"Tales of Aegis STAR... The Beginning" by James C. Oliver

Did you know that vampires existed?

Yeah, I know you think you know that they don’t…or that they’re a figment of human imagination.  Seriously though, they do.  It’s not just something that exists only on the big screen (or the little one, lord knows).  It’s not just a bunch of books sitting on some store’s shelf.  It’s the God’s honest truth.  The real ones aren’t anything like the ones that you read about in those trash novels, or see in movies.  They generally keep a low profile, or try to.  Granted, had you told me about four years ago that they existed, I would have laughed in your face…

…and then asked, “Really?”

Granted, that was four years ago.  I was still in the Army, doing my thing as a member of an outfit generally referred to by those in the know as “that unit.”  Ten years I gave in honorable service before getting out.  Decided that I’d start a private security company.  The original concept was to provide security to stuff like power plants, be those rent-a-cops that you see at the entrances to military bases, with a few special groups for things like providing personal security to high-ranking officials for various big-wigs.

You wonder why I laugh?  Yeah, that was originally my goal.

Four years ago, I got out of the Army, and there I was, 34, head of a company that was doing ok for the contracts that we had bid on and won.  One month of the easy stuff, and then he entered my office.  He sat down, looking just as normal as can be.  He started outlining what he needed, and I nodded while I listened.  I sat there, watching him talk, for about two minutes before I noticed something.

His chest was not moving.

Usually when people talk for long periods of time, they usually pause for a deep breath, or to otherwise fidget.  People fidget.  This guy didn’t.  I asked a few questions, just the general conceptual stuff; questions like “Why do you want my company to work for you?” or my personal favorite, “What sort of threat are you facing?”

That was when I noticed the second thing.

He seemed to have no pulse.

When you watch someone for any length of time, and they stand relatively still, you notice their body’s smallest movements.  The pulse at the base of the neck is a big one, and this guy did not have it.

When he answered the first question, he gave a very broad answer.  “Oh, yeah, well, I’ve heard that your company does good work, yadda yadda,” is the general answer that I normally get.  This guy’s answer was so much more sophisticated:

“I have done the research, Mr. Cunningham.  Your company has the cleanest track record of providing excellent services, even with some of the hardest contracts.  There is no company less than the best that deserves my patronage.”

I was rather speechless.  It was a response that I’m sure now was calculated to immediately put me at ease.  But it wasn’t all:

“Also, I believe that you are the most open-minded company in the business.  If you take my contract, and I sincerely hope that you do, I will require that you and your men be as open-minded as they can.”

Wow.  Open-minded-ness a key portion of the contract?  That was new.  In fact, it was unheard of.  Most contracts are along the lines of the “just do your job” variety.  Sounded like this guy really needed my expertise, and that pretty much guaranteed that I wouldn’t allow this contract to slip through my fingers.  I just had one follow up.

“So, why do we need to be open-minded?”

The man gave me this cryptic smile.  “Think it over, Mr. Cunningham.  I will return from a trip in a week’s time.  If you are still interested and available, then we will talk further.”  He got up and walked out of my office, leaving me in the process of getting up and extending my hand for a shake that would not occur.

That week was one of the hardest that I ever had.  Several clients of mine were doing big shindigs that had to be secure.  Not complicated, but definitely a packed week.  Thankfully, no problems arose, but that wasn’t because the bad guys weren’t trying.  Anyway, we got to the end of the week, and I got a mysterious phone call.  “Mr. Cunningham, I rather hope that you recall our conversation regarding our contract.  If you would be so kind, I would appreciate a team of eight men to meet me at the airport.  For the service, I’ll be more than glad to compensate you with a suitable amount,” and he named the figure, and it made me cough into my coffee.  That wasn’t all, “As I’m sure that you have some questions regarding my honesty, the amount has already been wired to your company’s bank account.  Thank you and I look forward to seeing your team at the airport.”

Yeah.  Nifty.  Just this side of sane, but I had to check up on it.  I wasn’t going to do it if he was just jerking my chain, and at the figure that was named, it was quite possible.  When I checked, though, sure enough, the money was there.  Odd, as that amount would mean that he had deposited it… nearly two weeks prior.

