My Name Is Scott Nichols. This Is Where It All Begins.
My name is Scott Nichols. I worked for the United States government under a covert black ops program codenamed SEAGATE, sanctioned by the NSA. We had hacked and gained unrestricted access into every computer, network, satellite, cell phone, surveillance camera, and telephone in the world. That was how it all started. The program expanded and soon, we carried out our very own missions, airstrikes, and cover up operations. We were created to infiltrate terrorist cells, gather information, and prevent impending attacks on American soil. At least... that was what we were told. Eventually, I uncovered the truth. Every lie, every dirty secret, every crime the past 8 administrations ever pulled.
Three months ago, I turned. This is what happened.
26th April, 2013. 0600 hours. Location: undisclosed. I stared out the glass wall seeing dawn break, golden streaks of light bringing the vast land to life. From the outside, we were an unsuspecting run-down farm. Inside, we ran the largest clandestine spy program in history. We hosted supercomputers sorting through every detail of every bit of data at unparalleled speeds; ready to send out information to our network of agents in every city in the world at any given time.
And there I stood, lost in thought.
Thinking of the moment when I first held him in my arms, trying his tiny voice in this vast unfamiliar world for the very first time. The moment I first walked him to school, his little hand around my finger. His first word, his first fight, his first ice cream cone. And then how everything that ever meant anything to me was taken away just like that.
All I had left in this world, gone. Months of disbelief and denial felt like an eternity of pain. And now here I am – working to make sure that the people who took all that away from me would never be able to do the same to anyone else ever again.
But when is this war going to end? Twelve years, billions of dollars spent, tens of thousands of lives. Torture, hate, countless families torn apart. When will all this really end?
Beep. The signal came accompanied by a tiny flashing red light, waking me back to face reality. I was being activated. It’s been a while since I went on my last mission but not a day has gone by when I don’t think of the things I’ve done; the things I had to do. I grabbed my backpack and made sure everything was there. Fake ID’s, fake passports, ten thousand dollars in cash, my tracker, and a modified Glock- undetectable by security scanners. I picked up the folder on the desk, opening the file on my target. The objective was simple. Get in, pull the trigger, and get out.
The plane landed at Domodedovo International Airport, Moscow. I caught a bus and headed out into the night, taking the folder out of my bag once again. The file didn’t feel right... Alexei Ivanov; male, age 23, computer engineer, last known location: Zhukovsky, Moscow, Russia. No criminal records, no ties to any known terrorist organizations, nothing out of the ordinary. It just doesn’t add up. Why was this guy a priority kill job?
I stepped off the Bus and proceeded to the indicated address. It was 12:00 midnight. The streets were quiet, dim light spilling through windows onto the pavement. I turned the corner and up an old brick apartment. A worn out sign with the numbers “204” was bolted on to the white wooden door. This was it. I turned the knob on the unlocked door and pushed it quietly open. It was dark. Very dark. I had my gun in my hand when the door swung shut behind me and an immense force knocked me on my head.
I woke up. Dizzy, blurred visioned, trying to make out the figure in front of me. I groaned as the searing pain on my head sunk in. I could feel the blood dripping, sliding down my arms, bound to a sturdy chair as my feet were. “Who are you?” a voice came. I finally managed to see the man behind the blinding light focused on me. He was shaking, holding a baseball bat up with two hands. “Who are you!?!” he repeated, as I gathered my mind.
“Look,” I started, “If I don’t report back in 3 hours, they will send in the drones, and blow this place to hell. I don’t know why you’re doing this, I don’t know which terrorist organization you belong to, and I don’t know what you plan to do next. But think of all the innocent lives you’ve already taken. It has got to stop. You can still save yourself some mercy. Turn yourself in. There’s no other way out.”
“‘They’... you’re here for this aren’t you...” Nervous, yet fueled by anger and rage, he held up a tiny flash drive. “Well, you’re too late. I’ve already uploaded the information to secure backup locations and in a couple of hours, the crimes of your government will be exposed and the world will realize the unimaginable atrocities it has done.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not here for anything other than to stop you from bombing another train full of innocent people.”
His face seemed confused, and his eyes darkened at what I said. Slowly, he started with his thick Russian accent. “You don’t know do you? You have no idea what’s been happening all along, no idea what you’re being asked to do.” He then turned around and pulled up his laptop and set it in front of me, smiling at disbelief. “I have never been in any terrorist group. I’m a computer engineer, a hacker. And 7 days ago, I found an exploit in the CIA and NSA’s systems. I hacked into your servers and gained top level access to your networks. This is why you want me dead.”
He pulled up photos and files of documents on attacks over the decades and I stared at disbelief. Thousands of emails, letters, sound recordings and video footage listed on the screen. I scanned through the files, and the pain shot back in my mind seeing a photo of the plume of smoke reminding me of that day.
"I haven't sorted through everything. But this file contains evidence of every dirty job the world's superpowers has ever done. The United States, Russia, China, the Saudis, the British, the French... They're all in it together. Evidence of every inside job made to seem like an attack is found right here... "
That’s why they want you dead, I whispered under my breath. But no, this couldn't be true. Could it? Could I have really spent the last 6 years of my life working for the people who played all this? The same people who took my son away from me, who caused so much pain to thousands of other innocent people? My thoughts ran in my head, as I shook in disbelief. "There must be a mistake..."
"There was never any war on terror" he continued. "The US embassy bombings, 9/11, the strikes on the London underground trains, bombings in Madrid, Yemen, Mumbai, Lebanon; the list is endless. It was all a play on us! Don't you see? Those at the top have been controlling us like pawns, turning us against each other. Creating fear and chaos – the perfect world to wield power and control."
He looked out at the first rays of dawn lighting up the skies beyond the skyline before he slowly looked back at me, eyes shining with tears. “This must be stopped. I cannot stand idly by when there is so much wrong in this world. I don’t know how or when or where to start, but this is something I have to do.” He drew my gun from the table and aimed at me as he breathed out the words “I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes, accepted my fate. The silenced gunshot rang through my ears. I was dead. I was supposed to be dead. But I wasn’t. I opened my eyes and saw him on the floor, thick blood ran around his body. He was shot; sniped straight through the chest. A mild chill filled the room through the broken window as I glanced around the dead body, shattered glass everywhere. A shard found its way to my lap within my reach, letting me cut myself free. Now I had to get out.
Dvigat'sya v! – move in. Russians. A chopper flew overhead as the sound of heavy rushing footsteps stormed up the stairs. I moved fast. I had to. I quickly grabbed anything that could lead to my identity in the room. I stood along the window sill, ready to jump. I looked behind me and I reached back for the flash drive, almost as if by instinct. And in that split second the guns came blazing in through the room, I escaped.
Weeks have passed, and now here I am – on the run from the very people I worked with. Never have I been so unsure of the future, so determined... so afraid... Everything I’ve ever believed in – everything I’ve ever fought for – was a lie.
This world deserves answers. Answers I have in my hand. I’ve went through the files, relived every tragic event from a new, unthinkable perspective. So much wrong has been made. And now, it has to change. This is where my new fight starts. This is where it all begins.
