Code Xero

Spike_1412

Spike_1412

New member
KICK ***! You sure know your Military Weapons.

Is the Foreword part of the planned wedding assasination?

"I don’t get it' date='” Sanders stammered. “What’s going on?”[/quote']Same here. I thought F8 was working against DHC?

Anyway, keep up the writing, cuz it KICKS ***!
Click to expand...
 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
LMAO, I thought everyone had lost interest in this story. I'm still working on it, though, so don't worry. :)

Yes, the Foreword is part of the planned assassination. I figured I might as well give that away because it's so obvious. :p

And as for F8 and DHC...well...you'll just have to wait and see ;)

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
Three

​




1825 hours

04.30.2009

Central Intelligence Agency

Langley, Virginia, United States of America

​



“So tell me about the kidnapping.”

Director of Central Intelligence Leonard Jared was sitting at the end of a conference table. The others present at the table were high-ranking CIA officials, heads of various CIA departments, and personal hand-picked advisors. Jared had called a meeting to discuss the kidnapping of his fiancée, Kelsie Paldono.

“Apparently, three teams of DarkHorse operatives broke into her San Antonio, Texas residence and kidnapped her,“ Special Advisor Wayne Farren replied. “She was transported from there to an unknown location, and then to Dulles International Airport, where the strike team and Kelsie flew to Heathrow Airport in London. From there, they took another flight to Pulkovo in St. Petersburg. From there, they drove to Tomsk. **** of a drive, I’ll tell you that. I’m surprised DHC didn’t open the abandoned airport and use that. Probably couldn’t disable the plane’s tracking in time for takeoff. There was no sign of an electronics team at this kidnapping, so that’s how I would explain it.”

“Then explain to me, Mr. Farren, why I was able to call her and speak to her two days ago.”

Farren froze. He slowly turned and looked down the table.

“You didn’t…”

Dr. Zulo Hamil, the CIA Director of Chemical Engineering, looked up. His eyes were alert, and he was sweating profusely.

“Let me explain, sir-”

“You cloned my fiancée, didn’t you?”, Jared asked.

“We needed volunteers, sir! She volunteered! She filled out all the paperwork. I have it here, sir.” Hamil began rummaging through his suitcase in a panic.

“DOCTOR!”

Hamil jumped in his chair and stared at the Director. He gulped nervously.

“Sit still. You’re scaring the **** out of everyone in this room. I don’t care whether you cloned my fiancée or not. What I do want to know is how the **** she was kidnapped in the first place.”

Hamil shook his head fervently. “I can’t answer that, sir.”

“The **** you can’t.”

“He can’t, sir. That was my doing.”

Jared looked across the table in shock. “You let my fiancée get kidnapped?”

“It was bait, sir,” answered George Vardin, Director of International Counterintelligence. “We asked Dr. Hamil to ask your fiancée if she would be willing to subject herself to the beta phase of his technology. She agreed, she filled out all the necessary paperwork, and Dr. Hamil proceeded with the operation. We then took the clone and put her in a highly reachable location - her unlocked residence - and waited for DHC to kidnap her.”

“Why?”

“We’ve learned that DHC has plans for an operation to overtake and shut down FIREPAWN. We’re not sure what the plans are exactly, or who’s involved, but we believe the operation is being written up and experimented with at the abandoned airport in the Tomsk Oblast where F8 picked Kelsie up. The Counterintelligence Division has come up with over a billion computer generated scenarios for a F8 takeover by DHC, and only about 50 of those options are feasible. All 50 of those options include the usage of Kelsie.”

“To what end?”

“We believe, sir, that DHC knows of the CIA’s connection to FIREPAWN.”

Jared looked down at the table in silence. Vardin continued.

“The scenario we believe to be most likely is this. On May 5th, 2009, DarkHorse Corporation will execute a guerilla warfare style operation to bring all FIREPAWN operations to a complete standstill. At the same time…you and your fiancée will be assassinated at your wedding ceremony in Mexico.”

Jared’s eyes flickered in rage. “It’s not possible,” he snarled.

“We couldn’t figure out the idea behind an assassination either, until we realized that with FIREPAWN overrun and you dead, nobody will be able to stop DarkHorse. No military operation could be mobilized fast enough. We’ve tried every possible scenario, with every US military base in the world. If this does indeed go down the way we expect, there would be too much force for a single base to handle. Covert operations would be out of the question, for the same reason.”

Jared looked down at the floor for a minute. Then he returned his gaze to his advisors.

“Well…if DarkHorse knows who’s between us and FIREPAWN…I guess it’s time to bring them to service.”

***

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
1835 hours (EST)

04.30.2009

FIREPAWN World Headquarters

Antarctica

​



Jantil’s desk phone rang again.

Appearing fully agitated, Jantil snatched the receiver. “Who is it?…Oh…Sorry, Leo, didn’t know it was you…you what?…wait a second, Leo…alright…alright, hang on.”

Jantil activated the speakerphone and replaced the receiver. He looked up at the DHC and F8 agents at a standoff in his office. “Gentlemen…sit down.”

No one moved.

“That’s an ORDER!”

Everyone jumped at the sudden increased volume in Jantil’s voice. They slowly sat down in the nearest seats, weapons still drawn. Daggers were being thrown from eye to eye across the room.

“OK, Leo. I’ve got the members of BLOODHORSE here. I want to discuss this with them, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. They deserve input. They are the first line, after all.”

Omar looked at the phone with great suspicion. “Who is that?”

“Gentlemen of the BLOODHORSE project, I have here on the phone Leonard Jared, the Director of Central Intelligence, United States Department of Defense. Director Jared, I have here the…official…members of Operation BLOODHORSE. They are Double Agents Jonathan Markin, Anthony Dermitelli, and Nitro, and Special Agents Christian Sanders, Vadim Rachlav, Calvin Hutson, Darren Izon, and Manuel Omar.”

Izon bore an expression of shock on his face. He faced the three men in the DarkHorse uniforms. “You guys are double agents!?”

Markin slowly looked up. “Now that you’ve calmed down…I can easily say yes.” He quietly slid his Beretta inside his uniform. Dermitelli and Nitro followed suit, as did the FBI transfers.

Sanders winced as he shifted in his seat. “So let me get this straight. You guys,” motioning towards the DHC agents, “are moles in DarkHorse Corporation who actually work for FIREPAWN…right?”

