dramatically before being called again and obeying.
   "What are you doing?" Dr. Kruger scowled. "Mason, you know what I've told you about coming in here."
   "Tell your father why you quit."
   Mason shifted uncomfortably, running his hand through his dark curly hair nervously. "I'm over it, I guess."
   "Tell the truth," Jackie instructed her stubborn son.
   "I am!" he lied, but kept a strait face.
   Dr. Kruger checked his watch impatiently. "Jackie, I don't have time for this! I've got work to do."
   "He quit because you don't come to his games anymore!"
   "Now that is ridiculous," Dr. Kruger insisted, "he doesn't care if I come or not."
   "Oh yes he does, if you'd only ask him-"
   "Alright, Mason, do you care if I come or not?"
   "Um, uh, w-well..." Mason stuttered, torn between his parents conflicting ideas.
   "See," she folded her arms tightly, her point proven. "I told you he does, and if you'd actually care about your family-"
   His blood began to boil at her accusations and his voice raised. "Care?! As if I'm not spending every hour on the computer, working to your safety-"
   "Our safety?!" She sputtered back. "The only thing you care about anymore is yourself and finishing your stupid projects on time-"
   "That's absurd!"
   "Oh, is it, Mr. I won't let anyone who may interfere into my office, i.e. your own son who wants to spend time with you!"
   He batted away the idea with a brush of the hand, "He's got other things to work on, like his schooling."
   "Is that all you care about?" she narrowed her eyes. "You're always working, you hardly ever go outside, and you never spend time with him!"
   "I do too!"
   "Oh yeah? Like when? On what day in the last month did you spend more than an hour with him?"
   Her challenge was met with an icy glare as he searched his mind, trying to come up with something for her. But the problem was, he hadn't. "Well... I can't recall at the moment, but-"
   "That's because you haven't! You're always working!"
   "Working for the greater good!" he defended himself.
   "The greater good?! I am your wife-"
   "And you're a Meckerer!"
   "For the kajilienth time, I don't speak German!"
   "Stop!" Mason tried to yell over their arguing, but they gave no need, and his dad continued to speak in German and she continued trying to make her point in English.
   Covering his ears, the ten year old rushed out of his father's office, down the hall and into his room. Jumping onto his bed, Mason yanked the covers over his head and curled up, attempting in vain to keep the familiar sound of his parent's fighting from invading his mind. He wished there was something he could do. Why couldn't they just talk about it? Work it out? He felt so helpless. There was nothing for him to do. All he could do was sit and cry alone, as he had been doing for years.
   The hot tears rolled down his cheeks as the fighting continued, filling his memory with words, ideas, and sentiments that he would never forget, even after his mom and dad divorced, even after his mom disappeared, and even when he was a trainee in the Watchmen, the very organization that his father had been part of so many years ago.

   The sharp obnoxious alarm made Mason fall right off of the top bunk and smash onto the bunker floor. Along with the rest of the squad's yells came the panic of realizing that they had to be in the Main Training Room C at 7:15, and it was a good thing they had been so tired out the night before that they didn't bother changing out of their uniforms.
   Duke, Jared, Hank, Gabe, Chris, and the twins all nearly trampled poor Conner, who had gotten on the floor to retrieve his Bible which had apparently fallen off the bed the night prior. Mason grabbed his wrist and dragged him down the halls after the others until they reached the training room. Graham had just arrived and was checking his watch when they dashed in and clamored into formation.
   "You lads did moderately well on timing," he mused as Conner panted next to Mason, catching his breath from their race. "I'll give you that much. But presentation is another thing we better work on," he muttered as he scanned Mason's wrinkly clothes, his messy mob of dark curly hair, and dirty unshaven face. "Let's get started."
   The first half of the day was spent running, lifting weights, and basically just exercising. And again, Mason dragged Conner by the back of his shirt through it all.
   Then Graham gathered all the trainees together and spoke. "Now you'll learn how to properly hold and fire Watchmen weaponry." Gesturing to the other side of the training room, he lead them to a section with long rifles, small hand guns, and an assortment of other weapons Mason couldn't identify set on the walls for all to view. A long illuminated counter was set in the center, and a team was already seated there. They had blindfolds on and were reassembling rifles.
   Once they left, Graham ordered them to each take a handgun off the wall and try and hold it. "Now these are different than your standard pistol," he began. "As you can see, it looks more futuristic than normal. They have been specially made by the Watchmen and for the Watchmen. They are stun, and give you the liberty of setting a how long the victim will be out. They're quiet, and very expensive, so be careful when handling them."
   Mason ran his fingers over the sleek, black and dark grey weapon, admiring the video-game-like technology. "Wow, this is awesome."
   Duke smiled and lifted it, pretending to fire at an imaginary target as Conner nervously held it as if it was going bite him.
   Sargent Graham then lead them to an empty room, only filled with a few targets shaped like people lining the far wall. "Sulaven?"
   Hank stepped forward. "Yes sir?"
   "Fire that pistol."
   He nodded, positioned himself correctly and fired, hitting the target's chest.
   Graham turned to the rest of the squad. "As you saw, he already knew how to stand, handle, and fire it. He, unlike the rest of you, has had some military training and is also vaguely familiar with Watchmen weaponry.
   Now, when you're about to fire, first thing to do is stand like this," he moved to the correct position, then continued, "hold the gun with both hands, and don't put your left hand on the magwell, under your right hand, but over it. If you put your hand like that, it'll shoot up when you fire, and it's steadier when you hold it the other way. Rousseau?"
   Both Felipe and Jean-Claude stepped forward at the same time and said in their heavy French accents, "Oui, monsieur?"
   "I've got to figure out how to keep you two apart," Graham shook his head wearily. "Felipe, do what I told you."
   "Oui," he nodded nervously and did.
   After he fired (and missed), Graham pointed out what he had done wrong and helped him out as the others took their own shots at will.
   Jared was a crack shot, and he helped the struggling Gabe with stance as Duke showed off to Chris, who was having problems himself.
   Conner, on the other had, was just holding it, waiting for Duke to turn his back to fire. When he seemed to be caught up in his own self, Conner took a shot at one of the targets and missed.
   "You're holding a loaded gun, you idiot! Act like it!" Duke sneered.
   Conner blushed red, and pretended to not have heard him.

