"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