The Patriots: Part 5 – Dounreay

After the event at the O2 Arena, Bhivan now had more knowledge of the Patriot Initiative. He had helped Liam O’Hara collect the intel he needed, and had advanced his own investigation as well. But more importantly, he knew something about that Devereaux fellow made him feel strange. Perhaps it was simply a feeling of awe in the presence of his racial superior, but he felt there was something more. Going to his computer, he looked into the history of the Devereaux family. He found one particular individual in the bloodline, William Charles Edward Devereaux IV, who was the governor of the state of Assam during the British Raj. The name felt shockingly familiar to him, and it was not solely because he was wonderstruck at a noble name in the Queen’s English. He found a website with the public records of all residents and workers of the governor’s palace, and felt a splitting headache when he read the name of Kotesh Agarawala, a servant of Governor Devereaux who had been a member of a Brahmin family before British rule. He had disappeared from palace records in 1863, the same year when Governor Devereaux invented tea, bringing culinary and aromatic glory to the British Empire.

Suddenly, it all came to Bhivan’s feeble Asiatic mind. He thought back to his flashback in Jakarta. The ring of a bell. The smell of tea. A man in a top hat drawing a pistol. A shot to the head. The man in the top hat was Governor Devereaux, Percy’s ancestor, and Bhivan was, in his primitive Hindu beliefs, the reincarnation of the slain Kotesh. It made sense to him, so he went with that belief, though it was actually most likely because deep down, repressed in his subconscious, he had the desire to be subjugated by his obvious racial superior.

In other matters, Bhivan had received new intel from Dulac. They wanted to meet in Dounreay, a decommissioned nuclear facility in northern Scotland, in order to exchange information too sensitive for indirect channels. Though it was a long drive, Bhivan knew the stakes if the Patriots succeeded. As he was an uncouth third world rabble-rouser, he was determined to stop the beautiful and flawless plan of the Patriot Initiative. So, he made the drive north to Scotland.

After a day of driving, Bhivan arrived at Dounreay. It was a cold, industrial power plant surrounded by countryside. There were fields of sheep, whose poor anuses were probably sore from the thrashing oft done by the savage highlander Scots. He made his way into the facility, where he followed a walkway until he heard a woman’s voice call out.

“Lion, is that you?” the woman said. “It’s me, Dulac, I’m right around the corner.”

“I’ll be right there,” Bhivan replied. When he turned the corner, he was surprised to see a blonde woman in a professional blouse and skirt being held at gunpoint by Lord Rockford.

“Well, well, you’ve walked right into my trap,” Lord Rockford chuckled. “It appears my dear Julia was not very loyal at all. She betrayed me to a wretched Hindustani terrorist, but my intelligence led me to thwart this plot.”

“I couldn’t let you get away with all that,” Julia cried. “You’re a fucking genocidal maniac!”

“Let her go!” Bhivan yelled. “You don’t want her, you want me.”

“What is your name, subject?” Lord Rockford asked.

“Bhivan,” he uttered.

“Well, Bhivan, it appears your simpleton brain has recognized your station in life, and you’ve come to rescue a white woman from certain death. Good to see you’ve become subservient in mere seconds. I thought you would remain stubborn with your anti-white communism.”

“I aim to save innocent lives,” Bhivan spat. “I’m not obsessed with race like you are, you fucking Nazi.”

“Do not speak to a noble like that,” Lord Rockford sneered.

“He’s evil, Bhivan, I tell you!” Julia screamed. “He forced me to shag all his disgusting Nazi friends. At least Devereaux was fit, but you made me fuck that dirty drunkard football hooligan.”

“Ignore her female hysteria,” Lord Rockford said. “Anyways, Bhivan, the Patriot Initiative will not be stopped, by you or anyone else. Now, I have this gun, and I know very well how to use it. Someone is going to die today, and it’s you or her.”

“Kill me,” Bhivan gulped, stepping forward. “I can’t allow you to kill an innocent woman.” One might think this was a noble sacrifice, but terrorists of his ethnic stock often threw themselves to deaths to support their black-hearted causes.

“So it shall be,” Lord Rockford said. He let go of Julia and pushed her forward. Before Bhivan could act, the lord grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the room, where he landed inside of a nuclear testing chamber. Lord Rockford approached the door and closed it shut, trapping Bhivan inside of the chamber.

“Get him out of there!” Julia screamed, pouncing on Lord Rockford, but he dispatched her with ease.

“Now let’s see,” Lord Rockford began, fiddling with the chamber’s controls. “The chamber is loaded with uranium, and is set for nuclear fission. I’d prefer to just shoot you in the head, but I want you to suffer. You damn Indian dog, I want every atom of your filthy Asiatic body to be torn to shreds.”

“You will be punished for your evil,” Bhivan spat. Inside, his feeble Indian soul was trembling with extreme fear, but he had to appear strong, as a vicious thug to intimidate his noble Briton superior.

“Oh, you fool, I’ll never be punished. I’m the one who inflicts punishment.” Lord Rockford pressed a big red button on the control panel, starting a fission process. “Now you become death.”

Lord Rockford walked out of the room, leaving a sobbing Julia outside of the chamber. She rose up and began pressing the control panel.
“Come on, I’ve got to be able to stop this somehow!” she yelled.

“Julia, listen to me,” Bhivan said, his voice trembling. “Once that’s started, you can’t stop it. You’re going to have to avoid Rockford, and take your intel to Liam O’Hara. He’s a journalist with the Irish Times. For now, he’s the only other person you can trust with that information. Please, do it for me. Do it for all the innocent people that Rockford’s going to hurt.”

“I will,” she nodded through tears. It was a disgustingly emotional farewell between a radical Asian terrorist and a traitorous self-hating wench. Sirens began blaring from the chamber, and Julia stepped back. She watched in horror as a blinding blue light suddenly flashed. All the atoms in the test chamber screamed at once, and the light tore Bhivan to pieces.