Opthalmo.

"Looming above in the manner of some insane watcher..."

"...the Pole Star, evil and monstrous, leers down from the black vault, winking hideously like some insane watching eye which strives to convey a message, yet recalls nothing save that it once had a message to convey." ~H.P. Lovecraft, Polaris

It is often that I pause once the night takes hold, to momentarily look up at the night sky and gaze at those distant stars so far away. Through my telescope, I watch the stars burn about their positions among the constellations; Circinus broods and skulks evermore, dull and dim along the darkness, murmuring yet never able to escape being outshone by the great and awesome light of the other celestial bodies.
Harmony in the skies must surely be brought about by ancient Libra; her stars sluggishly scudding along the heavens, though none are as bold, as present in the sky as the Pole Star itself, looking down upon the earth in the manner of some farthermost eye, ferocious and searing even as it and its galactic cousins spin around their own axes, drunken and oblivious to the plight of fleeting mortal life.
Minute spheres of radiant light, so blissful and detached from earthly musings and goings-on, carry a certain allure that nothing here can fully capture - alone in the sky, the stars go about their own lives, burning and spiraling as dancers whose stage is infinite and unchanging; the only pinpoints of light in a nothing so tenebrous and desolate. It was uneventful today, and the peace of the night comforted me somewhat out here. To observe the stars and catalog my discoveries fully, I had situated myself atop the murmuring hills where the stars grew unnatural, several miles out from the city of Gnosis, for thought its community was asleep, I would rather not deal with whom scurries about in the night or any hapless wanderer looking to ask what I was doing out here, in a time when most would be curled up in their beds. Solitude I found here, and here I would be undisturbed by any prying souls; I was alone and free to observe the outer realms for as long as I wished, and for a time, nothing was out of the ordinary.

For a time.
It had only just hit midnight, the chirping of the crickets fading and the birds falling silent with the odd cry here and there. Moonlight illuminated the trees here, their dark gnarled branches reaching upwards with crooked hands in the manner of a beggar lunging out for a coin. A cold wind blew through the surrounding forest, the trees shivering and murmuring in response, bringing a certain unease to my attention, but that did not matter. I was here to catalog stars for a presentation I had to present in naught but a few days, and time was of the utmost essence.
Pointing my telescope back up into the heavens, I once more glimpsed the stars hanging above - in a sense, they provided a certain comfort out here in the cold, for their positions in the night sky were the only constant I could rely on, out here or anywhere else, and so it was to my surprise that the light shining down upon the land was added a new intensity, shining brighter than before yet unable to match the light of the sun.
Peering up, I could now see why and was astonished at the cause; a new presence had made itself known in the sky, and it took a most frightening shape!
Luminous and distinct, this new celestial body held close appearance to a human eye, save for certain distinct details, though unlike the Pole Star, this presence was comparable to a nebula and was larger than many of the stars in the night sky, approximating the size of the Moon as seen from my own terrestrial perspective. The sclera of the eye shone a vivid shade of red, faintly flickering in the manner of a flame, enveloping a thin titian iris which encapsulated a large blue pupil at the center of the nebula. This pupil however, lacked color at the center, and looking at the core of the presence I saw nothing, not even the stars behind this curious eye; only a vast black maelstrom swirling and undulating with movement akin to some monstrous midnight ocean. I was in awe at what I was seeing, and if I was the first to document this...
Too giddy to think, I went to reach for my pen and paper, eager to write down what I was seeing, when the star unexpectedly pulsed with energy, a halo expanding outwards from the center in a flash of alien light and fading as soon as it arrived. This happened thrice soon after, with successive halos exploding out from the center in similar fashion and dissipating just as before, the eye still looming above in the manner of some insane watcher, thrumming with movement and yet its gaze still focused intently on the earth. Had I been a narcissistic man, I would have said the eye was gazing... at me.
Shaking such thoughts from my head, I moved from my position to better observe the eye, when to my surprise, it shifted in my direction. I could feel its gaze upon me, and I took a moment to laugh at the irony of the situation - the observer had now become the observed. My skin grew warm and my heart quivered in my chest, growing from a muted rhythm to a thumping portent shouting, begging for me to run. I was excited and yet also fearful of what would happen, but I could not hide a growing curiosity within me, as to my recollection, there had been no celestial object known to exhibit such incongruous behavior, nor display such an eerie luminosity among the stars and galaxies of the sky. Whatever this was, it may be some hitherto-unknown star, perhaps a flung-off galaxy; or perhaps something wholly unknown to the limited reach of mankind's instruments, and all I knew for certain was that it acted unlike a star and instead more like a being.
If that was the case, then this is certainly life as we do not know.
I was enraptured by the coruscating eye and its awesome motions, so much so that had I not returned to my paper and pad to note down further details, I may not have noticed the soft footfall behind me. Turning around, I saw nothing, and immediately returned to writing, assuming that the noises were the result of some wandering woodland animal trying to find its way. The footsteps began their distinct rhythm once more, and resisting the temptation to turn around, I vainly attempted to identify the source of the sound through hearing alone, which was thankfully heightened further in the near-silence of the midnight country. From what I could discern, the footfall was reminiscent of some bipedal creature, and yet had there been a human here, I would have seen them when I had previously turned. Frozen with fear, it took the greatest of strength to turn even a modicum to the source of this growing sound; it was at this point, I realized that the footsteps were coming from multiple directions, meaning I was either undergoing some auditory hallucination, or there was more than one presence out in the darkness. Darting to and fro, my eyes failed to spot anything in the fringes of the forest, so it was to my shock that once I mustered the courage to my back, what I saw was frightful enough - and unimaginable enough to cause me to utter a scream I had then thought inhuman. Stepping backwards, I hadn't even hit the ground before my vision faded to black.

