(This is the beginning of a series that will go through the entire Red Alert 2 game through the eyes of minor and un-known characters that easily could have existed. This is taken from the Allies point of view, and will soon have the rest of it following. I promise the other chapters will, of course, be longer. Longer harder mission, longer, more complex story. Obviously. Enjoy this short installment. The first chapter/prologue has nothing to do with anything found in Red Alert 2, but I wrote the second half before, and felt I might as well re-write it with a human being instead of just a spy doing this. It'll make sense later. Hope you like it. A lot. And visit www.Darkfong.com It'll be ready soon enough. Trust me. Please, no one else will)
He mumbled greeting to the desk clerk as he walked by. The clerk smiled and waved. He resisted the urge to grin. He never did like his job. At the very least, he was damn good, and it paid well. He walked to the bulletin board reserved for any messages taken for an employee on site. He noticed the one under his name. Yippie, he thought sarcastically. Another mission to complete.
"Kinnin. Your mother called. Her close friend who lives at 2325 S. Belmount needs your help. She is going shopping tonight. Go with her and help her shop. Afterwards, carry her stuff home for her and put it away."
Kinnin grimaced. Though he understood the code, he resented the job. Instead of a normal hit, he had to follow the traitor to his meeting, gather evidence, and them finally get rid of him when he was at home. He hated these jobs. The United States government needed to get someone else to baby-sit. He wasn't a baby-sitter. He was a delivery man. Whether it was goods or heads, he delivered. Not baby-sat. He sighed, and took the note from the board. He walked back to his car. Better be to Belmount soon, these meetings started around seven anyway.
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Once the target began driving to his meeting, Kinnin knew he needn't worry about being found. The target wasn't at all checking for a tail. Kinnin sighed. He automatically hit his blinker to turn into the upcoming driveway as the target turned onto a side-street into the warehouse district. He turned onto the curving path his target just passed by, turned off the road into an alley, and turned his car off. He then ran out, as lightly as possible, onto the gravel road. He saw the target car stopped as well. A shadow entered a door without even a backward glance. He found a man-level window to the side. He peeked in.
"Comrade!" Greeted a older man to the newcomer. Five men sat on chairs in the room. The oldest man and the target took the last seats, making seven. Then the main man spoke. "You know why we are here. We are here to discuss tomorrows plans. As we speak, our forces are on their way. Tomorrow, America will be in our hands."
Kinnin tried to soak it all in as they spoke on all the details. It was hard, for his Russian was rusty at best. Finally, at about three in the morning, they were complete. He was about to fall asleep, because for the last hour they had all sat quietly, eyes closed, concentrating. The oldest man stood up. "So. I guess we shall take care of our guest." Kinnin backed away, already knowing those eyes were searching the window he'd been at. He turned.
OBEY THE SOVEIT UNION! THEY ARE YOUR MASTERS! DESTROY THE EVIL AMERICANS! DESTROY THE CAPITALISTS! DEATH TO RUSSIAN FOES! DEATH- Kinnin tripped, the thoughts making his head pound. He pushed them away feeling as if his head would explode from the effort. His head felt as if it reverberated with the echo of the words. He heard a shout. "Ha! The American is stronger then I thought. Catch him for our Psychic Corp."
Kinnin shot up and began to run. He heard the door burst open as he ran away, not bothering to look around as he pulled a .45 from his jacket pocket. He fired backwards, hearing a grunt as one bullet found it's home. He made it to the street when he felt the burst of unholy pain enter his head. Light flashed before his eyes, stars and more. His feet collapsed from under him, still running. He turned in mid-fall and looked to see the older man smiling at him with a vicious smile. He looked up startled at the police siren. He nodded to his compatriots and ran.
Months passed.
Kinnin was jolted awake as the humvee shuddered to a halt. The driver looked back at him and saluted. Kinnin nodded and left. The driver turned around and sped away, leaving Kinnin stranded alone mere miles from a Soviet base in the Palm Desert. He began crawling.
He hit the first perimeter guard about half a mile from the base. He cursed that the desert was so flat, pulling out a silenced 9mm pistol. As low-tech a gun as possible, it was equipped with the most powerful silencer available. A sound barely above a whisper. He threw a rock at the guard. He looked to his chest where the rock had hit, puzzled. Soon two blood-stains blossomed there. He fell.
