Book Marksman: Chapter 4: Collision

Just in time for Brawl News! #FingersCrossed

Marksman 2: Chapter 4: Collision.


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Soulless stepped through the door to the mud room of his house. He leaned the rifle case holding his AWP rifle against the wall. Removing his gloves, he hung his jacket. Undid his boots. Hung up his snow pants. He took his hat off and put another one on, and tugged on a zip up hoodie. He then entered the kitchen.


Stopping at the refrigerator, Soulless grabbed a cold water bottle and threw a breakfast burrito into the microwave. He waited for it to finish and put it on a plate. He ate it quickly, washing it down with the water, and went back into the mud room, grabbing the AWP in it's case and taking it to his armory.


Soulless set the case on one of the tables and popped the latches. He took out the AWP, pulling back the bolt, removing the loaded .308 round, and removing the magazine. He set the mag and the round off to the side, and slid the bolt forward while holding the trigger to prevent from having to dry fire the weapon. Then, still holding, the trigger, he unlocked the bolt and slid it back, and then twisted it farther to the left. The bolt clicked, and slid smoothly away from the rifle. Soulless now had the bolt in one hand, the rifle chassis in the other.


Soulless ran a ramrod tipped with gun oil and a rag through the barrel a few times, and set the rifle to the side again. He picked up the bolt and began to clean the firing pin and shell ejection tabs.


And then, lastly, he began to think.


What was the point of his new job?


All his life, his ability to kill had served for a purpose. When he was young, he learned to shoot to give him something in life he was actually good at, which hadn't been a lot back then. He was rejected as a child, so he found ways to impress the other children, which made him even more of an outcast.


As he got older, his marksmanship abilities had served him as a hunter to feed his family, and provide a source of income for himself.


When he turned 18 he left Fairbanks, Alaska, and began to trophy hunt. For a few years he took hunts that were dangerous and challenging. Eventually, he grew bored, and joined the Army. He soon was moved into Delta Force as a sniper, completing multiple missions with success. Some were black ops. Some were not.


Eventually, to counter the threat of terrorism in the Middle East, the U.S Special Forces Corps was formed, where operators from all lines of military service were brought together in teams and squads, divided by divisions.


He had killed for food. He had killed to support his family. He had killed to protect his friends, his country, his brothers. He had always killed for a reason. A cause he believed in.


But now, he was killing for a currency that he had almost no use for. He was feeding off of the world's misery. Even if he could justify it by saying he was killing criminals, murderers, and, in general, bad guys, his most recent kill had contradicted that.


As Soulless was scrubbing the bolt, his phone rang.


He picked it up. “Soulless."


“It's good to hear your voice Soulless."


The nameless client with the silk voice.


“I'm a little irritated right now. Been thinking too much. What do you need?"


“I'm not looking to hire you. I'd like I have a face to face discussion."


“And how would this happen?" Soulless asked.


“I lied when I said I was a gangster. I actually am one of numerous people who head up an organization full of people just like you. Let's just say we've had interest in you since Spectre Division."


Alarms instantly began to ring in Soulless' head. He had never mentioned anything about his time in Spectre Division to any of his clients.


“How do you know about that?" Soulless asked sharply.


“I know plenty of things about you. We should really talk."


Soulless leaned forward. “I'm ears."


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“Sergeant." Random greeted Evil as he entered the room. “I heard your mission was somewhat unsuccessful."


“Extraordinary circumstances." Evil said. “The weather was bad, and the Blackhawk couldn't get there in time for extract, so we did our best to secure the area. Sadly, the informant, Gerard, sat by a window, and a sniper made a mile long shot, taking him out."


“Sounds like the sniper was either lucky or inhumanly accurate." Random remarked. “Do continue."


The pair were meeting in Random's office. The desk was fairly clear right now, mainly dominated by a short stack of reports and files, along with a monitor for a computer.


“I was able to do a impromptu interrogation. And I learned some things that are, frankly, disturbing, but absurd at the same time." Evil said.


