The Quintessential Mission

Prologue

The crisp mountain air gave filled the young commando's lungs, as she nibbled on her rations. It was going to be a great day. The weather was cool, the forest picturesque, and, if all went well, she'd kill someone just after lunch. She finished her snack, shouldered her rucksack, and made her way through the trees.

Birds chirped and woodland animals darted through the foliage, going about whatever business they had at that time of day. The Special Forces operative walked at a steady, yet cautious pace. Her destination was a bunker that was reported to be in the area. Her target: a well known enemy of her homeland. Her mission: to remove said enemy. It was left to her discretion whether she brought him back alive, or dealt with him on the spot. It wouldn't take too many guesses for a person to guess her choice, given her predatory smile. This is what she lived for; what she was born and bred to do. She lived to hunt, and her game was the most dangerous prey in the world.

As she made her way to the given coordinates of the facility, she took note of any possibly landmarks she could: a deformed tree, a beaver damn, a large rock, anything to use as a point of reference. She was all alone: only her training, her wits, and god given talent to rely on. The commando didn't mind too much: solo missions weren't out of the ordinary for her. In some ways, she preferred the solitude and freedom of pursuing objectives herself. Her teammates were first class, and she'd be hard pressed to find anything to complain about. Still, it was nice to be left to your own devices now and then. It kept the mind sharp and tempered one's resolve.

Hours seemed to pass with just the forest and her own thoughts as travel companions before her sharp eye spotted a sentry far ahead of her. She dropped to a knee and readied her side arm. "Lumberjack calling Roadrunner." She whispered into her radio headset. "Lumberjack calling Roadrunner, over."

"I read you, Lumberjack."

"I have visual contact with hostiles. I say again, I have visual contact with hostiles, over."

"Acknowledged, Lumberjack."

"I suspect the objective is close. It shouldn't be too much longer, over.

"Understood, Lumberjack. It shouldn't be too much longer, out."

She disabled her radio, and slowly advanced: brandishing a handgun and a grin. The hunt had finally begun.

Chapter 1

Rachel sat quietly at her office computer in the evening, looking over the latest progress reports of Omega Land's environmental progress. It had only been a year, and already the ravaged country sides of the continent were returning to the lush and fertile landscapes they had once been. Since things had quieted down, the young CO had often found herself bored. Fighting Von Bolt had been taxing, exhausting, stressful, yet she missed the ups and downs the war had brought. Her work with overseeing the reconstruction effort was in many ways more important than the fighting, but at least things happened when she fought.

Right now, all her training and experience was going into babysitting a group of tree-hugging eggheads, all of which jockeying for grant money, competing for her approval, shoving requisition form after requisition form in her mail box, and generally bickering over who's approach was best. Spending hours calculating the next move in a game of chess played on a minefield with the pieces carrying live grenades was nothing compared to mediating the intellectual chest thumping that came with life-long experts in environmental studies with PhD's to flex.

She didn't understand why, but this assignment just didn't satisfy her. The pay was excellent, the job was a joke, and she sat in a comfortable ergonomic chair, and played solitaire on her computer for the many hours that she didn't have reports to review or paperwork to sign. Tag on a few federal health and retirement benefits, and you had a job thousands would sell their firstborn son for. Still, there was that nagging feeling that she couldn't shake. It was like a hunger: no matter how she tried to ignore it, it wouldn't go away.

She leaned back in her chair and looked out her window at the lush forests surrounding Orange Star's Omega Land HQ. The mammoth vibrant trees that filled the landscape had been spared the fate that strangled much of the rest of the ecosystem. She smiled at the pure, untainted forest: untouched by Black Hole's obelisks, and spared from serving as a battlefield the site chosen for her base of operations was nothing sort of a miracle. Still, it was both a curse and a blessing. Though in pristine condition, not a day went by that Rachel didn't want to be out of this office and back in the field. She didn't want to watch the world. She wanted to be out in it.