OK, creepy.  He knew that I would take it, seemed so self assured.  He had been true to his word to this point, and so I would ensure that his trust would not be betrayed.  I drew up the orders and sent two of my teams out to the point specified.

An hour later, the teams returned, reporting that they were done.  “Whaddya do?” I inquired, trying to figure out what it was we were guarding or securing.  The team leader told me that all they had done was normal personal security detail (PSD) stuff.  Very much external security while two of whoever we had been guarding offloaded something that looked heavy off of a Gulfstream-IV.  Hmmph, nothing major.

Over the course of the next year, we did essentially the same operation once or twice a month.  Easy money.  I asked the man when I talked to him again if he wouldn’t mind assuring me that nothing illegal was going through these transfers.

“Nothing illegal, Mr. Cunningham.  My word of honor.”

He came into my office a year to the day after we had first started the original contract.  “Mr. Cunningham, your company has proved its value.  I wish to request a merger.”

Me, only a year into my business, was not convinced.  Why the heck would I want to merge?  My control would be gone.  It would no longer be my company.  Then again, it could be a heckuva lot more profitable if I worked for him.  “We’ll see, sir,” was my response.  Most of my other contracts were coming up for renewal.  After talking with many of them, I really didn’t think that we’d continue them.  I had an extensive knowledge base from my employees, most of them were former Special Forces, SEALs, Delta, Pararescue Jumpers, Marines… they all were combat tested, they knew their jobs, and to continue to use them as simple rent-a-cops was most demeaning.

Two days later, I held a Chinese parliament.  That’s where I bring in everyone, tell them all to give me their thoughts, and then decide on a course of action.  Like I said, not your average company.

Most were supportive of the merger.  I had cycled all the teams, to include my pilots, through the PSD mission.  They had all met the mysterious man, and all said that they liked him.  Enough to work for him?  Yep.

Huh, OK.  So we did the merger.  Granted, it took awhile.  Since we were a publicly-traded company, the SEC had to investigate; you know, make sure we weren’t creating a monopoly, something like that.  Lots of questions: No, Mr. SEC, I’m not doing insider trading.  Yes, we have filed all the correct paperwork.  Three months later, it was done.  Aegis STAR was now a part of a bigger company.  I still had nominal control over the contracts that we took, what our assignments were, et cetera.  More and more of our contracts, however, were coming from “on high,” as it were.

More contracts from the mysterious man was both a good and bad thing.  Good, because it put more money into properly compensate my guys.  Bad, because as we became more entwined in his structure, the weirder things that started happening.  I won’t go into the weirder things, because, well, you might not believe me.

Then again, you might believe me.  Anyway, one night, while I was part of a team that was doing a bit of PSD work for one of our mysterious man’s entourage, we were attacked.  Now, I don’t mean a bit of bang bang, roll the principal out and we’re done.  No, we’re talking a full-on assault…

…from something that looked a whole lot like big rats.  Something hairy that snarls and gnashes its teeth while it runs at you.  And chases your vehicles.  And does not seem to die even when it’s hit with a hail of bullets.  Since we were operating on US soil, we can’t exactly pack our heavy machinery (stuff like M249 Squad Automatic Weapons, also known as SAWs or our favorite, the M60E4s), and rarely carry our carbines or rifles.  Thankfully, that night we were carrying the UMP.  They’re chambered for a .45ACP round, which is good for knock-down power without the over-penetration that rifles are known for (the bullets going through the target and into something that might not be good for them to hit on the other side).  One of the four assailants took a whole magazine from one of my guys, and still managed to limp off.  That’s 25 rounds of serious damage-causing ammunition.

Yeah, after that engagement (which, thankfully, we managed to get away from the attackers with no casualties), I asked to have a serious sit-down heart-to-heart with our mysterious owner.  When he got into my office, he looked a bit different from when I remembered him.  Paler, perhaps… yeah, definitely paler.

