HOMELAND CONSPIRACY: BOOK 2 OF THE DARK STALKER JOURNALS

By BYRON N MORRISON

Among the ranks, the secrecy of the Dark Stalker's main communications hub, CONTROL, has had its trustworthiness brought into question as troops are sent to Max Jordan's home in search of a witness who knows about the high corruption within the preternatural World Government. Meanwhile, the same World Gov

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Regency Publishers, US
• Release date: Sep 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781959434337

Book preview

Introduction

SIN, Secret Information Negotiations, is an extremist group who feel society tolerates too much wickedness and has insufficient punishments, if at all. They’ve made themselves the self-appointed sentries of good. They believe evil should be destroyed, not locked away to fester like a virus and mutate into a worse evil. In their early days they were only spies, collecting information and manipulating people, groups, or organizations toward the eradication of the ruthless. Later in their dealings, possibly during the Nazi reign, SIN took a more active role.

Hitler’s assassin was said to be given orders directly from SIN. Henceforth they began employing assassins and mercenaries to carry out the elimination of evil. A new trend of participation found its way into SIN’s ranks. And once they got a taste of what they themselves could do, unaided, their actions only escalated, evident by their employment of preternatural beings. SIN’s long-time existence, their earlier fact-finding tours and their concealed existence allowed them to gain access and infiltrate almost every institution.

Over the years, some of SIN’s members have seen their ideologies as extreme and cruel. Different organizations were formed from the former members, two of them being the Dark Stalkers and SWARM, the former being more lenient with pronouncing someone or something as evil. Two others were the Techno Wizards, a smaller group, only a few dozen, and the Biomages, also numbering a score or two.

The former is a small group who delve into the pursuit of technology to destroy evil. They see all out-worldly beings and powers as evil. Techno Wizards usually only defended themselves against preternatural beings. They very rarely have any unprovoked offensive attacks against them. The BIOMAGES, actually a splinter of the Techno Wizards, see preternaturals as threats and have developed their biosciences to combat them. But due to their small number, there has been no way to strike out at the perceived evils roaming the world. Currently, SWARM and the Dark Stalkers have become major powers among the secret societies.

Trevor, have you been able to secure the specimens we need?

No High Cleric. My activities brought unwanted attention.

Do you not know how to deal with those who show this ‘attention’?

Yes, High Cleric, I do. Unfortunately, the attention is at the very location in which I seek the specimen. If any of them become suspicious they will all be lost to us. We do need them alive, do we not?

A short pause fell into the conversation. The air in the room stopped, not a single flow of air was felt by the large blocky man. And a tingle raised the hair on the man’s skin.

The High Cleric’s answer is short. Yes.

What would you have me do High Cleric? Trevor asks.

Again, a pause fills the conversation. It seems to the large blocky man that hours pass instead of only a few moments.

Superintendent Michael Trevor, you are not in contact with the Knights of the House of Grim? The High Cleric asked the question.

Yes, High Cleric, but I dare not use them. They are warriors, not assassins. They kill just as easily but they will bring more attention and make the situation… awkward. Trevor was steady and calm outwardly though anticipation moistened his palms with sweat and set the pulse in his neck racing.

You are correct. They have their place. The High Cleric sat in the shadows at the opposite side of the room. Within the shadows, the image, barely distinguishable, raised his finger to his lips in thought. After a few seconds the High Cleric put his hand back on the table and begin his instructions.

You Trevor are now permitted to bond the life force of Smith, the former Commander to the Knights of the House of Black Blood. The High Cleric paused again but only for a second or two; a new idea crossed his mind.

Trevor, you are also permitted to bond Simpson, the former Commander of the Knights of the House of Silent Bleeding. Now go and make your arrangements. Bring success back to me, or… The High Cleric allowed the words to trail off. Trevor already knew exactly what would happen if he failed. Death would be a welcomed friend though it wouldn’t happen. There are worst things than death, much worse.

