You say, one love, one life. ...... Day one

It’s cold and damp, there is no light and the air stinks like a sterile band aid, the moans of head aches and scared paranoia move across a floor like a slow tide.

"Hello..." a woman’s voice breaks the silence.

"Hello, who's there?" An older man responds. Two voices become ten, ten become 30, and more and more they cried out one after the other, hoping for an answer and all they get in reply is more confused hellos. But there are no answers there is just crying, panting and gasping for air. It’s the sound of terror.

The lights come on loudly, and that noise of fluorescents jump starts and slowly illuminates a monstrous warehouse that appears to have no entry point. No door, no windows, some small holes here and there but nothing that looks like any person could enter the area they’re in.  

One hundred people are strewed throughout, some on the floor, some sitting against a wall, all completely unaware of what’s going on. A few are staggering about like zombies in a George A. Romero movie. Not one of them having a clue as to where they are or how they got there, they just stare at one another, begging for answers, a few begin talking to one another but most don’t know who to trust.

“Everyone, excuse me, my name is Rashaan Glendale, do any of you recall being taken and brought here? Do we know how long we’ve been here? I just woke up and I don’t know how long I’ve been out? Is this the first the lights have come on?” he looks for answers reaching out even physically in hopes someone will answer him, but no one does. His hands shake and he continues to try and hold it together. “Someone answer me, please…” his voice cracks and his glasses slide down his nose a bit as the sweat begins to bead on his shaved head. His inner voice is even shaking and confused, do they know something I don’t, were they told something, is it because I’m black, why…why… “WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER ME GOD DAMMIT!” he drops to his knees, and the weight of the world that he is in hits his gut and the pain makes him wince.

“Dude, hey man, hey, its okay, come on, we all just woke up I think, the lights came on for the first time just now, come on stand up. It’s okay.” Jason Harris reaches down and puts his hand on Rashaan’s back, hooks him under his arm, grasps his hand and hoists him up. “Whoa big man. Help me out here.” Jason grunts only partially jokingly as he gets Rashaan to his feet. “Did you say your name was Rashad? Rashad I’m Jay.”

“It’s Rashaan, with an N, and thank you Jay, what’re we doing here? Who are you? Why were we taken?” his voice starts to reclaim itself as he begins to gain his senses.

“Sorry, dude, I mean Rashaan, and I have no idea. I’m a nobody, I have a boring job, I do have a hot girlfriend but I have absolutely no way to pay any ransom, so I’m as lost as you are man. Maybe this is...” Jason’s cut short as a part of the wall that reveals it self to be a door opens up near a small walkway platform some 30ft off the ground. Shortly after on each wall, the north, south, east and west a wall door opens and 5 men walk out of each armed with odd shaped guns.

Shouts of anger and more fear cry out, some oddly for help from what clearly are the confused men and women’s captors. A large screen powers on and Cipher appears on the screen. One voice of recognition is heard amongst the cries and pleadings, “NO FREAKIN WAY”.

“Everyone listen clearly.” The crowd however just responds with more cries of help and begging and pleading, Cipher attempts to quiet them again.

“Everyone listen! I am Cipher these people you see standing around you are P90s. They are called P90s because that is what each of them holds. P90 stands for the Project 90 Submachine gun. The P90 weighs 6.6 lbs fully loaded, has a total length of 19.7’’ and a 50 round magazine that loads into the top, parallel to the barrel. It has a maximum range of 220 yards. The room you are in is only 100 yards long and we are 34ft in the air. It has the ability to accurately deliver a special 5.7 x 28 mm cartridge that is capable of piercing standard Warsaw Pact body armor; however.” He pauses. “None of you are wearing body armor, which means the bullet will zip through you cleanly and hit the man and or woman behind you.”  He’s gained their attention.