“Spit it out son. If it's important, I need to hear it. It doesn't matter if the guy said that he saw the tooth fairy with his naked eye. I. Need. To. Know." Random said seriously.


Evil took a breath in. “The informant, Gerard, knew the inner workings of Spectre Division."


Random was silent, but Evil could see that Random's jaw muscles had clenched. “Go on."


“He claims he worked for an unnamed organization that finds ex-special forces operatives and skilled assassins, bringing them under the same banner. " Evil paused. “And there was the last thing."


“What is it?" Random asked.


Evil hesitated. “He claimed that Soulless was alive, and being recruited by said organization."


Random sighed. “So my guesses, added to the rumors I've heard, have just become that much more possible."


Evil raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?"


Random stood. “I've had a squad operating out in the field for several months. I haven't had a face to face conversation with them since they deployed. They were to monitor the real-world situation, and notify me when anything tense reached a breaking point."


“An information network, in other words."


“Correct." Random said. “Recently, they told me something interesting. There were two gang heads taken out. There was no connection between the killing methods, of course, and the squad was trained to find out exactly who committed the act, and whether they were paid or not. So, they dug into both of them, and, guess what?"


Random spread his hands. “Nothing. Guys trained to find anyone hiding from their system hit a brick wall. That means that whoever they were trying to find was extremely good at hiding...or knew exactly what to hide from."


“And you've been suspecting a rogue operative?" Evil asked.


“Exactly." Random said. “Which brings up your next mission. If Soulless is, by any chance, alive, I want him found and brought in. Alive. But, if he opens fire on former squad mates, then you have my permission to put him down. Permanently."


“Understood." Evil said.


“I don't expect this to be easy for you."

Random stated sentimentally. “But this is a job that needs doing, and Soulless was trained to survive by any means possible. Even if that means killing any Spectre operatives I send after him. You, Rock, Dark, and Titanium are the only people that would cause a stone cold person like him to hesitate. I know what trial by fire does to a squad, and I think that you will have to use that bond with him to get through."


“Yes sir." Evil said. He nodded to Random, and exited out the door, closing it quietly behind him.


-----------------------------------------

Gas station, Steese Highway.

Fairbanks, Alaska.

1900 Hours.

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Soulless pulled the Chevy pickup into the parking lot of the gas station. There was a 24 hour shift running the thing, and the only customers were miners taking the high way out to the Fort Knox gold mine, truckers, and hunters.


Soulless turned off the headlights and engine, leaving the music running. He was listening to Eminem - Under The Influence. He liked controversial music, and, even for a rapper like Marshal Mathers, the song definitely qualified. Soulless found himself mouthing the lyrics under his breath.


A semi truck pulled out and turned onto the highway. Soulless turned the stereo down a little. He was in a spot where he could do a quick pullout if he needed, and could keep his eyes on who was entering the parking lot at all times.


Absentmindedly, Soulless reached into his jacket, checking his casual gear. Flip out baton in his sleeve. Combat knife on his breast. Suppressor next to that. Checking the other side of the jacket, he checked that his mini-grenade was in place, and that the pin was still very much in place. About one-third the size of a normal hand grenade, it still packed enough explosive power to take out multiple hostiles, destroy a vehicle, or cause a distraction.


The song ended, and Soulless skipped over to another song by Eminem, Square Dance. Also very controversial, mainly aimed at President Bush. When he was in office anyways.


Soulless reached under his left arm and pulled out his CZ-75 SP-01. He dropped the magazine into his hand and checked it. 20 rounds. He rammed it back up the magazine well and cycled the slide. It racked with a satisfying clack-clack noise. He slid it back into its holster, and adjusted the leather jacket.


Soulless reached up and adjusted the rear view mirror so he could look at himself. Electric blue eyes. Scar tissue in random places. Hair still dyed white. A massive white patch of scar tissue over the right side of his neck where his vocal cords had been damaged.


