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Date Posted: Tuesday, June 27, 10:35:24pm
Author: ASK (yes it's a false identity)
Subject: Was Not
In reply to: JayBee and Nell 's message, "Friday Challenge: June 23, 2006" on Friday, June 23, 05:46:11pm

NOW

Laurent Soliare was going to tell lies. He had been captured by Perez and drugged. Soon his Section training would take over. The Section torturers had tortured and drugged him and he had held up. He had told them the cover story that Section had given him. The same one he was going to tell now. Usually the first questions that are asked are "Who are you?" and "Who sent you?" His answers would be, 'Jacques Ferrer' and "I am a mercenary soldier. I don't know who hired me. I get hired through lots of middlemen."
The first question came.
A man's voice. "What is your name?"
Laurent answered, "Michael," in a slurred voice.
"Michael what?" he was asked.
"Michael Samuelle." A more slurred voice. His eyes were looking upwards. So far up that they seemed to be going into his head. Something was wrong. He wasn't answering the way he wanted to.
"Hello, Michael Samuelle. Where were you born?"
"Marseilles." Still slurred. Still answering. Still not the way he wanted. Something really wrong.
"What year?"
"Nineteen Sixty Five." Answered again. Something truly wrong for sure. He is not answering the way he wants to. Still lying but not the lies he wants to tell.
He hears a female voice now. "His AEG levels are stable. He's telling the truth."
Laurent felt pain after these words. Pain in his body and his brain.
Back to the man's voice. "For whom do you work?"
Laurent's face contorted into pain. His eyes rolled up and down. He did not speak.
"I asked you a question, Michael Samuelle. For whom do you work?"
Laurent forced himself to not speak. Any words now would be the lies he didn't want to say. Or they would be the truth.
"What's the problem?" the male voice asked the female voice.
"It's likely he's programmed to resist certain types of memory de-sensing."
"Can you work around it?"
"Give me another two more hours, he'll be an open book."
Two hours. He had two hours to work out what went wrong. Were they using different drugs? Had his training failed? Or was it he himself that wanted to start telling the truth now.

THEN

The two men in the cell looked similar. From a distance they would look alike in height and physical shape. From across a room they would look like brothers. Closer though they would only appear similar. Maybe a common ancestral bloodline somewhere. Both were unshaven and their hair was long and untidy.

Laurent Soliare had gone to the protest march to pick the pockets of the people there. Even though there most were students, some of them would have money in their wallets. He had just picked his first target when the police came and the fight started. Lots of people were arrested. Including Laurent.

Now he was in a cell at the local police station. He looked over at the other man in the other bed. Sleeping soundly. They had just had a long conversation about what they were doing and what they believed in. The other man was angry at everything. His parents had died. His sister did not want to see him because he continued with his radical protesting ways. She had told him if he got into trouble she would not want to see him anymore.

The next morning the other man was dead. He had somehow slashed his wrist. The blood had pooled only slightly under the hand that was almost touching the floor. Laurent could do nothing. Except he could take any valuables that the other man may have. Only a wallet. Not much money. Laurent could fit into his clothes though. They were still dirty but when cleaned they would be a lot better than his own. It took five minutes to exchange clothes with the dead man.

Later that day, someone came for him.

He woke the next day. He was hungry. Nearly two days without food. He was in a circular room. One bed. He was on it. White. Circular. The door opened with a clunk. A tall man came in. He had glasses on. He spoke in a soft voice. "You are not in prison anymore, Michael. You are going to become one of the people that protect the world from the evil that pervades it. If not, it will be easy to do what everyone else thinks happened."
The soft-voiced man showed Laurent a small clipping from a newspaper. The headline was "Two Men Suicide In Prison". The pictures below the headline showed him and the other man he had shared the cell with. The name beneath the picture of the other man had his name 'Laurent Solaire'. The small picture of him had underneath it the other man's name, 'Michael Samuelle.'
What could he do. He trusted what the other man said. He would be killed if he did not agree. Would he be killed if he told him he had the wrong man?

LATER

Laurent was getting more drugs put into him.

He knew this by two reasons. He could feel them going into his veins and he could feel his ability to think seep away. The other was he heard the female say so.
"I boosted the dosage, he should be ready. But I can only keep him saturated for a couple of minutes, after that there will be too much damage."
The male voice was back as well. Talking to him.
"Let's see if you're worth keeping alive."
"Whom do you work for, Michael?"
Laurent knew of only one answer to that question. The truth.

"Section One."
"What were you doing at my club?"
Laurent started to tell him.
But the gunshots from outside the room drew the attention of the man.
He runs to a door and goes through it.

Laurent stops talking because no-one is there to listen to him.
He feels the straps being taken off his arms and chest.
He opens his eyes and thinks he sees an angel. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Beautiful face. An angel for sure. She spoke at him.
"Michael."
Laurent stares at her with a dazed look.
"Michael, can you walk?"
Laurent, still dazed and almost falling over says, "I think so."
The angel placed a gun in his hand. He grabbed it and his fingers held it with precision. They knew where to go.
"What's this for?" he asks the angel.
The sweetest voice he ever heard said, "This area is not secure yet."
She turned to where his eyes went. Shot a man coming into the room.
He has to ask the angel, "Where are we?"
"Michael. It's me, Nikita. Come on."
Laurent's memory came back then. All at once. Everything.
"Michael, let's go."
Laurent knew everything then. Everything. His past. His present. He even felt he knew his future. But he has to keep the pretense up. Forever. He was used to it though. He had been doing it forever anyway. He just had to keep on doing it more forever.
"Why do you keep calling me Michael?" he asked.
Already knowing that that was the name she had always known him by.

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Replies:

This is really interesting -- JayBee, Wednesday, July 05, 01:41:46pm