Infinity
Starving (Martial) Artist
-Open-
--------------------------------
Medellín, Colombia
FARC-EP Guerrilla Safe House
1996
--------------------------------
Let's play a game, shall we?
The foreign voice of an older man with a thick Hispanic accent echoes eerily inside this decrepit room. The walls are broken down and chipped cement, just like the floor. The room is barely illuminated by a dim light bulb which flickers on and off every now and then. The man who spoke is sitting at a table wearing a green military outfit with black combat boots and a black beret. On the front of the beret is a golden logo in the shape of the Colombia with the word "FARC-EP" in the middle of it, a Colombian revolutionary army. He places the AK-47 rifle he's holding down next to him and strokes his thick black beard for a couple of moments as he looks across the table at Vega. He sits there, with his hands tied up in front of him and his head hanging low. His long hair covers his face, but we can see blood stains on his white button down shirt and matching white pants.
Vega lifts his head up to reveal a badly beaten and broken face. His left eye is nearly swollen shut, and his right one is bloodshot. Two other men are standing in the room; one to Vega's left, the other to his right. They both are dressed just like the first man, and have rifles aimed directly at Vega's from a distance. The initial man, the one sitting across from Vega, reaches to his side and removes a revolver pistol from his holster. He flicks the revolving chamber open and empties out the 6 bullets. He puts them all in his right hand, and places all but one in his pocket. He holds the one bullet up with two fingers so that Vega can see it clearly. The lights flicker on and off erratically for a couple of moments.
Russian Roulette.
The FARC soldier laughs as he places the bullet into a specific slot in the revolving chamber. Vega squints as he stares directly at the gun before he flicks the chamber shut, thus loading the gun.
So, you are familiar with this game. Well, what do you say?
Vega doesn't respond. He slowly turns his read towards the guard off to his right holding an AK-47... and then turns to the guard off to his left also holding an AK... then back to the soldier in front of him holding a revolver. The soldier sitting across from him smiles sadistically as he casually holds the gun up as if it were a glass of red wine. He chuckles to himself...
Well, I suppose you don't really have a choice... do you?
He laughs to himself even louder this time.
Look, I'll even make it easier for you. Me first?
Without hesitation, the soldier holds the revolver up to the side of his head and squeezes the trigger.
*CLICK*
He slams the gun down onto the table triumphantly. He hesitates giving Vega the gun, and looks towards the soldiers standing to Vega's left and right.
If he points that gun anywhere else besides his own head... kill him.
They nod, and aim their AK's directly at Vega. He then slides the revolver across the table. It comes to a stop in front of Vega as he just stares at it... studies it. Vega looks up to the soldier's face tries to study him as well. The two men share a look. The FARC soldier smiles... and at that moment, so does Vega. The lights flicker on and off again for a few moments.
You're turn.
--------------------------------
New York City
United Nations Headquarters
Present Day
--------------------------------
We find ourselves on the roof of the UN building on a sunny, yet chilly, March afternoon in New York City. Alexis is standing there, alone. Her long black trench coat blows in the brisk wind as she calmly looks out towards the East River. The sunshine reflects majestically off the water. The warm colors soothe Alexis as she stands there with her arms crossed and a serene smile on her face. We can see a security clearance badge attached to her coat.
Just then the sound of a door creaking open breaks the relative silence. A man with short blonde hair and greyish eyes wearing a black suit walks out onto the rood. Alexis turns around. The two lock eyes as the the man continues to casually walk up to her. He reaches into his blazer and reaches for something. Alexis doesn't react. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes, and places one on his lips. He motions the pack over to Alexis.
You know I don't smoke.
Never too late to start.
His English accent is strong, definitely not American. He places the pack back into his blazer's breast pocket and then reaches into his pants pocket to pull out a silver lighter. He flips it open and lifts the flame to the tip of his cigarette before flipping it back closed and putting it back in his pocket. He immediately takes a puff and holds the smoke in his lungs. He exhales smoke with every word he says...
You've got a lot of balls meeting me here of all places.
It's convenient for you.
He chuckles. Casually, he leans in and looks at the security clearance badge attached to Alexis' coat.
Vega?
She smiles almost proudly and nods. The man shakes his head while enjoying another puff of his cigarette.
He's good.
The best.
Alexis looks at him as he continues to smoke. He shakes his head, silently agreeing with her.
So if you can get into the building so easily, why not just meet me in my office?
I'd rather not have U.N. cameras catching me walking into the Interpol offices or be seen by anyone talking to an Interpol agent. So, what you got for me Hewitt?
The man, identified now as Agent Hewitt from Interpol, stands there for a few moments as he thinks of how to word what he is going to say next. After another puff of his cigarette, he answers.