He hurt internally. Not externally. Some scars healed. Some never did. Soulless had been abandoned in North Korea. Spectre Division had never even mounted a search for him. He had been used and thrown away, like a plastic bag lost to the wind.


Soulless moved the mirror back into its position, and then, he glanced at his passenger side mirror.


There was a guy standing about one hundred thirty yards from the back of his silver Chevy, wearing sun glasses, dark jeans, a thick black jacket, combat boots, and gloves. He was also packing due to the bulge over his left breast. Soulless kept watching him.


The man raised the right cuff of his jacket to his mouth, and then turned and walked away, into the woods.


Soulless kept watching to see if he re-emerged. He didn't.


Light flashed around the cabin of the truck , and Soulless turned his head towards the pull-in on the parking lot. A black SUV with tinted windows had pulled up. The two rear doors on both sides of the SUV opened, a man in a suit stepping out the passenger side, a woman out the left.


They were looking right at Soulless and his truck


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Spectre Division Base

Alaska, unknown location.

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Rock leaned forward to stare at the Electronic Warfare officer's screen. “Anything yet?"


“Negative." The officer, specializing in electronic anti-terrorism operations and missions replied. “I'm going through bank transactions and phone calls, trying to find anything. It'll take some time."


“Roj. Call me when you find anything. And." Rock paused before he left the room." “thanks for your time."


“My pleasure." The officer replied, giving a quick smile. “If we have a rogue operative, he needs to be found. Or put down. It's an either-or situation."


“If he gets put down, I won't be the one who does it." Rock stated clearly.


“And why's that?" The officer asked, clicking on his terminal keyboard.


“Because this rogue operative is suspected to be my former CO, and a good friend of mine." Rock said, his voice going cold. ”We thought he died in North Korea."


The officer stopped and turned in his chair. “Wait a second, North Korea?"


Rock nodded, crossing his arms.


“Was he assaulting any missile platforms per chance...?"


Rock nodded again.


“So that means that you're an Omega Squad member, and that also means that the rogue is..." the officer's face went whiter than a skull, and Rock knew exactly how white a skull could be. “Jesus Christ. He's gonna be hard to find. Soulless was a legend."


“I have faith in you." Rock said. “Call me when you find anything."


The EW officer nodded quickly and got back to work. Rock left the room, and left the door open. Evil was leaning against the wall across the room, running his finger over the sights of the Glock 19 in his thigh holster.


“I've got one of the electronic warfare guys working on it now, but it'll be a while." Rock said. Evil looked up and acknowledged him, and looked back down at his Glock. Evil pulled it from the holster and took the magazine out, sliding it into his pocket. He cycled the slide, causing some of the people in the room to flinch. He looked at them and grinned, and dry fired the gun towards the floor. “Isn't loaded. Don't get so riled up."


Everyone relaxed and went back to what they were doing. Rock just laughed and shook his head. “Poor staff Evil. Workplace violence is a horrible thing these days. You can't scare the desk workers."


“War is a horrible thing these days. We're used to it. They aren't. They should be." Evil retorted.


“Sorry." Rock muttered.


“No, it's fine." Evil said. “I'm just stressed out about the whole rogue operative bullcrap, added with the possibility of Soulless being alive."


“I feel the same." Rock said, setting a hand on Evil's shoulder. “But we can't let that get in the way of our job."


“Killing the enemy." Evil said.


“Not really what I meant. Black ops is a whole different ball game from Special Forces. The enemy isn't always in your gunsights."


“True." Evil said. Rock glance over at the doorway to the electronic warfare operator was working his magic, and found the EW officer standing in the door, signaling to Rock.


“Be right back." Rock muttered. Evil nodded and holstered the Glock and leaned against the wall again.


The officer was giving Rock a look that told Rock he hadn't found much. “I found some interesting transfers into some accounts I can't take a look at without running them through a Breaker first. It'll take a day minimum." The officer shrugged. “It's the best I can do."


“Run the Breaker on it and let me know when it's cracked." Rock said. “Were there any calls on secure lines made?"