The hour was ten in the evening. It would be a long drive to Smith’s home, so it would most definitely be a long night for Trevor. He was lost in thought, plans for the near future, as I moved down the corridor. Simpson’s office at the end of the walkway. Trevor raised his hand to knock but paused. Something about the door was odd. Taking a pen out of his pocket, Trevor rapped on the thick oak door to avoid touching the damage field surrounding it which would, at best, have stunned the large blocky man. Whoever set this trap was not much more than a talented novice to do such a poor job. Although Simpson was very talented, he was not on par with Trevor.

A voice came from inside the room.

Come in. Whatever was done to the door dissipated, Trevor entered.

Superintendent Simpson. Trevor tilted his head slightly, never taking his eyes off Simpson.

Superintendent Trevor. To what honor do I owe this visit? Simpson had a knowing look on his face.

I need your Element of Power. Let’s not make this anymore complicated than necessary.

Neither man made a move toward each other.

You know the ceremony that is attached to the transfer of Power, don’t you? Simpson only moved his mouth as he speaks, never even blinking.

I was hoping we could avoid that process, says Trevor. And you would hand the Power over to me.

Simpson slowly shakes his head. It doesn’t work that way, Trevor. If I take yours, I get the assignment.

You have very little chance of defeating me. If you do, you will have the full instructions given to me, although, I’m not sure you would want this assignment. Trevor explains.

I will take on any responsibility you take on, Superintendent. He purposely left ‘Trevor’ off to show his equality of rank. Trevor I merely tilted his head in a slight bow.

Shall we adjourn to the ritual place of The Challenge? With that Trevor turns to the door. A vacuum of energy is pulled toward Simpson and then a release of something fills the room with a feeling of feathers brushing against the naked skin. Turning, Trevor had enough time to raise my hand in a ceremonial gesture, as an orb of blue light strikes his protective Psy shield. The orb reflects back to Simpson, striking him mid-chest. Simpson’s body becomes rigid before going limp, with only his eyes moving.

I see, I said. You chose the Challenge of the Duelist instead the Challenge of Battle. Most of the honorable challengers announce the Duelist Challenge. You’re the first to show any backbone and ingenuity and for that I praise you, but… My hand begins to glow, a glow void of color. It was a glow of actual black light causing the features of my hand to look like the negative of a picture. The dark was deep and rich with tendrils of darkness slithering outwardly towards Simpson. Trevor’s lips curl into an evil smile.

Unfortunately, since you were unwilling to give me the Power and Knowledge, I will have to take it. Trevor says.

Simpson couldn’t move due to his own Spell of Binding. He couldn’t question how a psy shield reflects the mystical bolt of binding. His binding was so complete only his eyes could show the question, wonderment, and the terror he feels. He knew what the dark tendrils were going to do, he knew the pain and he knew the torture. He could do nothing but watch as his life essence is ripped from his body.

______

As Trevor exited the office building, the rain sweeps across the parking lot. The wind helps the sheets of rain become waves of rainfall racing across the lot. Three black Cadillac sedans screeched to a halt in the parking lot.

It appears you’ve found out who else I am to visit this night and alerted him. A look of disgust takes over Trevor’s face. And it appears Superintendent Smith is trying to circumvent the rules of the Challenge by sending hit men before I get a chance to challenge him, very well.

Bullet casings drop to the ground of the parking lot as metal projectiles issue forth towards the blocky man. With the wave of his hand, the bullets were stopped in mid-flight, spilling to the ground at Trevor’s feet. The tires of the first two Cadillacs begin to squeal and smoke in an effort to escape. The first car was crushed by an unseen force, first the two ends of the car folded in on itself, and then rolled toward each other like a scroll. A ball of junk metal, along with the driver and passengers inside, crashed to the asphalt road. The second, flattened into a foot thick, fifteen-foot-long piece of scrap metal, leaving only the third car to contend with.

The driver got out as along with three passengers, all carrying automatic weapons save the driver. Bullet cases rained down almost as plentiful as the actual raindrops from the dark, cloud laden sky. The bullets drop harmlessly at Trevor’s feet. Once the guns were empty the men are forced back and held to the car, all except for the driver who walks toward Trevor.