She sipped some coffee and stretched. Her computer's clock read 6 PM. Time for her to go home, grab something to eat, maybe go for a jog through the woods. As she got up, she dug her smart phone out of her pocket and checked her text messages.

"U off work? ~Jake"

Rachel let out a sigh. She got a long with Jake well enough, and had really grown to like him during the war. Still, there were times she felt like being around him and times she didn't. This was one of those times that she just wanted to have some alone time. She knew it wouldn't be that easy, though.

"Going home." She typed.

"O. Want company?" came the reply.

"No."

"Sumthing wrong?"

"Just tired."

"K. Call if u want 2 talk"

Rachel put her phone back in her pocket. She felt bad. Jake seemed to be pretty serious about his relationship with her, and Rachel definitely had feelings for him to. Still, she was hesitant to enter a long term relationship. The young CO wasn't sure why. Was it cold feet? Or perhaps some nagging doubts? Or did she just not like him "that way?"

But how do I like him? Is he just a friend? A colleague? We've grown close over the course of our careers, but I still have trouble seeing him as something more.

It was difficult for her to explain or understand, and perhaps she shouldn't try to. I care for him but…

…but…

There was. She cared for him, "but." No matter how oft she told herself she liked him, cared for him, possibly even loved him, that one word always slipped in. It was automatic, as though her brain was incapable of saying that one phrase without it.

She walked to her SUV and got in. After starting the rugged vehicle, she headed towards her home outside the OS compound. The radio played classic rock as she sped down a wide, empty interstate cutting through the dense woods. She bobbed her head from side to side as tunes she grew up listening to blasted through her speakers. It was a carefree drive that allowed her mind to wander back to her thoughts on her work. She couldn't help it: her mind was on a mission to dwell on this.

A few thoughts bounced around her skull. Am I bored? Am I getting burned out? Do I need a new hobby to get my mind off work? Do I need a vacation? It could have been all of the above and none of the above for all she knew, though her strong suspicion was that she simply wasn't interested. She graduated from Orange Star's most prestigious military academy, excelled in logistics, and had even proven herself fighting Black Hole. She got along well with the other CO's, was able to oversee operations in Omega Land, and had earned the love and respect of both her troops and her fellow commanders. Was it presumptuous of her to feel her talents were wasted in this desk job? A Senate Committee could be put together to supervise the reconstruction, and one of the government's environmental protection agencies could take over. Or even the Allied Nations could create an environmental coalition with a supervisory AN committee.

She let out a frustrated sigh, and muttered words that were dying to get out. "Why am I handcuffed to this damn project?"

PRESIDENT'S OFFICE, PATOMAC CITY, DISTRICT OF ANACOSTIA

"Nell, won'cha change your mind?" Max appealed.

"No Max. I think Rachel is just fine where she is." The Commander in Chief of Orange Star replied patiently. She'd had this conversation with Max and Sami before.

"But anyone can do that job!" the blue-haired CO protested. "We need her where she can do some good, ya know? She's wasted in that position!"

"Max, Max, Max," Nell said shaking her head. "I know you think a lot of her, but she is my sister. Don't you think I'd know where she'd best fit?"

"Well, I guess."

"And don't you think I've thought long and hard about the best place for her?"

"Uh huh."

"And do you think I'd assign my sister to a job she wasn't suited for?"

"Look," Max said, backing off some. "She's a good kid 'n she can handle herself. She took care'a Von Bolt like a lil' champ. I just think she's better off doing something other than pushing papers. Overseeing training, maybe? Or even put her with Jake on Operation Dumpster Dive."

Nell stood up, turned, and looked out the large window that made up a third of the wall behind her desk and looked out at the skyline of Orange Star's majestic capital city. "Jake and Sami are doing just fine with tracking down the Bolt Guard."

Max walked up beside her and wrapped an arm around her. "I just worry about her. I think she deserves better."

"I know Max, but rest assured…" The blonde said, turning towards him and looking deep into his eyes. "…I have her right where I need her."

