Mason’s Lament

Chapter I: The Foundation

Jack Mason gazed up at the dark, ominous buildings of the docks. They stared back at him indifferently, almost as if alive and uncaring; almost as if daring him to come hither. He wished suddenly that he wasn’t there, wasn’t anywhere near this area. But he pushed that thought back, pushed it down ruthlessly into the abyss of his mind. Lighting crackled and thunder boomed across the sky, rain fell in a pitter-patter; machine gun style. All around him it was quiet, outside the docks that was. Inside was a totally different story, at least from what he could see through the rusted, olden iron bars of the gate he was looking through. Jack reached up and pushed the red intercom button briefly.

“Yes?” came the reply of a deep voice after a few moments. Jack cleared his throat lightly, and spoke.

“My name is Jack Mason, I’m here for work.” he replied. The line went dead and there was a long pause. How it went was he was a mercenary living in the town of Baltimore, a place of crime and poverty and the likes. Muscle for hire or gun for hire, they were both in high demand. So Jack offered his services to whoever would pay, as long as the pay was good.

“Mr. Mason, report to Prep Building One, Locker Room Six, Mr. Green will meet you there and debrief you.” The line went dead again and with a click and a squeal, the gate started opening. Jack stepped in beyond the outer wall, the barrier between reality and the Foundation. A few grey suited soldiers glanced over as the gate began shutting again, looked over to see who was coming in through the front gate. They returned to their duties almost immediately. Either this wasn’t anything new or he just wasn’t worth their interest.

Jack thought back over the past day or so, how he had been contacted by the Foundation. How he noticed dump trucks and grey suited men running around his streets. How his mercenary friends started disappearing for days at a time. He picked up the rumor of some para-military group having moved in on one of the old docks of Baltimore. Heard stories of strange weaponry and high tech gadgets, and darker, more bizarre stories. It wasn’t long until he was confronted by a Foundation personnel and offered a job.

There was a lot of money involved, and from the job description; it almost sounded too good to be true. Five hundred dollars a day, just to stand guard, patrol around and help unload boxes all day? There was something strange, but he didn’t really care; five hundred dollars was five hundred dollars. So he signed up, not literally; because they offered no paper. They just said to show up at the front gates at around nine the next morning. So now, here he was, entering the docks; to do his supposed job.

The docks themselves were a maze of square, sometimes small, sometimes large, buildings. All made of some dull grey metal that didn’t have a chance to gleam dully under sunlight because it was too cloudy and too dark. Baltimore seemed really dark as of late. Jack began walking across grey cement pavement, his coat flapping in gusts of wind that came every now and then. He scanned the area he was in, an open lot surrounded by warehouse style buildings. Grey suited, gas mask wearing men patrolled around or stood on top of buildings. They were all carrying weapons of some sort, powerful looking machine guns or sleek, black submachine guns. There were pistols, usually dual pistols, on thigh holsters and clips of ammo and grenades strapped across their chests in bandolier. What could they possibly be doing here that would require that much firepower and manpower? Jack wondered fleetingly.

But then again there were no questions. That’s what the man had said. No questions asked. Perhaps some of the other troopers would be a little willing to spill the beans, Jack believed in being prepared. There were small metal crates stacked up all over the places, some marked weapons, others ammo, others simply supplies. They were slick and wet with rain and troopers were always carrying them around, picking them up or dropping them off. It was almost like an ant colony. Jack disappeared into an alleyway between two buildings, not exactly looking for his destination immediately.

He wanted to get a feel for the place. He came into another open lot and saw more. There were a few parked dump trucks, sometimes they had huge metal crates in the back with blackened windows that shed no light on what was inside. Jack looked closer as he thought he saw one of them shake, then realized that it was shaking periodically. As he drew closer, he stopped and listened against the rain and sounds of work around him. Then he heard it, a low growl. And the clink of metal on metal. What in the hell did they have going on in here? He wondered again. Jack heard footsteps approaching.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” questioned an authoritative sounding voice. Jack spun round and spotted a tall, lean, tough looking man who wore a more sophisticated version of the gray uniform with no face mask. His head was shaved bald and he had icy blue eyes.