“There were."


“Run those too." Rock ordered.


The operator nodded, and went back into the terminal room.


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Turning the key of his truck to the off position, Soulless exited the truck.


He began to slowly walk towards the van, both hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. The man, who was tugging on a jacket, stepped forward.


“At last. The faceless killer appears." It was the client all right. The voice was the same. “You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this meeting."


“What do you want? I have things to do." Soulless said. “If you're here to put a bullet in my head, get over with it already. If you're here for a chat, I'm leaving."


“Oh no. This is for much more." The man said. The woman was coming from her side of the SUV was dressed in a gray trench coat. She had her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was gray like an old woman's, but she was by no means old. The young woman was in her twenties, maybe early thirties. Her silver eyes were just as, or even colder than Soulless' were.


Clearing his mind, Soulless refocused on the man. He could still feel the woman's gaze piercing through him like a shard of ice being shoved through him.


“I believe I stated earlier that I was one of the leaders of an organization that takes interest in special cases such as yourself, correct?" Said Silk Voice.


“Please don't refer to me like some science experiment." Soulless sighed. “But yes, I remember."


“I guess to ease the tension, I should start with my name. Just know that it isn't my actual one, but you can call me Xavier." Xavier extended a hand. “I, of course know, that you're Soulless."


Soulless took his hand. Firm handshake. Eye contact. Xavier had dull green eyes that were scanning, almost analyzing. Xavier looked Soulless in the eye briefly, then broke the contact.


“And who's she?" Soulless inquired, jerking his head in the direction of the young woman.


“Personal bodyguard. She doesn't talk often, and names aren't her thing." Xavier dismissed.


The girl stuck her chin out. “Your black ops record is extensive. I'm not impressed often. That was one of the few times."


Xavier blinked. “Yes." He seemed dumbfounded that she had spoken to Soulless.


The girl extended her hand. As Soulless took it- noting her firm handshake and nitrogen-cold skin- the passenger side door opened on the van, and the person who stepped out was instantly recognized by Soulless.


He had a flashback to Afghanistan, when he had first made contact with the IAI PMC company. Staring down the barrel of a Glock 19 as a firefight raged around him. The person laying on the floor of the Blackhawk, shot through the shoulder, as Soulless covered them with an AR-15.


Another flash to the airbase when he was recruited to Spectre Division. Always present. Random's right hand man.


Leko.


Soulless didn't know he had drawn his CZ until he had it pressed against Xavier's head, the other arm wrapped around his neck. The woman with the gray hair had a Sig Sauer P226 drawn and pointed, and Leko had his Glock 19.


It was a setup.


“Why the hell is a Spectre Division operative who knows who I am with you?" Soulless whispered into Xavier's ear. His voice was like ice. “You have ten seconds to answer."


“He's a double agent." Xavier hissed back. “That's how we learned about you, knew about Spectre Division, and had access to your files and information."


Soulless took a quick glance around the parking lot while keeping a hold on Xavier. The parking lot was deserted, the assortment of people having left due to the time of night.


He turned his attention back to Leko, Xavier, and the bodyguard. “How do I know Leko won't put a round through me the second I let you go?" He whispered into Xavier's ear.


“Leko." Xavier said as calm as he could. “Stand down."


Leko hesitated, then, slowly, keeping his eyes on Soulless, holstered his Glock under his jacket.


Xavier looked at his bodyguard, nodding at her. She smoothly placed her P226 under her trench coat.


“Now-" Xavier began.


“Not yet." Soulless interrupted. “Don't forget the guy behind my truck."


The guy who had been standing behind Soulless' truck when he waited stepped out, a Tec-9 in one hand. He kept the gun pointed at the ground. Soulless had the guy off to his left, Leko and the bodyguard to his right. The guy circled around to stand by Leko, and put the Tec-9 under his jacket.


Soulless released his hold on Xavier's neck. He kept his CZ-75 in his hand though. “Now that we have that past us, what did you bring me out for?"