Sir, I alerted you as soon as I got the call about your impending assassination. Said the driver.

You did well Hector. Where is Smith now? Trevor asked.

He’s waiting at home. We are to call him when you are dead. Hector said.

Good, very good. Make the call. Hector turned to walk back to the car when one of his coworkers reacts to the conversation.

Hector! You traitor! You sold us out you fuckin’ bastard! The man pulled out a Browning and levels it at Hector’s back. Before the gun could be fired the man’s arm snaps at the elbow.

Now I can’t have you killing my operatives, can I? Trevor spoke without turning my attention to the gunman. Trevor begins shattering the man’s limbs at the joints, kneecaps, elbow, and jaw. His hips imploded, sending the gunman to the ground wracked in searing pain. Trevor then turns to the other two gunmen. Gunman number one he crushed as if he were an empty milk carton, discarded by a giant, invisible hand. The second drops to his knees and begins begging for his life.

So, you want me to spare you? Trevor asked the gunman who was nodding furiously to Trevor’s question. What do you have to offer me?

The gunman started rattling off his credentials. I’m good with a gun. I’m can muscle people. I’m a good burglar. I can spy on Superintendent Smith for you…

I need no guns, I have hired muscle, I don’t need burglars, Superintendent Smith will not be anyone’s problem in about two hours, and I don’t trust anyone who turns his loyalties to another so easily. So, I don’t need you. With that being said the third of the three gunmen is pulled to his feet by some unseen force, crushed vertically and then horizontally, after which his remains are dropped to the ground, nothing but a bloody pile of remains.

The call is made sir. He’s resting at home for the evening. Shall I drive you there now sir? Hector showed little emotion on his face. Only a slight look of distain crossed his face when he saw the two bloody heaps of flesh and the bloody pile of gore.

Not yet. I need to eat first. Is there an all-night diner anywhere around here? Trevor shoos away some of the bullets at his feet with the tip of his black, polished wingtips.

Yes sir. Denny’s is just down the road.

That will be fine. A quick bite and then I will visit Smith. Trevor carefully steps over the heaps of flesh and enter the backseat of the Cadillac.

After the meal Hector drives forty-five minutes before entering Lancaster, to the home Smith owned. It is very well kept, with not even a blade of grass out of place. Hedges, lawn, trees, and bushes all finely manicured to add to the elegance of the home. Smith’s home being light and dark grey stoneface with slate stone plates used as the walkway. The lamps at the porch were elegantly designed, but, no doubt, housing surveillance equipment.

Trevor forces the door open with a telekinetic blast, a Psy Push, and then walks into the vestibule, the hardwood floor reverberating his footsteps. Trevor doesn’t try to stifle the noise. He knows he is not alone, and it is a surety his presence had been detected at his bold entrance. After several steps into the main room the air begins to warm, as a voice boomed throughout the large front room.

So, I see Hector lied to me, or his phone call was premature. The voice says.

The voice was so loud, powerful, and sudden it startled Trevor a little, though he does not let it show.

Hector still lives. He waits outside, for me to finish my business with you. Trevor says.

The warm air became warmer as a rush of air pulled the front door closed, after which an explosion from the driveway quaked the room.

Hector no longer waits for you, the booming voice says.

You owe me a car Superintendent Smith. The voice begins to laugh before speaking.

I owe you a car? The voice mocks. No remorse for Hector? You are the callous one Trevor.

Trevor’s eyebrows dipped. I had the good manner to address you by your title sir. I expect the same in return.

Yes, you are right Superintendent Trevor. This thing is not personal. It is business. Says the voice from nowhere and everywhere.

Being that this is business, can we get to it? You know why I’m here. Show yourself and let us be done with it. There is a moment’s pause before the reply comes.