Only the mutterings of psychedelia could describe what I had seen in those brief seconds before I fell unconscious, and even then I was not confident that would be adequate enough for full conceptualization of the figure beheld by my eyes. I cannot possibly find the words to bring shape and form to this entity, for it mocked those very concepts entirely in the brief instant I laid eyes upon it. If I could describe it adequately - and even then any approximations from myself or from a foreign observer would be wholly inadequate - the creature resembled a possibility, what could have been yet never was... or perhaps, what already is.
Paralyzed and unable to move, I lay on the ground for what seemed to be an eternity, those demons' footfall thumping louder and louder, the same figures circling around not unlike predatory caracharodonts toying with wounded prey before they went in for the kill. But the killing blow never came, and rather, I could only lay helpless at the mercy of such beings as they tortured me with visions and knowledge no mortal mind should ever know. Cities burning from their insides, eldritch beings skulking in the earth's farthermost reaches, death and destruction on unimaginable scales, yet despite all this, I had soon begun to lose the distinction between reality and fiction. The only constant in all this was that strange kaleidoscopic eye, overshadowing all other stars as it gloated happily in the midnight, burning its way into my psyche as it gazed into places I had thought safe from outsiders. Had I been dull of mind, I would have reasoned that the eye was reading through my own innermost secrets, attempting to find out more about this earthly being just as I had done to it not long ago. Now though, that certainly would appear to be the case, no matter what I say to comfort myself.
Without warning, the demons that haunted me grew silent before walking away, their footsteps deadened and silent by the time their voice ceased their assault upon me. As if it had grown bored with its new plaything, the malevolent eye let a final glorious halo exude from itself, before slowly dissipating to the point where it may as well not even have existed in the heavens at all.
The sleep that had fallen over my limbs was no more, and as I got up I was certainly relieved that these foul things were no more, yet still I could not shake the feeling that I was being watched from afar by some unseen force, and the coming days would not be kind to my paranoia.

Even after I had left the site and was back in the murmuring town of Gnosis, my fear grew into suspicion and eventually, aggressive hostility. I warned people - begged people not to go to the murmuring hills where the stars grew unnatural, but they would not listen. For my troubles, I was placed in the town's aging asylum as my health deteriorated and my obsession with this invisible watcher grew to the point where I was soon placed under the influence of blissful nepenthe, and at last I was quiet. And yet still I was troubled within by this strange presence, yet the shape it took was all too similar to me - scorching flames forming some maddening, malevolent eye burning in my mind, watching me from its perch in the black seas above.

H.P. Lovecraft's Polaris: http://www.dagonbytes.com/thelibrary/lovecraft/polaris.htm
Source of star image: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Space-Art-Helix-Nebula-324852426

The Nothing Man.

"In the darkness of dreams he lived..."