Max nodded looking back at her. "If you say so. I still think she needs to be doing something other than pushin' paper."

"Repairing the damage to Omega Land is a delicate thing." Nell said turning back towards the window. "I don't trust just anyone to do it right."

"Well, if you're sure." Max conceded.

"I am."

INTERNATIONAL ZONE INDIA-17, OMEGA LAND

Rachel stood outside her suburban-bordering on urban house, stretching. It was later than she usually jogged, but she wanted to get a little exercise in at least. After a few minutes, she took off an a brisk jog. The cool, sweet woodland air hit her like a soothing breeze and the stillness of the night allowed her to close her eyes and get lost in the moment. No paperwork. No phone calls or texts. Nothing but the mountain air and sweet silence. She extended her gait and leaned forward a little to pick up speed. One two one two one two. She kept her pace with a mechanical rhythm, and didn't let anything break it.

After about twenty minutes, she stopped at a red light and looked at her watch. Jeez, it's eleven already? It was getting late and she needed some sleep. Just to her right, she noticed a narrow street named "Commencement Drive." Rachel was familiar with the name, as she often stopped at a coffee shop at the intersection of Commencement and Fillmore Street on the way to work. It was barely used anymore, and served more as an alley than anything now. Still, it was a more direct route than what she normally took. Opting for the shorter route, she headed down the street. As the CO went, she could hear mumbling. It went on for a few minutes.

As Rachel neared the source, the voices grew louder and more aggressive. She didn't need to hear the conversation to know someone wasn't happy with their current predicament. Curious to see the problem, Rachel trotted over to a brown, brick building with large front-store windows. Between it and a red brick building was a five foot gap. She peeked around the corner and saw the gap leading to a wider area where assumed was a back door possibly used for loading and unloading goods via dolly. She couldn't see anyone, but one voice grew more frantic, while another remained calm and collected.

"Look man, I don't want trouble!"

"Give me the package, and there won't be any."

"I can't man! I gotta deliver this!"

"That's a problem."

"I'll give you whatever else you want, just don't kill me!"

"You know what I want."

"I told you! I can't do that!"

Rachel snuck around the corner and sidled along the brown wall until she reached the corner where the gap widened and looked to see what was going on. There were two men: one middle aged in a navy blue pinstripe suit, the other probably in his twenties wearing street clothes. Mr. Suit was standing with a lit cigar, while Mr. Casual was sitting on the ground, his back to the unyielding brick wall. Mr. Casual had his hands over his face in a submissive gesture, shaking slightly.

"One last chance, little boy." Mr. Suit said, pulling out a handgun from his suit jacket. "Ammo is expensive. Don't make me waste any on you."

Perhaps the boy felt he had nothing left to lose. It could have been the adrenaline that kicks in when a person looks death in the face. Either way, time slowed down and Rachel watched Mr. Casual looked Mr. Suit in the eye and spit on his brown leather dress shoes. "Fuck off." The sound of the gunshot struck Rachel like a baseball bat. Mr. Suit dropped to a knee and started digging through Mr. Casual's pockets.

Rachel was angry. She was angry at Mr. Suit for killing a young boy, angry and Mr. Casual for not giving Mr. Suit what he wanted. Most of all, the CO was livid with herself for sitting back and watching. She wanted to hang Mr. Suit up by his tie. He has a gun! You can't just walk over there!

Mr. Suit must have felt he was being watched, as he stopped searching the corpse and glanced over towards Rachel. The young CO quickly ducked out of sight and frantically wondered what to do next. The best thing would be to get out of there. He had a gun, and he may have seen her. He'd likely assume she saw the whole thing, and wouldn't want loose ends. She could report the incident to the police and let them handle it.

She quickly spun around to run back to her home, but heard Mr. Suit behind her.

"Hold it!"

She stopped.

"Where you off to?"

Her mind raced. "Uh…uh…"

"Doesn't matter. You're comin' with me now."