“Good morning, sir.  Have a seat,” I said, rising from behind my desk.  I didn’t extend my hand, because that’s how it works.  The higher rank always offers their hand first, and he didn’t offer his hand.  “Sir, since I requested this meeting, I’ll start.  You do realize that we were engaged by several… things while on a Personal Security Detail for one of your men.  Now, we’ve already made the report to the police, and they told us we were crazy.  Thankfully, they haven’t taken away our weapons yet, but if this is going to become the norm, I’m going to have to ask to have more of an explanation before I send any of me and mine out there to possibly give their lives for you or yours.”

He nodded.  “I completely agree, which is why I came down here myself and didn’t just talk to you over the phone.  I was also going to explain the situation that we are all in now, as it was not presented adequately to me at first, either.  Not to worry, however, the person who failed me so utterly and completely has been dealt with.”

Afraid of what that might have meant, I asked for clarification.

“Nothing illegal, I assure you, Mr. Cunningham.  The person in question is not dead, nor at any risk of loss of life or limb.  Turning, however, to our new situation, we were not made aware that the faction had any qualms with us.  They have decided, however, that we are trying to conquer their group and that was unacceptable to them.  They attacked the person that you were protecting because he is the liaison to their group for me.”  He stared very intently at me, seemingly wishing that I would accept that bullcrap answer.

I wasn’t going to be swayed so easily.  “That’s a really nice story you told me, but you haven’t exactly told me jack.  What ‘faction’ is this?  Why would they be under the impression that you were going to ‘conquer’ their group?  What the hell is going on here?”

He sighed, seemingly defeated and yet pleased with himself.  “I knew that you would not be so easy to convince.  It is why I chose your company over anyone else.  There is more that I must show you, as it is time that you knew the whole truth regarding ‘me and mine’ as you would put it.”  He pulled out a card and tossed it on my desk.  “Your entire company is invited to this event tonight.  No security will be required, but of course, I expect that all of your men will be, how would you say, ‘packing heat,’ anyways.  You will meet all of us, and be completely up to speed on the situations of our company.”

I picked up the card, and it directed us to a fashionable club that was located in the downtown of New Orleans.  “You think we can get into this club?  It’s one of the hottest in town, and certainly going to be full to the gills.”

He smirked—there is no other term for it—and responded, “I am very sure that we can get into the event.  After all, my corporation owns the club.”  His smile faded and turned serious, “Will you be able to attend?”

I guess there was only one answer to that one.  “Yes.  We’ll be there.”

Now, you have to understand, this was two and a half years ago.  It was really eye-opening for me to suddenly be in the middle of something that was way beyond my comprehension.  We had no clue about the shenanigans that were going on.  Nothing in our extensive training had prepared us for this.  Big furry things chasing us about?  Things that didn’t go down when you shoot them?  Things were not what they seemed.

When we pulled up to the club, there was already a large crowd out front.  My right-hand lady scanned the outside before we even got out of the humvees.  “I don’t like this,” she told me.

I harrumphed.  “Yeah, neither do I, but its something we’ve gotta do.”  Somehow, there had been a large parking lot devoid of any other cars.  It looked like a trap, but the parking attendant told us it was where we were supposed to go.  After we all got our fair share of scanning rooftops, windows, and convinced ourselves that this was no trap, we all got out of the vehicles, setting up and heading across the street.  The bouncer just waved us in, ahead of everyone waiting in line.  I heard them protesting as we walked on by, wondering how it was that the forty two of us got by and they didn’t.  Once in the lobby, we saw a sign telling Aegis STAR to head upstairs to a specific room.  We followed the given instructions to a lavishly appointed room.

It had broad windows that overlooked the main dance floor, and from the vantage point, you could see the entire club below.  A long black table was up against the wall, with food laid out buffet style.  Enough chairs to seat our entire company plus some extras were centered in the middle of the room, facing a wall that had a screen and a podium in front of it.  A host appeared out of a door on the far side, next to the buffet table.  “Welcome to Keira, and please feel free to enjoy some of our signature cuisine.  Mr. Russell and his other associates will be along shortly.”  With that, he disappeared back out the door he had entered from.

Well, that gave me a name.  A name I already had, and nothing else to go on.  My people looked around and then looked to me.  Shrugging, “Grab some chow, I guess.”  I picked up a plate and poked around the food, all of it looked really good.  After putting a couple things on my plate, I sat down near the front of the assembly of chairs and wolfed the food down.  Everyone else in the group did the same, and all were done within the ten minutes that it took for Mr. Russell and his entourage to show up.