“You are all now a part of the most important expedition in the last 2 centuries, and today is day one of that expedition. There are four boxes protruding from the walls, one on each wall. In those four boxes are 25 key tag chips. Amongst the four boxes are the numbers 1 through 100, one for each you, there are 100 people on the floor in this room right now. The tags have been randomly placed in each box; neither I nor anyone in this room knows which numbers are in which box. Please proceed to the boxes in an orderly fashion, any acts of violence or inappropriateness while the P90s are in the room will resort in you being removed from the expedition via 5.7x28mm cartridge. Everyone must take one tag, and then hold it the air.”

Jay and Rashaan look at one another and proceed to the box closest to their right; some people realize there are more than 25 people at each box and scurry to a different wall to obtain their tag. They then as instructed walk to wear they can be seen by the P90s and hold their tag into the air. The process takes approximately 14 minutes, everyone stands there looking at one another holding their tag chip in the air.

Jay looks to his new friend Rashaan, “I got 31, what did you get?”

“29, what the hell does it mean?!”

“No clue dude.”

“Excellent, well done everyone if you all keep up this behavior this expedition will move along without any issues. The number you have received is equivalent to something I am going to give to you during this expedition, and in saying that this begins day one. See you tomorrow. Good night.” The monitor shuts off, and the P90s file back out the doors while everyone below just stares no wiser than when they first got here.

“Something he’s going to give us?” Rashaan looks around and sees other small pods of people discussing their chips and the panic beginning to grow. “Ohhhhh damn, this isn’t good.”

“What? What is he going to give us?” Jason begins to spin around looking over others shoulders to see what number they have. “Is a high number good or is a low number good? And I got 31, is that a lot there’s like what 69 other people after me? Or is it before me? What do I get 31 of?!” The same questions are being asked throughout the room, some people begin begging to switch numbers with someone else.

Shouts of ‘what number do you have!’ spread across the room like wild fire, some of the captives holding on to their number as if they were protecting their child.

“I have 87! What am I getting 87 of, whatever it is, I don’t want it!” Janet cries out in hopes someone will switch with her.

“What if its 87 portions of food? I got 12, what if you get 87 packages of food to survive and I only get a dozen! What then?!” Humberto yells at her, afraid and unaware of what is going on like all the rest he’s sweating and in a state of panic.

“Trade with me, take my 87! I’ll take your 12.” Janet grips at Humberto’s shirt. “PLEASE!”

“Fine, take it I’ll gladly take your 87. You don’t even know lady! This is probably how many times we get to eat and I’m not giving it back do you understand me?! No give backs!” Humberto squeezes his tag so tight he can feel it burrowing into his hand.

Their exchange of numbers isn’t the only one, left and right people begin to swap tags, the group is almost completely divided on which is better to have, a low number or a high number. Jay and Rashaan sit back and watch as the madness unfolds, unsure on what to do, they feel the best course of action to take is just stick what they have and see what happens.

Several hours go by, all filled with arguing and bickering debating on what is better to have number 1 or number 100, oddly enough no one has come forth saying if they have either of those numbers. A few people in the group have stepped up and have attempted to become a leader figure; pods of people begin to form as small societies are built in a day. Those who choose to spend the day praying to God that they will be free and unharmed. A group of men sit around constantly looking over their shoulders, plotting an escape and trying to devise a plan to take over the guards and save the day.

Another group that gets labeled as the criers does just that, they all seem to not be able to control themselves and stop crying, some people are actually escorted from other groups and sat with these other men and women who do nothing but rock back and forth and cry. The other groups fear that their condition will become contagious and the criers will be their downfall.

A trough along the north wall filled with water at some point when all the tag counting and exchanging was going on, several people have decided to just sit there and just stare at the water hoping to help their mind escape and leave the warehouse. There are a few stragglers here and there, the socially inept ones who fear everyone in the room. The people who in the outside world who were loners to begin with find no comfort or reason to jump at joining a group at this point in their life. Bobby Ackerman gets up from his group of people that have been trying to debate and determine how long they’ve been there, compiling accounts from everyone to see if there was any pattern or purpose as to why this group was chosen. They have come up with nothing, none of the people in the group seem to share a common bond or have anything that would be considered leverage against their life. Bobby hopes a drink of water, and maybe splashing a little on his face will help him think and get a sense of normalcy.