Nitro nodded. “That is correct. We’ve been on the inside for several months now, and we’ve quickly risen to the top. We have access to Profenski whenever we desire.”

“What type of information have you extracted so far…comrades?“ Rachlav cautiously inquired.

“That’s what this conference call is for,” the speakerphone’s voice replied. “Apparently my fiancée was kidnapped by DHC, and I’m in the middle of a meeting discussing just that.”

Rachlav quickly jumped back in. “That’s what we came to Director Jantil about, Mr. Jared. Apparently…”

“…my wife spontaneously combusted while in F8 custody?” the voice replied.

Sanders raised his eyebrows. “That is correct, sir. May I ask how you know this?”

“I was just informed of it myself. Some others at this meeting can explain. Director Vardin?”

A different voice began speaking. “Members of BLOODHORSE, my name is George Vardin I am the Director of International Counterintelligence for the CIA. The reason Kelsie Paldono ‘spontaneously’ combusted while in transport to Antarctica can be traced to some recent intelligence my department has obtained.”

Jantil leaned forward in curiosity. “Continue, Director.”

“From what we understand, DHC is planning a two-fold operation in the Tomsk Oblast of the Russian Federation. One part of this operation consists of a complete takeover of FIREPAWN by DarkHorse Corporation. The other part is the assassination of the DCI and his fiancée at their wedding ceremony in Mexico on May 5th.”

“I understand the take over. Why the assassination?” Jantil asked.

“Profenski wants Kelsie killed because she dumped him in high school for now-Director Jared. Simple case of revenge. The DCI is different. If the DCI is assassinated, then only one person in the world would be able to stop DHC. And that person is, let‘s just say, on vacation.”

“You mean Xero,“ Sanders answered.

Jantil looked up at Sanders, perplexed. “Who’s Xero?”

“Yeah, I figured somebody would know who I was talking about. Xero was the lone product of the MKULTRA project, where the CIA attempted to create a ‘Manchurian Candidate’. The Agency actually succeeded, but nobody outside of my voice knows that. Anyone else who does know that is either dead at the hands of Xero or dead of old age.”

“So where is this Xero now?” Hutson asked.

“He left the CIA several years ago to establish his own espionage agency. That agency is known today as FIREPAWN.”

Dermitelli’s jaw dropped to the floor. “I thought George Timrison founded F8!”

“No. Xero founded F8. But F8 started to probe too deeply into DHC for Xero’s liking, so he left. He installed Timrison as the director and destroyed all records concerning his existence.”

“Where did he go then?”

“Nobody officially knows, but we think he relocated to Hawaii.”

Omar looked at the three DHC men. “Did you guys know about Xero?”

Markin shook his head. “Nope. Didn’t have a clue.”

“Only the CIA knew about Xero after he left F8. We kept it under wraps in case we ever needed his assistance again. We feel it’s time we call him into service again.”

“So what does any of this have to do with Kelsie’s…disappearance?” Jantil asked.

“That’s where the Chemical Engineering Department comes in. That director, Dr. Zulo Hamil, can elaborate.”

A third voice came on the speakerphone. “Director Jantil, members of BLOODHORSE, I am Dr. Zulo Hamil, CIA Director of Chemical Engineering. I am currently running an experiment concerning human cloning. My department has created cloning technology that, to the best of our testing results, can produce healthy clones of human beings. The source humans have never been affected in any way during our trials. During the beta testing of this technology, we were short on volunteers for testing and analysis. Director Vardin came to me and suggested that I employ the assistance of Kelsie Paldono; he said this would benefit both myself and him.”

Jantil stopped the doctor at this point. “Dr. Hamil, how would cloning the DCI’s fiancée help Director Vardin?”

Vardin himself jumped back into the conference call. “In order to find out just what was going on in the Tomsk, we felt it necessary to send in someone who would be above suspicion, yet highly useful to us, for surveillance purposes. The obvious choice was Kelsie. We asked her if she would agree to the experiment, she did so of her own decision, the doctor’s team cloned her, and kept her in a CIA safe house while her clone was sent back to San Antonio. We anonymously tipped off DarkHorse using their own radio frequencies, they kidnapped her, and took her to Tomsk. What they didn’t realize was that Kelsie’s ‘reading glasses’ were simply pieces of highly reflective plastic with a camera built into the bridge. We figured the best way to get surveillance into Tomsk was through the use of reading glasses. Kelsie doesn’t wear glasses at all, but DHC doesn’t know that. Now what we didn’t realize was that you guys were watching the Tomsk installation the whole time. You saw Kelsie was there, and you sent in a team to get her out. This is where Dr. Hamil comes back into the picture.”

Hamil took the hint. “One of the things my team discovered is that the cloning technology we invented could do more than just clone people. It can enhance humans in many ways. We can give people x-ray vision, superhuman strength, supersonic hearing, etc. One of the very useful things we found out, actually through experimental error, was that we can implant a time bomb into the clones so that, after a set amount of time, the clone will ‘spontaneously’ combust in such a fashion that there are not even any ashes to be found. We installed, in Kelsie’s clone, a 48-hour time bomb, thinking we would get a good eighteen to twenty-four hours of surveillance. Unfortunately, F8 picked her up before she ‘saw‘ anything useful, and she therefore combusted while on F8 transport to Antarctica.”

“So how does all of that relate to Xero?” Omar asked.

“I can answer that,” Rachlav replied. “When Xero founded FIREPAWN, he specifically stayed away from investigating DarkHorse Corporation. I don’t know why, and to my knowledge no one does. Some people began to suspect that Xero was a mole installed in FIREPAWN by DarkHorse, but that was never proven. When Xero found out just how far F8 was probing into DHC, he left. Then-Director of Special Services George Timrison was appointed to take over for Xero, under the condition that he never allowed F8 to investigate DarkHorse. Timrison agreed to this stipulation, but soon after Xero left, Timrison reneged on his promise, probably because he too did not want to be labeled as a DHC mole. Using F8’s resources, Timrison went after DHC like you wouldn’t believe. Timrison was convinced we would find all the answers to our questions about DarkHorse in Tomsk…and then he died. So, as it stands, Xero is invisible and out of contact, Timrison is dead, and DHC had, and probably still has, a mole in FIREPAWN. In short, we are in ‘deep ****‘, as the Americans would say.”

“All true,” Jared replied over the speakerphone. “And the biggest problem is that Xero holds all the answers now. We know Timrison is dead, but we’re not sure about Xero. We have to find him, and fast.”

