Welcome to the Joke or My Ecphrasis Tale

The stairway was dark and cold as the man slowly descended into the abyss. He wore dark clothing and sunglasses obscured his eyes. On his back he carried a katana. The man entered the subway station, leaving the stairs behind. The only light which penetrated the darkness came from two florescent lights in the ceiling, which blinked on and off periodically. His breath appeared before him in a cloud of steam. He spoke into the darkness, “I’m here. Now where are you?” From the shadow of the tracks came a tall, articulate man. He wore a navy suit and carried a claymore over his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, my old friend. Are you ready to settle this?” The man with the katana gracefully unsheathed the blade. “Yes, Michael, I believe I am.” Michael charged, raising his claymore high above his head. But the man made no move, for he was more interested in pin on Michael’s lapel. It was an American flag. It mesmerized him, until the point where Michael swung to deliver the death blow. But the man was gone. Suddenly the man felt a cool breeze on his face, and he was blinded by bright light. When he regained his sight he was astonished to see that he was no longer in the station. For the man found himself standing in Washington D.C. He sheathed his blade while those around him looked on curiously. He was on the steps of the capital, surrounded by business people and tourists. To his surprise a woman ran up to him and grabbed his arm, ushering him inside the building. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked him. “Are you actively trying to destroy everything we’ve been working for? You are way too important to the organization to lose, but if this happens again I will not hesitate to kill you myself. Now get out of here. I’ll see you in New York.” She pushed a small note in front of his face. He was just able to recognize it as binary code before he found himself somewhere new. He was in the mountains, likely close to a peak for there was snow all around him. About a hundred yards ahead of him lay a small concrete building lying low to the ground. A man wearing a puffy, white parka and with goggles ran up to him. “You must be the one we’ve been waiting for. Come with me.” The man in the parka led him into the building and into an elevator. They descended for several minutes during which the man in the parka introduced himself a Jack. The elevator came to a stop and revealed to them a large chamber filled with computers and scientists. They were crunching numbers and typing codes. Jack led the man with the katana to a giant light-up grid of the United States. “This is it, swordsman”, said Jack. “Make us proud out there.” The swordsman stared up at the grid until he was drawn to one single point. Jack wrote something down in a notebook and said, “Thank you for the assistance. Have a pleasant trip.” With that the swordsman felt himself leave the bunker and found that he was somewhere new. The swordsman was on the edge of a cliff, staring out at the ocean. The salt was overpowering and he could hear gulls in the distance. A man walked up beside him and took a deep breath, staring out at the ocean. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” The man looked at him. “You don’t have to be their puppet, you know. You have a choice. Even if your father thought it was inevitable, it still comes back to you. Just remember that when you get to New York.” With that the man turned and walked away, dropping a coin at the feet of the swordsman. He picked it up and studied the markings. At the bottom he found a phrase in Latin. The swordsman read it over and over until the coin slipped from his hand and he was gone. The swordsman found himself at the base of a ruined temple. There was no one around for miles. A woman descended from the temple to the swordsman. “Get up here!” she called. The swordsman approached the woman cautiously. She led him into the warmly lit temple and up to an altar. “This is where all your power comes from. I thought it would be good for you to know your origins. It might not make a difference but at least it will bring some closure.” She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. He smiled and felt a peace come over him. And for a moment the swordsman felt whole. He opened his eyes and looked onto the altar. His eyes fixed onto a strange symbol etched into the marble. The swordsman lost his peace and was flung back into madness as the temple slipped away and he found himself on a warm tropical beach. A man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and a wide brimmed hat walked over to meet him. “It’s been awhile, swordsman. I’ve missed your company. I heard the organization had recently recruited you for a high priority assignment but I had no idea that they would go this far. Swordsman, you must stop them. Nothing good will come of this. Nothing ever does.” The man in the Hawaiian shirt then left the swordsman, and walked down the beach. The swordsman sighed deeply and looked around the empty beach. Something in the sand caught his eye and he bent down to see what it was. He dug a small, red bottle cap out of the sand and held it in his hand. Suddenly the swordsman was on the roof of an office building staring up at the Texas night sky. A man in a black suit approached him, offering his hand. The swordsman shook it and looked at the man. “It is an honor to meet you, Mr., uh, Swordsman. The organization thanks you greatly for your participation in the Times Square project. I’m sure you’re very anxious for tomorrow. It’s going to be an eventful day, for everyone. I’d offer you a drink but it seems that you must be leaving. Good luck in New York, sir.” With that, the man gave the swordsman a postcard and left. He studied it and found that it was a picture of Times Square in New York. His eyes locked and he felt himself leaving the rooftop. The swordsman looked around the large, brightly lit square. He was surprised to find that it was empty. There was not a tourist in sight, but there appeared to be a small group of people assembled there. The woman from the capital was standing in the middle of the square waiting for him. The swordsman walked over to her. “It’s about time you got here. Everything is ready; we just need you to set it off.” “Wait”, said the swordsman interrupting her, “what is going on?” “Are you really doing this right now? The bomb, you idiot, you need to set off the bomb.” “What? What bomb? What the hell are you talking about?” “Did someone erase your memory? Well here’s a recap. The organization recruited you for the Times Square project several months ago. Your job was to set off the bomb once it was prepared and in place. Well the bomb is ready and the time has come.” “But why would the organization want to destroy New York?” “The city will not be completely destroyed, and this will bring a great unity to the country. By destroying America’s Rome the people of America will be united in grief and eventually just united. But I need you swordsman to finish what many great men started.” She turned to the small group behind her and gestured. The man in the black suit from Texas brought forth a disheveled man wearing a plaid shirt. He looked close to death, and unstable. He swayed as he stood before the swordsman and the woman. “Kill him”, she said, “or I’ll kill you.” She drew her gun and waited. The swordsman calmly drew him blade. Its blade shone brilliantly in the neon of the square. He grasped it tightly with both hands and thrust it through the man who was the bomb. He slid the blade out quickly, removed the blood with a sharp flick, and returned it to its sheath on his back. The man glowed an eerie red and roared with pain. The swordsman then realized what he had done. Panic set in and he looked around erratically. His eyes locked onto a sign pointing to the subway. The swordsman was blinded by a bright light and the roar of an explosion filled his ears and then he was gone.
The swordsman woke on the stairs of the subway station. Michael was lying dead on the floor several feet away. He stood and examined the body in the semi darkness. Had any of that been real? Was it all just a dream? Or was it something more. For Michael had been taken down by three gunshots to the chest. “Your payment”, said the woman as she approached him from the shadows. “What was your reason for wanting to kill him, swordsman?” “It’s complicated.” “Come on, swordsman. We have a city to mend.” The woman took hold of the swordsman’s arm and led him up the stairs, into the ruins of New York City.