   Later, Graham informed them that they would be doing a team-building course the next day, then, as he was leaving, he bumped Mason on the shoulder and whispered, "Thought you might want this back." Mason felt Graham slip something into his hand, and stared at him, confused. "You could say it's an inheritance," Graham winked, then exited.
   Conner sat on his bunk, caressing a photo caringly when Duke snatched it out of his hands and jumped on the top bunk, out of his reach. "And what have we here?" he smirked mischievously.
   "Hey, give that back!" Conner pleaded, panic flashing in his eyes.
   "Not before I get her number!" he whistled. "She's cute."
   "What? Who??" All the guys came tumbling out of their beds to crowd around snickering Duke as he held it just above Conner's reach.
   "Duke, give it back!"
   "Come on, Conny boy!" he taunted, smirking and chuckling. "Jump for it! Come on, you can do it boy!"
   Mason rolled his eyes as the squad laughed, some halfheartedly, not wanting to get picked on themselves.
   Chris grabbed it from over Conner's head and they gathered around him, trying to get a peek. "She is cute. Is she your girlfriend?"
   "That's my sister," Conner glared and tried to grab it from him. "Now give it back."
   "No, she's too cute to be his girlfriend," Duke pointed out. "He's probably never even had one. I'd bet everyone here has had girlfriends, except Mason, of course."
   There was a round of laughs before Mason answered, "For your information, I have had a girlfriend before."
   "Oh yeah?" Chis taunted. "How many? Less than three?"
   Mason's blood boiled as Conner stepped in. "So now it's a contest on how many girls hearts you can break in a week?"
   Chis didn't answer but held the picture back until Mason snatched it while he wasn't looking. "Here you go, Con."
   He took it, lifted his nose at the others and went back to bed as they dispersed.
   About an hour after everyone else was asleep, Mason laid on the top bunk, studying what Graham had given him: It was a picture of Mason on his sixth birthday, with his dad and mom, in front of a cake. He sighed longingly, wishing, hoping... no, he doesn't, he mentally answered himself. He doesn't care. Never did, never will. It was a hard pill to swallow, but it was the truth. With his eyelids closing and sleep overcoming him, his last thought before it took over was, I just wanted to make you proud.

And there you have it! Chapter seven complete! Now note, that was kind of a fill-in chapter that didn't have crucial parts in it. But was it good? Did you like anything in particular?

But next time we get to see Conner struggle to climb over eight-foot-tall walls (don't ask), mutant guerrillas from the Amazon (definitely don't ask), and Duke being a jerk again.
Also, I suggest checking out the last post on this blog by our new writer, Ammelia, and the series is called Without Cause. I find it very interesting, and I'm sure you will too! It's fun, and her character Ethan seems to me to act a bit like Mason does, and Kylie is a pretty cool character as well :)
Well, that looks like everything I have to say... have a good one guys! Wait, I mean girls... hey, are there any guys reading this story?



  1. That was really good D! I can't wait to read the next chapter. :-)

  2. This was fantastic! I love it! I cannot wait to read the next chapter!!! :) I really like Conner. He's so awesome.:) and I can tell he and Mason will become friends. :) Good job on chapter seven!

  3. I think this is probably my favorite chapter. Well, on of them.


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