“Agreed,” Jantil replied. “I’ll come with you, Jared. I’ll bring Sanders and Rachlav along as well, since they knew him best.”

Sanders snorted in humor. “Nobody knows Xero. We just worked for him.”

***

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
Unknown Time

Unknown Date

Hawaii

​



He sat in a pure white room, Indian style on the floor, completely silent. His eyes were closed and his hands were clasped together in his lap. Across the room, a huge picture of Erik Profenski was draped on the far wall.

There were bullet holes and slash marks all over the poster.

The man slowly opened his eyes and looked around. On the floor lay two silenced AMT Hardballers. He swiftly picked them up and put them into the holsters hidden deep inside his sport coat. He turned around and walked through the steel door behind him.

In this room, hundreds of different weapons were hung up on partitions placed in a symmetric hexagon shape throughout the room. In the center of the hexagon was a large table with a suitcase. The man walked up to the suitcase and looked inside. A silenced PGM .338 sniper rifle was stored in the case. The man smirked lightly as he closed and locked the suitcase. He picked it up off the table and strode to the other side of the room and went through another steel door.

The next room was his living quarters, approximately 50% the size of the room he had just left. On his bed lay a lock pick, binoculars, night vision goggles, and a USMC Ka-Bar military blade. He picked them all up and stowed them away inside his jacket. He then went over to his bedside table and picked up his ultimate weapon: a hand-selected, hand-cut piece of piano wire with customized handles on each end.

The premier weapon for strangulation.

The man’s smile grew wider as he hid the fibre wire inside his jacket to join the other tools of the trade. He then crossed the quarters to the door leading up to the surface. And he heard a knock on the door. The man froze.

“Xero, we know you’re in there. Open the door.”

The man slowly put his suitcase on the floor and pulled out his silenced Hardballers. “Who is it?”

“My name is Cray Jantil. I am the director of FIREPAWN. Also here is CIA Director Leonard Jared and two former subordinates of yours, Vadim Rachlav and Christian Sanders.”

Xero slowly put away one handgun and walked to the door. He quickly opened it and peeked his head around the edge of the door. “Any of you armed?”

“No. Are you?”

Xero opened the door fully. The four men walked inside and begin to inspect the quarters in a rather lax fasion. Xero slid his Hardballer back into his jacket; Sanders spotted him doing this.

“You’re acting a little paranoid, aren’t you, sir?”

“If you were running from Erik Profenski, you’d be paranoid too.”

Jared looked up in confusion. “Running from him? I thought you just got ****** at how Timrison was running things and left.”

“I did. I specifically ordered Timrison not to go poking around DarkHorse Corporation. He didn’t listen, so I left.”

“Why didn’t you just fire him, comrade?”, Rachlav asked. “Would have made things a lot easier.”

“I had to leave. Had I not, Profenski would have killed me.”

Jantil swiveled around to face Xero. “Killed you? Why?”

Xero smiled lightly as he moved his suitcase from the floor to the bed. He sat down and began his story.

“Long before any of you began working for your respective agencies, the CIA was working on the MKULTRA project. That needs no explaining, I’m sure. As far as history is concerned, the MKULTRA project failed. And it did. At least, for the CIA.

“The technology invented in the MKULTRA project was stolen from Langley by an incredibly ruthless and intelligent human being hellbent on creating an army of contract killers to carry out his own personal battles. That man goes by the name of Erik Profenski. However, he wasn’t able to obtain all of the data that the CIA had collected during its cloning and mind control experiments, so he had to start doing his own research. While he conducted his own experiments, he raised me. When I was eighteen years of age, he gave me the task of establishing a worldwide espionage agency. He didn’t tell me why, and I didn’t ask. I just did what I was told. And with that, FIREPAWN was born.

“Erik gave me specific instructions to ensure that no one working for FIREPAWN knew about the espionage organization he was starting: DarkHorse Corporation. He wanted me to be the only person at F8 to know about DHC. And I was. All of the evidence I had on DarkHorse was stored in my office, locked safely away where no one would find it. And for several years, things were just fine by both Erik’s standards and mine.

“Over time, however, I began to suspect that Erik was using me and FIREPAWN for some sort of personal revenge game, so I assigned some agents under my command to begin investigating various portions of DarkHorse operations. During a reconnaissance mission a few years back, unfortunately, one of the F8 teams was captured by DHC and executed. Naturally, Profenski figured out what was going on. A few days after the execution, my office was bombed.

“I don’t know how a bomb was placed in my office without my knowledge, but I do know the only way it would have been possible is through a mole in F8. Sadly, I was never able to identify the mole. I therefore, in the interest of international safety, pretended the mole did not exist. I ordered all F8 operations pertaining to DHC to cease immediately. All such operations did…except one. From my office computer, I was able to trace anonymous connections between F8 server computers and DHC security systems all around the world. They were apparently random, but they were still there, so I knew it was only a matter of time before Profenski came after me again.

“In light of all this, I decided to resign, and I selected North American Regional Director George Timrison to succeed me. He agreed not to pursue DHC ever again, with or without FIREPAWN resources, and I packed my bags and fled. I knew Profenski was coming after me, so I went far away. I came here…to Hawaii. I built this underground bunker on this uninhabited island, and I’ve been living here ever since…for five long years.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on Profenski for a while now. I have a great many bugs installed in his computer systems across the world; they were put there during F8 missions and never removed. Apparently, Profenski has had great interest in a woman by the name of Kelsie Paldono. I’ve been unable to determine who this woman is, and I have very little information on her to begin with. I suspect-”

Jared cut off the assassin. “Kelsie Paldono is my fiancée. Myself, Profenski, and Kelsie all went to high school together.” An almost saddened expression crept over his face. “Kelsie and I were high school sweethearts, and Profenski was the brain of the school. He had a crush on her, but she was already with me, so she refused him. Naturally, he graduated with a grudge.”

Xero stared down at the floor in shock. “That’s it…”

Jantil stepped forward. “Listen, Xero, we need your help. Profenski is planning to destroy FIREPAWN and assassinate Director Jared and his wife at their wedding, all on the fifth of May. We can’t hold up a defensive in Antarctica and put a strike team in Mexico at the same time. We need you to be in Mexico when Profenski’s team goes in to make their kill so-”

“Hold on a second!”, Xero exclaimed. “He’s planning to take over FIREPAWN?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Xero leaped off the bed and ran over to his computer. After some frantic typing, he sighed slowly. He sank down in the desk chair in defeat.

