The Perfect Soldier
Intermission
Six months later...
.
A figure completely cloaked in black blended well into the shadows of night. Surely and quickly, it moved through the streets of the sleeping town; its destination was not far away. With a glance heavenward, the location of the town's water tower was noted and the course was altered accordingly.
The slim form slipped across the deserted highway and into the thick forest of trees. Kneeling, a black skull tilted slightly, listening. A pair of dark eyes scanned the shadows of the town. Minutes passed. Still, nothing had moved. The figure shrank further into the darkness.
It was easy to navigate through the forest; no one lived here who could be disturbed by a dark figure gliding through the night's shadows. The figure stopped only to check a compass and take note of its surroundings. Still, it moved quickly and without rest. And beneath the black mask it wore, its thoughts were also swift. They were calculations, observations, and prayers.
This is the last place it would be. If it's not here, then I won't know where else to go, to look. I'll have to assume it was destroyed.
The figure shoved that last thought away. Failure was not an option. The object would be here. It had to be.
The underbrush became dense; this was the sign that the night traveler had been waiting for. It carefully ascended the trunk of one, sturdy oak, and crawled out onto one of the longest branches. Beneath it, the forest opened up to a small clearing. In the center, a camouflaged shed sat alone in the silence. The building was characteristic of the rebel bunkers that had been used during the war. Although it was only one story high, the roof could be opened up to expose the huge crater beneath that could hold up to a dozen mobile suits.
The figure glanced up at the stars. There was only about four hours of darkness left. The object could be anywhere, and there were a lot of places to search in the bunker. The job would have to be swift.
Surrounded by silence, the figure leapt from the branch and landed softly in the lush grass. A swift sprint and a moment at the electronic lock were all that were needed for the figure to disappear inside the structure.
It was dark, darker than it was outside. The figure bent and removed a small flashlight from a pocket in the tight-fitting pant legs. The light clicked on.
Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. That fact was reassuring; if someone had been living here then the dust would have been cleaned off or it would have revealed the recent passing of others. For the purpose of the mission, contact with people was to be avoided.
The figure moved deeper into the bunker. Various crates were stacked and scattered. It approached each, opened each, and evaluated the contents of every single one. The minutes were counted off into hours inside of the intruder's head. So little time...
Cooking supplies, dehydrated foods, tools, spare parts, clothing, and toiletries were located. And each sealed crate was opened with meticulous care and examined thoroughly for the single precious item that was sought. The figure left the crate it finished searching and continued on. The next crate held spare mobile suit ammunition. The next held spare firearm ammunition. The form hovered over one of the final crates and slid the heavy lid onto the dusty floor. Inside this crate, carelessly thrown on top of delicately packed rifles, was the object.
With reverent hands, the figure lifted it out. It slid the flashlight into its mouth to better check the thing for authenticity. There had to be something about it that would conclusively prove that this was it. The black-gloved hand turned it over and the light filtered down to illuminate a name written in blue ink. The handwriting was delicate and feminine. The name was familiar. The hands drew the thing nearer and the figure inhaled its scent.
The rifles had been clean when they had been put away over ten years ago and no trace of gun powder could be detected. Only the flowery fragrance of a woman's perfume and the scent of baby powder wafted up from the object. The figure recognized the perfume and the powder. They fit with the results of the extensive research that had been completed prior to the mission.
Mission accomplished.
The figure tucked the object under its arm and turned toward the door.
.
~End of Intermission~