Nothing.
What do you mean?
I mean Interpol has no leads on you or Vega's whereabouts. Neither does the CIA. Hell, nobody even knows Vega's real name, and the only picture they have of him is from 1994. Even I don't know what he looks like now. You know I would never turn you in either, Alexis. I've always thought what the agency did to you was wrong. I think my discontent is part of the reason I was transferred over to here. Nothing against New York, I love this place, but I miss home. I miss watching Man U games in a city that actually gives a crap about it. But I'm just whining now, aren't I?
I'm a Chelsea fan.
Oh piss off.
Agent Hewitt smiles at Alexis as he continues smoking.
Have you ever thought about just turning yourself in?
Never.
Why not?
I'll never turn my back on Vega.
What? But, why? What's this grip he has on you?
It's not a grip. I owe him my life. He's shown me on multiple occasions that he cares about me. More than the agency you still work for ever did. Vega and I? We were more than just pawns on a giant chess board. We flexed the muscles of our free will and chose not to blindly listen to the orders our superiors passed down to us. And for that, we are wanted war criminals. Is that fair?
You know the games we play are never fair.
Games? What do you know about games?
--------------------------------
Medellín, Colombia
FARC
Present Day
--------------------------------
Don't you want to play?
Vega stares at the revolver laying on the table in front of him as he ponders the revolutionary soldier's words with a smirk on his face. He reaches for the gun with his hands which are still tightly tied together with rope. Vega picks up the revolver and holds it with both hands firmly. The guards at either side of him ready their rifles in case Vega tries anything. He points the barrel of the gun directly under his chin. The soldier stares at him, directly into his eyes. His smile is encouraging. Eagerly the FARC soldier waits for Vega to squeeze the trigger. Vega stares back at him as he squeezes...
*CLICK*
Vega calmly places the revolver down onto the table and slides it back over to the soldier. The smile never left Vega's face.
I knew you were a confident man.
The revolutionary appreciates Vega's bravado and nods his head in approval as he picks up the gun. He continues to speak as he waves the gun around carelessly, treating it as more of a prop used for emphasis rather than as a deadly weapon.
You think I don't know why you're here? Even in dire situations you seem confident. You know, they say "confidence is the food of the wise man, but the liquor of the fool." I assure you... I am no fool.
He holds the gun to his own head, digging the pistol's barrel into his right temple. The lights begin to flicker on and off for a couple of moments. Once they remain steady, he squeezes the trigger.
*CLICK*
The soldier places the gun on the table, and slides it back over to Vega.
But then again, I don't take you for a fool, either.
Vega picks up the revolver, with his hands still restrained, and places it under his chin once again. His eyes remained locked with the soldier sittong across the table. Both of them look unfazed by this "game." The lights flicker just briefly. Vega inhales and squeezes the trigger.
*CLICK*
He gently places the revolver back down on the table, and slides it back to the soldier with a smile on his face.
Confident... confident man. Are you sure you're full of it, and not drunk?
The soldier laughs to himself as he picks up the gun, this time a little more seriously than the last time.
That's four shots. Two left. This one could be it. There's a 50% chance that this next chamber will be the one with the bullet in it. For your sake, I hope the odds are in your favor.
He smiles as the lights flicker again. He places the gun to his head, but before he squeezes the trigger, Vega speaks up.
Actually you're wrong.
The revolutionary furrows his eyebrows in slight confusion. He humors Vega...
Oh? How so? Perhaps you have forgotten simple mathematics?
Or perhaps you truly do believe that I am a fool.
The soldier lowers the gun down to the table having never squeezed the trigger while still a bit confused.
I know what you did. You didn't load the gun in a random chamber. You knew exactly which chamber you loaded. You know as well as I do that there is a 100% chance that that bullet is not in that chamber. You know you can put that revolver to your head, squeeze the trigger, and smile a foolishly confident smile because that bullet was always in the 6th and final chamber the entire time. That's why you volunteered to go first, because simple mathematics dictates that I would end up with the 6th shot.
So go ahead, squeeze the trigger and pretend to be brave. Then, do with me as you wish. If you give me the gun, I'll have 1 bullet in one gun with my hands tied. You're three men with fully armed AK's. I'm a dead man either way. I know the games we play are never fair. At least give me the dignity of dying at my own hands. I'm sure it's a dignity you would want granted to you one day... in this twisted life we live.
The soldier stares at Vega, unsure of how to respond. He bites his lips as he grasps the revolver again. He begins to look angry, his eyes look more and more intense. He points the gun right at Vega's head as he takes a deap breath. Then he pulls the trigger.