“Gentlemen…the MKULTRA project has succeeded. And this time, there will be more than one product.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m looking at an updated experiment log on the DHC Central Server. Says here ‘After all these years…it is finished. I have done what the CIA could never do. I will have my revenge.’”

Xero swiveled in his chair to face the other men. “You’re looking at an international crisis. My guess would be that Profenski has succeeded in creating his ‘army of assassins’, and is planning to use it first on FIREPAWN, and then the rest of the world. That only means one thing: a lot of clones will be coming to kill you and your wife next week. Profenski wants three things. One, take over the world. Two, erase all evidence of how it came about by destroying FIREPAWN. Three, kill his high school enemies. And he‘s going to do it all at once.”

The genetically engineered contract killer stood up and walked to the gun room door. On his way out, he added, “World War 3 is about to begin, guys. Lock and load.”

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
Four

​




Unknown Time

05.01.2009

Unknown Location

​



“Do they know you left?

“No. I was able to fake everything. They think I’m dead. It’s a nice cover.”

Erik Profenski sat quietly in his office, twiddling his thumbs. On the other side of his desk in an armchair sat George Timrison, former director of FIREPAWN.

“So who replaced you?”

“Guy by the name of Cray Jantil. Was director of the FBI before FIREPAWN elected him. That’s all I know. He has no connection to Xero whatsoever, from what I can detect, so that avenue should be free and clear for the moment.”

“This Cray Jantil might not know Xero, but some of your former subordinates worked under him as well.”

“True, but they don’t know where he is. No one does, remember?”

“We’re working on it, George. Be patient.”

Timrison began pacing the room in anxiety. “We have to get rid of Xero to guarantee a FIREPAWN take over. We have to find him now! The whole stability of this operation is contingent on-”

“George, shut up. We are working as fast as we can. We will find him, and we will kill him. Now sit down. You’re freaking me out.”

Timrison complied.

“You know, I had a dream recently…about this mission.”

“You did?”

“Yes. And it occurred exactly how I want it to be executed.”

“How did it work?”

Erik was silent for a moment. He then stood up and faced the DarkHorse banner behind him.

“It started with a bang…”

…the two men looked at each other again, and with a firm movement, Markin pressed the button on the detonator…

“And then they moved in, weapons drawn…”

…Markin and Dermitelli put all of their tools away and grabbed their rifles…

“Everyone was panicking, trying to get out…”

…the people in the audience were running around the room, screaming, looking for the nearest exit…

“But my men didn’t care. They just kept on going…”

…the two men walked as one down the aisle to the altar, weapons in hand…

“And when they reached the end of the aisle…”

…the two men silently took aim…

Suddenly, the office doors opened, and the “Trio of Terror”, as DarkHorse employees called them, entered the room. Upon seeing Profenski and an unknown man in a chair, they stopped.

“Are we interrupting something, sir?”, Dermitelli asked cautiously.

Profenski turned around in surprise. “Gentlemen! No, please, have a seat. I have someone here I’d like you to meet.”

Markin, Dermitelli, and Nitro sat down in the empty chairs beside Profenski’s desk. They looked at the other man, but they did not recognize him.

“Gentlemen, this is George Timrison, former director of FIREPAWN.”

Markin was shocked. “Wow! I knew we had a mole in FIREPAWN, but I wasn’t aware the mole was this high up!” He quickly rose from his chair and extended his hand to Timrison. “It’s an honor, sir.”

“Good to meet you, Markin. I’ve heard a lot about you. Same for your associates,” he added, motioning towards Nitro and Dermitelli. “I understand you three are a **** of a team.”

“We do our best, sir,” Markin replied.

Behind Markin’s back, Nitro looked at Dermitelli in confusion. Dermitelli reflected Nitro’s expression, for he had no explanation for what was taking place. Markin resumed his seat.

Profenski took hold of the conversation. “Alright, gentlemen. It’s time to start the planning phase. From what we know, the wedding is set to take place on the fifth of May in Saltillo, Mexico. Apparently, Director Jared wants to ensure that the ceremony is not only as glamorous and spectacular as he can make it, but also as secure and remote as humanly possible. Naturally, this is not possible.” A smile slithered across his face. “Director Jared will find himself a cornered man in a very dark world when FIREPAWN is put in a stranglehold.”

Erik Profenski, full of pride and determination, sat down at his desk and faced his top agents.

“Here’s the scenario I have selected.”

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
***

​




0920 hours (EST)

05.01.2009

FIREPAWN World Headquarters

Antarctica

​



A team of men, determined to change the world, returned to their home.

Xero, Jantil, Jared, and all the members of Operation BLOODHORSE, with the exception of Nitro, Dermitelli, and Markin, sat in a secure conference room discussing the counteroffensive options available to them.

“OK, guys,” Jantil said. “Priority one is defense of the HQ. If the HQ goes down, the counteroffensive in Mexico cannot be coordinated. So what are our options?”

After some awkward silence, Rachlav was the first to respond. “I suppose, my comrade, that it depends on what weapons are available to us…and to them. We don’t know what we’re facing here.”

Xero jumped in. “I can almost guarantee that HQ will be confronted by an army of clones, armed at the very least with MP5 submachine guns. Expect some to have sniper rifles, machine guns, and RPGs. You will need a lot of firepower to get rid of these guys.”

“How many assaulters can we expect, Xero?”, Jantil inquired.

“At least ten thousand. My bet’s on fifteen or more.”

Omar jumped in. “We’re going to need all the help we can get. F8 resources won’t be enough, sir.” He looked around the table at each man. “We have to bring in other agencies.”

“Like who?”

“All of our feeders. All of them. We need their guns, their men, their computers, everything. Like Xero said, this is World War III. And we all know Profenski’s got a couple of screws loose. We have to use EVERYTHING at our disposal. That means interagency cooperation.”

“I agree,” Hutson added. “FIREPAWN is a large, efficient agency, no doubt, but we simply cannot do this alone. We need help. Fast.”

Jantil looked at the floor for a few moments. After what seemed to be forever, he spoke. “Jared…what do you think?”

Jared smiled lightly. “I think I have the phone number of the Secretary of Defense.”

“Good. Use it.”

“No problem.” Jared stood up and left the room.