She felt him press his gun to the back of her skull and slap a firm hand over her mouth. He drug her back over to where Mr. Casual was laying and pressed her up against the wall. "Hate to do this," he said, unapologetically. "But I can't have you running off and tellin' anybody about this."

Rachel's heart felt like it would burst out of her chest, and she immediately regretted her earlier thoughts. And to think, I wanted more excitement in my life. Remind me, if I ever live though this, to kick myself.

"Turn around for me." He said. "I like to look people in the eye when I burn'em."

Rachel turned around slowly and did her best to mask her fear.

Mr. Suit's face blanched and he recoiled like Rachel was a venomous snake. "What the fuck?"

Unbeknownst to Mr. Suit, Mr. Casual's candle of life had a few burning embers left on the wick. Mr. Suit normally didn't take time to check if his shots killed instantly or if a person bled out, nor did he really care so long as they were incapacitated. He did care, however, when Mr. Casual managed to dig a two-and-a-half inch folding knife into his right knee. The older man howled in pain and clutched the injury with both hands.

Rachel took the opportunity given and rammed Mr. Suit's face into her knee. He fell over backward and the CO pounced on him in an instant. The two wrestled with the gun as Mr. Casual managed to drag himself the few feet over to the combatants and pulled his knife out of Mr. Suit's leg. He then stabbed Mr. Suit in the right elbow, careful not to get Rachel's arm. Suit let go of the gun, and Casual grabbed it, put it to Suit's temple and pulled the trigger.

Rachel's ear was ringing as she climbed off of the assailant. She was trembling from the adrenaline high, but forced herself to think straight and rushed to Casual's side. "A-a-are you ok-kay?" she said to the young man cradled in her arms.

"Don't think I'll make it." He wheezed, blood seeping from his nose and mouth. Despite his mortal injury, he had an almost elated expression on his face. "It's you, isn't it? It's really you!"

Rachel blinked in confusion. Do I know him? Maybe he's just rattled from what happened.

"Thank god you're here. Where have you been? Never mind!" He fished out an envelope from under his shirt. "I don't have much time left. You gotta get this to Schaefer!"

Still in a fog, Rachel took the envelope. "Uh…I think you've got me confused with someone else…"

He weakly shook his head. "No, I got the right person." His breathing became increasingly labored. "Find…Schaefer. He's…gotta know…about…"

Mr. Casual fell limp in her arms, leaving her with a lot of questions and no answers. Did this person know her, or was he just delusional from blood loss? Had he seen her on television? Who was Schaefer, and what was in this envelope? She looked at the small paper package. It looked, smelled, and felt like trouble. One man had died because of it, and another killed trying to get it. Every fiber of common sense in her body screamed that she should leave it with the young man, report what happened to the police, and let the authorities figure everything out.

Still, something was strange. Mr. Suit was terrified of her when he saw her face. Was it because she was a government official and he feared legal repercussions? Somehow, Rachel didn't think so. Someone who wasn't afraid to gun a person down over an envelope probably didn't lose any sleep over legality. No, what she saw went deeper than a man who realized he picked on the wrong person. It was the look of a murder victim watching the slasher's knife descend upon his heart with callous inevitability. The man acted as though she could kill him with a snap of her fingers. Thugs didn't act that way, especially when they had a gun.

It was all too weird, and Rachel wasn't comfortable with any of it. Too many uncertainties. Plus, her recent experience told her a lot about her life expectancy with this letter in her possession. Still, she stood there and let Mr. Suit shoot the boy. Granted, Suit had a gun, but there were two of them! Maybe they could have overpowered him? The least she could do, to settle things in her own mind anyway, was find whoever this Schaefer was, and give him this letter. At least Casual wouldn't have died in vain. Either way, she had to make a decision. Someone had to have heard the gunshot, and would likely have called the police. With a sigh that said "I'm going to regret this," She stuffed the sallow-papered mass in her shorts pocket. Still not completely sure of her decision, she left the alley with the envelope.