Kinnin looked with disdain at the brown trench coat and gas-mask. He sighed and shrugged them on. He hid the body in a nearby ditch, and waited, appearing to be a guard on post. It took an hour and twenty minutes for the replacement shift. He saw the man, but acted as if he hadn't until he was quite close. He waved, and shouted out. "Alexi! Good to see you. It's mine turn now." The filtered voice came through with little of it's cheeriness lost. Kinnin nodded and spoke Russian back. "Tosnadanya."
The other conscripted solider shook his head. "Aww, c'mon Alexi. None of that Russian. You know I don't speak it." Kinnin could feel the grin. He always hated this part of the job. He quickly palmed the knife in his hand as he walked closer to the man.
"Da. You don't. Good-bye, Comrade." Suddenly the conscript had a knife hilt in his chest, just below the sternum. He fell back, and Kinnin could easily know the confusion on his concealed face. He continued on, walking stiffly and purposefully, as if he knew where he was going. It was going to be a short walk to the base.
He strode by the guards easily, entering the camp. It was little more then tents and tanks. Most of the men slept. He saw the commander's tent, and an for it. He entered and looked to the desk. He searched quietly until he found a coded operations disk. Pocketing several, he turned to leave as a dog began to bark and leap at him. He quickly shot it with his pistol. But it was too late. He shot the commander. Must get this to the president, thought Kinnin. I won't fail again. He pressed the button to call the air-strike and ran. He heard shouts and a siren. Shots were fired. Then the explosions began. He ran harder, shrugging off the mask, helmet, and trench coat.
He looked to his left, and saw a man aiming to shoot. He prepared to die as the explosion ripped the man to pieces. Kinnin stumbled, and changed directions. He looked behind to see a flak track turning to follow. It's gun leveled on him as the maverick detonated on it's hull. The explosion sent Kinnin flying. His breathe escaped as he landed, back to the only large rock in this god-forsaken desert. He distinctly heard the crack and snap. He gasped as blood left his mouth. He couldn't feel anything below his abdomen. His suddenly heavy arms flailed for his jacket pocket. He pulled out the coded disks, dropping them next to him. The explosions of the nearby base continued. He coughed out blood as he began choke on it, pooling in his mouth. He felt things begin to go black, he fought it, reaching for the last disk in his pocket. As his hand grasped it, he lost control and it fell to his side again. He ceased to breathe. The last of the pooling blood dribbled down the side of his mouth.
Hours passed.
The Humvee came to a stop next to the body lying on the rock formation. The driver looked at the man, and slowly began to move him into the mobile ambulance he was driving. He grabbed the dropped disks. He pocketed them. He left the man in the back of his vehicle as he searched for his commander. In mere minutes the disks would be in the commander's hands.
Mission Accomplished.
He mumbled greeting to the desk clerk as he walked by. The clerk smiled and waved. He resisted the urge to grin. He never did like his job. At the very least, he was damn good, and it paid well. He walked to the bulletin board reserved for any messages taken for an employee on site. He noticed the one under his name. Yippie, he thought sarcastically. Another mission to complete.
"Kinnin. Your mother called. Her close friend who lives at 2325 S. Belmount needs your help. She is going shopping tonight. Go with her and help her shop. Afterwards, carry her stuff home for her and put it away."
Kinnin grimaced. Though he understood the code, he resented the job. Instead of a normal hit, he had to follow the traitor to his meeting, gather evidence, and them finally get rid of him when he was at home. He hated these jobs. The United States government needed to get someone else to baby-sit. He wasn't a baby-sitter. He was a delivery man. Whether it was goods or heads, he delivered. Not baby-sat. He sighed, and took the note from the board. He walked back to his car. Better be to Belmount soon, these meetings started around seven anyway.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Once the target began driving to his meeting, Kinnin knew he needn't worry about being found. The target wasn't at all checking for a tail. Kinnin sighed. He automatically hit his blinker to turn into the upcoming driveway as the target turned onto a side-street into the warehouse district. He turned onto the curving path his target just passed by, turned off the road into an alley, and turned his car off. He then ran out, as lightly as possible, onto the gravel road. He saw the target car stopped as well. A shadow entered a door without even a backward glance. He found a man-level window to the side. He peeked in.
"Comrade!" Greeted a older man to the newcomer. Five men sat on chairs in the room. The oldest man and the target took the last seats, making seven. Then the main man spoke. "You know why we are here. We are here to discuss tomorrows plans. As we speak, our forces are on their way. Tomorrow, America will be in our hands."
