Prologue: "Forsaken Nightmare"

Troubles brew when man seeks to change their own destiny. Man's inquisitive nature creates much of our modern day marvels and accomplishments. It is by this same inquisitive nature; however, that is our folly."

Secret Weapons Depot and Airbase: Pamir Mountain Ranges: Wakan Corridor (Afghani-Tajikistani border), Badakhshan Oblast, Central Asia

September 1, 1998 3:30PM

Initializing COM Data Connection…

25...

50...

100...

COM Data Connection Established...

The static digital snow on the screen was replaced slowly with genuine, white slopes of snow, surrounded by grayish rocky outcrops. The light hiss from the speakers shows that all was quiet and serene in this Shangri-La like part of the world. Everything seems peaceful except for what appeared to be some sort of a military installation at the bottom of the valley, which bustled with activity as jeeps and trucks milled about.

As the Sanyo Xacti HD1000 camera lens zooms in, the image of the installation became much clearer; tanks, military vehicles and a jet fighter lay parked in the compound and airfield. Meanwhile, men in baggy, heavy winter coats totting AK-47s were discussing something as they pointed at a pair of Soviet D-20 towable howitzers. As they spoke, and laughed loudly, a gigantic Russian made SCUD mounted on a large truck passed by.

"Looks like we hit the jackpot…Let's see, Ukrainian T-84 battle tanks, French Dauphin-2 attack helicopters equipped with anti-tank missiles, SA-14 portable anti-aircraft missile launchers…enough gear to start a small war" The voice said slowly, trying to identify what is inside the military base.

The small, but surprisingly sharp screen continued to scan around; near an entrance to a military installation, several crates of firearms were placed along the wall as one bearded man showed another two the contents of them. They each picked up a submachine gun, and held them out in the aiming position, examining the sight and handle of the firearm.

"Fabriqué Nationalé P90s, standard weapons for the Counter-Terrorist unit of the EU, wonder what they say when they find out these guys have them…Let's see, what else… 5.45mm AK-74s, attached with GP-25 grenade launchers, RPG-7s. But it looks like this place is more elaborate, and our jackpot is probably inside, Tigershark, see if you can get inside the complex. Retrieve reconnaissance information of any weapons of mass destruction and rendezvous to extraction point."

"Wouldn't you rather want a clean sweep of this place?" came a reply from the field operative.

"Agent Tigershark, use stealth for as long as possible and get out with the recon. You are greatly outnumbered. We can have cavalry airlifted in from both Tajikstan and Kashgar in China, they can be here within… " A hint of annoyance is seen in the replier's face – as the screen zooms back we see a large operational room in the Pentagon. The replier, a man in his late 50's is wearing a visitors badge as he remains focused on the operational screen.

"They won't get here in time. All I have to do is stir up a fight between these guys…" The field agent interrupts.

"Agent Tigershark!…" The replier shouted.

"See you on the other side…Out..."

COM Connection Terminated...


September 1, 1998 3:33PM

Pentagon, Arlington, VA

"Get us an image from our sats in the air! Pronto. Goddammit Hamilton, your guy might just have jeopardized our mission! A man, who from his uniform and decorations appears to be a general, yelled as he paced around the large room nervously.

The screens around the room flickered on again, switching from the U.S. Department of Defense logo back to the mission taking place in Central Asia.


Secret Weapons Depot and Airbase Pamir Mountain Ranges: Wakan Corridor Afghani-Tajikistani border), Central Asia

September 1, 1998 3:33PM

The figure of Agent Tigershark, a figure wearing a white camouflage outfit, quickly placed away his digital camcorder as he crept stealthily along the narrow path in the thick grove of pine trees. This path, seemingly out of sight from the people in the military base, went to the grey concrete building at the edge of the entire weapon bazaar. From the relative quietness of the wilderness around the entire compound, the noises of the idling diesel engines powering the military vehicles were deafening; very faintly a wolf can be heard howling from a distant location.

Reaching the end of the path at the bottom of the valley. Tigershark scanned the grounds again. It appears that most occupants of the base were browsing around the weapon cache and that security of the perimeter was fairly light.