Yes Superintendent, I know why you are here. And the business at hand should be handled now, although, showing myself is not part of the plan. Part of my ability is cloaking. The rules of engagement states once the challenge is accepted, any and all of the combatants’ abilities maybe used. Once I acknowledged my knowing your reason for being here and stated the need to attend to it, the challenge was accepted. It so happened when it was accepted one of my powers had been active. Simply put, you have allowed me to start this challenge with an advantage. Thank you, Superintendent. Smith’s voice had a ring of taunt at the last.

As you wish. Trevor curses himself for not considering the situation.

A second later Trevor sidesteps a shaft of orange/red light, which strikes a glass cabinet filled with ornaments. The bolt merely sparkles against the glass cabinet and evaporates into mist; a spell meant to immobilize or maim, not destroy. Trevor takes cover behind a couch to his right.

You disappoint me Superintendent. I expected more from you than this. I have heard and witnessed the strength of your psy power. Smith’s voice chides. I am as powerful as you. I am more experienced. I do not fear you as you thought I would. I do not want your assignment, nor do I want my life essence imprisoned, therefore I sent a squad of hit men to end this. Now I must battle you and accept your foul assignment. I shall take my chance with the assignment, but not in your imprisoning of my essence in hopes one day you will release it.

The air begins to stir with a slight breeze, a wind rises until books and paintings are pulled from shelves and walls. Gale force winds whip through the room destroying everything not firmly anchored. Suddenly, the winds die, not slowing, just a dead stop of air movement. Papers float to the floor as autumn leaves descending from tree branches. Everything falls silent. Trevor abruptly stands to throw fireballs in every direction. The massive living room is engulfed in flames until an invisible force pats them out.

Is this how it is, Trevor? Smith is angered his belongings were being destroyed. Trevor knows Superintendent Smith is materialistic and only agreed to combat within his home because he believed his advantage would end this conflict quickly. Trevor used the destruction of property to bring Smith out and make his control slip.

You would destroy my home in a vain attempt to find me? I’ve worked hard for all I’ve earned, and you do this? I’ll rip you apart! Smith roars.

Something very solid but invisible struck the blocky man’s psy shield. He lowered its power enough for the strike to affect me and was flung back to the wall. Wood dust and splinters erupted into the air. Trevor thought he may have dropped too much of his shield. His knees impact the floor after bouncing from the wall. His head begins to swim with his breath fleeing from him.

Through pain, he speaks. Is that all you have to offer Smith? My shield will absorb that and more. Baiting him brings a response. An unseen force suddenly slams Trevor to the floor and back into the wall.

Let’s see how much your shield can absorb Superintendent Trevor! Smith says.

The assault begins. Trevor is whipped from one wall to the other. He is slammed from ceiling to the floor, resembling a rag doll on the end of an invisible string. Bruises begin appearing on Trevor’s face, and his suit becomes tattered from the abuse. Trevor is pummeled until blood finally flows from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears. A cut, fairly deep, just above his left eye, sends blood streaming down his face like red tears. He pulls himself to his knees.

"This is it, Trevor. You are done. Leave now or I will finish you. You’ve been beaten." Still the voice comes from everywhere and nowhere. Trevor pushes to his feet, wiping the blood from his eye, and straightening his torn suit jacket. An evil smile curls the blocky man’s lips.

On the contrary, Trevor says. I will not leave. But I will finish this. A sudden rush of air whisks through the room and stops. The very air begins to tremble.

Mr. Smith. Hear the sound of your demise. Sounds like those of a thousand shrieks fill the air, as did a wave of demon enhanced Psy power. The power explodes out from Trevor so violently the building shakes and the air compressed.

Smith finally appears. His body bouncing from the furthest eastern wall. The force of the released power is too much for Smith to shield. Wood, pages, and plaster burst into the air with Smith’s body being hurled into the bookcase. The slender man falls to the floor, immobilized. Several vertebrae were crushed along with badly bruised ribs and a split femur. If and when Smith is released from his imprisonment, the body he returns to will be a badly broken one.

While Smith lay on the carpeted floor, his body twitches intermittently before falling completely still. It was difficult to see but the downed man still breathed, he was still alive.