Jantil ran his hands through his hair. “Alright, everybody. Let’s do it. Get a hold of anybody and everybody you know at our feeder agencies. Get standard assault units, explosives, electronics, recon, stealth assault, anything you can get. Beta weapons, new field gear, everything. I don’t care what it costs, just get it all here. Now.”

Everyone stood up and filed out of the room. Xero, however, was still standing at the window.

“It won’t be enough.”

Xero pulled out a cell phone. “I need to go back to Hawaii. I forgot something there, and I need it now.”

***

0930 hours (EST)

05.01.2009

FIREPAWN World Headquarters

Antarctica

​



“Yes, I need a list of all rejected FIREPAWN applicants still employed by GIGN…”

“You mean to tell me that the largest counterintelligence agency in Germany doesn’t keep track of its top agents? Bullshit. I want to talk to your superior…”

“You should keep in mind that FIREPAWN helped create the ADR…so ADF owes us. This is your chance to pay your debts…”

“ASIO has some of the best agents in the world. Don’t you sit there and tell me that none of them are interested in working for FIREPAWN, that’s ****…”

“The FBI is one of the top feeders for F8! I know there’s people there looking for this type of operation! Now give me their ******* names!”

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
***

​




Unknown Time

05.01.2009

Unknown Location

​



Timrison sat back in his chair. “So let me get this straight. We send the clones out to Antarctica to level F8HQ, then we order our agents to Mexico to commence the assassination?”

“That is correct,” Profenski replied smoothly.

“I like it. What do you guys think?”

The Trio of Terror looked up as if they had been rudely awakened from an afternoon nap. “Yeah, sounds good to me. We can handle Mexico,” Dermitelli quickly answered.

“Excellent,” Profenski replied. “Alright, gentlemen, our job is done here. Go get some sleep or whatever. We will all need it.”

Timrison and the Trio stood up, saluted Profenski, and left the office.

“Where are you gentlemen headed?”, Timrison asked.

“Our weapons are in New York. We’re going to get them.”

“Sounds good. See you soon, soldiers.” Timrison, with a smile, turned and walked away.

“Let’s go,” Nitro snapped. “We got work to do.”

***

​




2040 hours

05.01.2009

Central Intelligence Agency

Langley, Virginia, United States of America

​



“Doctor, we need to recharge the chamber electrical systems. They’re expired.”

“Proceed.”

With the latest improvements on MKULTRA2 confirmed as complete, Dr. Zulo Hamil walked out of the laboratory and proceeded to a nearby bathroom. He waltzed into the first stall and shut the door behind him, but before he could begin to urinate…

“I hear MKULTRA2 is right on schedule.”

Hamil jumped in surprise and spun around. Standing behind him outside of the stall was Director Jared.

“Yes, sir…it is.”

“Need some test subjects?”

***

​




0500 hours

05.02.2009

New York City, New York, United States of America

​



Markin, Dermitelli, and Nitro briskly walked into the apartment. They each took their coats off and threw them on some nearby couches, then tossed their weapons on top of their coats. Markin proceeded to his room where the weapons safe was stored. Dermitelli wandered into the kitchen to find the highest-proof alcohol he could find. Nitro sat down in the living area and looked around. He noticed a piece of paper stuck to the TV screen. He went to retrieve it.

“Hey guys! Come take a look at this!”

Dermitelli, with an irritated expression on his face and a bottle of tequila in his hand, walked into the room. Markin followed suit with a WA2000 sniper rifle in his hands.

“What is it?”, Markin asked.

Nitro handed over the Post-It note for them to read.

“Jared and I have something up our sleeve. Come and see.


-Xero”

Nitro looked at his companions.

“Pack your tie-dye t-shirts, guys.”

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
***

​




1700 hours

05.02.2009

Hawaii

​



“Nice of you to join us. We figured you’d make it in time.”

Xero opened the door to his gun storage room, and the Trio of Terror walked inside. What they saw astounded them.

CIA Director of Chemical Engineering Zulo Hamil was running about the room frantically while some other white-clad lab workers were busy tweaking some large and very unfamiliar devices. In a large glass tube stood Kelsie Paldono. Director Jared was watching. Director Jantil was sitting at the center table eating a pizza. He looked up and smiled.

“Hfeymgbuyms,” Jantil yelled, his mouth full of food. “Gcommava suma, summapiza, thfisshitm isssgrate!”

Markin looked at Xero, confused. “What the **** did he say?”

Laughing, Xero replied, “I think he said, ‘Hey guys, come have some pizza, this **** is great!’”

“What is this, a party?”, Nitro snorted.

“Nope. It’s a cloning party,” the contract killer replied.

“Huh?”

The four men walked up to the table and grabbed some pizza. Suddenly, the lights began to flicker as huge bolts of electricity began flowing between the tube Kelsie was standing in and the empty tube next to hers. For several seconds, this continued, and then the room went completely dark.

“****,” Xero yelled. “Tripped the **** circuit breakers again!”

“I am sorry, sir,” Hamil replied. “There is nothing I can do.”

“No, it’s OK. Just make this **** fast so we don’t blow anything up here.”

Markin was still in a fog. “What’s going on here?”

“Well,” Director Jared, explained, “we figured that if the clone assault team won’t know who me and my wife are, why not stay at FIREPAWN? So we decided the best thing to do would be to send clones to Mexico. That way, if we get killed, we really don’t. And we can help you guys out during the counterassault.”

A wide smile appeared on Nitro’s face. “Whose idea was this?”

“Mine,” Xero shouted from across the room. “It’ll make my job in Mexico easier knowing that I have some collateral damage to work with.

“Don’t worry, Xero,” Jantil answered, his mouth now empty. “Your job will be even easier with Markin, Dermitelli, and Nitro there to help you.”

Dermitelli looked up. “I thought we were stationed at HQ.”

“We decided,” Jantil replied, “that it would be optimal for you to be in Mexico when the hit goes down. That way you can clean up the DHC team there so Xero can get the job done.”

“Point taken,” Markin answered.

“What about the FBI boys?”, Nitro asked.

“They will be leading the counteroffensive at F8HQ,” Jared replied. “Their expertise is best utilized on the battle field. Your expertise is best utilized in a dark staked-out cathedral.”

“Again, point taken,” Markin commented.

“Alright, Director,” Hamil announced. “You’re up.” As Hamil escorted Paldono and her clone to opposite ends of the room, Jared entered the same tube that his fiancée had occupied.”

“So what’s the plan? From top to bottom? I wanna hear our strategy.”

