Mission: Extermination: Division of Special Abilities, #3

By Stefania Gil

On an ordinary morning, several New York schools are seized by the same group that, years earlier, blew up a shopping mall in New Orleans on the busiest day of the year. The lives of hundreds of children are in danger. Many of them are different; monsters whom Dominic Lane wants to destroy.

He has felt a profound hate towards ‘different’ humans since Skylar left him to take the blame for his best friend’s murder.

He’s not going to let the FBI continue with their foolish plan of recruiting those monsters and helping them live with their differences, using them to, according to them, do good in society.

He knows there’s no good in those things.

And he’s convinced the government will give in to his demands allowing him to carry out his plan of extermination.

Starting with the monster he has within his reach: Agent-in-training Madison Sullivan.

Will he achieve his goal?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stefania Gil
• Release date: Apr 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781071595121

Book preview

Ability is what you’re capable of doing.

Motivation determines what you do.

Attitude determines how well you do it.

— Lou Holtz —

Chapter 1

Madison felt dizzy.

She didn’t understand any of what was happening.

She heard voices she didn’t recognize, metallic sounds, and felt sharp movements like she was in the back of a truck.

She tried to lift her head; she couldn’t. She wanted to speak but couldn’t. Something was stopping her.

The rest of her body seemed not to respond at all to the orders she was giving it.

What was going on? Where was she?

Images of memories passed so quickly through her brain, and everything was so confusing that she couldn’t understand anything she was seeing.

She was overwhelmed by a deep lethargy that not only prevented her from moving, but also prevented her from retaining memories, even just for a moment to let her clarify the situation and understand where she was.

The shaking of her body caused by the movement of the vehicle, stopped.

Loud thuds were heard. A mechanism was activated.

It sounded like the mechanical gear of a heavy door.

She heard more metallic noises, but this time very close to her.

And suddenly, she was blinded by a light. She understood then that she’d had her head covered and that was why she hadn’t been able to see anything.

The light didn’t help now either because her pupils felt betrayed by the rapid change.

Reality was added to the maelstrom of images going through her mind, making everything sway inside her.

Her body was like a boat, drifting.

She kept her eyes closed.

Her mouth was dry.

Her tongue seemed to weigh a ton.

So did her limbs.

She heard chains and felt movement in the vehicle again but not because it was moving. No, it was the rocking that someone big and heavy sets off when they get inside a car.

Her body responded in surprise to the rocking.

She opened her eyes again and blinked a couple of times before realizing that her head was hanging.

The images in her memory continued to overwhelm her, trying to get her attention.

It was impossible for her to focus on even one.

She couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t find a way of grabbing hold of one.

A tingling began to run through her body.

She tried to speak, then realized she couldn’t open her mouth.

It was the first time that she noticed it hurt to try.

She couldn’t lift her head all at once because that also hurt like hell, but if Madison Sullivan had one quality, it was that she didn’t give up so easily. So, very slowly and as carefully as the lethargy invading her body allowed, she started to raise her head.

She blinked several times; she still couldn’t see anything. The damn, blinding light was in front of her, making it impossible for her to see the people behind it.

She turned her head to the left and there was only darkness.

She saw the same to the right.

Her body was beginning to wake up. The tiredness was disappearing, together with the constant tingling that had overcome her.

On instinct, she moved her right leg and her heart stopped as intuition told her that nothing she was discovering was right.

The feeling spread through her chest as she become aware that she was hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, inside a box covered with black fabric.

A container?

She remained calm, trying to find a logical explanation for her situation.

This could not be a drill because the alarm that had caused her to leave Quantico had been real; she had seen it, and Dakota had talked to her about what they would do once they arrived in New York.

Her confused mind presented her with a memory that made it clear this situation was not a drill. She remembered the car in which she and Nell Jenkins had been traveling to the airport, where the Federal Agency jet was waiting to fly them to New York.

She started to hyperventilate because she felt panic take over on finally seeing the images stuck in her head clearly; and she wished she could go back to the state of lethargy because now they were sowing an unknown terror inside of her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; she wanted, no, rather needed to find calm to be able to think clearly.