“I wanted to offer you a job." Xavier said. “I run an organization called Mendosa. We supply squads of mercenaries who come from special forces and black ops backgrounds to whoever pays best and has reasonable morals."


“And you want me to be on one of these squads?" Soulless asked, keeping his eyes on the three people Xavier had come with.


“Not necessarily." Xavier said. “I took interest in you because you have the capability to run missions by yourself. I know you spent a lot of time learning to work in a team or squad function through Delta Force, Special Forces Corps, and Spectre, but you always knew how to do a job yourself, and you proved it through the contracts I offered you previously."


Xavier spread his hands. “I offered you no weapons, no backup, no resources, and yet, you relied on your own intelligence and resources, and still completed the job better than many of our operators could do with assistance."


“Kind words, but what do I get out of it?" Soulless asked.


“Protection and a purpose. Our base is set up in Siberia, because, as an international company, we were able to negotiate a deal with the Russian government that most corporations and companies would only dream of getting a shot at. We don't work against them, and we can set up away from the U.S. and all it's intelligence agencies."


“I've had bad experiences with Russians in the past." Soulless muttered.


“That's too bad. They're good people when you get to know them."


“So, before I reveal even a tidbit of anything more, I need to know if you're in or out." Xavier extended a hand. “You would be welcomed here. Always."


Soulless thought it over for a moment. “I have a house that needs clearing of evidence and a small armory that needs moving."


“I can have an anti-forensics team take care of that." Leko said. “Your armory will also be transferred, and you will still have access to it."


Soulless looked Xavier in the eye. His eyes glittered, but ultimately revealed nothing. His hand was still extended, waiting to be shook.


“It's a deal." Soulless said, taking the offered hand and shaking it firmly.


-----------------------------------------

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Rock stood over the electronic warfare officer's shoulder, watching his screen as the operator did his magic. The tech room was occupied by multiple EW officers and IT workers this time.


The EW officer took a sip of his coffee from a silver steel mug. “Okay. Here's the set of transactions that I found odd."


A circle titled MAIN ACCOUNT popped up on the screen, and then two lines extended from the circle to two smaller accounts. One was titled A3482DE, another F7255C.


They were payments from the main account to the smaller ones, made on separate dates. Then, also at separate dates, the smaller accounts were closed and the money withdrawn. The system couldn't find where both the amounts went.


“That's good. Download the transaction timeline to a USB drive and give it to me." Rock said. The EW officer nodded, and started the download.


“I have more. I managed to get one of the calls that you asked for. Here's the audio track." The EW officer passed Rock a headset and plugged it into the terminal. Rock lifted the headset over his ears, and the EW officer accessed the audio file.


Two boxes popped up. Both marked unknown. Then, the terminal loaded a voice identification program.


The first box lit up. The box was labeled UNKNOWN. The person spoke, their voice heavily damaged. It sounded like a stick being dragged through gravel.


“Who are you, and how do you have my number?


The second box lit up this time, with a voice ID match labeled Xavier. “Just someone who needs a job done." Xavier's voice was like silk. “I heard you're pretty good at what I had in mind."


“What kind of job?" Asked the person with the raspy voice.


“The kind that results in a large payout for you." Xavier said.


There was a sigh. “Who are you?" Asked the gravel voice.


“An entrepreneur interested in certain kinds of back room dealings. The not-so-legal kind."


“A gangster I see." Said the raspy voice.


“You could say that." Xavier said with a sly tone.


“What's the job?"


“One of the Columbian narcos has been running his material through one of my areas. He almost brought the authorities down on my head, so I need him out of the picture." Xavier explained.


“Dead or alive?" The gravel voice asked.


“Either works. Dead is easier I would think."


“Dead it is."


Xavier laughed. “I like you."


The guy with the raspy voice chuckled. “I'd say the same, but we've never met. Plus, strangers who I meet for the first time generally end up on the receiving end of a .338 round."