Xero returned from the circuit breakers. “OK. HQ will be manned with all of FIREPAWN’s assets. Guns, turrets, bombs, missiles, the whole nine yards. When they come in, a counteroffensive team will engage them, and the stationary assets on the building itself will go after the rear section of the clone army. With the KGB’s new bomb, it shouldn’t be that hard. This new bomb the Russians invented has the power and radius of a nuke, but not the radiation. The affected area is still habitable. Perfect for this type of operation. In Mexico, we will wait for the DHC strike team to move in, then you guys will silently dispatch all of them. I will then canvas the entire area surrounding the cathedral and dispatch all other DHC units.”

“Then what?”

“Then we go after DHC itself.”

“What’s the plan for that?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get there.”

Dermitelli spoke up. “Just so you all know, Timrison is alive. He was FIREPAWN’s mole. We walked in on a meeting between him and Profenski when we were in the Yukon. Their operation plan is actually quite simple: send out the clones and let them do their thing. I would assume that DHC knows everything about FIREPAWN up until Timrison’s disappearance. That includes all of our weapons and security technologies. Keep that in mind when you’re beefing up the fort.”

Director Jared stepped out of his tube. “OK, people, we’re done. Jantil, grab your pizza. Let’s go home.”

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
Five

​




2000 hours

05.04.2009

DarkHorse Corporation World Headquarters

Yukon Territory, Dominion of Canada

​



“Sir?”

A security officer stood in Erik Profenski’s office. Erik himself was standing next to the DarkHorse banner behind his desk, staring out the window into the wilderness.

“Sir?”

Profenski slowly turned around.

“Yes?”

“Tomsk is on line 3, sir.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

As the officer left, Profenski walked over to his desk and picked up his phone. He slowly selected line 3.

“Yes, George?”

“The clones are ready, sir.”

“Excellent. Wait four hours. Then move them to checkpoint one.”

“Yes, sir.”

Profenski hung up the phone. He stood still for a moment, then proceeded to open a desk drawer. Inside of it was a picture of Kelsie Paldono. He looked at it for several seconds, then closed the drawer. He picked up the two 9mm pistols on his desk and holstered them. He walked to the office door, and then turned around.

“Payback’s a *****, ain’t it?”

He smiled lightly, then walked out of the office.

***

​




1200 hours

05.04.2009

Tomsk, Tomsk Oblast, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

​



Twenty thousand men. Identical in appearance. Identical in strength. Identical in purpose.

“Alright, soldiers. Move out.”

As the clone army moved onto the cargo planes, George Timrison pulled out his cell phone and called his boss.

“We’re moving the army to checkpoint one now.”

“Excellent. Let me know when you get there.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

​




0714 hours

05.05.2009

Saltillo, Coahuila, Mexico

​



“What’s the word, Markin?”

“All ready for ya, buddy. Area’s clear. We put our weapons where we need them.”

“Good ****,” Xero replied happily. “I did a sweep outside, everything’s clear there.”

Nitro walked into the altar area. “OK, boys, cameras are in place and working. Dermitelli’s setting up all the computers for me in the van out back. The wedding people will be here soon, along with the dummy security team, so we gotta get out of here.”

“Sounds good,” Xero answered. “Let’s get out of here.”

The three men walked out of the altar area into a back hallway, and from there outside to a small alley. At the other end of the alley was a residential street. Nitro’s solid black van was parked just a few meters away from the alley entrance. The men jumped inside, where they saw Dermitelli plugging in numerous laptops and monitors, as well as tape backup drives and external hard drives.

“Hey, guys. Just about done here. The spare weapons are in those duffle bags over there if you want to load them or whatever.” He pointed towards the back of the van, where five black duffle bags lay open. Markin walked over to the bags and began to load all the weapons, while Nitro sat down and began booting up and configuring each computer in the van. Xero began to assist Markin.

“How many guns do we have here?”

“I counted 42 pistols, 25 SMGs, 9 sniper rifles, 8 shotguns, 6 M60s, 2 Miniguns, and a partridge in a pear tree,” Dermitelli replied. He looked over at Xero and smirked. “But I could be wrong.”

Xero shook his head. “***.”

Dermitelli started laughing. “Hey, I’m just telling you what I know.”

“OK, all the systems are up. Let’s go get some food. I’m hungry.”

“Agreed,” Markin stated. “We can’t fight a war on an empty stomach. At least, I can’t.”

“Let’s go,” Xero ordered.

***

​




0814 hours (EST)

05.05.2009

FIREPAWN World Headquarters

Antarctica

​



One word described F8HQ on May 5th, 2009: chaos.

Security and construction personnel ran about the corridors, checking every wall, door, camera, and security checkpoint in the complex. Assault agents were busy transporting turrets and machine guns onto the outer balconies of the building. Russian KGB transfers were frantically setting up the bombs sent over to FIREPAWN at the order of the Kremlin. Special ops were in the underground shooting ranges with their pistols and sniper rifles, making sure they wouldn’t miss a single shot. Veteran recon agents were running through multiple training sessions with no breaks to ensure that they would be undetectable under the surface of the ice where the army would land.

And FIREPAWN Director Cray Jantil was staring out the window of his office into the Antarctic tundra. Hutson, Izon, and Omar stepped off the elevator into the office.

“Sir, all the preparations are complete. All recon and assault units are running through the training areas. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be, sir,” Huston reported.

“Alright,’ Jantil replied slowly.

The three elite soldiers began to leave.

“One more thing, gentlemen…”

The soldiers turned around.

“Pray.”

***

​




0000 hours

05.05.2009

Al-Massira Airport, Agadir, Al Maghrib (Morocco)

​



“Sir?”, Timrison said into his phone. “We have reached checkpoint one. Refueling is in process. We will be in Antarctica as soon as possible.”

“Excellent. Continue as ordered.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

​




1200 hours

05.05.2009

Saltillo, Coahuila, Mexico

​



A black Lincoln Continental rolled slowly down the street and stopped in front of a cathedral. The man inside hung up his cell phone and slowly pulled out a 9mm pistol. He proceeded to screw a silencer onto the barrel. The man set the pistol on the seat next to him and looked at his watch. He then reclined his seat, locked the doors, turned the engine off, turned on the air conditioning, and fell asleep.

***

​




1630 hours

​



The bells began to ring.

“The DHC agents are in the cathedral. They just breached the inner zone,” Nitro reported.

“Alright. Let’s move out.”