They're excited, like kids in a candy store.

Still, he had to be careful. In an illegal arms deal, everyone's paranoid If even one guy spot him, all the heavy weaponry would be firing, mostly at him. He didn't want that happening….yet.

The figure came within a few meters of the drab, miserable grey walls of the Soviet-era barracks. Crouching and keeping low, the figured scanned the area and spotted a grate into what seemed like a ventilation shaft. This is his entrance.

He could also see smoke rings in the air.

Someone, probably a guard, having a smoke break.

Instinctively, he lightened his footsteps as he leaned low against a rock, with his Strider SEAL knife out and waited for the perfect moment to strike. Like an eagle watching its prey with his bold brown eyes.

The male guard looked to be Turkish, in his mid-late 30s with a beard. His AK-47 assault rifle was propped on the wall beside him. It was clear that he wasn't any trouble.

An orange glow is emitted as the bearded mouth closed around the white cigarette. A cold mountain draft blew down from the peaks as the guard looked up at the afar Pamir Sierras.

This marked his move.

Quickly but stealthily moving on his specially made stealthy shoes, he quickly took two small steps, then deftly guiding the knife into the air. As the screen closed up onto the knife, the knife sliced straight through the crisp mountain air.


September 1, 1998 3:35PM

Pentagon, Arlington, VA

Back in Washington, Sergeant Hamilton glanced down at his folder, containing the details of the mission, quickly reviewing the details of the mission.

Agent Tigershark, also known as Nicholas Garcia, FBI CIA joint counter-terrorism operative and special agent.Top secret clearance and license to kill.

It all began as a biological threat down in the south, a cult based in Northern Texas has murdered several ethnic families on the outskirts of a small community by the tainting of the water wells with anthrax. Eventually, they left a note in a crime scene threatening to release Anthrax into the D.C. metro subway system, claiming that they are doing so to clear America of impurities.

Of course, this is not just your typical Neo-Nazi crew.

A joint raid by the FBI and STARS of a ranch compound in Northern Texas stopped the crisis. A thorough search of the vast compound found a small amount of anthrax. (csmilitia)

Garcia was assigned to find the source of the biological weapons, leads were followed. Too many to remember exactly. However, at the end, the trails led to a Russian shipping company having outposts and warehouses in many locations of Central Asia. This outpost in northeastern Afghanistan is where arms deals are taking place.

Speaking of STARS…Hamilton glanced back at the screens, and shook his head….There will be time to address that later.


September 1, 1998 3:42PM

Secret Weapons Depot and Airbase (Pamir Mountain Ranges: Wakan Corridor Afghani-Tajikistani border), Central Asia

Cutting through the air quickly, the knife quickly found its mark at the base of the guard's neck. With the impact, he instantly slumped over on impact into the soft snow. There was very little blood and noise as the agent pulled the knife out of the dead guard's neck, wiping it clean on the guard's coat.

After dragging the dead guard's body behind a shrub, Nick crawled through the vent opening. A dim light appeared at the end of the vent, with an easily removed wire mesh covering the opening. The special agent looked down into the room below.

It appeared to be a store room, in some sort of a subbasement, lined with grey concrete walls and overhead pipes. There was no ammo though, only some food supplies and drinking water.

Landing gracefully on his Oakley S.I. Assault boot, he pointed the gun ahead and to the side in quick succession in anticipation of any threats…

Finding none, Nick stepped forward to the door, opening it slowly and carefully.

The door opened to a metal staircase leading down to a hallway. Luckily, there was no one in sight…Except…

Thud of footsteps and humming, from the left side of the hallway, around a corner.

Nick took out his silenced compact .45 from the chest compartment of his stealth suit. The semi-automatic, titanium alloy pistol was a customized Strayer Voight Infinity Special Forces Compact, a modification of the classic Colt 1911 that is very popular in shooting competitions because of its superb accuracy due to its 5 inch aluminum nitrate coated barrel. Being modified to military specs, with a custom slide, double stack rail frame, fibre-optic sight and titanium compensator, it carried 10 .45 ACP rounds fully concealed; however, with its aluminum hi-capacity magazine well, it could be reloaded in combat with a larger 12 or 14 round .45 magazines. A LAM (Laser Aiming Module) or tactical flashlight could be mounted in the front. Finally, a silencer, which is, by the way, on, was fitted for infiltration operations.