It is often said that during a man's life, his life and opportunities are defined by his actions.
But what of his dreams? Rarely do we pause to consider the impetus for change lurking within our own conscious, toiling and laboring away from prying eyes to provide visions of a kind never before seen - shared by all and yet unique to one only; the dreamer himself.
It goes without doubt that dreams, though nepenthe they may be, are fleeting and disappear as quickly as they arrive, leaving behind the smallest of dissociated fragments from which to piece together what happened - or to be more accurate, what was imagined to happen. Men blunder and grasp at the ether with mortal tools to decipher the meaning of these singular experiences; in childhood we wallow in realms imagined, limited only by the power of imagination and creativity. In time, the outside finds a way to slowly but surely grind away at our passion, our drive, our thoughts, dulling man and woman with the prosaic, the tangible, that which can be seen and felt and heard and proved to be real. We scoff at our dreams, never once realizing just how powerful they can be, instead clinging to a reality our own five senses struggle to conceptualize and form and bring into a shape most pleasing and most comprehensible to our own minds.

Once, many years ago or perhaps even mere days in the past, there walked upon the green earth a man for whom the poison of human experience had not yet become manifest. His name was Nothing, and his features unknown, for never did anyone record any impression of him, nor did they have any need to, for he would be wandering from city to country, from town to village, from new to old, never once remaining in one place for more than he needed. His clothes were of a most peculiar demeanor, and it was evident that the man carried incalculable age - yet his peculiar tongue and wandering visions indeed led people to shy away, so much so that the man was more often than not left to his own devices to go about his merry business. When he spoke, he spoke not of current affairs, nor of any topic the twittering people would indulge in. Rather, he told the people of the realms unexplored within their own minds - the beauteous lands uncharted by any explorer or found on any map, realms which anyone keen of mind could access and wander in for interminable spans of time. His words however, were not heeded, and rather than acceptance, he found only derision and scorn from the ungrateful masses, who jeered at him for his fantastical imaginings, finding him and his proclamations too fanciful, too idealistic for such a world as theirs.
He lived in the darkness of dreams and the light of imagination, for the real world held no promise for him, and its inhabitants he found too capricious, too brooding and mercurial to ever understand what he spoke of. Within his heart, he held hope that even a few would listen to what he had to say and join him in his reverie, leaving behind their worries and entering a realm many brushed past without ever considering its significance. Not one soul listened, and as the days rolled on and as seasons changed radiant summer to subdued autumn, and once more to dead winter, the man faltered in his step, his detachment from society growing and growing, opening a chasm so wide he soon believed himself unable to ever convince the ant-minds of the blissful cities unexplored, unfathomable empires at the service of those willing to envision and look beyond the squabbles and worries of their pale blue dot.

He was alone in his musings, he realized, for not one single spirit had joined him in his quest to capture that innocence, an innocence lost once the malignancy of mortal existence sets its hideous tendrils into the hearts and minds of all human life. Seeking much-needed comfort, soon he slumps into into dreams once more under the influence of ataractic opiates, seeking the joy which remains oh so elusive in the corporeal world.
The dreams are nepenthe to him - a balm against the sorrow and tragedy of reality, yet also they are his downfall, entrenching him further and further from those who would reject him and even those who would join him. In time, he was truly alone, as no longer did he walk the land of men; he walked among stars and danced with the divine, the pleasures of this world and the radiance within defined only by the limits of his
vision and the zenith of his senses. Roaming along melodious gilded fields of gold and silver, diving in murmuring opiate oceans of limitless color, and soaring in susurrating skies truly endless, there was no sight too humdrum nor a pleasure too lackluster in the land of endless sleep; a singular land belonging to him and him only.
Whenever he was roused from slumber by the prying hands of corporeality, his opiates grew in strength, and for longer he dwelt more in illusion after illusion to avoid all that would harm him and all that would worry him. This cycle of awakening and dormancy, the battle between the physical and psychic worlds waged on, until soon his precious sedatives failed to manifest and now for many an age, he was trapped in the grey of hideous life, confined by the chains worn by so many before him and the countless after he too fades away from terraqueous existence. Attempting to conform with the world he had for so long defied, he could not find anywhere that would take him, anyone who would love him; or anytime to walk back into the lands he had been denied, and even though he would still dream as before, his experiences lacked the color, the hue... the life which had been present in his reverie and step for as long as he could remember, and all came off as tawdry imitations of a splendor far greater than he was able to visualize.
Beginning his journey, this time the man did not stop at any cities, nor at any towns; instead he kept walking, down winding roads and gnarled woods, over curvaceous hills and lapping rivers, into the wild expanses that still lay beyond
Arriving in a field of feldgrau to meet equally bleak skies, turning around, he could see a singular tower stretching up, but never quite reaching the scudding clouds above its own height.
Initially, he felt confused, wondering whether this was truly real or just another wishful imagining, and all he knew was that he felt a strange compulsion urging him, beckoning him towards the top and onto the balcony present. Without hesitation, he ran into the tower, ascending the stone steps with greater bounds the further he ran upwards.
Before he knew it, he had arrived upon the balcony - yet nothing happened.
Disappointed at first and downright disheartened a few moments later, he prepared to disembark down the stairs and away from this place, when it was at this time that he heard a certain shimmering above his head. Looking up from his position, the man was in awe as the skies above coruscated with the very sights he had once seen in dreamless days and endless nights; a veritable bevy of all he had once loved and still longed to touch, to feel... to behold.
Luminous angelic stars and shimmering constellations shone across the once-grey sky, the eyes of Andromeda glittering down and filling him with child-like awe and wonder, the very emotions which had eluded him in his adult, mortal life. Murmuring around him rose to an almighty crescendo, harmonious unseen seraphs singing all the praise of the known and unknown earth without pause or needless inflection. Colors known and colors unknown flooded his vision, and all throughout he certainly could feel himself no longer bound to the earth and instead dissipating into the empyrean currents of wanderlust he had fleetingly rode upon under feeble narcotics, and it was now that he knew he would be safe, free from mortal quandaries and free to pursue the fancies of his secondary, disembodied life in an ethereal, eternal realm that would exist for now and forever more so long as the ant-minds who mocked him still had breath to give and dreams to live.
Now he was gone, and at last, out of reach.

