MOOD MUSIC

MOOD MUSIC

Prologue:

Al-Udeid Air Base, Doha, Qatar - 09:00

It wasn’t so much the shock of leaving what had been his life for years, nor the butterflies in his stomach for the coming events that were in store for him…not by a long shot.
This was something more primal, almost instinctive- like a voice in the back of his head telling him he was doing the right thing-no matter the consequences. Though this came as no surprise to moderately built man in his mid 20s.

He was special.

Former Staff Sergeant Ventus Forge left the office of internal affairs with a determined look about him. He had just signed the document that released him of service to his country. Not anymore. He reminded himself. Not after what I had seen…

Chapter 1:

Downtown Kandahar, Afghanistan – One week before

Hey guys! I’ll catch up!
Oh god, Forge! Not again!
Oh quit being such a douche! I’ll see you guys at the bar in a bit…AND DON’T GET ME THE CHEAP STUFF THIS TIME!
Yeah, yeah

Forge was eyeing an odd symbol in the market stall. A red splayed cross. He couldn’t resist, not after reading those books his father sent him. He asked the vendor if he spoke any English and to his surprise, he actually did. He was fluent no less. Forge had trouble fixating the man’s accent. Nigerian? Egyptian? Oh, It’s gotta be somewhere from that general area, Forge thought. The gentleman was covered in cloth from head to toe; Forge figured it had to do with the unseasonable cold front Kandahar was currently enduring.
If you don’t mind me asking sir, where did you get that?
Oh this? Its just a little something I picked up on my travels in the Mediterranean.
Is that so? Well it’s quite nice. Anyways, have a good day sir.

The vendor nodded as he walked off, and in the corner of his eye, Forge spotted something out of place: Two gentlemen in black three piece suits wearing sunglasses. They looked just as much out of place here as a nudist in the Whitehouse he thought to himself. What else seemed peculiar were the triangle pendants they both wore. Who are these guys? He thought.

Then it struck him. He was almost sure he was being paranoid, but he had to make sure. Forge checked his gear and turned around to meet the vendor’s gaze once more. If the vendor was whom he expected- however unlikely that may be, he had to try the countersign he read in one of those books.

What do you seek? The vendor remarked as he lowered his head breaking eye contact. Forge’s blood pressure rose.
I seek what is lost. Forge said in a hushed voice. Here goes, Forge thought.
And who lost it? I knew it! Forge thought as he widened his eyes, trying his best to keep calm.
The king lost it. Thinking,There’s no way this is gonna work
And where is the king? That’s it- and all doubt was gone from his mind.
Burning in hell. Forge said with a smirk. That was easy- Forge relaxed.

The man made the slightest gesture with his head in the direction of suited gentlemen. Forge immediately picked up on it and nodded in a way conveying “Yeah, I know”. Forge watched as the man reached into his stall and retrieved what caught Forge’s eye earlier. The mark was on a necklace, but no just any necklace, it was dog tags.
That will be 500 Afghani, sir. The Vendor said as he handed Forge the tags. Ventus paid and noticed that the suited gentlemen were advancing on them. Tel Aviv, the vendor managed to mention just before the suits were in earshot. To which Forge discretely nodded as he put on his aviator sunglasses.

Sergeant Forge? One of the suits called out.
What’s it to you? He responded.
We need you to come with us, please.
I’m afraid I can’t do that, boys, you see I’m in the middle of a patrol and I really need to get back with my squad. Forge contested as he tried to get past them.
And I’M afraid you won’t be joining them anytime soon sergeant, Contested one of the suits as he discretely brandished a nine millimeter pistol.
Oh, that’s original, buddy. Not cliché at all, major kudos for… Forge stopped talking once he realized idle chitchat was getting him nowhere.

The suits ushered Forge and the vendor into a back alleyway. Forge continued criticizing them on their method of operations, ‘pitying’ them on how similar this was to some cheap movie he saw a thousand times. They all stopped and like lightning one of the suits was on top of the vendor, clearly infuriated with him punching him like a madman, landing blow after blow. Forge took advantage of the other suit being distracted and speed dialed his cell phone to his CO, and put it on speaker, knowing very well they would track his position via GPS and be on the way to lend him a hand, a couple minutes went on and the rest of Forge’s squad arrived, guns pointed at the assailants. What Forge didn’t expect was what happened next.

Relax men; we’re on your side! I hereby authorize execution of code word Delta forty four. This man is a known ideed terrorist and is too dangerous to be left alive. We couldn’t risk anything happening to your sergeant here, so we brought him along as well…
The suit’s words were calm and reassuring. As if blurred from whats going on, he felt himself get carried away form the alley by his men. Forge watched from a distance as one of the suits pumped a round into the vendor with his pistol. During the confusion, Forge’s CO got him away from the scene (much to the protests of the suits) and took him back to their forward base.

Chapter 2:
Kandahar International Airport- USAF Ops base, Interrogation Room 3

Forge sat across from the table drinking his bottled water, taking in the silence that enveloped him. He contemplated on the events that had just transpired. But not on how he was going to tell that story to his interrogator- that was the farthest thing from his mind. He thought about his brief exchange of words with the vendor, the tags he gave him and how he was put down like a dog in the alley. Then he pulled out the tags from his pocket. The words that the vendor said and that cross can only mean one thing-Templar. Pondering on the gravity of what that meant, his thoughts drifted to something darker. Why those men would shoot the vendor in cold blood under some fabricated accusation that he was a terrorist, Forge had no explanation for. But one thing was for sure, if he ever saw those suits again, it would be too soon.