Seems like he is heading away…

Nick peered slowly and carefully behind the corner, just to see the back of a scientific white coat opening a lab-like door with a small yellow biological hazard warning symbol on it.

Just as we thought…

He slightly pointed the gun around the corner of the narrow hallway, the rear sight of the pistol easily found the back of the head.

Nick slightly squeezed the trigger…

Six years ago…you wouldn't have done this…but ever since that time…

You don't want to be burdened…You do what it takes not to get hurt…You have a mission to complete…

The silenced pistol made very little noise or recoil, followed by a soft thud as the bullet entered the brain and the body slumped forward, brushing against a table….It came dangerously close from knocking over a beaker containing a greenish colored substance…

Nick let out a silent sigh of relief….Another half-inch, and they'd be….god knows what

Glancing up, Nick took a look at the seemingly sterile and organized room, something of a contrast from the complex chaos of heavy military equipment above ground.

There was a lab counter, like a biology lab in high school, somewhat unprofessional equipment. But it was suffice for what they were doing, not producing whatever was in the beakers, but managing it and keeping the microorganisms alive, which is what appears to be in the large tank. A fuel line, as well as a tube from a tank led into the next room, protected by a metallic sliding door, with a keycard reader on the wall next to it.

He was not a WMD expert, and there's no time to call in any.

Something caught Nick's eye as he was going to take out his Samsung i710 Smartphone to start work on the passcode lock. It was a red and white bio-hazardous material container in a strange shape much like a stop sign…Seems very peculiar and distinguished from the other containers on the counter.

Taking a closer look, the box had no particular marking on it but a large letter T.

Someone likes Mr. T? Terminator? Not that he had time to care anyways

The work on the lock took mere seconds after Nick connected his i710 to the keycard receptor. With a slight amount of mechanical noise, the door slid open, letting the two agents into a large, industrial room dominated by a large SS-19 ICBM launching complex. A large cargo door stood at the one end of the room, presumably a vehicle entrance from the ground.

The fuel line, as well as the other pipe, was feeding into the missile. It looked like they were arming the missile with something. But what is it?

No matter if it be chemical, biological, he needs to destroy it and get out, quickly.

Ducking behind some barrels, he quickly scanned the room for threats with his silenced pistols.

Yebat!

Someone cursed out loud in some rather Turkic-accented Russian from what appears to be a conference or control room up above.

Through the window, they can see several Middle Eastern men, looking to be perhaps from Central Asian states, waving their Kalashnikovs around rather actively and arguing in loud, sharp voices.

"Damn you, Akbar! We will use the weapon now against the infidels, let us launch the missile into Beijing and wage holy war on the Hans that have taken our land!"

"You are being impatient! The American infidels must be destroyed first or they will aid the devils…"

Turkestan Liberation Army, an terrorist group looking to establish a fundamentalist state looking to create a fundamentalist state stretching from Turkey to Western China. So these crazies are looking to stir up some trouble too…

"Wait a minute….Who is down there?" One of the other men exclaimed as he pointed to the closing lab door, interrupting Nick's thought. He leaned back and took deep silent breaths.

OK – time to get show these guys what they are in for.

Nick took out the detonation packs, or detpacks, as they call it. The detpacks contained a destructive load of C4 high explosive along with some advanced electronic circuitry to prevent it from being easily defused. To set it, the agent presses his finger on the keypad and looks into the front LED at the same time. This, in effect, allows the internal security device to scan the agent's retinas as well as fingerprints and compares it through satellite to the CIA central computer. Of course, if the bomb was stolen, it can be set so that either the bomb self-destructs, killing the thief, or renders itself inoperable unless the C4 was taken out and rewired to a different triggering system.

In this case, the detpack also has a homing indicator to allow a cruise missile to be launched and hit the same area, causing maximum damage.