The image of Nell, her face covered in blood, unconscious, after the car they had been traveling in overturned, completely took her breath away.

She felt like she was suffocating.

It’s time, she’s starting to remember what happened to her. And with my message she’ll convey the panic that I want others to feel, Dominic Lane snapped his fingers and his colleagues nodded, turning on the camera and activating the system to transmit a message —live— to the whole country.

Chapter 2

Mark was doing administration work at the police station when the phones began to ring in desperation and his colleagues started running to answer them.

His suspicions that something serious had happened were confirmed when he saw the Captain put his hand to his forehead as he spoke to someone on the phone inside his office.

The eyes of the man who had a lot more experience in the field than Mark, were dull and filled with worry.

He looked at the clock.

11.00 A.M.

The TV screens installed at strategic points inside the station began to show images of several city schools under threat of bombs, shooters or something else.

Mark frowned.

The Captain rushed out of the office.

Terrorists?

We don’t know yet but we think they’re from the group of white supremacists that attacked a mall in New Orleans a year ago.

Mark shook his head, feeling his chest contract as he thought about how evil human beings could be under the guise of supposedly making a better world; when in fact, it was them the planet needed to be rid of.

That’s why he was here, along with the rest of the state security forces who would enter into action and finish these jerks, putting them where nature intended: prison.

Megan.

He ran to the phone to call the school where his little girl was supposed to be in class. Luckily, it wasn’t one of those under threat. However, he ordered the school’s administration to send the children home immediately and close the center.

He did the same with the other schools that were off the radar.

It was better to take precautions.

Captain Henderson couldn’t disguise the rage that consumed him.

As a sixty-year-old, African American man, he had surely received a lot of abuse for the color of his skin. It was the first time that Mark had seen him so saddened, much more than when he spoke of the tragedy that had occurred in the great attack on the city’s financial center several years ago, in which many of his colleagues had died in the line of duty.

Will the FBI let us assist?

Yes. I’ve just received the call and other stations are also being called to serve as support. The shots on the TV showed a helicopter flying over the schools on half the screen while the other half was split in two again, allowing the news anchor to be seen in the studio talking to the correspondents on the scene.

Mark looked over at Madison’s desk, now occupied by Ross, his new colleague since Madison had left the station and transferred to Quantico for FBI training.

He was so proud of her.

She only had a couple of weeks left there and when she returned, they would finally start organizing everything for the wedding.

Ross, Henderson addressed the young man. You’re in charge of the team I’m leaving here to provide support; uniforms will go and give support in situ and we have to get to the FBI offices. Special Agent Grant and the head of the Counter Terrorism Unit are waiting for us.

Dakota? Mark was surprised at the mention of the girl because her Division had nothing to do with terrorists although she could be very helpful on the case.

Henderson nodded.

They’ve been trying to catch these bastards for months without results and the FBI want to use all their actives now. They’re also transferring Madison.

Mark felt his heart leap, despite all the stress and the bad timing, the excitement at seeing Madison that day and working with her again filled him with strength, showing him that there had always been a ray of hope amid all the darkness in the world.

Madison and Megan were those rays of light for him.

They’re also looking for Jack and Zac.

Mark nodded again. It made sense, those three worked as a unit.

The detective took his jacket and put it on, checking his weapon and his badge.

Everything was in its place.

Ready when you are, sir.

Henderson nodded and moved towards the door with Mark following behind.

Before they left, the Captain’s secretary handed them each a folder with detailed information about the terrorists involved and the schools under threat.

It was a long list, Mark quickly noticed. They would not be able to assess every center.

Intuition told him that not everyone faced a real threat.

If they did, that meant a lot of money in explosives and weapons had to have changed hands and these groups usually only dealt with small trafficking operations, so many of these schools had to be decoys. But of course, they were difficult to identify.

We’re going to need all the help available. It’s too much.

The Captain nodded, deeply worried.

All stations are in the loop; the Feds are commanding the whole operation with other security agencies. The Bomb Squad, SWAT team, and their counterparts within the Federal Agency are evaluating their options. We’ll know more when we get to the FBI.

The got into the patrol car, turned on the siren and set off.