About 20ft from the trough Bobby is stopped by a large fat man with a really bad haircut, Kevin Boyer, he approaches him as though he’s one of those guys who sells watches on the streets of New York city.

“Hey buddy, what number do you have?” Kevin walks along with Bobby who seems to be paying him no mind. “What number did you end up with.” He persists.

“It’s none of your business.” Bobby stammers out. “Besides everyone’s stopped trading.” He keeps walking to the water.

“You got a good number don’t you, you and your nerd friends over there sat down and figured out what they mean and you think you got a good number. What’s your number?” Kevin tries to add a chuckle amidst his accusation, hoping to put Bobby at ease and give him the information he wants.

“It’s none of your business! And I’m not a nerd, and that’s not what we were talking about.” Bobby reaches the trough and scoops some water into his hands, slurping it up, and splashing some on his face, he desperately needs it right now as he hasn’t felt this way since being bullied in High School.

“Just tell me you number. Come on…just; just tell me your god damn number. I just, I just want to know…what your God. Damn. NUMBER IS!” His voice builds to a crescendo and the room filled with chatter stops and stares as if a waitress just dropped a tray of plates. But before someone can get out the inevitable ‘ooooooo’ the lights in the entire warehouse go off and a blanket of darkness is thrown over everyone. There is not one shed of light coming in and you can’t see your hand in front of your face. Kevin however still can be heard “Just tell me!” and then screams are heard. The sounds of a struggle, the grunting the smashing of flesh and bone but in the huge room its hard to determine who is saying and doing what in such darkness. All that anyone can hear is that a struggle is taking place but did someone grab Kevin from behind in the dark to stop him from hurting the smaller frailer Bobby? Did Bobby decide he wasn’t going to be a victim and jump on Kevin? Or is Bobby currently getting beaten to death by the fat man with bad hair who wouldn’t shut up.

Then it gets worse. Another fight somewhere in the room, but this one is far more horrific a woman screaming as though she’s being attacked and everyone else begins to scream, and pleading the attacker to stop. Is it another woman attacking her? Is it a man forcing himself upon her? Will this go on all night? Then one more, another struggle, or is it just an echo off the wall or is someone in there with them, did the P90s come back.

“WHATS HAPPENING!!!” Rashaan bellows screaming until his voice goes rasp. Jason grabs his hand and pulls him to the closest wall.

“DUDE! Chill! Come on man. Back to back. No one touches you, no one touches me!” He tries to put on a strong voice but its clear his words are choked with tears. The two men slam down and sit with their sides to the wall putting their backs to one another. They shake and move their head side to side as if looking around would help. They want to cover their ears and block out the screams and the fighting but what if someone comes close. Sleep won’t be possible, and in a room of complete darkness it doesn’t matter if your eyes are open or closed the outlook is still the same, bleak.

End of Day one entry.

You've got someone to blame..... Day 0 abduction.

A crisp fall morning, the second official day of Fall, leaves slightly beginning to change and the smell of fresh cut grass in the air. A few Halloween decorations adorn a couple of eager houses in the neighborhood, preparations for afternoon Sunday football games are taking place and the weekend happenings chug along as they do every weekend with little change and few surprises.

The online world, two videos have been posted to the Internet but only a small group of people have watched them. They have been added to a long list of other controversial videos on a government list. But have not been marked a threat, rather they are considered likely to be the ramblings of a college comic book geek or theatre major hoping for attention.