Once, many years ago or perhaps even mere days in the past, there walked upon the green earth a man for whom the poison of human experience had not yet become manifest. His name was Nothing, and his features unknown, for never did anyone record any impression of him, nor did they have any need to, for he would be wandering from city to country, from town to village, from new to old, never once remaining in one place for more than he needed.
At long last, after years of toiling in transient life, he had ascended towards the stars of his own ecstasy, enraptured by a beauty only he could behold, now within the cities and streets where dreams live and sleep.
No living soul had known of his visions, though a few babbling folk may have glimpsed the motionless body of who appeared to be a vagabond, lying below the crumbling balcony of a once-proud tower.
Though his corporeal shell lay broken, it did not matter, for his name was Nothing, and it is now that he dances in midnight skies, living in the dreams he once could only imagine.

Picture of silhouette: http://phoenixstamatis.deviantart.com/art/Storm-Silhouette-75785688

Incident In Nevada: Chapter 4.

"Overcome by ardent rage..."

It was three in the afternoon when two lone guards surveyed the outside of the Augmentation facility from their lone watchtower.
It was a dull, if not utilitarian structure: its tall and imposing physique allowed the guard to survey the vast span of desert than surrounded the Augmentation installation.
For them, the job was as dreary as always - nothing to be seen for miles round, save for grey, desolate stretches of land and clouds of silver that loomed over their heads like the guillotine of old.
Ash rained down in sporadic bursts from the sky - sometimes a mild shower, other times, a perpetual tempest, akin to the sandstorms of Egypt, powered by the wind, buffeting buildings and people alike.
It was not a nice place to be, but someone had to do the job.
"Just wish it wasn't me..." said Guard 1.
"What do you mean?" inquired Guard 2.
"Well, to be honest, neither of us likes this job, do we?
I'd rather be doing something helpful, like guarding those Birthing Vats or standing by when a patient is about to get upgraded - not here gazing out over the land." Guard 1 replied.
"True - but without a lookout, who's to say that someone could sneak in and report the location of this facility to the enemy?"
"Perhaps you're right." Guard 1 said, his mood now lightening a little bit since the beginning of his shift.
"Now let's - wait a moment, what is that?"
Both guards were now looking at a distant silhouette on the horizon, clearly humanoid in form, yet remaining inert; almost as if it was looking for a way into the compound.
The silhouette transfixed both men, shifting on its feet before slowly ambling towards the tower, fists clenched.
"Should we notify our superiors?" asked Guard 1, his mood now tinged with slivers of fear.
"Not yet, let's - Good God, it's coming towards us!"
The last sight both men saw was a Cyclopean beast of enviable proportions brings its claws-that-should-not-be down onto their watchtower in a wide downwards arc, shattering stone & flesh and announcing its presence to the facility.

