Toka-Ace: Toka-Ace, #1

By Tahir Kashif

Assassinations, stealth, and infiltration. That is the mantra of Unit Nine.

There is nobody deadlier, more dangerous and better at what he does. But when he's assigned to recover a missing bioweapon and hundreds of millions in stolen money, even the deadliest warrior of all is caught off guard.

He never expected the mystery would him face to face with his past mistakes and force him to make a pivotal choice!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tahir Kashif
• Release date: May 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393183808

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

A traitor by the name of Waylon had escaped. He had erased all physical and electronic evidence of himself in the hopes of not being found and used the dead of night to enact his scheme. His motives were unclear.

What was known was that he had siphoned a large amount of money and valuable secrets from August-Mason Contracting International.

The traitor’s actions marked him for death.

Unit Nine had been chosen to kill the man.

Whenever a mission involved a numbered unit, there was a handler sent out with them to make sure everything went smoothly. In an emergency, the handler served to bring the Unit to heel if they got unruly. Unit Nine was among the best that August-Mason Contracting International had to offer.

Sean had sent Unit Nine to go ahead of him.

Nine’s ability to cover vast amounts of ground was sure to come in handy here. That left Sean alone in the car, driving down a dark forgotten stretch of highway. The night was an endless black abyss, save for the small stretch of road that his headlights allowed him to see. The woods on either side of the road seemed to go on forever.

I found him. Nine’s voice came through the earpiece.

Sean was relieved. The matter was as good as settled. The mission was as good as done. But Sean knew that he couldn’t get ahead of himself. Where are they? He asked.

A small wooden cabin deep in the woods, about ten miles from where you are now. Nine answered. You’d never see it from the highway. The only road that leads to the building itself is a dirt road only wide enough for one car. Even if you got close, the entrance is cloaked by trees. You would have to know exactly where you were going to get here.

Ten miles? Thought Sean. If the target left right now, then he would have to play catch up. Unit Nine, I am authorizing you to go ahead with the mission. Lethal force is okay, understand? Kill the target quickly and quietly. Bring back any documentation on his person back to headquarters. Those were the orders from his handler.

The orders became the unwavering focus of Unit Nine’s mind.

Unit Nine was silent as he flew through the night sky. The product of cutting-edge science and a lifetime of training, Unit Nine was a living weapon. He was smart, driven, relentless, and armed with a multitude of ways to kill. He had been developed in absolute secrecy.

Unit Nine had grey skin. A featureless face save for two glowing white eyes. His hair was long, straight, and silvery-white, reaching just below his shoulders. He had a white martial arts Gi. The sleeves were short, ending at his elbow. The ends of the sleeves had a grey flame pattern going all the way around. A similar grey flame pattern went all the way around his torso. A black sash adorned his waist. His pant legs were grey with a white flame pattern going around just above the knee. His forearms and shins were wrapped by black wrapping.

His most striking feature was his tail. It was long, one and a half times the length of his body. It was a deep black with the end of the tail being sharp.

He was able to fire bursts of electricity, emit shockwaves from his body, the strongest of which could blow open the hull of a ship. He could fly, merge with shadows, instantly manifest weapons into his hands, and could slightly morph his hands and feet so that they became claws strong enough to pierce solid concrete. His eyes could adjust to see in darkness.

Unit Nine circled above the office. He could see them, but they were oblivious to his presence. The two men posted at the front and the two at the back were armed with assault rifles and wore bulletproof vests.

It seemed as though Waylon was taking no chances with his safety.

Even though they weren’t the main target, they could be a potential problem. The rounded tips of Nine’s fingers became sharp and hard enough to pierce steel. He dove. The ground rushed up at him. The wind rushed by as he dove. At the last moment, he extended his fingers. Nine descended on the man like a hawk killing its prey.

The impact of the attack dropped the man to the ground. Nine drove his sharpened nails into the man’s neck. The man was dead before he knew what hit him.

Before the second guard could so much as let out a surprised cry, Nine whipped his tail, the bladed edge sliced the man’s throat.

The man’s eyes were held open in horror, he feebly reached for his throat as he fell first to his knees and then face down in the dirt. Blood pooled underneath the bodies.

Now for the two in front. Nine silently made his way around the front of the building. He peeked around the corner and spotted the two guards in front, illuminated by the porchlight.

Nine fired a blast of electricity catching one of the men completely off guard. He was knocked off his feet and lay on the ground unconscious.

Holy shit! Exclaimed the other guard.

The other guard turned his rifle towards where the blast had come from. He saw nothing but a sheet of blackness beyond the illuminated area.

He kept his rifle ready, looking around panicked, he saw nothing. The only sounds were the animals of the forest and his hurried breathing.

The man went back to his friend and knelt beside the man to check on him. He pressed the call button on the walkie talkie clipped to his shoulder.

He couldn’t have hoped to notice that Nine was emerging from the shadows behind him. A sword manifested in his hands. In a quick motion, he thrust the sword through the base of the man’s neck before he could alert anyone to his presence.

With the guards dead the target had no hope of escape or rescue. To be sure, Nine used bursts of electricity to blow the wheels off the vehicles parked upfront.

There was only one thing left to do.

By the drastically small chance that a person stumbled onto this cabin and opened the door, they would only have seen an ordinary, almost bare, cabin. A bed, a refrigerator, and a table were the only things in the room. The room was lit by a single handheld lantern that sat on the table.

On the right, in the corner furthest from the door, a section of the floor had been pulled up.

A staircase led to the basement.

Nine could hear movement coming from below. He descended the staircase as quietly as possible.

The downstairs had several rows of shelves. All of them were stuffed with books and files. The shelves occupied half of the space in the basement and the rows between the shelves were only wide enough for one person to go through at a time.

The ceiling was low, giving a very compact feel to the space.

From the looks of it, a good deal of care was taken in crafting the basement. Pattern carpeting and white ceiling tile, Waylon must have spent a great deal of time here.

Unit Nine progressed through the basement, making his way to the source of the papers shuffling and boxes being shifted around.

Nine came to the end of the rows of shelves and saw a large desk and computer.

At that desk was Waylon.

He was a brown-haired man. He had a wide mouth and weak chin surrounded by stubble. His back was turned as he worked frantically to stuff papers into boxes.

Waylon. Nine said.

Waylon stopped and turned. I thought I had more time. I know what this is, the company sent you to kill me. Unit Nine, I know you have your orders but please listen to me, I am not the bad guy the company wants you to think I am. What I’m doing is in both our best interests.

Unit Nine used his powers and manifested a gun into his hand. He aimed the gun and prepared to execute the traitor.

Waylon took a deep breath. He knew his fate. Please, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m trying to help you.

Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!

Four shots. In the center of the forehead, the throat, the heart, and the stomach.

Waylon