"You bastard! You have betrayed our plans, haven't you?" The arguing continued in Russian.

"This must be a ploy of yours, I will not allow it!"

The crack of full-automatic fire sounded as the two groups opened fire at each other, the violent muzzle flash of the rifles lighting up the dimly lit room in a surreal fashion.

As gunfire erupted from all directions, the argument started a full-blown war in the small base as Nick sprung to action.

Pressing the button to attach the clamp to the base of the missile, an electronic beep sounded as the LCD blinked 5:00 and started to count down. At the same time, the same count showed up on the back of his Omega Speedmaster Professional wristwatch as a backlit number illuminated by an indigo screen. Placing the final detonation packs near the pipeline, Nick moved and grabbed a Kalashnikov from a gun rack on the side of the room.


September 1, 1998 3:53PM

Pentagon, Arlington, VA

"…That is crazy…What is he doing?! "

"Five minutes to detonation…." Hamilton had no answer for the chaos happening on the screen, from the satellite picture, it seems there is explosion and gunfire coming from around the base. Meanwhile, the bomb on the detonator was running down.

"That is it! We have to launch contingency plan, we have no confirmation that he had placed the detonation packs correctly to destroy the threat."

"But… wait! we need to confirm his status…Agent Tigershark, report in, report in!…What the fuck are you doing there?" Hamilton barked into the microphone.

"We have to launch our contingency plan now." The general picked up his phone.

" Central Command to eagle mother, Fire command authorized! Repeat, weapons are hot."

Hamilton looked extremely worried as the general hung up the phone with a clank. Nick better get himself out of there, fast.


September 1, 1998 3:53PM

Indian Ocean, just off the coast of Gujarat State, India

U.S.S. Shiloh Ticonderoga class missile cruiser

"We have weapons confirmation. Weapons are free, repeat, weapons are free" A naval officer said as he pulled out a printed document out of the printer. He then nodded to the other and walked over to the firing control, turned their two keys to unlock and open the firing control panel. One of the officers entered in a firing control code and the other read out the code to confirm it.

"Code confirmed."

"All personnel clear the deck . Firing to commence in 5…4….3…2…1…"

A loud blast sounded as a brilliant large orange-red flash appear outside the window of the control deck.

The white Tomahawk missile took off vertically, and then began to speed its way northbound towards its target.


September 1, 1998 3:52PM

Secret Weapons Depot and Airbase (Pamir Mountain Ranges: Wakan Corridor Afghani-Tajikistani border), Central Asia

Walking up the grey concrete stairs, Nick took out a small grenade and pressed a small button on the top of it. A red light began to blink. Racing to the top of the stairs, Nick opened the door and took a quick look outside; they were near the paved area, with the runway close by and a few people surrounded a hangar housing a trainer/ground attacker dual use plane.

Yak-130, Will showed a picture of it to me once in his Airforces Monthly magazine.

Pressing the button on his miniature grenade again to arm it to explode, Nick took a few quick running steps out of the staircase structure before he quickly placed the grenade on the slowly moving SCUD. Running in the other direction, he delivered a quick sliding kick at the nearest guard as the highly explosive payload SCUD exploded. With its large amount of explosives; it successfully affected several nearby vehicles in a chain reaction.

3:30 remaining until detonation

The entire camp erupted into chaos as different factions appeared to be grabbing whatever weapon is available and flee as they are shooting at the others, fearing some sort of a betrayal against each other. Revolutionaries from South America were shooting at Chechen separatists, northern Irish fighters were shooting at Turkestan militants. It was an all out war.

Burp, burp, burp…the sound of a multi-barreled machine gun started as a truck-mounted turret headed towards Nick.

Picking up a stray F1 grenade on the floor, Nick threw it towards the truck's path. A loud explosion resounded as the grenade detonated beneath the truck, probably near the diesel tank as the shrapnel ruptured the fuel lines. Next, the fuel reacted violently to the surrounding heat and exploded, causing the truck to flip over on its side as it crushed several terrorists near it.

2:40 remaining until detonation

Two of the guards managed to recover, yelling out something in Russian as they wildly fired their AK-47s in his direction. Nick quickly ducked for cover behind a parked lorry.