The watchtower now a ruin, I ambled towards the sturdy doors I had been led into all those years ago.
It felt good to be finally fighting back - that little vestige of humanity that Augmentation has tried to stub out still remained, and now only one thought clouded by mind like the cloying ash of the landscape:
Vengeance.
I was going to slash and cut and rip and crush everyone and everything involved with this damnable project - this tainting of the human conscious. Nothing - and no-one, would be spared my wrath today.
Approaching the doors, I tapped them with the tips of claws, and lo, the metal did not part as easily as previous opponents. Finding the fissure where both doors meet, I grabbed at both doors and pulled outwards, my muscles stretching and straining with the effort, arteries thick with blood bulging and becoming ever-so-visible to the naked eye. Pulling and pulling, I at last open a minute fissure into the facility. Within, I can see the same men in white coats who monitored me, who stood by my side with stern expressions and clipboards at the ready; now the scenario was much different. The tables were turned, and all they could do was run in horror.
Good.
Emboldened by this development, I strain further, prying the doors apart, until at last, I form an opening big enough for myself to fit in. Now I get to work immediately, flicking men and women alike across the room with but a move of my limbs. The men in black who guarded me with blank expressions fire away, their bullets impacting onto hard muscle, but failing to make any impact - regeneration rendered their efforts fruitless. With firearms now dry, I stride towards them with striking alacrity, sweeping my limbs like one would a broom, clearing out the rubbish and dirt and displacing it to one side. Their flesh splits like clay under my claws as I slash their fragile bodies apart. One does experience a sort of sadistic pleasure when fighting enemies that are weaker than oneself; if there is a comparison to be made, it is that they are the ants and I am the boot, ready to crush any who dare stand up to my rancor. It frightens, yet fascinates me at the same time - harnessing this could prove beneficial to the destruction of this Plutonian project, this defiling of the body of Man.

Striding through corridors, knocking aside any obstacle to the realization of my goals, I enter a large room and at last see those execrable structures - the Birthing Vats.
Reserved solely for the mass production of Augmentation-addled citizens, these vats churned out super soldiers by the day - at least, when the researchers simply could not be bothered with safety procedures.
The Augmentation Project was so much more dilapidated than I, or any outsider, had ever realized.
Early interactions between man and technology proved to be abject failures, resulting in either immense pain to the subject involved or the creation of monstrosities foul - pitiful beasts that belonged in the darkest corners of the imagination.
Overcome by ardent rage, I lash out at the thick glass of the Vats, sending cracks spiraling and dancing in all directions. Nevertheless, despite the dull pain emanating from me, I strike with my aching fists, gouging deeper and deeper until I am swept by a fluid indescribable. The foul concoction exuded a most profane stench, and resisting the urge to gag, I repeated the due process with several of the other Vats.
I knew there were people still inside, still undergoing Assimilation - leading me to drive a claw straight through their skulls, ending their misery and ensuring that they are not doomed to lose whatever little was left of their humanity. My carnage was interrupted by ever-persistent gunfire, only dwarfed by the alarms ringing out all across the installation. Soldiers spread out across the room, firing and firing and firing at me, hoping to at least make a dent in my progress. Charging at the present platoon of soldiers, I sent them into all manner of garish positions as they flew through the air like rag-dolls. One soldier threw himself to my feet and began foolishly carving away with a hunting knife, of all things. I tentatively picked him up, watching him struggle for a few short seconds, but not before reducing him to pulp underneath my feet.
Disgusted, I turned and ran into the heart of the operation, ready to bring an end to this madhouse of terror.
Or at least I was, right up until one titanic figure crashed into my side, sending me reeling into a Vat.
As I got up, clutching my wounded side, I looked at this new opponent.
He - or she, possessed many of the same attributes as I; strong arms, considerable muscle on the abdomen and chest, with legs capable of outrunning the fastest of men.
The only difference between me and this Frankenstein's creation was the addition of two jagged, metallic arm blades atop the creature's lower arms. As my eyes moved to inspect these closer, the beast struck my side, and it was only through a combination of instinct and luck that I managed to avoid the worst of the blow, suffering only a shallow wound to my side.
Now my turn to attack, I grabbed a shard of glass from the floor; ignoring its effects on my hand, I slashed at my opponent, inflicting all manner of injuries upon the chest and face, before embedding the shard within the beast's thigh.
Roaring in vain, the beast charged forwards, plunging one arm blade straight into my chest.
I stopped, took a moment to evaluate my position, and struck the extended arm with all my force. I repeated this process several times before the inflamed arm that had struck me separated from its master in a shower of crimson glory. My opponent fell backwards, slipping on the ever-growing pool of blood beneath its feet, scrambling for shelter. Wresting the arm from my chest, I grab the creature by its ankle, and bring my foot down upon it; I feel the cracking of bone and the severing of vital sinew as flesh gives way beneath my feet.
Immobilized, the creatures makes what appears to be a plea for help - a cry of submission.
"It's too late now. I'm... sorry." I said, bringing down my fist onto the creature's disheveled face.
Over and over and over I continue, turning its head into a bloody stump, and only when the creature ceases to be do I stop.
I am not overcome with the ecstasy I experienced earlier - rather, a shadow of regret looms over my conscience. This person, this thing had a life before. Most likely, they had family they held dear, friends to laugh and joke with... maybe even a partner to call their own.
I shake such morbid thoughts from my head. Whatever this person's past life was, there was no hope of attaining normality; not for me and not for anyone here.
With heavy heart and lowered mood, I head back to where it all began.