Trevor regained his composure, straightening his ribboned suit jacket as he walks to his downed opponent. The amount of power Trevor focused surprised even him, but he chose not to show it while standing over Smith. A few moments with thoughts of disgust, Trevor kicked Smith over to his back, so his face was in plain view. Trevor squatted and looked down into the eyes of his adversary, and the gaze was returned but with terror. This gives Trevor satisfaction to his admitted sadistic passion.

You may have been correct. You may have been as powerful as I, once. But I have grown in both power and skill. Your attacks… your attacks, I allowed to breach my defensives. I had to so you would reveal yourself. Well, it wasn’t only for you to reveal yourself. I do so enjoy pain, giving it and receiving it. You could have fled in mid-battle, being invisible. I would not have attained your life essence. I had to allow you to believe you could defeat me. If you were truly wise you would have known you could never achieve that goal. I admit I released more power than I intended, but the pain was so exhilarating. Trevor says with an almost gleeful voice. I didn’t mean to harm your physical body in this way, but you will not need it in this or any other future.

Trevor’s hand begins to glow with the intensity of a hundred suns, if the suns were Black Holes. It was as black as the open space minus the stars. Black tendrils whip at Smith as he lay prone. Smith’s eyes are the way the man could express his fear, which he used to their fullest extent. His eyes showed lots of white as they shot back and forth fiercely. Then, the whites of his eyes were gone, being consumed, pupil and all, by the blackness of the tendrils.

You stood before me as a coward, Smith. You could not show your face to me. It was a very good advantage, but it ruined you in the end. It gave you a false sense of security, a false sense of power. Did you not realize? I can strike out at that which I cannot see. Now, if you please, prepare to have your life essence ripped from your body.

The intensity of power used is so great it tears a scream from the immobilized throat of Mr. Smith. The lights in the house begin to flicker over the next few seconds with a steady rise of a wind in the room. The indication that Trevor was drawing from his demonic power to inflict more pain than necessary. Arcs of black light jumped throughout the room, enhancing shadows of this intermittently, darkened room. The air ionizes and the room is electrified, a crescendo of whipping wind sent the room into chaos. Debris, wood, books, and paper are cycloned through the air with its vortex being the only two men present. Black lightning strikes randomly throughout the area. Suddenly, the flickering of lights halts, the gale force winds still, the negative light stops. The room becomes completely dark. The normal lights that were not damaged lit as if nothing had occurred. Smith’s body was sprawled out on the floor in a vegetative state. Trevor stands over the body with an evil grin on his face and a black stone in his extended hand.

Hector walked through the front door with a freshly pressed black suit draped over his arm and a pair of shoes in hand. Hector hands Trevor the shirt, suit, tie, and shoes, ignoring the complete mess of the room. Hector clasps his hand behind his back waiting for further instruction.

Chapter 1

The smell of the air was a mixture of smoke from the burning fires in and around the building, tear gas which the SWAT team tried shooting into the building, spent ammunition, flash grenades, and a hint of natural gas which could prove dangerous. The entire block resembled a war zone. The local and state police were keeping the perimeter and Federal agents along with SWAT had been attempting to infiltrate the Courthouse in the center of Wilmington, Delaware. The authorities were in place waiting for this attack because of an anonymous tip, only taken seriously because of the prior cities, Pottsville, Lebanon, and Lancaster, which were hit at the same time of day. The anonymous tip was more of a puzzle than a solid lead, both Wilmington, DE and Newark, NJ were targets mentioned. This time we guessed correctly.

Along the front of the bank were cars in flames after being bombarded by police weapons’ fire, and the retaliation of the terrorists who answered back against the local, state, and Federal law enforcement. The air was thick with smoke and fumes. Fire and explosions with screams of pain, death and dying carried on the breeze. Bodies, whole and partial were being collected from the grizzly scene of this battlefield, all being recorded by the local news. We may have had this problem remedied if the information would’ve gotten to us sooner, but the local law received the tip and when they needed help, they called the stated police who then called the FBI. All that manpower drew the attention to the correct people who then contacted us, finally. The only good thing from all this mess is most of the terrorists were contained within the building though several managed to slip away, according to reports, down into the sewers.