The loud crackling of their Kalashnikovs continued.

2:10

These guys don't seem to pay any attention.

Pointing the gun below the chassis of the truck, he saw two pairs of boots, standing still. At the sound of the pistol's shot, they both collapsed, dropping their automatics.

Giving them both a kick in the head to make sure they stay down, Nick quickly picked up the ammo clips as he made a rush for the plane, briefly ducking behind a bunker structure for cover. Now only several meters away, Nick hid behind a BMP-1 infantry fighting vehicle, watching several terrorists with the same idea of taking the plane. Luckily, they seemed too busy fighting each other. Taking a deep breath, Nick emerged from the corner, firing several shots and killing several terrorists before running to the ladder. As he approaches the ladder, Nick swings the stock of his rifle to club a terrorist in the head.

Two minutes until detonation, a calm female voice announced from Nick's i710, strapped in the front pocket of his suit.

Hurriedly, they went up the crude wooden ladder to the advanced digital cockpit. He has flown briefly for the U.S. Navy about 7 years ago, but he believed he could manage.

Slipping into the flight-suit and gas mask, he flipped several switches as the large jet stirred to life. He paused as he stood up from the cockpit, firing several shots at a guard on top of a guard tower.

1:00

0:59

It was time to leave.

Closing the fiberglass cockpit window with a solid clunk, Nick turned the aligned the plane with the runway.

0:45

A jeep, with a Russian NSVT 12.7mm machine gun mounted on the back, speeded on to the runway as it started to fire at the plane.

These armor piercing, high caliber rounds can cause some serious damage.

Acting quickly, Nick opened up a protective cover and flipped a switch underneath, with a sound notifying them that the armaments on the plane were ready to fire.

"Come on, lock on…."

A series of urgent beeps emitted from the onboard computer as the heat-seeking missile locked on to the jeep.

0:30

Nick grabbed the control stick quickly, flipped the safety hat and pressed the fire button.

He was rewarded with a loud whoosh of air and an explosion that shook the ground as the missiles hit the jeep.

0:15

Nick could see it now, a white object, glimmering in the afternoon sun flew towards the base, leaving white smoke on its trail.

A Tomahawk cruise missile These guys aren't going to trust me to do a clean job. Not yet anyway.

Pulling the throttle back and activating the afterburners, the roar in the cockpit was overwhelming as the jet thrusted forward at breakneck speed.

If Nick has turned around, he would have seen a few terrorists, attempting to attack the plane, were burnt to a crisp by the jettisoning afterburners.

Obviously, there was no time for that as Nick adjusted the nose and checked the speed of the plane.

0:10

150 knots…

0.09

160….

0.08

170! Nick pulled up the handle and adjusted the nose to 25 degrees up as the plane headed up and away from the base.

Got to head above 3000 feet just to be safe.

0:03

0:02

0:01

0:00

A roar sounded just below him, quite a bit louder than the jet engine as a cloud of red heat surrounded the plane. All of this seemed to happen in slow motion as Nick held his breath, wondering if he had made it.

Meanwhile, on the Washington side of the screen, everyone stared anxiously at the wall screen in the mission room in the Pentagon. The room that was alive with commands only moments ago was now silent in anticipation, looking at the screen showing the intense red fireball.

Finally, after a few seconds, a blank black screen replaced the fiery background stating:

Connection Lost.

Everyone looked away and sighed…The Agency has lost two of its more accomplished agents.

Then the speaker came alive, shocking everyone in the room with a sudden surprised jolt. "How do you guys want to take a look at this new toy…She's a ground attack plane, right off the factory floor."

Everyone in the room bursted out in laughter and high fives because of the great news.

Hamilton breathes a sigh of relief as he answered, "Acknowledged, we will guide you to a friendly airspace."

Only one dark shadow in the air duct did not, as he wasn't sure how his employers would act, having a sample of the new virus as well as a lucrative business deal accidentally destroyed by the government. As he turns and crawls away, a sliver of his blonde hair falls and is sucked into the darkness of the unforgiving ducts.