"Hunter to Overlord, package is secure." Said a voice.
"This is Overlord-"
The cross-com crackled, cutting him off mid-sentence.
"Overlord?"
"Told you it wouldn't be so easy. Can't trust anything with batteries." Another voice joked, with a slight southern accent.
"Shut up, Thirty.", hissed a third voice, a mix of Russian and New York accents.
"Ah'm just sayin'."
The static ceased.
"Hello!" Someone said over the cross-com.
"The hell? Who is this?" Thirty said.
"No one of consequence. Now, you won't have contact with your higher-ups for a while, so listen to me. The object you just picked up? I need you to bring that to this location."
All four cross-coms fizzled at once, the screens becoming tinted red, and a new location being marked on their maps.
"And if we don't wanna?" A fourth voice with a Texan accent asked.
"Well, then we'll have to take it from you by force."
Ghost Recon:
Clock Work
A story by Illogical