*CLICK*
He slams the gun down onto the table and leaves his hand on top of it, pressing it down with some force before shoving it back over to Vega. Vega has to catch is as it slides off the table with his tied up hands, but he manages anyways. Once it's in his hands, he sits up straight and looks back over at the soldier sitting across from him.
You think you're so wise because you had a plan this whole time. It was you who were drunk with confidence this whole time.
Oh really, wise man? Since you are so unfoolish, how do you explain getting caught?
It was all part of my plan.
The soldier sitting down reaches over and picks up his AK-47 and points it at Vega as he laughs to himself. At this point, all three men have their rifles aimed directly at Vega.
Oh, you're plan. Right, right. Well, what do you have to say now that your plan has failed?
Vega simply smiles.
Who said my plan failed?
The soldier sitting at the table laughs. The other two soldiers standing up begin to laugh out loud as well. Vega even joins in with them as the lights flicker on and off a little bit. Without warning, as the lights flicker on and off repeatedly, Vega squeezes the trigger.
*BANG!*
--------------------------------
New York City
United Nations Headquarters
Present Day
--------------------------------
The games you play? They're just like video games. You're safe in this office here in New York City, just like you were safe back home, never in the field... like me. I know about the unfair games this twisted life has to offer all too well. Vega saved my life by risking his. I'll never turn my back on that.
Right, when he refused to carry out the hit on you.
No. That was him sparing my life. I'm talking about the time in Colombia.
Hewitt looks confused. He slowly exhales smoke through his nostrils as he stares intently into Alexis' eyes.
Colombia?
Alexis nods her head as Hewitt can't seem to comprehend this.
What are you talking about, we got you out of Colombia... Interpol did.
During a failed assassination attempt, mind you. But that was the first time I left Colombia.
First time?
You know Vega and I turned rogue in '94. Well in '95 I decided to go back to see if I could find out what happened to my family. If they were even still alive. The Revolutionary Army thought I was dead, so I thought I was safe. I left Vega a letter telling him I had to go back and that he should continue to live in anonymity without me. A few months into my visit in Colombia, I was captured by FARC soldiers and held captive once again. Vega never listened to my plea for him to live his life without me. He followed me to Colombia... and he saved my life all over again. He infiltrated a FARC safe house as a hostage and got me out of there.
How did you guys manage to do that!?
-To Be Continued...-
--------------------------------
Medellín, Colombia
FARC-EP Guerrilla Safe House
1996
--------------------------------
Let's play a game, shall we?
The foreign voice of an older man with a thick Hispanic accent echoes eerily inside this decrepit room. The walls are broken down and chipped cement, just like the floor. The room is barely illuminated by a dim light bulb which flickers on and off every now and then. The man who spoke is sitting at a table wearing a green military outfit with black combat boots and a black beret. On the front of the beret is a golden logo in the shape of the Colombia with the word "FARC-EP" in the middle of it, a Colombian revolutionary army. He places the AK-47 rifle he's holding down next to him and strokes his thick black beard for a couple of moments as he looks across the table at Vega. He sits there, with his hands tied up in front of him and his head hanging low. His long hair covers his face, but we can see blood stains on his white button down shirt and matching white pants.
Vega lifts his head up to reveal a badly beaten and broken face. His left eye is nearly swollen shut, and his right one is bloodshot. Two other men are standing in the room; one to Vega's left, the other to his right. They both are dressed just like the first man, and have rifles aimed directly at Vega's from a distance. The initial man, the one sitting across from Vega, reaches to his side and removes a revolver pistol from his holster. He flicks the revolving chamber open and empties out the 6 bullets. He puts them all in his right hand, and places all but one in his pocket. He holds the one bullet up with two fingers so that Vega can see it clearly. The lights flicker on and off erratically for a couple of moments.
Russian Roulette.
The FARC soldier laughs as he places the bullet into a specific slot in the revolving chamber. Vega squints as he stares directly at the gun before he flicks the chamber shut, thus loading the gun.
So, you are familiar with this game. Well, what do you say?
Vega doesn't respond. He slowly turns his read towards the guard off to his right holding an AK-47... and then turns to the guard off to his left also holding an AK... then back to the soldier in front of him holding a revolver. The soldier sitting across from him smiles sadistically as he casually holds the gun up as if it were a glass of red wine. He chuckles to himself...
Well, I suppose you don't really have a choice... do you?
He laughs to himself even louder this time.
Look, I'll even make it easier for you. Me first?
Without hesitation, the soldier holds the revolver up to the side of his head and squeezes the trigger.
*CLICK*
He slams the gun down onto the table triumphantly. He hesitates giving Vega the gun, and looks towards the soldiers standing to Vega's left and right.
