Epilogue Operation Iago (Agent Jason)

May 12th 1996, 11:39am

With a grunt Jason sat up on the lounge. Even though it was summer, it was chilly in the hunting lodge in White Mountain National Forest. As he got up, he stumbled over a few empty bottles and cursed. He looked around for his cane, finally finding it under the lounge. He limped over to the table, grabbed his cigarettes and lighter and hobbled over to the kitchen where he made coffee. 
He sniffed, smelling something off. It took him a moment to find the source, as the plates were stacked quite high in the sink. He didn't even remember leaving half a glass of milk in there, but, by the smell of it, it had been there for a while.
Annoyed by it, he limped towards the front porch, spilling coffee over his fingers as he picked up a bottle of Scotch along the way.
Sunlight, filtered through the dense canopy, greeted him as he opened the door to the lodge. He turned round, squinting to make out the time on his grandfathers clock inside. Almost noon. He took a deep breath, noticing the mess inside. Food, overflowing ashtrays, empty bottles, dirty clothes... a good thing his old man didn't visit the lodge much lately...
He put the cups on the oak table and sat down, hooking his cane over the back of a chair.

"I'm out of milk..."

Norman looked up from his chair, where he was cleaning a shotgun. On the table was a hunting rifle, taken apart. It looked like he was getting some of the parts mixed up, but Jason knew Norman would be able to easily separate the parts later on and get everything back in working order without any issues.

"That's OK, pal, I have mine like your soul. Black as pitch and bitter."

On the other side of the table, Nancy was leaning back, her head against the logs of the lodge. She had her eyes closed and seemed to be listening to the sound of the birds. She turned and smiled as he put her cup in front of her, looking at his stained singlet.

"You OK, Jason?"

"No." He sat down, unscrewing the top of the bottle, pouring a generous amount into his coffee. He raised an eyebrow at Nancy, who shook her head. "Norman? You want some?"

"Never before lunchtime"

Jason took a sip from the mug, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I can't shake it. It fucked me up. I feel empty. Drained. Like a sponge squeezed out and left in the sun. I just..."

He stopped and started to sob uncontrollably , his frame shaking.

"Fucking Christ, bawling like a fucking toddler. Unbelievable!" Norman threw the shotgun onto the table in front of Jason as he got up, chucking a handful of shells into Jason's face. "Here you go, pal, that will sort it all out. No more worries. No more Bad Men scaring you or sucking you empty or whatever the fuck bothers you today. No wonder the Group is in a sorry state. If this is all they have to work with..." 

Nancy moved over and put her arm around Jason's shoulders, sitting with him in silence. After a few minutes Jason took a deep breath, reached for the bottle and took a decent swig.

"It's going to be the end of me. I realize this now. There is no way we can ever win this fight. I saw that when i looked into the hood of the Black Man. I had done the ritual by the book, every step of the way. Jasper couldn't take it when He appeared. So I just poured myself into it, to dismiss him. And it just laughed. Like it didn't mean anything..."

He stopped for a moment, looking out into the forest. Norman stood with his back to him, smoking.


"I don't know what I expected. Fear? Panic? Anger? At most, it was annoyed. Annoyed when I refused to sign the Black Book. But it... it just let me finish the ritual. It just stood there, holding out its ebony matte hands, warning me not to do it. But it never tried to stop me, or attack me. And when I said the last words. It just laughed. Like it knew something I didn't." 

He let out a big sigh.

"Perhaps it knew someone else would summon him again, blinded by whatever promises or power they'd receive by doing so. Knowing that next time we wouldn't be there to stop it. Knowing it had an eternity of time..." 

He looked at Nancy, sitting there with that typical sad look on her face. 

"It's all we can do, Jason. We search it, fight it and try to stop it. Agents get killed. Agents kill themselves. But if we don't do this, who will?"

"I know, Nancy. It's all I can think about. Clearing my head, and getting back into it. It's all that matters. I don't give a shit about my job anymore. The only thing that matters is the next Opera. And the one after that. And the one after that. And so on. But first I need some time. Recover. Regain my strength. So I don't end up like Jasper or Jagger. I'll be alright if I just have a few more days."

Norman lit a second cigarette and handed it to Jason.

"Doubt it, pal... Now, tell me about that Agent Banshee and your punch-up... From what I heard it was a sight to see. Retard versus cripple, mano a mano, to the death!"

Jason whinced and finished his coffee, got up and headed to the door. He stopped for a moment before going in.

"You've heard the saying 'The darker the night, the brighter the stars'? I wonder if Dostoyevski ever considered when he wrote it that some... malevolent being...  might actually be looking down upon us from between them... Doesn't seem so hopeful and positive anymore, does it?"

He closed the door behind him, leaving them outside.