John R. Markin and Anthony E. Dermitelli grabbed their weapons and exited the van.

“Guys…”

They turned around and saw Xero standing somewhat upright in the van.

“Good luck.”

The two soldiers nodded and quickly ran down the alley to the cathedral’s back door.

“OK. Got the mirror stick?”

“Yeah.”

Dermitelli pulled out a long black rod and pointed it towards the door. Markin opened the door for him and Dermitelli began waving the rod around the doorway.

“Clear.”

Markin pulled up his M4A1 and entered the cathedral. Dermitelli followed with a SPAS12. The men looked down both sides of the hallway and nodded to each other.

“I’ll take the west side. Meet you at the front entrance.”

“Sounds good.”

The two men took off down the hallway.

***

​




1730 hours (EST)

05.05.2009

Antarctica

​



“Director Profenski, this is Agent Timrison. We have arrived at checkpoint two. The cargo planes have been unloaded and the army is ready.”

“Proceed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Timrison hung up his phone and put it away. He grabbed his M60 and turned to face the clone army.

“Soldiers! MOVE OUT!”

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
***

​




1655 hours

05.05.2009

Saltillo, Coahuila, Mexico

​



Dermitelli holstered his SPAS12 and pulled out a directional microphone. He opened the door leading to the southwestern stairs and snuck all the way up to the 2nd floor balcony. He carefully placed the microphone on the balcony and pointed it towards the altar. He then pulled out a silenced 9mm pistol. One by one, Dermitelli snuck along the east side of the 2nd floor, executing each DHC sniper one by one. It was difficult because he had to hide from view of the eastern snipers, while killing each sniper and NOT alerting all the other snipers. He was slowed considerably.

“I hate these *******,” Dermitelli snarled.

***

​



The cathedral was silent.

Silence was something he was quite familiar with. He had lived in it most of his life. He had lived in silence in his childhood, shrinking away from the more social kindergarteners. He had lived in silence in his teenage years, attempting to establish friendships in high school and then being forced to destroy them. And now, John Markin stood in silence behind the closed doors to the altar area.

Two security guards lay on the floor, unconscious, their pistols untouched in their holsters. An empty canister of halothane agent was on the floor between them, along with two needles of sodium pentobarbital. Markin checked to make sure that the stairway access door he had used was completely shut and locked, and then pulled out a Desert Eagle. Markin loaded the gun, placed it on the floor next to the door, pulled out another Deagle and loaded it, and placed it on the other side of the door. He then retrieved his M4A1 and slung it over his shoulder. He reached into his jacket and took out a DHC radio.

“Markin to base, Markin to base, over.”

“We read you, Markin. Go ahead.” The voice of Erik Profenski made Markin wince.

“Code 5. Entry point secured. Permission to proceed.”

“Granted.”

Markin placed the radio back into his jacket and grabbed a C4 charge from his inner pocket. He placed it on the door and began to wire it.

“Done yet?”

Markin whirled around, MP5 in hand. Behind him he saw his associate, Anthony Dermitelli.

“You piece of ****,” Markin whispered. Don’t scare me like that when I’m ******’ with C4.”

Dermitelli laughed. “Like I could scare you enough to blow both of us up with C4. Listen. The ceremony is not exactly on time.”

“They’re behind schedule? That works for me.”

“I said they’re not on time. I didn’t say they were behind.”

“****.”

Dermitelli grabbed a SPAS12 shotgun from behind his back and tossed it onto the floor. He then pulled out a FIREPAWN radio. “**** is right. Get that charge fixed up, now.”

Markin quickly returned to the door and finished connecting the C4 to the wireless receiver. Meanwhile, Dermitelli turned on his radio.

“Nitro, this is D. We’re ready to blow the top off. Stand by.“

“Roger that,“ Nitro replied from the van outside. “I’ll be watching the thermal satellite.“

Dermitelli quickly put his radio away. The two men entered the access door Dermitelli had used and hid under the bottom of the staircase, facing away from the door.

Dermitelli put his SPAS12 on the floor and grabbed his DHC radio. “D to base, D to base, over.”

“We read you, Dermitelli. Go ahead.”

“The water is hot. Permission to boil.”

“Granted.”

The two men looked at each other and made a decisive nod. Markin pulled out the detonator while Dermitelli turned on the speaker for his microphone planted in the balcony.

“…and through the power vested in me by…”

Dermitelli almost dropped his speaker. “****!!! They’re almost done. Boil it, Markin!”

“Roger that.”

Markin hit the switch on the detonator and the light went red. The two men looked at each other again, and with a firm movement, Markin pressed the button on the detonator.

The access door was blown off its hinges as the C4 exploded. A fireball erupted in the main hallway of the cathedral and the path to the altar was clear, even with all the smoke and dust now flying about the area.

“I read you guys,” Nitro yelled into the radio. “Thermal satellite just went crazy. Radio loss for the next 60 seconds due to extreme heat. Good luck.”

Markin and Dermitelli put all of their tools away and grabbed their rifles. They quickly went through the doorway where the access door once stood and entered the now flaming doorway to the altar room.

The people in the audience were running around the room, screaming, looking for the nearest exit. Smoke was beginning to fill the room as the C4’s explosion had lit the cathedral’s wooden walls on fire. The two men walked as one down the aisle to the altar, weapons in hand.

The bride and groom were uselessly hiding under the altar itself, which was nothing more than a fancy table that both of the men could easily see under. The men checked to ensure their guns were fully loaded and stood side by side in front of the altar.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” Markin yelled above the noise.

“You son of a *****,” Kelsie Paldono screamed. “You’ll never get away with this! Never!”

“That’s what we were told five years ago, honey. Look at us now,” snarled Dermitelli. “The best of the best, we are. Can’t say the same for you, can we?”

“You’re just jealous you couldn’t have her!”, yelled CIA Director Jared. “And now you’ve taken it to the extreme because you can’t handle that fact!”

“Please!”, Markin snorted. “We know **** well who the jealous one here is, and it isn’t either of us. Get your **** straight next time. Maybe it‘ll save you.”

The two men silently took aim…

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
***

​




1755 hours

05.05.2009

Central Intelligence Agency

Langley, Virginia, United States of America

​



Dr. Zulo Hamil looked at the monitor displaying the carnage in Mexico. He then stared at his watch.

He turned to face one of his subordinates.

“Get ready. It’s almost time.”