“Um, I’m Jack Mason. I’m reporting for work, I was looking for Prep Building One...” he said, trying to get off the hook. This man looked like he might be in charge of the operation, his nametag read ‘Graves’. The man scowled at him, his face twisted into a kind of ugly glare; his eyebrows shifted from side to side. As if considering his words, finally he just nodded once.

“Prep Building One is right over there, suit up immediately.” Graves replied, then turned and looked over suddenly. “Hey! You over there! Be careful with that!” He screamed and then stalked off to go yell at someone else. Jack let out a brief sigh of relief and looked to where the man had pointed, all the buildings were marked with new looking black paint. He spotted Prep Building One. As he began walking towards it, thinking about the strange crate, he noticed other buildings. There was a storage building, an infirmary, an armory, a recreational building, a messhall. This was something akin to a military base.

Again, Jack wondered what kind of operation they had going on here. He got the feeling that they were doing some sort of research maybe, if they were then a lot of this would make sense. But what kind of research? He finally shrugged it off, he’d found out soon enough. Jack pushed open the door and stepped in out of the rain, he came into a long metal corridor. The walls were riddled with closed doorways, locker rooms, bathrooms, shower rooms. Jack kept a steady pace down the silent passageway, it was brightly lit with functional light fixtures up above him. They were bright, white and unforgiving. Obviously not meant for looks or comfort. Jack counted the doors as he passed, eventually coming to one with the phrase ‘Locker Room Six’ stenciled on it in black against a steel silver background.

He pushed the door opened and spotted just one man in the room, sitting there; smoking a cigarette. He was bald, a little on the short side and muscled. His eyes were green and vibrant, those kind of eyes that gave some guys an insane type look. He wore a grey suit and a mask sat next to him, his nametag read ‘Green’.

“You Mason?” he asked, looking up.

“Yeah.” Jack replied.

“Name’s Alex Green, pleased to meet you.” he said, he sounded like a friendly enough guy. He waved Jack over. “This locker here, this one’s yours. Number 42, remember that; because your suit and all your gear is in here. Combos on the back of the lock, don’t put anything of value in here; or it’ll get stolen. Get suited up, and I’ll give you the story on what we do here.” Green said, Jack nodded and went over to his locker. He opened it up and pulled everything out that was inside, lying it out on a bench behind him. There was a standard gray uniform, a gas mask, a bandolier, two thigh holsters and a radio.

“You’re going to be with me in Delta Unit Six.” Green spoke as Jack began undressing. “Our job is to pretty much stand guard over near Dock Two, and help unload anything that comes off the boats. Now...Mason, you’re going to hear and see a lot of strange things around here. I want to warn you about that right now. Be ready for anything, and I do mean anything.” he said, the soldier sounded serious. Jack was undressed now, as he belted the pants of the uniform, he looked over at the other man.

“What do you mean by, anything?” he asked.

“Well...the upper management around here doesn’t want or like us talking about this, but who gives a shit, right? You’ll see it anyway. I think they might just want to keep it a secret from the newbies for shock value. But you look like a good type, level headed; so I’ll give you a heads up. Here’s what I’ve gathered so far. There’s an island, maybe ten miles off the coast. Word is that something bad went down there, and I mean bad. We’re talking Hell bad.” Jack stopped tying his boots at that one, he looked over.

“What?” he asked. “Are saying what I think you’re saying?” he questioned. Green nodded solemnly,

“I’ve...seen things, horrible things inside those boxes. And I’ve heard stories, of troopers that go over there. There’s talk of demons, of monsters, of aliens; I hear everyone. Religious men say it’s Hell on Earth over there. I want you to keep an open mind, and I know this is a lot to believe and take in. But I’m serious, be prepared to see inhuman monsters. I’ve seen people come back in body bags, and they are seriously screwed up. So have quick reflexes and a steady trigger finger.” Green stated.

“I thought there wasn’t anything happening over here? Danger wise.” Jack stated, pulling on his shirt.