The New York FBI building was barely ten minutes away by car and in the patrol car everything was much easier because they were in emergency mode so other cars gave them a clear path.

They entered the building quickly, parking the car in the first available space, grateful that Dakota had expedited their authorization minutes earlier, as it wasn’t easy to enter a Federal building without permission.

Just as they walked through the glass door from the parking lot and were about to take the elevator to the meeting place, their cell phones, and those of all the people around them, began to ping with notifications that didn’t bode well.

That mass reception of messages could only mean more bad news.

Mark felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

Henderson received a call.

Henderson, he responded, normally. Meanwhile, Mark took out his cell phone and prepared himself to read the news that would be soul destroying for any human: thousands of children dead in a terrorist attack.

What? Mark raised his head hearing the change in the Captain’s voice; at the same time he unlocked his cell and managed to tap on the notification he had received. It was a video.

Henderson moved next to him in order to see the screen as he watched worriedly.

It was transmitting live, which Mark knew had to be worse than images of a recent attack would be.

The connection took a few seconds to come through and load. Once it did, Mark just began to feel himself fading as he realized that Madison, his Madison, the woman he loved madly, filled the whole screen; hanging from the ceiling, her hands and feet bound.

Hurt and terrified.

Chapter 3

Dominic Lane read the script he’d written for his masterpiece.

Humanity needs to perfect itself. We can’t go on crossing genes, weakening the race, and worse still, creating monsters, he paused, remembering the loss that had affected him in every sense since he was a teenager. The tragedy that had led him to become the leader of a community seeking an even more extensive cleansing than that propagated by the Nazis in their day. "We know that there are genetic monsters mixing with us, and we know very well that the government invests time, research, money and all kinds of resources to bring together these freaks of humanity and train them for their own purposes. What happened in New Orleans will soon be in the past because we will mark a new day that people will not be able to forget and that will force all those monsters living among us, representing a danger, into the light. The authorities are looking to take advantage of what they call abilities, he snorted, looking at Madison hanging. They’re trying to make a space for them. However, the only space they should occupy is underground, rotting like the trash they are. This woman you see here is just an example of what the government is trying to do with these despicable beings who kill and then are unable to take responsibility for their actions. They recruit them, train them, and turn them out onto the street, ready to fulfil disgusting missions. It’s not robots and machines we should be afraid of. No. They’re already among us, they’re freaks of nature that should be exterminated before they exterminate the rest of us. Or use us ‘inferior beings’ as slaves. They’re still the minority and we can fight them, he paused strategically because he knew it would generate absolute tension in those on the other side of the screen. Our demand is very simple. We request the identities of these freaks that have already been signed up by the FBI and we will need buses to transport them to concentration camps. Likewise, we request that the authorities give us free access to roads and facilitate the process of this dirty job that we’re willing to do for you. He paused again. We don’t want a massacre. But if our demands aren’t met in twenty-four hours, you’ll be witness, live and worldwide, to how willing we’re to keep our promise by making all these kids, freaks or not, pay the price."

Dominic stopped talking and the camera switched off.

We’re doing great, said his second-in-command. The social networks are really firing up with this. How do you want me to get the information out of her? He asked, nodding towards the woman who was hanging inside the truck that had brought her to the hideout.

Everyone was silent as Dominic watched Madison twist in her bindings, trying to find a way to break free.

I’ll do it, but not now. We’ll give her another dose and take her to the cell. When she wakes up in a couple of hours, we’ll do the first round of questioning and later, we’ll see how it goes.

He gave a satisfied sigh because everything was going according to his plan.

His second-in-command, Clayton Johnson —CJ to members of the group— took out a syringe filled with a potent sedative and headed for Madison. She struggled, and despite his distance, Dominic could see the terror in her eyes.

It was good she felt that way because her future would not be the one she had dreamed of from that moment on.

CJ asked another member for help getting her down from there.

Renee watched the scene in anger.

Dominic took her by the waist and gave her a kiss that spoke of the sexual urgency he felt although they both knew nothing more than that intense kiss would happen. As worked up as they were getting, it wasn’t time for anything more.

We have to follow the plan, don’t forget, he whispered, looking into her