Rock noted the mention of a .338 rifle. Soulless had rarely used anything other than his Remington Modular Sniper Rifle, chambered in .338 Lapua.


“Ah, humor from the dead man at last." Xavier said. “Now, about your payment. Two hundred grand, half before, half after. Sound good?"


“It's a deal." The gravel voice confirmed.


“Excellent. Give me an email and account number and I'll wire the first payment, then send you the information. Encrypted of course, but I'm sure you can read it."


“I'll be waiting."


The audio file went dead.


Rock patted the guy on the shoulder. “Great work. What happened to the rest of the call?"


“File was corrupt. The line was designed to be secure, and if any calls were pulled from its databases, then the whole thing was designed to start ripping the file apart. Usually phone lines and services don't have a database like that, but this one did." The EW officer started transferring the data over. “That was the best I could do. If you take it to one of the other stations I'm sure they can get a location from the files."


Rock nodded. The EW officer ejected the USB drive and handed it to Rock. “Good luck."


Rock nodded his thanks. “If you ever need anything, come find me."


-----------------------------------------

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Evil and Rock went down the hallway to Random's office. They dropped the data files off with him so he could review it in private, and then retired to their quarters.


Dark and Titanium were cleaning an assortment of guns. Evil went into the bunk area and grabbed his new SASS rifle, standing for Semi Automatic Sniper System, widely used by the Marine Corps. Chambered in the .308 round that had become more and more popular since Vietnam with the introduction of the Remington 700 rifle, it packed quite a punch.


An intercom blared a tone, and Random's voice came over the system. “Omega team to my private briefing area immediately. Also, teams Echo through Hotel to assembly area Charlie for departure."


The team all looked at each other and instantly made for the door. They proceeded down the hallway in a single file line, Evil at the front. They walked through the hallway with a purpose.


When they reached the briefing room, Evil knocked on the door.


“Enter."


Pushing open the door, the squad found Random sitting at the large steel table with a computer. He shut the laptop and passed it over the table to Evil.


“All the intel you need is here. There's a house on the outskirts of Fairbanks that I need swept and cleared for Forensics. Look for anything connecting specifically to Soulless." Random stood. “You have to get there ASAP. There's a van waiting. Dismissed."


Evil nodded, tucking the laptop under his arm, turning on his heel, and exiting, Omega filing out behind him.


-----------------------------------------

-----------------------------------------


The van bounced on the road as they hit a pothole, and Evil's CQB helmet bounced against the roof. Gear clinked and bodies jostled as the van rolled down the Alaskan winter road.


Rock sat across from Evil. They were dressed in black CQB gear, with shin guards, arm bracers and gauntlets made out of Kevlar. Evil reached under the seat and grabbed his FN P90. The barrel was fitted with a suppressor, and the top was lined with lithium night sights. He twisted the suppressor, making sure that it was secure on the barrel, and then checked that the night sights were in place.


Then, a hand clamped over the gun. Looking up, Evil met Rock's eyes in front of him.


“If you were ordered to, would you kill Soulless?" Rock whispered, eyes boring into Evil.


“The generic answer?" Evil said. “Yes. In reality? I don't know."


“I just want to make something clear." Rock whispered, moving his hand from Evil's P90 to his shoulder. “If that order comes, unless he's shooting at me personally, I won't be the one to do it."


Evil nodded. “I understand.


Titanium and Dark were riding in the back of the van too, the vehicle driven by two operators with M4A4 assault rifles. They were to act as extra support, and guard the vehicle while Omega cleared the house of any traps and defenders.


The van swerved to the left off the highway, and began to travel down a sort of dirt trail. Or a driveway.


Dark leaned forward on his seat, which faced inwards from the side of the van to look out the windshield. A large house caked in snow was visible at the end of the driveway.


Then, the van stopped.


“Go!" Evil yelled. Dark opened the door of the van and jumped out, followed by the rest of the team.