The ST-51 aircraft hovered above the building as my team repelled down to the roof. Dax set charges on the hinges and the latch of the door then moved to the side of the entranceway. The man was one of the most knowledgeable nerds I’ve ever known, and very adept with his placement of the explosives, using the right amount to take down the door but minimize the destruction behind it.

A muffled explosion simultaneously accompanied each hinge and door latch as they burst into red hot shards of metal and sparks allowing quick removal of the heavy, metal door. Switch then went to work and dropped a spell of Temporary Silence around our group along with a spell of Blending to ensure a stealthy entrance into the Court House. He had to drop the spells around us because those spells would’ve concealed everyone but me. Spells and ‘magic’ are disrupted if it is used directly on me. Each spell only took a second to initiate. Both sent chills up my spine since I feel any significant flows of out worldly energy.

My DS2, Khay, moved with the grace of an angry jungle cat as I watched her stalk down the stairs into the darkness moments before the rest of us followed; at my height of 5’8 ½ I loom over her 5’ 1 frame. And though her skin was fairer than my dark brown skin, when the Blending spell took effect, it rendered her virtually invisible whereas the rest of the team were more cloaked from any prying eyes outside of the circle. We maintained radio silence with the only communication happening after clearing a level. My team and I were thoroughly briefed on the layout of the building and were prepared well to take these guys down with minimal effort, so we thought. If all had gone to plan these terrorists wouldn’t know what hit them. But of course, there was always a catch.

We were a Dark Stalker strike team. I was designated Dark Stalker Omega. We wouldn’t have been called in unless these terrorists were more than the ordinary thieving, murderous scum on a power trip or planning to ransom hostages’ lives for a million billion dollars. Showing up on our radar, these guys must be some bad mothers who didn’t care who knew about mystical beings. Without any fear of taking lives or losing their own, they had little to no regard to the destruction of property. In other words, they must be preternatural beings.

We rotated through point position, moving counterclockwise as each area was cleared. The plan was to move down where the renegades were believed to be located. The upper floors were smoky though the fires hadn’t reached our area. I slipped on my mask to filter the toxic air as my teammates had already done. Our Dark Vision goggles employ ultraviolet technology to see through the darkness and smoke blanketing the rooms. Although I was anxious to engage, I wished I knew what flavor of preternatural beings we were going to face.

As we moved further into the building and the smoke grew thicker, even with the goggles, visibility became difficult. I thought to tell Switch to create some kind of vacuum air spell, but it would give away our position if the terrorists were watching. Sooner or later, we would run into the bad guys and I’d rather we surprise them then they surprise us. I shook the thought from my mind and continued sweeping the area for signs of the enemy. It didn’t take long to make first contact with them.

Two red dots appeared on my chest. It caused all the adrenaline in my system to spike my heart rate, tense my muscles and heightened my senses. It was then I witnessed bullets traveling faster than the speed of sound. I watched two metal projectiles racing towards me with the ignited flames still bright in their wake. Something clicks into gear when my adrenaline spiked, as it had since my young teenage years to keep me from fatal harm. I’m still not sure if I shifted into a sort of hyper state of existence or if everything around me slows. One thing was certain, I was watching bullets move towards me when they should have already hit my vest.

As soon as I moved out of harm’s way everything resumed its normality. The bullets imbedded into the wall behind me, the sound of gunfire sounded, and my team scrambled to take out the primary target. A secondary target presented itself in the form of an acrobatic leaping from wall to desk, desk to ceiling, and ceiling to floor, firing a large caliber weapon throughout the journey. I touched my earpiece.

