|It's the End of the World As We Know It
Author: Cedargirl PM
"It's the end..." The last thing Billy remembered was a bright light, and Black Hawk's head snapping around, before his own head hit the window, and it all went black...of the world as we know it. The report said they both died. The report lied.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Sci-Fi - Billy the kid & Black Hawk - Chapters: 11 - Words: 13,482 - Reviews: 18 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 10 - Updated: 08-06-12 - Published: 08-27-11 - id: 7329674
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Greetings Minions, that felt really cool to say :P
Here's another chapter as promised.
As usual, I don't own SOTINF because Michael Scott does and he is too cool to imitate/impersonate. And he has a very nice accent. Perhaps one day I will get an accent that cool. But probably not ownership of an amazing series like SOTINF.
Please Read and Review, or don't, either way. It doesn't make much of a difference, it just makes my day happy. *sob* JK do whatever you want :P
Truth was, Billy the Kid didn't have a very good track record when it came to the CIA. Well, not as Billy the Kid (mainly because they hadn't been around at the time), and not really as William Bonney either.
He was known to the CIA under an alias from much more recent times. And not even an alias of his own choosing.
Being the immortal servant of an Elder doesn't have a paycheck involved. Immortals have to fend for themselves mostly. And as difficult as it had been for him to get job before he became immortal, that had nothing on getting a job afterwards.
His main problem had always been his age. The oldest he'd ever been able to pull off was 35. At a stretch. Not many people are going to hire a 25-ish-year-old guy to do anything that would pay much. Especially a guy who might just go AWOL at any time, possibly for days on end and not have any sort of excuse. Somehow, "I'm sorry but the 10,000 year old monster who made me immortal had something he wanted me to do, and I'm sorry I missed my shift but it was that or death by dismemberment", never achieved the desired affect. Needless to say, not many of his previous bosses reccomended him...
Eventually it had become apparent that 9 to 5 jobs were not going to work out so well. But jobs outside of the law tend to keep different hours.
He'd dealt in the underworld before, and had survived, (actually looking back, he hadn't but that was beside the point). He figured "How bad could it be?"
His best skill set had always been getting in and out of places. It turned out that that kind of skillset was just what the underworld was looking for at the time. Locks were getting harder to pick. Security systems were getting more advanced. People were getting paranoid. It wasn't the '60s any more. Now people had cameras and alarms and were coming up with new things all the time.
He became fairly well known in the underworld as a "monkey" who could get in and get out of places nobody else could. He didn't kill anybody. He didn't steal, or destroy property, or whatever else the people who hired him wanted done.
He hated every second of it.
But that didn't matter. He just opened the doors. And made a name for himself doing it.
He didn't have much of a name though. He never used his real name. In the end, he went by a bad nickname that his partner on his first job had called him. The guy had a habit of calling people by a defining feature of their's. It could have been worse. Originally, the man had called him "Blondie". After Billy had threatened him with torture, however, he'd switched to "Boots", and it had stuck.
And so it was by the name "Boots the Monkey" that the CIA knew him.
Things had gone fairly well for a while. He'd stayed out of sight, taking low profile jobs that would go unnoticed.
Then one day he took a job that turned out to be a lot more high profile than he'd realized. High profile enough that the CIA was staked out waiting for him and his partner.
Everything had looked normal, quiet, deserted from the outside. But the second they waltzed into the trap that had been laid for them, things went to Hell in a handcart.
He didn't stick around to tag along.
One thing led to another, and less than an hour later he had taken a bullet, jumped from a 30' bridge into a freezing cold river, and ended up lying on a riverbank a few miles downstream, suffering from hypothermic shock.
Lying there, bleeding sluggishly, shaking so hard he could barely breathe, while the CIA hunted for him, memories of another night when he'd taken a bullet swam into his head.
It hit him then just how stupid this was. He had sworn off living like this. Had fought so hard for so long to get away from this kind of thing, and had just skipped back to it without a second thought.