Like clockwork, the door swung open and as an act of a very angry god, the men in suits walked in. There was an awkward silence for a while, even after the door shut, they just stood there, sizing Forge up, but he was doing the same to them. Finally Forge exclaimed, what do you want from me?! And the man on Forge’s left responded: WE will be the ones asking the questions, Sergeant. Let’s start with the obvious…how did you know that stall vendor?
Forge told them about how his feet were tired of walking so much that he took a break to look through the stalls for anything nice to send back stateside for his family and friends and how the vendor was doing his best to sell him some stupid fake dog tags. Forge claimed that it was simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The men left the room after they got his story, appearing satisfied, they let Forge go free. But he didn’t feel free. Not a bit. He wanted out of the force, now that he had seen the strings that were playing the puppeteer to his men. And once he got out, he knew exactly where he was going.

Chapter 3:

Kaplan St., Sarona Quarter, Tel Aviv, Israel - 13:45

Forge stood perplexed in his leather jacket with his squadron’s insignia covering his entire back. He was taking in the scenery around him. It was like the architectural twilight zone: The ancient Templer structures in front of him were dwarfed by the background rose the Israeli Ministry of Defense’s complex of buildings refereed to by the locals as the Kirya (the Campus). To his amazement, the park in central Tel Aviv should have been bustling at that time. It was just him and what appeared to be in the distance some business men taking their lunch break from work. It was all just so peaceful-too peaceful. His senses heightened as he sensed movement behind him.

You’re a long way from home, American. A voice said.
I’m just admiring the architecture, This is a beautiful city. Forge responded.
It always has been, as you can see, the Templers were skilled builders to have their structures last so long...
I’m sorry sir, did you say Templer? I’m pretty sure its pronounced Templar, with an a.
Afraid not, The Templers were an order of German Protestants that date as far back as the 18th century. They were banned from the country back in ‘48 when Israel became a nation. The Templars were crusaders that were gone long before then.
I see... Forge said as he turned around to properly greet the man. Doing so, he revealed the dog tag with the cross around his neck.
The gentleman wore a sharp 3 piece suit, he immediately realized Forge for whom he was and asked in a suggestive tone Can I help you? While eyeballing the dog tag. Forge picked up on it and started the Templar greeting:
I’m looking for something.
What are you looking for?
Something that is lost.
Come with me, the man whispered.
Hmm, that’s strange, Forge thought

About an hour later, Forge was in the back seat of a black sedan heading for one of the sprawling slums that migrant populations of refugees from Sudan and Eritrea now call home. The gentleman from the park, now behind the wheel explained to Forge that their society’s activities are best done in the slums as their movements are harder to track. The which made sense to Forge, if his suspicions were right, The Illuminati influenced United States has always been on good terms with the Zionist state. It would only seem right to suspect that they would have a heavy presence here as well. That idea sat very unwell with Forge: seeing as this “associate of the Templars” found him with relative ease. The more he thought about it, the less convinced he was that he was doing the correct thing: The meeting point was Templer, not Templar; The gentleman didn’t bother to finish the appropriate countersigns...

So where exactly are we going? Forge asked.
To an interview with the order, we need to assess you. He calmly responded.
You didn’t answer my question. Forge contested with a slight edge to his voice.
Humph. You can relax, we are nearly there. The gentleman said with a more sinister tone.
You’re not really Templar, are you?
I thought you would have never guessed.
A glass pane instantly separated Forge from the driver while the doors simultaneously locked.
Forge cursed himself for letting this happen to himself. He wondered if the driver could still hear him.
Illuminati?, Forge asked with a depressed tone.
You know, for a man dumb enough to fall into this little trap, you are pretty bright. Pity- you could have been useful to us.
Forge resigned himself to his fate and laid his head against the headrest, opting to reserve his strength for the opportune moment.

The car stopped in front of a one story concrete building, it was weirdly out of place seeing as it actually had its own gate and courtyard, but at the same time blended in with the surroundings due to all the tent fabric around it. If one were just taking a quick glance at it, that person wouldn't even though it was there. Two armed locals approached the car door and opened it. One of them Took the butt of his assault rifle and smashed it cleanly across Forge's forehead, dazing him as the pulled him out and dragged him into the courtyard. Regaining his senses he took a quick look around the courtyard: there was a thick wooden lawn table with what looked like some sort of adornment on it. Shading the table was a tree, Forge noticed a bulge in it which he promptly identified as a beehive. Forge hated bees- in fact, he hated anything with a stinger. He liked to say, Those little bastards hurt! if they were brought up in casual conversation. On the other side of the court was a generator fueled by a rather large gas tank, Now THAT could be useful, he thought as his more tactical thought processes started to kick in.

He was brought to a stop by the front door as someone started to come out.
It can't be... Forge said as if he had seen a ghost.
In front of Forge stood the vendor he met in Kandahar, now cleanly shaven and in a suit identical to the driver's.
Uh uh, This isn't happening, I saw you die! Forge said in disbelief.
Did you? He remarked in a snide tone. Or did you just see what we wanted you to see?
You bastards... Forge grunted, sensing the end was near.