Kinnin tried to soak it all in as they spoke on all the details. It was hard, for his Russian was rusty at best. Finally, at about three in the morning, they were complete. He was about to fall asleep, because for the last hour they had all sat quietly, eyes closed, concentrating. The oldest man stood up. "So. I guess we shall take care of our guest." Kinnin backed away, already knowing those eyes were searching the window he'd been at. He turned.
OBEY THE SOVEIT UNION! THEY ARE YOUR MASTERS! DESTROY THE EVIL AMERICANS! DESTROY THE CAPITALISTS! DEATH TO RUSSIAN FOES! DEATH- Kinnin tripped, the thoughts making his head pound. He pushed them away feeling as if his head would explode from the effort. His head felt as if it reverberated with the echo of the words. He heard a shout. "Ha! The American is stronger then I thought. Catch him for our Psychic Corp."
Kinnin shot up and began to run. He heard the door burst open as he ran away, not bothering to look around as he pulled a .45 from his jacket pocket. He fired backwards, hearing a grunt as one bullet found it's home. He made it to the street when he felt the burst of unholy pain enter his head. Light flashed before his eyes, stars and more. His feet collapsed from under him, still running. He turned in mid-fall and looked to see the older man smiling at him with a vicious smile. He looked up startled at the police siren. He nodded to his compatriots and ran.
Months passed.
Kinnin was jolted awake as the humvee shuddered to a halt. The driver looked back at him and saluted. Kinnin nodded and left. The driver turned around and sped away, leaving Kinnin stranded alone mere miles from a Soviet base in the Palm Desert. He began crawling.
He hit the first perimeter guard about half a mile from the base. He cursed that the desert was so flat, pulling out a silenced 9mm pistol. As low-tech a gun as possible, it was equipped with the most powerful silencer available. A sound barely above a whisper. He threw a rock at the guard. He looked to his chest where the rock had hit, puzzled. Soon two blood-stains blossomed there. He fell.
Kinnin looked with disdain at the brown trench coat and gas-mask. He sighed and shrugged them on. He hid the body in a nearby ditch, and waited, appearing to be a guard on post. It took an hour and twenty minutes for the replacement shift. He saw the man, but acted as if he hadn't until he was quite close. He waved, and shouted out. "Alexi! Good to see you. It's mine turn now." The filtered voice came through with little of it's cheeriness lost. Kinnin nodded and spoke Russian back. "Tosnadanya."
The other conscripted solider shook his head. "Aww, c'mon Alexi. None of that Russian. You know I don't speak it." Kinnin could feel the grin. He always hated this part of the job. He quickly palmed the knife in his hand as he walked closer to the man.
"Da. You don't. Good-bye, Comrade." Suddenly the conscript had a knife hilt in his chest, just below the sternum. He fell back, and Kinnin could easily know the confusion on his concealed face. He continued on, walking stiffly and purposefully, as if he knew where he was going. It was going to be a short walk to the base.
He strode by the guards easily, entering the camp. It was little more then tents and tanks. Most of the men slept. He saw the commander's tent, and an for it. He entered and looked to the desk. He searched quietly until he found a coded operations disk. Pocketing several, he turned to leave as a dog began to bark and leap at him. He quickly shot it with his pistol. But it was too late. He shot the commander. Must get this to the president, thought Kinnin. I won't fail again. He pressed the button to call the air-strike and ran. He heard shouts and a siren. Shots were fired. Then the explosions began. He ran harder, shrugging off the mask, helmet, and trench coat.
He looked to his left, and saw a man aiming to shoot. He prepared to die as the explosion ripped the man to pieces. Kinnin stumbled, and changed directions. He looked behind to see a flak track turning to follow. It's gun leveled on him as the maverick detonated on it's hull. The explosion sent Kinnin flying. His breathe escaped as he landed, back to the only large rock in this god-forsaken desert. He distinctly heard the crack and snap. He gasped as blood left his mouth. He couldn't feel anything below his abdomen. His suddenly heavy arms flailed for his jacket pocket. He pulled out the coded disks, dropping them next to him. The explosions of the nearby base continued. He coughed out blood as he began choke on it, pooling in his mouth. He felt things begin to go black, he fought it, reaching for the last disk in his pocket. As his hand grasped it, he lost control and it fell to his side again. He ceased to breathe. The last of the pooling blood dribbled down the side of his mouth.
Hours passed.
The Humvee came to a stop next to the body lying on the rock formation. The driver looked at the man, and slowly began to move him into the mobile ambulance he was driving. He grabbed the dropped disks. He pocketed them. He left the man in the back of his vehicle as he searched for his commander. In mere minutes the disks would be in the commander's hands.
Mission Accomplished.