Turned into a Manchurian candidate by experiments performed on him at in Montauk..Jason Cutter must run from his sanity and his masters. This is a work in progress.

The golden hues of the sun as it set over Manhattan cast long shadows down east 33rd, an ethereal dance to celebrate the end of the day, Jason Cutter had a sip of his Jack and cherry coke as he stared down at the people hurrying home. He had been sitting in his windowsill for the best part of two hours, having finished his shift in the canteen of the New York state psychiatric hospital, just watching life pass by on the street below. His apartment, situated between Kostas cleaning corporation and the Prestige car rental, he had lived here for eight months. Jason ran a hand through his shaggy black hair and scratched the day old stubble on his chin, he looked round the room, most of the furniture in the apartment was threadbare, the wall paper peeling in places and the smell of cabbage and fried onions permeated from the hallways, Jason did not mind this too much as he had put up with more unfavourable surroundings in the past. Returning his gaze back to the window he stared with silent eyes. Jason was not thinking of anything in particular just letting random thought s pop into his head like so much flotsam. Doing this to prevent turning his thoughts to the nightmares he had been having recently. Demons with fiery eyes, probing his mind and body, had invaded his sleep. He shuddered as the thought entered his mind. No, he did not want to think about that.

The rising and falling sound of a police siren distracted him and he watched as the cruiser flashed past and turned into Lexington and disapeared from view.

Feeling the need to urinate he headed for the bathroom, closing the door he examined his face in the mirror above the sink. Haunted eyes stared back at him, lined at the edges in a face that showed his thirty-three years. Stubble covered a strong jaw line with a small dimple in his chin. Enough vanity he thought and turned to the toilet, flushing the toilet when he finished and turning to the door he froze. The reason for this was a knock at the door. He never had visitors. The knock held authority and this scared him, not that he had a reason to be for he always thought of himself as law- abiding. He moved into the living room and stared down the hall at the doorway as the knock came again louder this time.

“Jason Cutter open the door” the voice had a hint of German. He vaguely recognised the voice for he had heard a similar one in his dreams.

His heart pounded and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Quickly he dashed to the window and opened it. He climbed out onto the fire escape and made for the roof. The sound of splintering wood was heard from inside as whoever it was broke down his door.

Night had come down fully, and shadows played all around from the streetlights, he paused as he climbed off the fire escape and looked back down to see three men dressed in black leather jackets climb out after him, one had blond almost white hair and he looked up to him with laser like blue eyes.

“Wait Jason we only want to talk to you” he called up; he was the one with the accent.

If they only want to talk why break down my door, Jason thought, fear pulsed through his veins. The pursuit was on.

Jason bolted across the roof top pursued by Blondie and his two friends who had strangely appeared on the roof rather quickly. The cadence of city nightlife was the soundtrack to their pursuit, sirens in the distance, shouts and screams of the night people at play and a rumble of a train somewhere flying along its track.

Jason ran towards the roof of the Prestige car rentals; glancing over his shoulder, he saw he was outpacing Blondie and his friends. Before his eyes, they vanished and reappeared four feet in front of him. Without missing a beat, Jason changed direction and headed back the way he had just come from. Adrenaline kicked in and his movements became a blur as he headed towards the edge of the roof.

The next building was thirty or forty feet across east 33rd street and he didn’t appear to be slowing down. When he reached the edge he just launched himself out into the air and across the street, landing with a roll like a demented parachutist on the roof of the apartment building across the street. The three pursuers never missed a beat; slapping the black boxes attached to their belts, they vanished and reappeared on the roof opposite. Jason was heading for the door leading to the stairwell and they could not let this happen, Blondie raised his hand as they closed in on him and a greenish blue light shot out making a whooshing sound that connected briefly with Jason’s rear, he fell to the ground writhing in pain. The pursuers gathered round their prey, Blondie dressed in a long leather jacket and black chinos put the device he had used to bring Jason down into a pocket of his jacket.

“Pick him up” he said.

The other two complied and lifted the dazed man to his feet.

Shadows played around cast by the security lighting on the roof, as they waited for the man to regain consciousness..

Dazed, Jason raised his head and saw the blonde haired figure, he tensed, but the man spoke a couple of words and he relaxed.

“There Jason my friend, all is well with the world no?” he sharply patted his cheek.

“My name is Cael Richter and I am your friend Jason” he soothed.

“You are going to come with us… the doctor will make you better again, take away the bad dreams!”, his voice was soft and gentle as his eyes seemed to peer deeply into Jason‘s soul. How did this man know about his dreams, and who the hell were they as they seemed to know him.

Jason allowed his body to relax, putting his mind elsewhere .He had to make them think that they had him; they were dangerous men, his pursuers and he had to time his escape just right. Cael swiftly attempted to move past them and that’s when Jason made his move, thrusting his hands forward , slamming his elbows back he struck both men in the face knocking them back and to the ground, turning around he swiftly punched Cael forcefully with the flat of his hand, against the side of his head knocking him off his feet. All three lay unconscious on the cold, bare ground. He looked at his handiwork, kneeling down to remove the black box from Caels belt, retrieving the weapon that had knocked him cleanly off his feet.Looking closely at Cael he realised he had seen him before, at the Institute, just before he had one of his black outs, of which he had suffered ever since he could remember.

Whistling he stepped over the prone forms and entered the stairwell.

Jason stepped out into the dark alley at the back of the Metropolitan playhouse and made his way to east 4th street. Heading towards Avenue A, Jason considered his options. He was now essentially homeless. Pulling up the hood of his grey jogging top as he turned the corner into the avenue by the New Family Mart where he usually got his groceries, that would not be happening again, no more chats with Gurnam the funny little Sikh shopkeeper who made him laugh with his jokes aimed at himself and his religion. Hunching down, wishing to be invisible to the myriad faces that passed him going about their nightly business. He knew most people went about their daily lives with their eyes wide shut, if they only knew what really went on in the world the truth of it would not set them free but scare them to death. Reality was not what you see around you but what went on behind closed doors and in the minds of the powerful, just like the film The Matrix, where the hero lived in a world of illusion. The makers of the film will never know how close to reality they came.

Jason waited for a gap in the traffic before crossing the street and headed off into the night.

The End

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