“Well, there hasn’t been; yet. But from what I’ve heard, these things they’re researching are dangerous. Really dangerous. I’ve got a few friends in the science department, I’ll introduce you on break. We’ll have a talk. All I’m saying is, be prepared. There’s bound to be something terrible going wrong here soon, I just know it.”

“You seem to be pretty...smooth about all these things.” Jack stated, now securing his bandolier.

“I’ve seen a lot in my time, and I was a little freaked at first; but I’m an open minded kind of guy. I’m kind of used to the things I see and hear now. Don’t worry too much, stick with me and the boys and you’ll be fine. Jordan is in charge around here, she’s about the only woman around her. She’s steaming hot too, personally, if I could; I’d have it off with her every hour that God sent me. However, whenever Jordan’s not around, which is most of the time, we report to Graves. He’s in charge directly under Jordan. Don’t give him any shit, or else you’ll regret it. He’s a harsh bastard.” Green finished up his pep talk.

Jack stood up, the radio and holsters now secured. He pulled on the gas mask, Green stood up as well, threw down the cigarette and stepped on it.

“Come on,” he stated, “Let’s head over to the armory building. We’ll get you some guns.” He said, Jack nodded quietly and the two men left the room. They headed down the dull gray corridor and stepped back out into the rain. Jack’s head would have been spinning with all of this information, but the way Green had explained it all kind of softened the impact. Still...monsters, inhuman beasts, Hell? Just what was going on? Did someone have some sort of experiment that got wildly out of hand? And now the Foundation had moved in to do some research, or maybe clean it up? But that wouldn’t make sense.

It was obvious that if this had been an experiment on the island, then it would be government or military. So...the military would be sending in their own to clean up the mess. Maybe the Foundation was capturing these creatures and doing research on them to perhaps get an upper hand on the military. Blackmail, maybe. It was a very intelligent move. Or maybe they were looking for a way to use these things to their own end, soldiers and the like. Who knew. Jack and Green came across the vacant lot to another, smaller building marked ‘Armory’. Inside was a large open room with many doors.

The doors were almost all propped open and inside rested many shelves, crates, boxes and tables with weapons just sprawled all over them. Jack just stopped, he had never seen so many guns in the same place.

“Sorry for the mess.” Green was saying. “Originally it was all on the racks, but men got tired of replacing everything and eventually at the end of the day would just come in and throw them on the tables or the ground. Just grab what you want, I would suggest something lightweight cause you’re gonna be carrying it all day. Chances are you’re not going to get to use it, I haven’t yet. But...you never know. Personally, I suggest the Skorpion; it’s only about seven pounds and holds a thirty round mag.” He picked one up, “Looks like this.”

The Scorpion was a small submachine gun that reminded Jack of a Klobb off an old N64 game he used to play called Goldeneye. He reached out and took it, now feeling a little more down to Earth. He held the gun in his hands, getting a feel for it. The gun seemed extremely versatile and useful, yes; this would be his choice. He looked around and spotted a table full of pistols and an open crate of ammo for them was lying next to it. Jack slung the Scorpion as he walked over to the table, and picked up and examined one of the pistols.

“The Colt 1911 or the Colt 45, it’ll be a good friend to you. I don’t know if one or two will work better for you, personally I like two; feels more secure with that weight resting on your hips.” Green said, inspecting a Skorpion himself. Jack picked up another pistol, checked to see that the were loaded, they were, he slid them into the thigh holsters. He grabbed some clips of ammo and secured them to the bandolier and a few of the pockets. After that he found a crate of Scorpion ammo and geared up on that as well.

“This all I’ll be needing?” he asked.

“Well, more or less. I’d recommend some grenades, but they aren’t really necessary. Yeah, I think you’ll do good. Come on, our shift is about to start. And by the way, we operate on Channel 3 on that radio, keep it on at all times. You’ll learn to drown out the chatter eventually. If we ever actually go on a mission, our squad has our own channel; 9.2. Keep that in mind. In case things go straight to Hell.” Green finished securing his own gear, and together in their masks and suits they left the building.