DS2, handle Tango 1. DS3, find Tango 2. DS2, dps! The spell of Blending was dispelled under preplanned orders, the weapon fire would alert the other terrorists. It allowed me to get a glimpse of Khay, my DS2, sparkling before switching into her onyx form. She matched the acrobatic terrorist even while dodging his gunfire. She lashed out with her own weapon, a long whip-like silver cord, taking the weapon out of her assailant’s hand.

Switch and I were moving into the next area as I watched Dax, my DS3 use a telekinetic push to drive the now visible form of the second target into, and nearly through, a cement wall. Dax was a strong psy, telekinetic, but not highly skilled so when he focused on a target, they usually got hurt badly. This second target must have been a psy. A witch using a spell would still be invisible, but a psy, as shown, would need to maintain a measure of concentration or lose their invisibility.

The next area had an elevator with a stairwell to the right of it, I cleared it and Switch went through. As I followed Switch, something slammed into the wall behind me. It was the body of Khay’s target sliding down the wall. She finished him off with a knife to the throat. It was a lycan, the killing blow would only be a killing blow if her weapon was mystical or silver. She stayed in her onyx form and followed me into the stairwell with Dax covering her transition.

We still weren’t sure how many terrorists remained. The FEDs best guess was twenty or so, including those who escaped. For unknown reasons, most of them had been congregated on the tenth floor, our target area. In addition, it was peculiar we hadn’t run into any more resistance on our way down to the tenth floor which was fine by me.

Switch moved through the tenth-floor door when someone called out, Agents! ‘Agents’? What, do they think this is a movie? Everyone scattered while the blazing of heavy weapons’ fire lit the thickly smoked room. Khay dove into the center of the corridor brandishing heavy throwing knives. She sent them flying in every direction. Moments later the only weapon fire was from Switch or Dax, for some reason I hadn’t opened fire. My Precognition unconsciously informed me it would be over in moments. I still don’t have control with it.

What just happened? I could barely see through the black smoke, and the only sound I heard was the noise from the streets outside.

I think she killed the bad guys. Switch’s voice was muffled from his mask but the contempt in his voice was still obvious. His opinion of Khay was one of mistrust.

DS3, I said through my mask. Why did you kill them all? We need to find out what the hell they were looking for.

I watched Khay, she was little more than a five-foot tall figure, nearly invisible with the smoky backdrop. She walked into the toxic clouds, becoming totally invisible. It seemed I’d spoken too soon hearing a commotion from a downed opponent. There was a coughing fit, and then some grunting and complaining.

Still invisible to our eyes, a man’s voice called out, Get your filthy hands off me! Within a second or two of that, Khay walked out of the smoke, no longer in her dark form, and deposited a dark clothed, helmeted man at my feet. The man couldn’t stand if he wanted because of the heavy silver knife embedded deep enough in his spine to paralyze him from the waist down.

This one is not dead… by choice. She was flat with her statement, not angry, not anything, just flat and emotionless.

Uhm, ok. Thank you. I turned away and tapped my earpiece. Home Base, main objective achieved. Tenth floor taken, send in the sweeper team. One hostile taken.

Good job Omega, confirm hostile an innocent or preter then return. Sending DS sweeper team now. Answered the voice from the comm.

Copy that Base. The annoying static sound crackled in the earpiece when Home Base signed off. You heard Control. Take the helmet off this clown.

Go to hell, damned Agents. I don’t have the information you’re looking for so piss off. We just covered the captain’s escape. This guy must have been new; running his mouth and giving us intelligence without even asking.

Ok buddy, Dax, be ready to fry his brain. Khay, will you please take off his helmet so we can hear what he has to say a little better. I said.

NO! But it was too late. Khay had the helmet pulled above his chin when a small charge exploded inside the helmet. My team hovered as smoke rolled from underneath the terrorist’s helmet. His body slumped and fell as his helmet splashed brain matter to the floor when Khay dropped it to the ground.

These were my new boots. Khay complained in a monotone voice while staring down. Brain matter splashed on her boots as the victim’s open skull hit the floor.