If he points that gun anywhere else besides his own head... kill him.
They nod, and aim their AK's directly at Vega. He then slides the revolver across the table. It comes to a stop in front of Vega as he just stares at it... studies it. Vega looks up to the soldier's face tries to study him as well. The two men share a look. The FARC soldier smiles... and at that moment, so does Vega. The lights flicker on and off again for a few moments.
You're turn.
--------------------------------
New York City
United Nations Headquarters
Present Day
--------------------------------
We find ourselves on the roof of the UN building on a sunny, yet chilly, March afternoon in New York City. Alexis is standing there, alone. Her long black trench coat blows in the brisk wind as she calmly looks out towards the East River. The sunshine reflects majestically off the water. The warm colors soothe Alexis as she stands there with her arms crossed and a serene smile on her face. We can see a security clearance badge attached to her coat.
Just then the sound of a door creaking open breaks the relative silence. A man with short blonde hair and greyish eyes wearing a black suit walks out onto the rood. Alexis turns around. The two lock eyes as the the man continues to casually walk up to her. He reaches into his blazer and reaches for something. Alexis doesn't react. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes, and places one on his lips. He motions the pack over to Alexis.
You know I don't smoke.
Never too late to start.
His English accent is strong, definitely not American. He places the pack back into his blazer's breast pocket and then reaches into his pants pocket to pull out a silver lighter. He flips it open and lifts the flame to the tip of his cigarette before flipping it back closed and putting it back in his pocket. He immediately takes a puff and holds the smoke in his lungs. He exhales smoke with every word he says...
You've got a lot of balls meeting me here of all places.
It's convenient for you.
He chuckles. Casually, he leans in and looks at the security clearance badge attached to Alexis' coat.
Vega?
She smiles almost proudly and nods. The man shakes his head while enjoying another puff of his cigarette.
He's good.
The best.
Alexis looks at him as he continues to smoke. He shakes his head, silently agreeing with her.
So if you can get into the building so easily, why not just meet me in my office?
I'd rather not have U.N. cameras catching me walking into the Interpol offices or be seen by anyone talking to an Interpol agent. So, what you got for me Hewitt?
The man, identified now as Agent Hewitt from Interpol, stands there for a few moments as he thinks of how to word what he is going to say next. After another puff of his cigarette, he answers.
Nothing.
What do you mean?
I mean Interpol has no leads on you or Vega's whereabouts. Neither does the CIA. Hell, nobody even knows Vega's real name, and the only picture they have of him is from 1994. Even I don't know what he looks like now. You know I would never turn you in either, Alexis. I've always thought what the agency did to you was wrong. I think my discontent is part of the reason I was transferred over to here. Nothing against New York, I love this place, but I miss home. I miss watching Man U games in a city that actually gives a crap about it. But I'm just whining now, aren't I?
I'm a Chelsea fan.
Oh piss off.
Agent Hewitt smiles at Alexis as he continues smoking.
Have you ever thought about just turning yourself in?
Never.
Why not?
I'll never turn my back on Vega.
What? But, why? What's this grip he has on you?
It's not a grip. I owe him my life. He's shown me on multiple occasions that he cares about me. More than the agency you still work for ever did. Vega and I? We were more than just pawns on a giant chess board. We flexed the muscles of our free will and chose not to blindly listen to the orders our superiors passed down to us. And for that, we are wanted war criminals. Is that fair?
You know the games we play are never fair.
Games? What do you know about games?
--------------------------------
Medellín, Colombia
FARC
Present Day
--------------------------------
Don't you want to play?
Vega stares at the revolver laying on the table in front of him as he ponders the revolutionary soldier's words with a smirk on his face. He reaches for the gun with his hands which are still tightly tied together with rope. Vega picks up the revolver and holds it with both hands firmly. The guards at either side of him ready their rifles in case Vega tries anything. He points the barrel of the gun directly under his chin. The soldier stares at him, directly into his eyes. His smile is encouraging. Eagerly the FARC soldier waits for Vega to squeeze the trigger. Vega stares back at him as he squeezes...
*CLICK*
Vega calmly places the revolver down onto the table and slides it back over to the soldier. The smile never left Vega's face.
I knew you were a confident man.
The revolutionary appreciates Vega's bravado and nods his head in approval as he picks up the gun. He continues to speak as he waves the gun around carelessly, treating it as more of a prop used for emphasis rather than as a deadly weapon.
You think I don't know why you're here? Even in dire situations you seem confident. You know, they say "confidence is the food of the wise man, but the liquor of the fool." I assure you... I am no fool.
