I AM SO SORRY FOR NEGLECTING THIS STORY! SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO !

Beckett

"Chief Master Sergeant James Taylor, USAF," the entire team was crammed into the breakroom as I read their identities from a file, "Of Scarsburough, Virginia. You enlisted in the Air Force in 1987 right out of high school, MOS as 4JOX1-"

The man groaned, "It's 4-Juliet-Zero-X-ray-1!"

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes, ignoring the indignant glares from the Chief "MOS now is 1T-" I again rolled my eyes at their indignant glares, "Fine, 1-Tango- 2-X-ray-1, Pararescue."

I moved onto the next one, "Staff Sergeant Jeffery Smalls," Yeah, huge misnamer, "Of Detroit, Michigan. Served in the 1st Cavalry Division and later 5th Special Forces Group. Two tours in Afghanistan and three in Iraq. You've been in the army for over twenty years and still only a Staff Sergeant."

"He don't play politics well," The youngest of them replied.

"And you are Specialist William," he flinched a bit, definitely a Billy, "Wolfe, US Army, of Coronado, California. Again, joined right outta high school in 2008. Aren't you a little young to be rolling with this crowd?"

"I'm an over acheiver," he remarked cheekily. I'll remember that later.

The next one, "Staff Sergeant Jane McDouglas, USMC, of Golosberg, Montana," the rest of them stared at her. She looked mortified. Country Girl don't wanna be known as a redneck, huh? "One of the few female EOD techs in the Marines, but official MOS is 2300, Basic Ammunition and Explosive Ordinance Disposal, which means no special duty pay."

She shrugged, "You meet such great guys in combat."

Wolfe quipped, "By great guys you mean horny guys."

"Those to."

I'm glad I wouldn't allow Castle to be in here, "Now, the way I see, interfering with police investigations, murder, evading arrest, lowest you can hope for is life. But, tell what you know regarding all these assassins that have descended on my city."

They looked at each other, looking... indecisive, I guess.

"We... don't really know anything, really," Wolfe said.

"A... I wouldn't call him 'friend' but definitely wouldn't want him as an enemy," McDouglas explained, "He call on... a friend of ours and asked for a favor."

"Our CO told us to find our kinda-friend and see what he's up to," Chief told us, "I learned that he was tracking an assassin named-"

"Jason Bourne?" I said. I mentally cursed Jon for all of this trouble, "Is this kinda-friend named Jon Trevodur?"

"You know him?"

"Since he was four," all these years and he still makes my life miserable.

They all blinked. Chief asked, "So... he wasn't hatched?"

Sty

I was carefully pressing thermite putty into the floor when the door opened and the red-headed FBI chick glared at me.

I blinked and said, "This is awkward."

I heard Lefty's voice say, "Agent Shaw, Captain Steven Stikes. Sty, Special Agent Jordan Shaw of the FBI."

"We know who you are, and what you're doing," Shaw said.

"They know?"

"They know everything," Lefty confirmed.

"Everything?"

"Yup."

"Damn."

"Definitely," Lefty agreed.

I pulled out my cell and dialed a familiar number, "Jules, I got news. And you're not gonna like it..."

Bosnia

"Oh, shit," it was never a good thing when the flight commander cursed, "All sections, be advised, hostile personnel have been located in Grid 16-5. recommend covert infiltration."

What he didn't say was that it looked like all of the Spetsnaz in Bosnia were currently located in our one area. And for flavor, they had BTRs, which is a Russian form of the Armored Personnel Carrier. Oh, and as an added bonus, those vehicles have chainguns on them.

Three simple words come to mind.

We.

Are.

Fucked.