Way to go Max. What’s up with that fancy super danger sense of yours? Switch was teasing but I should’ve been more careful. He is 6’8", about a foot taller than me. I hate looking up to him just to tell him to shut up but…

Stuff it Switch. Khay, I don’t suppose you left any other terrorists alive? She shrugged her shoulders. No, I didn’t think so. Omega to Base, we lost our guy. His gear was rigged.

Not good Omega. There was a brief pause in the transmission before a further reply came back introduced by the annoying crackle. The Pentagon reps want you personally to bring in the body. Get that body back here by order of Representative Douglas.

Yeah, I figured that, Omega out. Omegas, stay with the Sweepers, make sure this place is clear. I have a date with Mr. Sally and his jackass partner. I’ll take this body with me.

______

Back at the Home Base I was met by a severely irritated Pentagon representative, Almanzo Douglas, along with his calmer and sedate senior partner Nick Sally. Mr. Sally strolled towards me while his counterpart stalked toward me like a bulldog foaming at the mouth and teeth bare. I’ve known Mr. Sally for only a few months, he’s proven himself to be a fair and thoughtful man, knowing when to speak, when to keep his mouth closed, and when to walk away. His partner has shown himself to be boisterous and a bully on a power trip.

How the hell did you lose the only survivor of that raid? Douglas was coming dangerously close to being within striking distance especially with him spitting the shit he’s talking.

The vics helmet was rigged with a small explosive... I tried to explain calmly.

You damn slacker, we can’t trust you to get anything done without screwing everything up. You’re like a bull in a fine China shop. He yelled.

Hey Douglas… I said.

What? He answered aggressively.

Why don’t you sit down and have a tall glass of Shut-the-fuck-up.

That’s enough gentlemen. Mr. Sally kept a calm voice. Where is the rest of your team?

At the scene with the sweep team. I knew what he was getting at.

Why are you here? You should be at the scene helping with the sweep team, securing the building. Mr. Sally questioned.

I was told to bring the body in personally. I replied.

And who gave that order? I think Mr. Sally was becoming upset. He wasn’t having a good day either.

The person standing in front of me did. Douglas’ eyes lowered to the floor as I spoke. I could feel the heat of Mr. Sally’s beaming eyes on Douglas’ back.

What were you thinking Almanzo? You could have compromised the operation or gotten someone killed!

He reported the mission complete. I took it as he was finished with the sweep also. Douglas lied as he tried to weasel his way out of trouble.

Mr. Jordan, did you specify you still needed to complete the sweep? Mr. Sally asked in order to make a point.

Yes, yes I did. After my answer Mr. Sally started berating his partner and Douglas tried to defend himself. They were arguing for five minutes or so when Jasmine, the manager from the front office paged me on my comms.

What do you need sweetie? I replied.

I’m not your sweetie. You have an urgent call from Langley. A man named Richard Ortega from the CIA says he has an emergency situation.

I’ll be out in a minute. Douglas and Mr. Sally were still arguing when I left the area, but Douglas sounded like he was making some headway in his argument.

What’s going on Richie? I took it in one of the empty offices.

Max! You gotta come get me! They’re after me! They’re tryin’ to kill me! He was frantic and tense and was terrified.

Ok Richie, calm down. Where are you?

I can’t tell you now, there’s no time. Meet me in the Richmond, Virginia bus terminal. I’ll be there in two hours, don’t be late. I’ll tell you everything then. I gotta go, they’re here. I heard some men yelling and a scuffling sound before Richie ended the call. I left the office calling to the manager.

Jasmine! I need a transport to take me and my truck to Virginia.

There is an HST-51 fueled up at the airport that can be on the roof in five minutes. She replied so quickly I thought she was listening to my conversation. She probably was.

Good. Let the rest of the Omegas know I’ll be in touch in a few hours. Jasmine nodded as I rushed out of the office.

Chapter 2

Zero-one hundred hours was the time, 1am. The bus terminal was brightly lit, but the night outside was dark with a starry sky. The terminal was full of people who were active and moving around. So much that if not for the darkness outside one