I do not remember much of what happened next.
A flash on gunfire, the footfall of foolish men beneath me, the thud of my fists as I killed, eviscerated or downright maligned those in my way.
Barring the doors, I rest myself upon a wall, inspecting the gurney I was once one with.
It has remained the same as always - stained with tinges of blood, leather straps still in place. No longer.
Bringing down my fury onto that malign object, I crush its nimble frame and throw it to the side, watching it crash onto a wall and fall with little grace onto the floor.
For a damnable instant, I ponder what will become of me?
Will I truly succeed in my objective?
Have I secured my freedom?
Or just hastened the end?
No time to think - the power source for this entire bunker lay in front of me, thrumming and humming with incalculable power.
One wayward blow - enough damage caused, and the entire compound would surely crumble inwards, collapsing into cleansing fire below. I would not survive, yes - a small price to pay for the betterment of mankind.
As I stood to deliver the final blow, three men entered the room.
I turned, ready to crush them beneath my wake, but there was something about their leader that rung in my mind, an alarm ringing through all the ages and all the memories I had still managed to keep intact.
"Don't do this, Jones!" shouted the Agent, his gun pointing at me.
Yes, I remember now - the man standing before me was the very Agent who visited me all those years ago, back when I was still in control of my faculties.
My hand lay extended, hanging over the power source, ready to deliver the killing blow if needed.
Before I could do so, though, the Agent spoke once more.
"Listen to me, Jones!
I know there's a part of you that can still understand what I'm saying, so listen carefully; I am offering you the choice to have your Augmentation implants removed.
You no longer have to murder anyone - your humanity can be retained, I can assure you!" he pleaded, his voice no longer permeated with authority, but with fear instead.
Silent, I remained for further innumerable seconds as I weighed up the options in front of me.
His offer of prying away the Augmentation implants was indeed alluring... but whatever humanity I once held, I lost a very long time ago.
I am a shell; a broken facsimile of my former self, and it would be folly to begin to repair the damage done to both body and mind.
Inhaling fresh air into my lungs for the last time, I swung my claws - and the world turned black.

The Agent and his team now stood over the dying behemoth, securing the area and ensuring the safety of everyone within.
"Jones, you made the wrong choice." the Agent muttered, his words heard by no-one but himself.
As he strode over to the fallen giant, something peculiar happened.
The once calming blue screens of the computer monitors that regulated the reactor's condition now flashed crimson red, and the whole installation shook and trembled with the sound of distant explosions.
"What is the meaning of this?" shouted the Agent, only for him to be interrupted by a most impossible event, as an eldritch voice rang out across the entire facility.
"Agent, did you really think that my plan would die with me?" sneered the voice.
"You have but only postponed the inevitable - your doom is imminent!"
As if on cue, further explosions wracked the installation, bringing chunks of mortar and rock down with them. Fire alarms ran out in vain, and the entire building shivered, as if fearful of what was to happen next.
"Who are you?" said the Agent, but before he could get an answer, he was buried under a mound of falling rock as the installation fell apart, the last sound he heard before hastening to his death the final words of Subject Epsilon-202.

Source of fire image: http://www.news.com.au/world/pakistan-base-under-attck/story-fn6sb9br-1226060786116