At 5:06pm on this particular Sunday is when the first call comes into 911, "I'd like to report a missing person." The standard information is taken and the caller is told they have to wait at least 3 full days for someone to officially be reported missing. Another call is answered, then another, a total of 100 calls to the police to report a missing person, all adults, few being taken as serious situations as there seems to be no signs of foul play or other reports of assault. Why aren't the police concerned when they receive 100 calls? Because its not one police station its numerous all across the Unites States. So when Dante West's wife calls the San Diego Police Department crying wondering why her husband never came back from the store there is no connection to Linda Hazel's son calling the Alton Police department in Illinois saying his mom never made it to his house and she's not answering her cell phone.

After Abduction day more news reports and debates on how this went unnoticed will riddle the airwaves and a national alert system will be established when a certain number of abductions take place at one time in one day someone, somewhere will be notified. A few short days after Abduction day law enforcement will try and fathom how so many people can be taken at the same time across the country; and what size of an army/cult must be employ to pull off this task without it going unnoticed. Military procedures have not gone off as smoothly as this action did, not one person called to report they saw an abduction or any of the 100 people in any interactions that would have caused a disturbance and alerted anyone any sooner than Cipher than had planned for.

Status Update: Dante West is Heading to the mall, and then the game, 4 maybe some drinks with the boys after. Dante lives in a small suburban town, he's in a relationship with Marcia, we know where he works, where he graduated from, and the fact that he enjoys building stuff. He logs in daily and lets the world know what he's doing and what he watched on TV the night before. Dante shares pictures of his daughter, and talks about his love of coffee at the local chain place. While all this gets comments after comments and his photos gets liked, none of it has anything to do with why he was chosen fro abduction day.

Meet Linda Hazel, she likes the TV show Cake Boss, has two older sons who have moved out, is in a relationship but isn't saying with who. She enjoys a good pedicure, we don't know her religion, her political views, or her heritage, but none of that has anything to do with here being taken on abduction day. She might not have updated her status in a couple of days but she's been taking care of her farm and commenting on friends status updates, pictures and stories. She was chosen for absolutely no reason.

Dante and Linda are two of the first reported, their abductions are labeled text book as two people each taken while out of the home, obviously followed and then quickly snatched. Most likely tossed into a vehicle and driven off to not attract attention. Then there's Scott Lawerence, Scott's family receives a call from his employer asking if there was an emergency that called him home. His family states they have not seen him since he left for work 5 hours prior. His employer does a full search of the building and grounds completely baffled how one of their top employees could go missing while on shift and leave the facility without being noticed. This abduction shakes the country to its core, the severity of the situation is realized when Scott's story is told. While prisoners have made escapes from prisons, never before has a corrections officer been taken from a prison and not one prisoner is missing. Scott Lawerence a CO at The Garner Correctional facility in Garner Connecticut standing at 6 foot 2 inches, with hand to hand combat training armed with pepper spray and a taser should not have been an easy target. Cipher got him out of a prison easier than someone trying to steal a book from the library.

Abduction day has happened, 100 people with zero connection to one another, no demands or motive can be seen, they fit no profile of common abductees and not until tomorrow will anyone realize that all of them have been taken by the same person. Today the largest crime in history has happened tomorrow the greatest atrocity perpetuated on mankind begins.

Will it Make it Easier on You.... 1 day left.

One day prior was the day He spent verifying his research, going over all the details one more time, like looking over a thesis your about to turn in to your professor, making sure everything was just right.

His people across the country waited for the call, they knew what time the mission was set to begin, they read their instructions and knew their targets. All of them did as they were told, ate a good breakfast consisting of toast, cereal, fruit and juice. A good sandwhich from one of those chain places, being sure to cover it in peppers, lettuce, tomatos and other healthy choices so that their minds were atuned and not easily distracted by a hungry stomach. A nice relaxing dinner, no alcahol and no dessert or pleasures of the flesh, they were to obstain from anything after 9pm that would bring them pleasure. If they did partake Cipher insisted he would know, and when he found out he would kill the person they spent time with. Out of fear they heeded his words, filled with nervous excitement and borderline terror they knew what the consequences of failing Him were and chose to follow all the instructions to the letter.