He'd sworn never to go back to that. Ever again. Almost half a century had passed since then, and he never had.
That didn't mean he hadn't kept tabs on old contacts over the years.
Ray Dennon was a dealer. Of course, almost nobody knew him by that name anymore. Nowadays he was know in most circles simply as "The Informant". He didn't deal in any substances (well, at least he hadn't for quite sometime). His trade was in information.
And he was good. Not even the tiniest of rumors escaped him. Hunting down the truth about anything, and selling it to anyone was an artform. Over the years, he had mastered it. He knew things that could bring down governments, start wars, destroy cities, and probably get him killed. He didn't worry too much about his clients killing him off to silence him, though. He knew too much information that they needed for them to dispose of him.
He very rarely felt any sort of fear. He only feared what he did not know, or did not understand. He understood almost everything.
When he opened the door early that morning and found what he thought was a ghost standing on his door-step, he felt first confusion.
"Boots? Is that you? After all these years?" the recognition had been immediate. Which was odd. It had been almost 50 years since he'd seen the boy last. And then it hit him. Boy?
He hadn't changed. At all.
"If I say 'yes' will you sell me out to the first person who asks?", the ghost quipped back at him.
Dennon could feel the color draining from his face. There was no mistaking it. He was real.
"What do you want, Boots? Why are you here again after so long?"
The young man smiled. There was a slightly dangerous edge to it. "Why does anybody call on an informant? I'm looking for information that I believe you have. "
"Well, we'd better not discuss that out here. Come in, man." Dennon stepped back, allowing him entrance. There was something very strange going on here, and the sooner he got this customer in and out of his house, the better.
He led the young man to a slightly dingy interior room, away from any possible third party cameras or recorders, filled with file cabinets and computers.
"What exactly are you inquiring about? I can't guarantee that I'll have the information that you're after..."
"You probably know more about the CIA than the CIA knows about itself. I figure you're the person to come too for this."
Dennon shrugged, conceding the point. The young man continued. "I need to know everything you have on the CIA division SIA."
Dennon studied his face, making sure he was serious, then it occurred to him that given the situation, he probably was.
"The Supernatural Intelligence Agency? Seems like a bit of a joke to me." he glanced at his customer's expression. Still serious as nuclear winter. "Doesn't seem like they do much of anything. But they are still given pretty staggering funding so there must be something going on there. I don't have much on them. There's not much information to be had. Even considering how long they've been around-"
"Wait, when did these guys get started exactly?" the young man interrupted.
"Well, like I said, there's not much on them, but first reports of them are from the early 60s. They've been around a while. "
Boots frowned slightly. "What exactly have their agents been reported doing?"
Dennon raised an eyebrow. "I dont know how true it is, but surely you've heard of the Men in Black? But I don't know...that gets off into all that UFO sighting crap, all of them are crazy..."
"Men in Black?"
"Well, you know, they're supposed agents who show up after a supernatural event or an incident and interrogate the witnesses about what they've seen, and threaten them to keep quiet about it. Things like that. It doesn't seem to stop most people...but they say there's a bit of truth behind everything."
"A truer thing was never said. I need to know one thing. Where is their main base?"
Dennon almost laughed. It just kept getting weirder and weirder. "Well, it's out in Nevada. They call it Area 51."
Well here we go! Off to Area 51!
I really ended up on the weird side of the internet piecing this chapter together. I finally gave up on having this be as factual as I would've liked it to be after I slogged through some of "that UFO sighting crap". Now don't get me wrong, I have seen a UFO before, but once I started getting into cattle mutilations and stuff I figured "Well, they made most of this up, why shouldn't I?" Wikipedia can become a very scary place.
Area 51 is real and in Nevada. Men in Black are a reported thing in the UFO/supernatural incident world.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I didn't but, hey, getting from point A to point B is always the worst.
Hopefully I will have another chapter up in a few weeks. I make no promises though because the first day of school is coming. Brace yourselves.