Storm

Prologue

GENERAL CARSON T. BROOKS THREW his arms up in frustration. Another failed attempt. He'd given the imbeciles that called themselves "scientists" a solid deadline. Two weeks seemed like a reasonable time span to complete such a simple task. The storms had worsened overtime, and now the death toll was up to roughly 320,000 people. The government was putting a lot of pressure on his shoulders —since he was in such a high-ranking position— and he needed to complete the assignment soon. General Brooks sighed yet again, and cursed the soldier who had delivered the news of the failed experiments.

His own sister, along with her son, had been killed by the gruesome lightning storms; he desperately wanted some type of protection against them, to keep the rest of his loved ones safe.

The soldier, Hank Smith, a lowly officer cadet, cleared his throat nervously.

"Umm, sir? Unfortunately I have more negative news to deliver. It was a minor infiltration, but a couple of citizens broke into the facility and learned the proceedings of our intentions. We have injected them with anesthesia for the time being, but I was sent here to inform you that it will be your decision as to what our next move should be. Should I report back with orders, or would you prefer I lead you to them, sir?"

The general growled under his breath, making the cadet shiver in his uniform. His whole life he'd heard whispers behind his back about how menacing and threatening he was, so he eventually decided that he'd fulfill the stereotype and become that type of man.

The cadet eyed the gun in his holster warily, no doubt thinking about the rumors that the general punished guards who brought any sort of bad news. It wasn't true of course; he killed from time to time, but he wasn't a madman. General Brooks supposed he should be proud that his reputation proceeded him, but he was simply filled with dread and loneliness when he watched the cadet back away slowly, probably assuming that the general's silence was not a good sign.

Years of tedious training paid off when he began to slowly make his way to the top. Being in charge, in control, was the only way to live life with meaning. The feeling of being powerless, as he'd once been as a young boy, was unacceptable. Not an option, just as he'd swore to himself the night he'd seen an assassin murder his dad and uncle in front of him. He growled inwardly, his fingers spasming at the memory, furious at the boy he'd been. Weak.

Never again.

"Show me where they are."

Hank led him through the dark metal corridors that he'd come to know so well. Although his office was on the east wing of the facility, the general barely spent any time there at all, instead, he'd be commanding others in the main room or heading towards London to discuss plans with the chief officer.

As they continued to snake through the many halls, each identical to one another, the sweet smell of carbolic acid grew stronger. The scientists were obviously trying to piece together the formula that Dr. Brooks had unpurposely left behind. He continued to walk as normal, but was lost in thoughts of her once again.

His sister, Marilyn Brooks, had been an extremely bright scientist who had, in fact, been the one to come up with the idea to create a new insulator energy that could be made into a spray, to protect buildings from conducting electricity and therefore reducing the chance of citizens dying from the lightning strikes. That way Hackney (the town they'd grown up in and where General Brooks currently resided), London, and the surrounding cities that were being affected by the storms, would have a sort of shield; a sanctuary in their homes. Unfortunately, the second Marilyn had passed away, officials had completely shifted their objectives, and started to scheme with the government. They'd decided that once General Brooks' team succeeded in creating the new energy, they would only give it to people with relations to the government and sell the rest to upper-class citizens. When the general had first heard of their new plans, he was outraged. His sister would never stand for this injustice! Marilyn would want everyone to have the new protection, that was, after all, the goal of all her research. But he knew that if he argued with the government, it would mean that his own family would be stripped from the privilege of the insulator spray, and there was no way in hell that he could let that happen, even for his own sister's resolve.