He did all of the same things, he also logged in, updated his status, made a few comments, "liked" a few photos and checked on his 'friends'. Verfiied his data made one or two last minute adjustments, nothing major, nothing he hadn't planned. Logged out, laid out his clothes for the big day ironed his shirt made three calls and logged into the video site to post a new video.

This one would be criticized as our big mistake. Loud mouth wanna be celebrity news reporters who think their names ahead of the story are more important than the story itself would cry and whine that while the first one might have gone unnoticed this one should have sent up a red flag somewhere. Secretly those same reporters will at one point be upset that their rant pertaing to the matter will not have garnered more hits than Cipher's actual video. FBI specialists will be brought in to go over the details of this one and question if Cipher is in fact the same Cipher who appeared in the original video. The IP address will be traced back to the computer of Cody Parket of Denver Colorado, after review of Cody's log it will exonerate him of any wrong doing as he was logged into his webkinz account at the time the video was posted. Here is the transcript of that video.

Cipher: Hello again America, you may refer to me as Cipher. Yesterday I came to you and told you who I am and what I'm about. I recieve a few comments, WARF0101 wanted to know where I got my mask and if I was so ugly underneath I had to hide. Thekeek said he thinks I've watched Saw to many times and I should come up with an original video, maybe have my little brother bite my finger. Armadill0plu7 compared me to the character the Reverse Flash, I'll admit I went and looked this one up.

I'm familiar with Saw so that one required no research on my part, but I assure you The keek, my goals are not so small as to have some junkie do better with their life, or get some hurt father forgive those he blames for the death of his son. Now as for the Reverse Flash reference, this is a bit closer to me, the character Hunter Zolomon after becoming Zoom decides he can make the superhero the Flash a better hero if he kills his wife. He feels that after he's suffrered a personal tragedy he will be stronger and a better hero.

This is so close to me, but I've seen what happens when our coutnry suffers a great personal tragedy. When we were most recently attacked on our own soil what did we do, we had a war for oil. We mass produced ribbons for our cars and SUVs the very things that consumed that oil. We made movies, and television specials and if we weren't personally touched by this tragedy, we forgot. New Yorkers remembered, they held on, they let the fire in them grow, and every day they walk past that block that was devestated by stupid political outrage that fire lights. But what of the man in Kansas, the woman in Nebraska, the child in Las Vegas, did it hit them as hard? No, they didn't feel it. This was an attack on our country and there were spots of our land who felt nothing after his had happened. We should be ashamed.

We will not do something that will be felt by one city, regardless if its the most densley populated city in the country. What we will do will haunt your dreams, what we will do will grow into legends, we will be the new boogey man, we will be the new big bad wolf, we will show you fear, and from that fear you carry with you and pass on to your children, and your childrens children a fire will grow, and once again our country will burn so bright with strength you'll see it from space.

*End of video

He logs off, powers down his lap top makes a few more phone calls and heads to bed. Tomorrow will be the day he changes the world, and while most of us would have laid in bed staring at the ceiling eyes a glow or stomach in knots he simply checked his alarm rolled over and went to sleep.

Is it getting better, or do you feel the same.... two more days

He’s out there right now.

He has a team of people with him, who believe in him, who believe in his ideals, who want to be stronger, who want to know fear.

He’s put out a video, in this modern era of technology, the days of storage shed manifestos are over. We now have ranting blogs, angry status updates and You Tube preaching. It only had 32 hits its first day, most likely spam, today it isn’t viral, today its some weird kid in a mask. Four days from now it will crash servers. In four days the FBI will be watching for anyone who looks at it, remixes it, comments on it, in five days from now it will become part of history.