He holds the gun to his own head, digging the pistol's barrel into his right temple. The lights begin to flicker on and off for a couple of moments. Once they remain steady, he squeezes the trigger.
*CLICK*
The soldier places the gun on the table, and slides it back over to Vega.
But then again, I don't take you for a fool, either.
Vega picks up the revolver, with his hands still restrained, and places it under his chin once again. His eyes remained locked with the soldier sittong across the table. Both of them look unfazed by this "game." The lights flicker just briefly. Vega inhales and squeezes the trigger.
*CLICK*
He gently places the revolver back down on the table, and slides it back to the soldier with a smile on his face.
Confident... confident man. Are you sure you're full of it, and not drunk?
The soldier laughs to himself as he picks up the gun, this time a little more seriously than the last time.
That's four shots. Two left. This one could be it. There's a 50% chance that this next chamber will be the one with the bullet in it. For your sake, I hope the odds are in your favor.
He smiles as the lights flicker again. He places the gun to his head, but before he squeezes the trigger, Vega speaks up.
Actually you're wrong.
The revolutionary furrows his eyebrows in slight confusion. He humors Vega...
Oh? How so? Perhaps you have forgotten simple mathematics?
Or perhaps you truly do believe that I am a fool.
The soldier lowers the gun down to the table having never squeezed the trigger while still a bit confused.
I know what you did. You didn't load the gun in a random chamber. You knew exactly which chamber you loaded. You know as well as I do that there is a 100% chance that that bullet is not in that chamber. You know you can put that revolver to your head, squeeze the trigger, and smile a foolishly confident smile because that bullet was always in the 6th and final chamber the entire time. That's why you volunteered to go first, because simple mathematics dictates that I would end up with the 6th shot.
So go ahead, squeeze the trigger and pretend to be brave. Then, do with me as you wish. If you give me the gun, I'll have 1 bullet in one gun with my hands tied. You're three men with fully armed AK's. I'm a dead man either way. I know the games we play are never fair. At least give me the dignity of dying at my own hands. I'm sure it's a dignity you would want granted to you one day... in this twisted life we live.
The soldier stares at Vega, unsure of how to respond. He bites his lips as he grasps the revolver again. He begins to look angry, his eyes look more and more intense. He points the gun right at Vega's head as he takes a deap breath. Then he pulls the trigger.
*CLICK*
He slams the gun down onto the table and leaves his hand on top of it, pressing it down with some force before shoving it back over to Vega. Vega has to catch is as it slides off the table with his tied up hands, but he manages anyways. Once it's in his hands, he sits up straight and looks back over at the soldier sitting across from him.
You think you're so wise because you had a plan this whole time. It was you who were drunk with confidence this whole time.
Oh really, wise man? Since you are so unfoolish, how do you explain getting caught?
It was all part of my plan.
The soldier sitting down reaches over and picks up his AK-47 and points it at Vega as he laughs to himself. At this point, all three men have their rifles aimed directly at Vega.
Oh, you're plan. Right, right. Well, what do you have to say now that your plan has failed?
Vega simply smiles.
Who said my plan failed?
The soldier sitting at the table laughs. The other two soldiers standing up begin to laugh out loud as well. Vega even joins in with them as the lights flicker on and off a little bit. Without warning, as the lights flicker on and off repeatedly, Vega squeezes the trigger.
*BANG!*
--------------------------------
New York City
United Nations Headquarters
Present Day
--------------------------------
The games you play? They're just like video games. You're safe in this office here in New York City, just like you were safe back home, never in the field... like me. I know about the unfair games this twisted life has to offer all too well. Vega saved my life by risking his. I'll never turn my back on that.
Right, when he refused to carry out the hit on you.
No. That was him sparing my life. I'm talking about the time in Colombia.
Hewitt looks confused. He slowly exhales smoke through his nostrils as he stares intently into Alexis' eyes.
Colombia?
Alexis nods her head as Hewitt can't seem to comprehend this.
What are you talking about, we got you out of Colombia... Interpol did.
During a failed assassination attempt, mind you. But that was the first time I left Colombia.
First time?
You know Vega and I turned rogue in '94. Well in '95 I decided to go back to see if I could find out what happened to my family. If they were even still alive. The Revolutionary Army thought I was dead, so I thought I was safe. I left Vega a letter telling him I had to go back and that he should continue to live in anonymity without me. A few months into my visit in Colombia, I was captured by FARC soldiers and held captive once again. Vega never listened to my plea for him to live his life without me. He followed me to Colombia... and he saved my life all over again. He infiltrated a FARC safe house as a hostage and got me out of there.
How did you guys manage to do that!?
-To Be Continued...-