MBL Headquarters
A buzz sounded on Harrison Owens' desk, causing the young man to jerk away a little bit. He had been understandably on edge since the computer hacking incident earlier in the day and was obviously not going to calm down anytime soon.
Harry rubbed his hands through his hair as he breathed a heavy sigh and pressed the comm button. Marion's face appeared on the screen, visibly shaken by something.
"What's wrong, Marion?" Harrison asked intuitively.
"Uh... Mr. Harrison, there are some men out here who want to see you," she said, her eyes gazing offscreen to where the men obviously were. "They... they say they want to see you right away."
"Concerning what, Marion?" Harrison asked, taking a sip of his fresh cup of Earl Grey.
Marion's face went pale and her eyes grew wide. "Thought crime..." she barely whispered out.
"Wh-what?" Harry asked, standing up from his chair, dropping his cup of Earl Grey, which shattered as it hit the floor.
"They say you have twenty seconds to open the door or they're coming in after you..." his secretary said, now on the verge of tears.
"...no..." Harry whispered, looking around.
This can't be, the young man thought quickly, frantically searching the room for escape options. I'm the son of the Chewy Walrus! I'm one of the most loyal citizens to the MBL that there is! How can I be guilty of thought crime?
Deep down, he knew he was joking with himself. He knew that they had telepaths constantly scanning the populace. He knew that the message on his computer screen was really the beginning of the end of everything that he knew and loved.
Harrison suddenly thought about his father - the man he'd only heard about, but never met. What would the great Chewy Walrus do in a circumstance like this? Would he run? Turn himself in? Fight to the death against all odds?
He thought about his mother and all that she'd told him of his father. He thought about her stories about Shock-Headed Peter, Chew-Two, Major D'Goon, and Viper. The stories about the nigh destruction of the timeline, the multiverse, and the battles.
His father was not a man to run or to turn himself in unjustly.
He was a man who fought and fought hard against all odds. His father was the Chewy Walrus and Harrison would do his utmost to live up to his father's creed and code.
A heavy boot kicked the walnut doors, sending them flying open as a screaming mob outside fled for the exits. Seven men, all dressed in the gear of MBL soldiers, stepped in, weapons blazing.
Harrison, running on pure adrenaline, kicked over his large desk, using it to cover him for a short while. It was only then that he realized he had no weapons.
Owens was frantically looking around for something, anything, he could use to combat his attackers, when he heard something strange.
A growling.
Barking.
Screams of pain and agony.
Gunshots firing in another direction.
Ripping of flesh from bones.
What's going on? Harrison thought, grabbing ahold of a glass paperweight and, slowly, peeking his head over his toppled desk.
When his eyes scanned the room, he saw before him six MBL field agents lying dead and bloody on the floor and one other soldier standing above them, his rifle slung at his side.
He was dressed like a normal soldier. He wore a thin black bodysuit composed of laser kevlar. He wore a helmet which disguised his eyes and nose, but left his bearded chin and razorblade mouth visible. He had a utility belt with two sashes running in an 'X' pattern across his chest, all of them filled with MBL-issue military gadgets. He wore thick boots on his feet and black leather gloves on his hands.
"Come with me if you want to live," he said in an accent that Harrison had neverheard before. It was odd, like a combination of Russian and French.
Puzzled, Harrison posed a question. "Who are you? What happened to them?"
The soldier pulled his gun. "I didn't save your sorry ass so you could ask questions. Come with me now, or, I promise you, we are both dead!"
Harrison nodded and followed the kevlar-suited man to the door, where the man stopped suddenly. Harrison, who was unprepared for the sudden stop, slammed right into the back of the man, then apologized awkwardly for doing so.
The man took a knife from his belt and rolled up his sleeve. Digging his knife into his flesh, he cut a small rectangle towards the back of his forearm. Peeling the flesh away, he revealed a small long chip with a seven-digit liquid crystal number flashing on it. Pulling it out with his knife, he chuckled dryly as he crushed it with his boot heel.
"That's how I knew it was the end," he said, shaking his head. "Everyone being given a number... like in frickin' Revelations or something..."
The man's slight laughter made Owens feel uneasy, but the younger man just stood his ground, too frightened to say a word.
"You're just lucky you weren't in the military," the soldier said, making himself an arm wrap with some bandages he had in his sash. "Otherwise, I'd have to do this to you as well..."
Finishing his makeshift tourniquet, the soldier stood, unsheathed his gun, aimed it at Harry's head, and smiled, cocking his head to the side as he did so.
"So, you're really the man's son, eh?"
"Th-the... the man?" Harry asked, instinctively raising his hands into the air.
"The Walrus," the soldier clarified. "You're his kid?"
"Th-that's what my... my mom told me... sir," Owens said, adding the 'sir' in as an afterthought.
"Well, I knew your mom too," the soldier said. "Good people. At any rate, you'd better be who you say you are, or I've just risked my life for nothing."
"What are you talking about?" Owens said, exasperated.
"What'd I tell you about asking questions?" the soldier asked, digging the barrel of his gun into Harry's ribs. "Now, march!"
The large man escourted his prisoner, Harrison Owens, downstairs, proclaiming loudly as he went: "ANOTHER ENEMY OF THE MBL HAS BEEN PROCURED! THE MBL WILL NEVER FALL! LONG LIVE THE MBL!"
