Shadows in The Halls(The Culling Protocol)

 

Macron

The world looked normal, and no one would believe that the Earth had been invaded by aliens. They had hidden themselves well in high positions and low-life levels just to study humans and know how to deal with them. They were doctors, teachers, plumbers, legislators, and even held high positions in the White House. They believed the Earth was the place for them to thrive, as their home planet was rife with war, famine, and disease. So they sent a few of themselves secretly to Earth, hoping to find ways to eliminate the humans and take over the planet. There would be no enslavement—just extinction.

Rachel had always been that careful girl who loved to mind her own business. She had this weird feeling, but she couldn't pinpoint it. One night, she had a dream that the Earth had been taken over by aliens. She always believed in her dreams because most had come true—you could say she had premonitions of things sometimes—but she never took it seriously. This dream kept lingering in her mind, while most of the dreams she had dreamed before always disappeared when she woke up, and she never thought about them again until things happened and they came back to her. But this dream was just nagging at her, and she couldn't concentrate. She was walking along the sidewalk in downtown New York that fateful morning when her mind kept distracting her about the dream, and then she bumped into a young man. She fell to the ground with a squeak, but the young man never even noticed or felt that someone had bumped into him. This raised her curiosity as the man kept muttering something that she caught: "Culling will be easy. No one knows we are here, as far as I have investigated." This, and the nonchalant way the young man kept moving, made her follow him. He was so engrossed in his report that he never noticed her, and she kept a good pace with him. When he reached his destination, she held her breath, for it was the Mayor's office. She sneaked in after him, and she soon found out he was the undersecretary to the Mayor and had been going by the name Davis.

She hid just behind the door as he kept saying, "We have done everything you sent us to do, and we are in good positions. All we need is the green light to launch the attack." What attack? she wondered as she listened hard.

"No, we will talk to our people in NASA when it is time for the fleet to be launched. We can't do it alone without support. No, they are not weak—they have something that would give us a challenge. Yes, we need the fleet's support." And at that moment, he was called and he went out. That was when Rachel took her leave. She hurried to find her two friends, whom she knew would believe her, because the government didn't care and wouldn't even allow her to see anyone important.

Brent was a brash young man who loved to hit first and ask questions later. He had a good heart, just a sour temper, and he would do anything for his friends and the downtrodden in society. Sometimes you’d see him carrying a picket sign to the Mayor's office, protesting against the poor conditions of the people and how they needed more jobs instead of more taxes. He was just loyal to worthy causes.

Macron was a quiet young man who many didn't even know possessed supernatural powers. He hated trouble and always wanted to be the mediator when it came to Brent and his temper. Neither Rachel nor Brent had ever seen him lose his temper or enter any brawl. He just loved peace and quiet. Unknown to them, Macron was a chosen one from the gods who loved the people of the Earth he had created. Every century, or every time a protector died, he sent another to make sure humanity thrived and progressed. He had known his brother of the underworld would try to cause conflict to eliminate the humans, so he kept sending them heroes now and then so they could fight for the people.

Brent and Macron were just hanging out in their regular bar, enjoying the morning quiet before the rush, when Rachel barged in with pale skin and eyes as wide as one who had seen a ghost.

"What happened to you?" Brent asked, draining his glass. He knew that look on her face would bring a fight, and he needed to finish his drink before he did anything stupid. Besides, no one would say he was greedy—a drink needed to be finished and not left half drunk.

"I think I just met an alien in the Mayor's office."

"What does he look like?"

"Normal, just like you and Mac here. But the weird thing is that I bumped into him and he didn't feel it—only for me to see the bruise on my shoulder later as I hurried to you guys."

"Let's go now!" Brent said, cracking his knuckles. "I need to deal with him."

"Calm down," Macron said with raised eyebrows.

"Calm down?" Brent asked incredulously. "An alien is right here, bro—ALIEN 👽."

"Yeah, do you intend to fight him in the Mayor's office?" Macron asked him.

"Well, I never thought of that," Brent said.

"See, it's not all about brutality—just a little touch of subtlety."

They tracked the alien to a warehouse, and as soon as they entered, Brent ran at him and raised his fist for a punch. But the alien was fast—he blocked the punch, and with his left hand, he grabbed Brent by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Brent's face started turning purple, and Rachel could only stare in shock. Then Macron rushed at the alien with a lightning-fast kick that landed on its shoulder. The impact flung Brent free as the alien stumbled and fell. Brent hit the ground coughing hard while Rachel ran to him, her eyes wide. Together, they watched as Macron and the alien went head-to-head. They wondered where Macron had learned those fluid moves—his punches and kicks were snapping bones. When the alien grew too weak to fight back, it reverted to its true form: large black eyes, pointed ears, an elongated jaw, and a mouth filled with sharp rows of teeth.

They bound the alien and took it straight to the Mayor's office. There, they explained everything. The Mayor immediately contacted the White House and the Pentagon. Within hours, the three friends were flown to Washington, D.C., and escorted to the White House. That's when Macron made a confession that shocked his friends—and everyone else in the room.

To be continued