The shadowy figure crept over the road, hunched over and alert, as if the whole worlds troubles were on his shoulders. Not allowing itself the sanctity of the light the creature lurches forward into the next shadow, covering its existence from all who could see.
Finally it reaches its destination, no cave nor forest but a run down apartment, only due to the dirt could you see the apartment number. The creature emerges finally and pulls itself straight, the features of a middle aged man, heavily unshaven and unkempt are seen before giving a final look and then disappearing into the doorway.
His door is flung open hastily as he quickly enters, discarding his raincoat to the floor. A bag of groceries is dropped to the ground with equal thoughtlessness as he rushes over to a faint green screen, humming gently. A random assortment of junk food is spilled as he feverishly stares at the screen, it would appear he has been sat there for some time.
‘Come on you piece of crap, don’t give up on me yet’, his hands clasped as if in prayer, his eyes haven’t blinked since he sat back down.
Suddenly the screen explodes into light, the man falls backwards off his chair almost in disbelief. Picking himself up he looks at the screen, a wrinkled and sore smile etches across his face as he sees the fruit of his labours.
There, across the screen he sees the words ‘Federal Bureau of Investigation Abnormal Activities Network’.
‘Harry you are a bloody genius! It has only taken you what, two years?’ he thinks to himself.
His hand dives into the nearly empty bag of cheese nibbles, dusty fingers run back to his mouth and then the keyboard, to join the other in furious tapping. The more he types and uncovers, the more questions appear;
‘I’m never going to find out who they were, maybe they were all right, maybe I did just imagine it’, he thinks this to himself as he leans back.
Suddenly a file catches his eye, hidden away, hardly noticeable through the layers of secrets and cover ups. An abbreviated term, something he missed but something that brings back his memory of that night;
Harry jumps up out of his chair and begins pacing his room, his thoughts filled with what that folder contains. Does he really want to open it? What will it answer? Will it tell him who that shadow figure, that…monster is? All he remembers is what the ‘man’ told him, and those eyes…those piercing glowing blue eyes.
‘The O.D.A. does not need you remembering what happened here, what you need to do is forget it, and move on, this is our struggle, not yours’.
He opens the file.
What he sees is not half of what he expected. Files and files of missions, tasks, locations and secrets litter his screen. Whoever the O.D.A. are, they are bigger than he thought, and linked to much more than he even thought possible. What confuses him even more is when he finds out what O.D.A. stands for.
What does Outerworld Defence Agency mean? Outerworld? Does that mean off this world? What does this all mean!
His heart pumps faster as he sees more and more files, suddenly one catches his eye.
‘The Bermuda Triangle? These people have had something to do with the Bermuda Triangle? Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke’. He almost closes down the whole folder sensing it is as fake as his apparent ‘hallucination’. Then he sees it. A chilling reminder about why he started searching.
A file simply labelled ‘Operative Shadow Sword’.
Again he leans back on his chair, cradling his unshaven chin in his hands. Seeing that file lit up on his screen for once did not lead to another question, but to that memory; the memory that has consumed his life.