Evil stepped around the van, P90 raised to the front of the house, scanning for any hints of snipers or cameras. He spotted a camera, and squeezed off a burst. The submachine gun kicked against his shoulder slightly, and the suppressor made soft popping noises. The camera exploded in a shower of plastic, glass, and sparks.


Dark and Titanium advanced forward, guns leveled at the front door door of the house. They made it, and stacked up against the wall.


Titanium crouched down and slid a snake cam under the door. “Front hallway clear. Completely empty."


“I don't like it." Rock muttered.


“Me neither." Evil replied. He looked at the two supporting operators, who had crouched behind the front doors of the van. The windows were rolled down, and they were using the doors as hard cover, resting M4A4 rifles on top.


“**** it." Evil said. “We do this the loud way."


He walked back around behind the van and climbed in, grabbing a titanium and nickel assault shield, leaving his P90 in the van.


He walked back around the van, and held the shield in front of him, drawing his Glock 19 in his right hand so the shield was in his left. He could use the handgun around the shield, but not accurately.


Evil approached the door, followed by Rock. He set the bottom of the riot shield on the icy ground and crouched behind it.


Rock came, reaching onto his back, and removing a sledgehammer from where it sat in his webbing. With Dark and Titanium stacked, Evil ready, he used the hammer like a battering ram to smash the lock, swiftly followed by the door, inwards, and then stepped off to the side.


No sporadic streams of gunfire came from the house. No grenades. No yelling.


Silence.


Evil lifted the assault shield and moved forward, tightening his grip on both the shield and his Glock 19. Stepping through the doorway, he made sure there were no explosive charges or booby traps.


“Clear." He murmured into his microphone.


Dark and Titanium fell in behind him, with Rock taking up the rear. They reached a door, and Dark broke off to kick it in and sweep the room. “Clear." He called.


Evil kept advancing.


Rock smashed another door open with his sledgehammer. “Empty. Totally empty."


They reached a kitchen area, the floors, counters, and walls completely bare. Titanium jogged over and kicked open a door. “Found the garage." He then entered, sweeping the room with the P90. “Also empty."


“The whole damn place is sterilized." Dark exclaimed.


“Check upstairs." Evil ordered.


And they moved like that, sweeping the entire house. Room after room of emptiness and sterilization. It was like a hospital without patients or doctors.


-----------------------------------------

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“I don't get it." Rock said, setting his FN P90 on the table and removing his helmet, running his gloved hands through his hair. “The person knew we were coming and wanted to leave no trace."


“I'm just dumbfounded." Dark said, leaning against a wall. A forensics team was on the way to the residence to see if they could pick up anything.


Titanium was silent( sitting on the table, fiddling with his P90's sights.


Evil had leaned the assault shield against the table, and leaned on the table, forearms at a ninety degree angle. His head rested on his knuckles.


Then, he felt a tingling sensation, his sixth sense activating. He looked up and across the room.


There was a table against a wall. Some sort of patch sat on top of it. Evil pushed himself up and walked over, picking up the patch.


The patch was a shoulder insignia. It was singed slightly on one side, and had some crusted blood. There was a sergeant's stripes extending above and below a Spectre Division insignia.


Nothing else mattered in the world to Evil. There was only one place that this could have come from, and nobody would have dragged a dead body off a missile platform, then transported it all the way to Alaska.


Soulless was alive. There was no doubting that.


“What did you find Evil?" Dark asked.


Evil hesitated. “Nothing. Thought I saw something." As he said that, he quietly slid the patch into one of his vest pouches.


There was no way he was turning this in to Spectre.


It was a calling card.


But whether it was a signal or a challenge, Evil had no idea.


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The end.

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@MR_EVIL_OVERLORD

@RockTomb

@Xavier1974

@DarkEvilTitan

 

I forgot, dammit. Where was that tripmine when I needed it?!

 

Awww, thanks! I enjoy putting the effort forth for stuff like this. Just for the sense of satisfaction I get out of posting it.

 

Oh you will. Believe me, you will...

But who knows? The caller may be closer than you think :^)