I was impressed with the attire that the group wore.  Normally Mr. Russell wears a suit of entirely black with one splash of color either the handkerchief stuffed into the pocket on his jacket or on his tie.  Definitely not tonight… he was wearing some seriously skin-tight leather pants that seemed like they were painted on.  His shirt was open down to about mid-chest, and very red.  His hair had been spiked, but did not look bad on him.  I could tell that some of the women in my unit were impressed.

The man to his right was dressed almost like any of us, coat, tie and slacks, all in a dark olive color.  Very businessman, but something wasn’t right.  It was definitely not his normal look.  His hair was red, and the whole ensemble appeared like a bush had caught fire up top.  The woman that entered next was who captured my attention and held it.

Her dress was calf-length, and very goth in its appearance.  A tube top, it was black with pinstripes running the length of the dress.  Sleeves of similar material started just below the shoulder and ran to her wrists.  The dress showed a lot of her off-white skin, which was contrasted well from her red lips.  Her brown eyes burned with what seemed like a wisdom beyond her years, as she could not have been much older than twenty-seven.  Breaking my concentration, I noticed the other two men that entered in similarly cut suits to the first unknown man that had entered.  The only variance was the colors, which seemed to match them better than the first’s olive had.  Only one other man entered after all of these people, and that was the man that we had protected from the assault of furry things.

Once all six were grouped around the podium, Mr. Russell began.  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.  My name is Ian Russell, and I have been providing the majority of the contracts for you for the past year and a half.  Many—no—most of you have met me during some of these contracts.  Mr. Thomas here,” he pointed at the last man to enter, “Was the gentleman that some of you protected when his group was attacked by some of our associates.”  With a nod to Mr. Russell, Mr. Thomas exited the room.  “By now, some questions have of course come up because of the nature of the attackers on that particular convoy, and you are all quite right to ask.  First off, I would like to thank all of you for your outstanding service as part of various security details to both myself and others in the past.”

He took a sip of water before continuing.  “Now, I’m sure that you are wondering just what attacked you.”  He turned on the projector that was hidden in the ceiling with a remote.  “They are a group known as ‘lycanthropes,’ which although it means wolf-man, it is used to also refer to any animal that has the virus.  The particular group that attacked was the were-rats.  They are the largest group in New Orleans, and the only other group that is close to their numbers is the were-alligator.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa… “What the hell?  You’re telling me that Werewolves exist?” cried out one of my guys from the back of the room.

Mr. Russell nodded grimly.  “Not only them, but there are so many—flavors--shall we say?”

A lot of jaws were dropping, and then closing up.  Well, this was certainly enlightening.  There was an uncomfortable silence before he continued.  “As you can see on this slide, there are many different kinds.  The top three in New Orleans are the were-rats, were-alligators and werewolves.  There are not that many of the other branches to form any sort of coalition strong enough to compete with the other three.”  He set down the little remote/laser pointer and looked into the audience.  “There is something else we must inform you of.  We only know of this because we,” he motioned to those standing around him, “Are all vampires.”

I was shocked, but managed to regain my bearings enough to ask, “I thought that vampires had to sleep during the day.”

Kimberly, who had sat next to me, also had recovered, “I also thought that you couldn’t handle holy items, but I’ve seen you with a cross on…”

“I watched Mr. Thompson eat and drink like a normal person!” said one of my team leaders.

Before it could get out of hand, Mr. Russell held up his hands.  “Some of the myths and stories you have heard before are true.  Most are not.  If you read Bram Stoker’s Dracula, you would assume that we could all shift into whatever shape and consistency that we wished, that we never ate normal foods, and were afraid of moving water and crucifixes.  All lies.  There are nuggets of truth; we can walk abroad in daylight without any problems.  Some have superhuman strength and speed, and we do have a need to drink blood to sustain ourselves.  We can live for long periods of time but are nowhere near immortal.  I myself am approaching five hundred years old, but am not even approaching some of the oldest of our kind.”

We were all speechless.  Thought that we knew everything about our employers, well, not anymore.