Terror Reborn

Location: Somewhere in Moscow

Timedate: 7th March 2006, one week later

As the city and most of its citizens carry on in their mundane routines, a few certain folks linger in the shadows of its seemingly endless alleys and streets. Blending rather easily from one crowd to the next, these individuals soon converge upon a disused warehouse near the outskirts of the city, slipping out of public eyes.

Within the warehouse, various men and women gathered in rough circles, muttering and chatting among another; who brought them here and why so, they'd question. However, the answers to such would come to them as a familiar man donned in a thick black coat made his entrance, stepping out into the dim sunlight from the ceiling with echoing footsteps loud enough to get the attention of most, if not all, of the terrorists.

"I'm sure many of you have plenty of questions each," the dark man spoke. "Before I answer so, I wish to make sure each and every one of you is someone I can trust. No one here is a spy, impostor, double agent, or anything like that, with intent to catch and arrest me at my lowest defence." None of the people flinched or shook at the remark even once, a passible test. "So to make total sure of this, introduce yourselves before I do."

Immediately, a butch-looking woman of mid twenties with eerily pale skin and Kubrickian-staring eyes, wearing a dusty leather jacket, dark red undershirt, and tight black jeans, stepped forth.

"My name's Veronica Isaacs," the woman introduced herself. "I used to work for the FBI, on their behalf for about three to four years. Didn't think it was good enough for me. Went rogue and flew across the Atlantic. I get my pay from hunting a target someone doesn't like."

As soon as she finished, another individual stepped next to her. A older man with a bald-shaven head and a silvery beard, in a worn grey suit jacket and white tank top.

"Name's Tom Wherdan, but my alias is Wrath Demon," the bearded man greeted. "The CIA sent me to England to keep a close eye on MI5 and 6. But apparently they believed my methods of dealing with busybodies were, by their own words, 'less than ethical'. So I quitted and escaped before they could even bother to terminate me."

Next to step in was a rather slightly enigmatic-looking person with a clean buzz cut and a loose shirt. Their dried stern lips occasionally twitched and stiffened.

"Call me Karter," they said. "My parents let me out of the house as soon as I turned eighteen. So I left France to join a local revolutionary militia."

After the while of the various people giving out their little backstories, the boss soon got the fill he wanted as soon as the last one finished.

"Assassins, mercenaries, and bounty hunters," the dark man observed. "Good. As for me, my name's William Lennox." he finally introduced himself as soon as his test was passed. "I led an organisation called the Seventh Wave. No doubt at least some of you have heard about us."

Most of the people nodded with recognition.

"Well then, you may also recall how a CIA black ops agent by the name of Jack Kellar tried to hunt me down. The rest of the world believes that he and I are dead. Good thing most people don't often ask for legit proof and evidence." Lennox took a brief moment to exhale of a huff of harsh air before continuing. "It's absolutely likely that he's still in pursuit of me even now as we speak. Seems we've all have at least one thing in common, either we've been rejected by higher-ups, or chased away by them. So I think we should start anew from here now, from the ashes of one collective, to the rebirth of another."

"So what would you suggest we'd be called?" Tom, the Wrath Demon, joked. "The Targets?"

"Funny you say that," Lennox replied with a light yet sinister chuckle. "Because I've recently been in contact with a group who call themselves 'The Target'. They say they got some pretty advanced tech we can share in on. What do you folks say to that?" Some of the people looked at each other with opportunistic grins, while others simply nodded with acceptance. "Then it has been settled. Welcome, my friends, to the Eighth Wave..."

To be continued...