Broken Ascension

Epilogue: Awakening

He woke up with a dull thrum in his head. There was the taste of bitter almonds on his tongue as well. It was as if he had the biggest bender of his life the previous night. But no, he didn’t drink, did he? For a long moment he couldn’t recall anything. Who he was even. But sitting on the bed there trying to figure out what’s what, it all slowly came back to him. Like little clouds flitting away with the push of the wind. But yesterday was still very much lost. He cleared his morning ritual and made his cup of tea. Good old fashioned tea. Nothing could substitute it. He tried again to recall the events of the day before but it wasn’t coming. It was a total blank. Dead and lost forever. He turned on the streaming pad on the wall and selected the newsfeed. Maybe there would be something about yesterday that would trigger his memories. They were talking about a bill in parliament which had been due for a vote a few days ago. An independent committee was going to relook at the provisions. There had been some sort of attack, event – he wasn’t paying much attention. He had a vague memory of feeling old and tired. But today he felt fresh, vigorous. There were no scars on his body; it was lean and taut. He taught he looked much younger than he was but medical technology was rather advanced nowadays. Well, time to go to work. He put on his standard work clothes of reinforced material and stepped out of his flat. There were some movers on the floor. Looks like Number Nine had called it a day. He went past the open door and there was a hint of a scent hitting his senses. It smelled nice. He looked in and saw a woman in there instructing the movers. She was pretty. He had met her before hadn’t he? Actually she was more than just pretty, she was entrancing. He tried to catch her eye but the movers were all in the way. Too bad, it wasn’t going to lead into anything anyway. He was a solitary man. A single look would not change that.

He took the same way to HQ, hopping on the MTV in front of his building and riding all the way to Canary Wharf. There it was, the house of the Godsmen. All white and square, a building of little imagination. Sometimes he felt that those within lacked imagination as well. He went in through the main doors and stepped up to the Security Unit. He placed his eye close to the scanner. The light went green. As he passed through the barrier he glanced at the monitor beside the scanner. It read: ‘Bishop Designate. Serial number ‘1774/90’, the words flashing. He walked to to the bulletin monitor at the front of the lifts. He touched the screen and his fingerprint was read. A memo flashed for him. ‘Proceed to the Pope’s room. Level 23’. Bishop shrugged, accessing the lifts. Must be a big day indeed. And having recently just met the Pope which was a rare event in itself. That memory of the meeting was very clear in his head. The meeting itself, but the issues they had discussed were muddled and he couldn’t put a finger on them. The memory came to him like a movie with no sound on. It was strange but he had always a strange life.

He entered the room, the sparse, sparse room. The Pope looked at him, thankfully not smiling this time.

“Reporting for duty, sir.”

“How are you?” Seemed like a strange question from the Pope. Next he might ask about the weather.

“Fine sir. Could be better but well fine.”

“That’s good. Jacobites. Ring a bell?”

“Of course. I’m sorry sir, but isn’t this what we discussed previously.” The memories were returning, some part of them.

“To be honest sir, I can’t seem to recall what exactly it was we discussed.”

“We were looking to stop their plans. You were involved in an incident which knocked you unconscious. Do you remember that?”

“No sir, I don’t recall.” No, and knocked unconscious seemed unlikely for him. But everyone had their down days. He had felt quite worn and stretched recently. Now, now he could run the marathon back and forth. But only for the holes in his head.

“Head trauma can do that. Maybe it will eventually come to you. Because of you being indisposed, we had another Bishop designate carry out the objective. But the Jacobites are still alive and kicking. We’ve got to deal with them. They’re dangerous.”

“Well this tool is ready and willing, ready and willing.” He was. He was feeling extremely rejuvenated, like he had gotten a second lease on life.

“I know, Bishop. You were always dependable.”

“Thank you sir for the compliment. What’s the deal?”

“We have a name. James Stuart. That’s your deal.” The Pope handed him a data card.

“It’s all in there. What we know. Long story short, eliminate him and his kind. Take a look, plan a strategy. And then we can talk about resources. All right?”

“I’ll deal with him sir.” Bishop got up. He paused.

“No need for a scan sir?”

“We did that when you were unconscious.”

“Fine sir.” He turned and walked out the room. He needed to find a device to read the card. Then he would have to plan his chess game. Bishop takes the Knight. James Stuart was the Knight then. He started thinking about his lost memories and what they would mean but he shoved them aside. He was a man of action. He was not one for reflection.