He calls himself Cipher. He sits on a plain steel folding chair in a blank room, no markings, no posters, no outside noises to help determine a location, a virtual limbo, neither here nor there. He starts this first video with a quick English lesson. His videos to follow will all be labeled as educational training videos on how to once again be a great country. He explains his name is not someone who can speak any language, or the key to solving a coded message. No the word cipher has several meanings, the one he is using for himself is a nobody, a no one, and that’s who he is, he’s nobody.


The term ‘He’ will be used to describe him by the media, as he has no distinctive traits of a female, the build, the frame, the chest, cut of the jaw all appear to be masculine. Psychologist will speak on talk shows on statistical information on how men are more likely to be cult leaders and “minute-men”. Historically there have been no public acknowledgements of a female terrorist leader and “these rants ofa mad man” will be compared to other men who spoke of patriotism and acted with violence.


The voice is synthesized, and he speaks with such a monotone nature that he is either trying to not give any indication of accent, upbringing or race or he is just so sure and content with what he is saying, that there is no emotion to it what so ever in his speech. He dictates his message of fear with such tempered timbre he might as well be reading from the phone book.


The following is a transcript of his message:


Cipher: Hello America, my name is Cipher. For those who are unaware of what our name means it can be defined several ways. 1. Zero 2. Something of no value or importance 3. A person of no influence; nonentity. That is who and what we are. Others will feel our name has a double meaning and spend countless hours looking for a hidden message as it can also mean a key to a secret method of writing or a coded message. But we assure you, there is no secret here, there is no code or backwards message, we are telling the truth, and hiding no message. Our message will be clear and it is our message that matters, not the person who says it.


We wear this mask to cover a face not to hide from persecution but to make it a blank slate. You cannot determine a race, creed, age or a sex. The actions to come have nothing to do with any of those items.


You cannot tell what God we worship, what groups we’ve belonged to, how well we did in school or if we are socially acceptable, again none of those things are what need to be discussed. We will no doubt be labeled a comic book villain, a dramatic fiend with concerns of showmanship and thoughts of grandeur. If we could make this message be simply text on the screen we would, but who would watch that, the United States is at a 99% literacy rate and everyone needs to hear this message.


There will be comparisons made to movie villains as well, that we are most likely some crazed lunatic who’s watched to many horror movies and the entertainment industry will be blamed for creating another monster.


Our actions are not out of hatred to any one group, creed, race, religion, political agenda or sexual preference. They are not meant to teach the individual players a lesson, to give them a choice to save their lives. This is not some dragged out movie plot, this is a lesson in fear and the lesson being taught is for us all. We are not crazed, our actions are not random but the players are. Our actions are not vengeful; our actions are out of disappointment. Like a disappointed friend or teammate who cannot believe the state of affairs they find themselves surrounded by. I sit here and hate the state of affairs we live in.


This is not about the economy, or the job market or any ‘cause’ please do not take that this wrong way, its very important you learn from this. We are patriots, we believe in our system, our leaders and the American dream. We are not terrorists though we will strike terror, we are not zealots, but we are compassionate towards our cause. We are sad and we don’t blame America and its people for anything other than being desensitized.


Is it a media problem? Is it the entertainment industry glorifying violence and building up those who’s job is to play pretend. Is it the ‘news’ stations and broadcasters who make a mockery of our justice system by flaunting their personal opinions, the Nancy Grace’s the John Stewarts, the Bill O’Reilys is it these people who mock the news and the world we live in on a daily basis are they to blame?  No. We are all to blame.

 We have become weak, because we aren’t afraid anymore, we survive every attack, every heinous crime with a response of a blasé attitude. We create Facebook groups, put ribbons on our SUVs, and light candles. How many of us stand up, speak out, fight for our rights as human beings. We lock our doors at night no longer to keep out the boogeyman, we lock our doors because we don’t want to be bothered and have the attitude of it will never happen to me.

It is about to happen to us all. Pay attention. Learn. Fear.

*End of video.