***

​




1755 hours (EST)

05.05.2009

FIREPAWN World Headquarters

Antarctica

​



“ATTACK!”

The clone army rushed forward, armed to the teeth. FIREPAWN was the first to open fire.

F8 Director Cray Jantil stood on a balcony next to a machine gunner with a Blaser R93 sniper rifle. He was picking off various clones that came into his scope. Calvin Hutson ran up next to him with an M16 and opened fire in the same direction.

Many clones fell to their death in the snow. But many more continued to run up and take their spots.

The fight seemed inevitable.

***

​




1659 hours

05.05.2009

Saltillo, Coahuila, Mexico

​



The cathedral was silent. Again.

“D…go put that fire out.”

Markin walked up to the bride and groom.

“You guys OK?

“Yeah,” Jared replied. “Nice job, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

At the other end of the cathedral, Dermitelli was busy putting out the C4 fire with a fire extinguisher. It was easily accomplished and he rejoined Markin at the altar.

“Ready?”, Dermitelli asked.

“Let’s do it.”

Dermitelli pulled out yet another radio.

“Hit it.”

***

​




1800 hours

04.30.2009

Central Intelligence Agency

Langley, Virginia, United States of America

​



“Roger that.”

Dr. Zulo Hamil walked over to a computer stationed between two large glass tubes and began typing. He stopped and turned to his associate.

“On my count. 3...2...1...0.”

Hamil pressed the ENTER key.

***

​




1700 hours

05.05.2009

Saltillo, Coahuila, Mexico

​



CIA Director Leonard Jared and his fiancée, Kelsie Paldono, suddenly burst into flames. Markin and Dermitelli simply watched. The two lovers were reduced to ashes.

“I know they were clones, but that was ******’ hard to watch,” Dermitelli choked.

“I hear you.”

Dermitelli regained his composure and grabbed his FIREPAWN radio. “This is Dermitelli. Code 3. The area is clear. We’ll be in the balcony.”

The two soldiers nodded to each other, then turned away from the altar and ran up the southern staircases to the 2nd floor balconies. They assumed sniper positions with their weapons and began their wait.

***

​



The man in the Continental woke up with a start. An alarm was going off on his cell phone. He quickly looked at it. Shocked, he dropped it and opened his laptop to find that his targets had somehow dissipated into thin air.

In a rage, he scrambled to the back of the SUV, grabbed all of his silenced weapons, hid them inside his jacket, and exited the vehicle. He began walking towards the cathedral.

***

​




1800 hours (EST)

05.05.2009

FIREPAWN World Headquarters

Antarctica

​



Director Jantil ducked again as MP5 bullets came flying towards him. He heard a bomb blast off again and quickly plugged his ears. Even with them plugged, he still heard loud and clear the detonation of the KGB-donated radiation-less nukes slamming into the Antarctic ice. The numbers of the clone army were dwindling, but far from zero. Jantil looked at his weapon in anger.

“I need more ammo! Cover me, Hutson!”

 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
***

​




1701 hours

05.05.2009

Saltillo, Coahuila, Mexico

​



DarkHorse Corporation Director Erik Profenski ran into the cathedral. He stopped at the sight of the two unconscious security guards and the two Desert Eagles lying on the floor. He quickly grabbed them and ran into the altar area.

It was dark. All the lights in the area were off. The only light source was the set of candles on the altar. Noticing a suitcase sitting on the altar table, Erik quickly approached the altar. And then he froze in his tracks.

A man in a black suit appeared from the shadows. He was holding a USMC Ka-Bar military blade in one hand and a silenced AMT Hardballer in the other.

“You son of a *****. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I am dead,” the man replied. “At least, I will be after you are. Because after you‘re dead, I will remain invisible. No one will know I exist.”

“You wouldn’t be here unless FIREPAWN brought you out of retirement. Someone knows you’re alive. Then again, after my army steamrolls FIREPAWN, I guess you will be invisible, right?”

“Doubtful.”

The man pulled out a radio and turned it on.

“Hutson? What’s your status?”

“They’re gone! All of them! Those KGB bombs were a lifesaver, man! I ******* love the Russians!”

“Roger that.” The man turned the radio off and dropped it on the floor.

“Guess your experiments ****** up a little bit, huh?”

“It’s not like you’re perfect, either.”

“Never said I was, jackass. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Whatever. All I know is I’m here to get some revenge and you won‘t stop me.”

Profenski aimed the Desert Eagles at the man and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

The man’s body suddenly burst into flames. The weapons he was holding ignited as well. Profenski dropped the Deagles and backed away from the flaming body in horror.

“What the fu-”

A shiny piece of piano wire came over the top of Profenski’s head and proceeded to pull on his neck. Profenski fought long and hard, but his fate was sealed. His trachea was crushed and he fell to the floor. He died within seconds of lack of oxygen.

Another man stepped into the light.

“Code xero. Target has been eliminated. I repeat, code xero, target eliminated. Mission complete.”

“Roger that,” answered the voice of Director Jantil. “Good work, Xero, good work. How about you and the boys come on home?”

“10/4.”

Xero put away his radio and his fibre wire as Markin and Dermitelli ran down the stairs to join him at the altar.

“Good man, Xero. You got the job done. I didn’t doubt you for a second,” Markin acknowledged.

“It’s what I do for a living. I have to be good at it or else I’ll get killed.”

Dermitelli laughed. “Let’s get the **** out of here.”

Markin and Dermitelli picked up Profenski’s body as Xero retrieved his suitcase. The three men exited the cathedral, threw the body into the back of the van, climbed inside, and drove off into the distance.

***

​




1805 hours (EST)

05.05.2009

FIREPAWN World Headquarters

Antarctica

​



Never had the employees of FIREPAWN been so happy.

Hoots and hollers of joy echoed throughout the halls. Soldiers fired their guns off in celebration of their victory. It was a good day.

“Roger that,” said Director Jantil. “Good work, Xero, good work. How about you and the boys come on home?”

“10/4,” Xero’s voice replied over the radio.

Jantil set the radio down on his desk and threw himself into the chair. He looked out the window and smiled. Another day’s work finished.

The desk phone rang. Jantil swiveled around and picked it up.

“Director Jantil speaking.”

“Profenski may be dead…but I’m not.”

Click.

TO BE CONTINUED…

​


 
D

DJ BloodFrost

New member
And just so everyone knows...this is the end of Code Xero, but not of the end of the story.

Watch for the next installment...you'll know it when you see it. ;)

 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom