Chapter Three:

Echo

Stone stood up and next to the projector screen. He pulled out a pointer and began to click through the PowerPoint slides.

"The perfect soldier is always something governments and provinces are always trying to attain. One with superior sight, superior hearing, 'soldier instincts' that takes years to develop on the battlefield and is not found in every grunt. No amount of training can make you the invincible force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. But… we can get damn near close to it. Since the beginning of World War II, there have been superior fighters that have risen above your average infantry. They possessed special talents or abilities: some synthetic, some natural. Because of this, one would think that they would stand a better chance during the tides of battle.

"But you are wrong. In fact, sometimes these special abilities become liabilities, and ultimately the downfall of the being. We have discovered this from Big Boss, the ultimate warrior. It has been speculated that Big Boss' fighting and survival abilities in urban warfare come naturally from a 'soldier gene.' He adapted to new fighting techniques and styles more quickly and efficiently than your average recruit. He managed to bring down the original COBRA unit himself, and put a stop to the Shagohad, a machine with the ability to launch nuclear ballistic missiles for extreme distances, spanning entire oceans and continents undetected.

"Big Boss managed to defeat his mentor – Boss – hence earn the title greater than he, Big Boss. Big Boss formed FOXHOUND afterwards to combat terrorism and provide services for the then-known-as-Patriots. Enter the Les Miserable Teribles project: a cloning experiment to try and recreate who Big Boss was. Two children were produced – twins – who rose through the ranks of FOXHOUND to earn their titles Liquid Snake and Solid Snake. FOXHOUND became a renegade faction a few years ago, being led by Liquid Snake to take control of a research facility in Alaska. What Liquid didn't know was we had a backup precaution just in case he got out of control. Solid Snake was a vector for a virus called FOXDIE; Liquid and some of the others were the recipients of this deadly infection. It would cause a heart attack once passed from vector to victim. We sent in an agent beforehand to make sure everything went as planned. Solid Snake completed his mission, destroying Liquid and the rest of the renegade FOXHOUND.

"Because of that, we speculated that other members of the Les Miserable Teribles experiment should be at their prime age to begin assignments. Originally, we were only going to stick to male subjects. And then, one day… Roger Bannon and his wife, Estella discovered they were going to have a child. The OSI operative was approached and asked if he would like to participate in the LMT project. Mr. Bannon agreed as did his wife."

My jaw dropped as I began to cry. I buried my head in my arms on the table and started trying to deny it to myself. Inside me, I could feel the soldier awakening.

"We injected Big Boss' genes into the womb. We monitored the development of the embryo and into childbirth. Afterwards, we kept tabs on the result for the next eighteen years. From what we've seen in the adolescence era, results were positive for increased stamina, quick thinking, and other traits that you would find in a soldier."

Stone walked over to my chair. He stroked my hair as to get my attention. I leaned back and looked up at him.

"Jessica," he said. "I visited you, your mother and father in the hospital after you were born. You looked so fragile then, but I knew through the trials and tribulations you would become strong. I managed to hold you once; I said to you to never forget who you are, or who you're meant to be. I knew that others would probably try to hide the true 'you,' but you can never escape from yourself. I believe that is what's been haunting you for the past several months. Your inner self knows it's time. It's time to wake up."

Stone pulled me up with his weathered, beaten hands and hugged me like any father would hug a daughter. I wept into his flannel shirt as he tried his best to comfort me. Finally, he let go, allowing me to sit back down.

"Jessica," Stone said. "We are the La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo."

Wiping my eyes, I asked, "What's that?"

"We are the true people that hold power in the world. We control the wealth, influence government decisions, provide order in midst of chaos. We control elections – or in some cases, 'correct' elections when necessary. We are the ones who make the world revolve."

Pointing to me, he said, "You are one of the newest members of FOXHOUND, a part of TRAIN, the Tactical Reconnaissance and Infiltration Network."

I looked up, "Why me? Why couldn't I just be normal like everyone else? WHY DID YOU FUCKING DO THIS TO ME!"

I stormed away from the table, knocking my chair over in the process. The members simply looked concerned but still let Stone do the talking. I walked over to the corner and reevaluated my life's accomplishments and tried to digest what I had just learned. All my life… something had been different. It wasn't simple tomboyish acts; it was because of specific strands of DNA injected into me while I was being created. These people stepped into the line of God's work and added their own little modifications. What the hell was I to do now?

I weighed my options. But then I realized it was a binary choice.

I could either follow through willingly. Or follow through forcefully.

Who the hell is this talking to me? I wondered. Something inside was taking control, only I wouldn't relinquish it.

Stone's placed his hand on my shoulder. The heat in my face subsided as my anger simmered. I turned around and faced him. Those daunting blue eyes fell upon my weakened emerald.

I gulped, and asked, "How do you know Doctor Quest?"

Stone sighed, saying, "I cannot say now. What you must do, Jessica, is prepare yourself for your first mission."

"Mission?"

"Yes, your mission. In case you haven't forgotten, there are people that need your help, and only you can help them."

"What if I don't want to be apart of this?"

Stone shook his head, "You've been drafted, Jessica. There's no turning back. You're in too deep now as it is. Take this into consideration: I've watched you from day one, ever since you were born. How hard do you think it would be to find you? No matter how many times you change your name, acquire fake IDs, dye your hair, move to the mountains and live in solitude, I can find you. We can find you. Do you understand?"

I didn't doubt Stone. From the seriousness in his voice to the underground facility beneath a southern plantation, he wasn't shitting me.

I sniffed and wiped my nose.

"What now?" I asked.

Stone turned back to the table, saying, "Let me ask you this, Jessica: have you ever killed anyone before?"

"No."

"Get ready, you're going to. How sneaky are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"How good is your stealth?"

I thought for a minute, "I guess I can sneak."

"We'll put that to the test. First, we're going to go over a briefing of what your mission is. Just remember: after this day, you're no longer the same Jessica Bannon you were when you woke up this morning. This, like every mission after this, could be the last thing you ever do in life. Like all members of FOXHOUND, the world is counting on you, whether they know it or not. Skills are developed with practice, so maybe some time in the VR missions afterwards wouldn't hurt. Ideally, we would've already completed the entire course, but time is of the essence here."

"Shit," I grumbled.

"I'm sorry sweetie," Stone said. "We'll begin with what you're going to be dealing with."

The PowerPoint presentation changed.

"First and foremost, the title of this operation is 'Operation Derail.' Over the past several months, a private government contractor has been developing a new type of gun. I know you're shocked, but this isn't your average firearm. This thing has the ability to shoot through buildings: steel, concrete, anything that would stop a normal lead bullet this thing tears through like wet tissue paper.

"Like in the videogames, it's aptly called, a 'Rail Gun.' Dr. Quest was called upon to witness a testing of it and to double-check some of the specifications to make sure this thing actually worked. Based on our informants, it does, and that's not good. The board has decided that this weapon must be destroyed along with any piece of information that could lead to its development again. People who develop this must be dealt with accordingly."

"Killed?" I shrieked.

"I'm afraid so. As ruthless as it seems, the world doesn't need that kind of firepower roaming about. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that this thing's going to be immediately duplicated and sold to militias and other governments. The advancement of technology is a dangerous thing, Jessica; we're just trying to stay one step ahead of everyone."

A picture of a beautiful, raven-haired woman came on screen. She looked like she belonged in the modeling business rather than in something like this…

"This is Doctor Elena Yaegar; she is the program's director at Carpenter-Carver Human Advancement Research and Development Facilities. This is her pet project, which makes it even more dangerous. This woman is evil beyond any words describable. She has martial arts training in various styles and forms of close quarters combat. She is also believed to be heavily armed and dangerous. Dr. Yaegar's life must be ended before millions of others pay for her dreams.

"Your mission: infiltrate the research facility undetected."

Blueprints of the facility appeared on the next slide.

"Secondly: destroy the Rail Gun and any information system that contains even the word in it. We believe it would be in everyone's best interest if the facility as a whole was destroyed. We'll leave the method up to you.

"Thirdly: destroy Dr. Yaegar and all of her personnel files. We've learned from our past mistakes and aren't willing to take any chances any longer.

"Lastly, and most importantly: destroy any resistance you face between you and your mission objective. There's no telling who's been recruited to protect the good Doctor. Do you understand your objectives?"

I shrugged, "Do I have a choice?"

Stone shook his head, "Really Jessica, cut the bullshit. Yes or no…"

"Yes," I sighed.

"One more thing: I'll be accompanying you to provide back up, and to make sure you don't fuck us over. Wait outside and we'll go suit up. I'll only be a minute."

I stood up and took one last room at everyone around me. They all looked up at me in grave silence. Apparently, they weren't fucking around. This was some heavy stuff, and if they had confidence that I could do it, then I might as well see what happens. Life couldn't get any shittier as it already was. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself. The Russian lady that sat beside me wished me good luck and smiled gently. I thanked her before leaving the secured room.

Stone finally left the room fifteen minutes after I did. As we left back to the corridors, he was quiet. I walked behind silently, too. I mean, what else could I say? What else could I ask? I pondered on what I would say to Daddy, much less everyone else. Did anyone else know about this? There were so many questions and so many people not answering.

We entered a locker room. Gray lockers and wooden benches: it was like stepping back into Rockport High. Stone motioned for me to follow him on down one of the aisles. We stopped in front of a locker with a heavy-looking secured padlock on it. Stone produced a key from his pocket and detached the lock. The door swung open with a small squeak; Stone stepped aside and let me look inside.

Inside, there was a two piece uniform. It was clad with a rubbery-like material; the color was a dark, polished navy blue to the point it was almost black and didn't seem to reflect light very well. Below it was a belt with a few pouches and a holster. To the right of that: a pair of boots made out of the same material as my suit.

"This is your sneaking suit," Stone said. "Take care of it: these things cost about half-a-million to produce. It has a new type of Kevlar built into it: it's a lot lighter than your traditional bulletproof vest so you can move a lot more freely. There's a pair of gloves on the shelf above that. I'll be on the other side suiting up, so holler at me if you need any help getting this on."

I nodded as Stone strolled to the other side of the lockers. I stared at the suit before me, and thought, the new look of Jessica Bannon. I rubbed my eyes and sat down on the cold, hard wooden bench to take off my shoes. Stone began cursing; said that he needed to go get another key. He left the locker room, leaving me alone to my thoughts.

"What a fine mess I've gotten myself in to," I said aloud.

I took off my sneakers, stuffed my socks in them, and then threw them aside. I pulled off my, now aptly worn, Fruit of the Loom cotton t-shirt. It stunk of sweat and sand. I threw it away as Stone walked around the corner. At this point I didn't care who saw me in all my glory. Stone smirked and commented, "Nice tits."

I shot him a bird.

"Please, Sweetie, I'm an old man. Lose the bra and panties: this thing has the built-in 'necessities.'"

I sighed and did as I was told. The tile floor was getting colder by the minute as Stone returned to his locker and began fumbling with it. I took the top off the hangar and slipped into it. For a sneaking suit, it was actually quite comfortable. A little strange feeling at first, but it was flexible. The pants reminded me of a funky pair of slacks. By the time I finished lacing up my boots and attaching my belt, Stone had finally gotten into his locker. I walked around to the other side to see if there was a brush I could use for my hair.

Stone was standing there in his boxers. For an old guy as he claimed, he could probably beat any bodybuilder's ass without missing a beat. A tattoo of the Marines was on his right bicep with the word "STONE" placed neatly under it in a banner. He looked over at me, "You look good; I'm impressed."

I asked, "What're we going to do after this is over?"

"Well," he said. "If you live long enough, you're going to start your new life. I'm going to be your mentor for a little while until I think you're fully able to start out on your own. You won't be able to return to your family, none of them."

"Where will I live?"

"Anywhere you choose. We'll get you when we need you."

"So I'm at your beck and call," I placed my hands on my hips. "That what you're saying?"

"I'm afraid so. Pay's good; you'll be assigned a private account. But the old life that you were once accustomed to: that's gone. Forever. You can never go back, no matter how hard you try."

I sat down on the bench next to Stone's clothes. His wallet had fallen open, revealing a family portrait. He must've sensed me looking at it, since he remarked, "I haven't seen them in years."

I looked up, "What happened?"

"To be honest," Stone began. "I don't really know. I used to be a Marine, as you could've guessed; Lieutenant Junior Grade. I'm not authorized to name what station I belonged to, but let's just say we were involved in things that weren't something you would want to see in the papers or on Yahoo! News. One day, after coming home from a reconnaissance in Greenland, my wife and daughter were gone. No explanation given, no trace of struggle or anything. It was like they just upped and left, leaving me behind. The La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo picked me up, saying that I was working with them now. They said to the world, I would be dead. They kept their word by destroying my house. I heard it was a nice funeral, but it didn't really matter to me then. Turned out they had selected me long before, right after I had left boot camp, in fact. About 1971, I was incorporated into FOXHOUND. I've lingered around since it was supposedly 'disbanded' – but nothing truly breaks apart – and have carried on ever since. I've been all over the world as a Soldier of Fortune, so to speak. Strangely, a lot of stuff I've done lately have been down at the local level. Oh well, it makes a living…"

"I'm sorry," I said. "Even though, there's probably no need to apologize."

"You're learning," he replied. "A true mark of a soldier is when they realize that they have control over nothing other than the gun in their hands battling against the odds."

I looked up, "Can I still visit them some?"

"We'll see," Stone said as he got into his suit. It looked identical to mine, only a little beefier. "But don't get your hopes up just yet. The mission hasn't even started yet."

I nodded.

"Here," Stone said as he tossed me a small black box with earpiece.

I grabbed it and looked it over, asking, "What's this?"

"It's called a Codec. That special earpiece will stimulate the small bones in your ear so only you can hear it. It carries the vibrations of your voice so there's no need for a boom microphone. It operates kind of like an FRS radio: you select which frequency you want to contact, and queue it up like a normal unit. It'll beep whenever you have a call waiting. When we get out on the field, we'll test it out."

Stone finished suiting up. Afterwards, we proceeded to an armory that was directly connected to the locker room. Stone handed me a pair of binoculars, a survival knife, and a Springfield Armory PC9111 .45 1911-A1 semiautomatic handgun. The cold, black Teflon coated steel shined brilliantly and magnificently. I cocked it, loading the first round of death into its chamber. Stone took one and did likewise.

"All other equipment will be OSP," he said.

Perplexed, I asked, "OSP?"

"Onsite Procurement."

We finished checking our gear and headed out. I slipped the 1911 into a side holster and two extra clips into my back pouches. My knife was secure in a holster that strapped across my chest. As we walked down the hallway, my boots squeaked with every beat of my heart.

I tried to hold back the tears as I denied myself and picked up my cross.

We rode a service elevator back to the upper ground. Stone said that my car would be waiting inside the laboratory grounds once the mission was complete, although he was unclear on how it would manage to magically find its way there. We would travel by a small jet to a destination outside of Nags Head and then make our way down to the base. Stone asked me how good were my scuba diving abilities were; I said, "Good enough."

Keeping to his word of secrecy, I was blindfolded after entering the jet. These people weren't taking any chances of giving me any indication on where this secret base was located under a Southern plantation. We rode in silence like back in the car. Stone kept asking me if I was getting airsick: typical father-figure. I did have to get up and pee a few times. This suit reminded me of an aerobics outfit from hell.

After about half an hour of flight, I felt the small craft land with a small thud. Stone led me off of the craft and onto the tarmac where he removed my blind. We were standing out on a runway surrounded by nothing but fields and trees. As the plane took off again to probably return to its source, Stone and I began to walk. The darkness of night shrouded us except for the runway lights.

"Where are we?" I asked, knowing it was a dumb question.

He stared ahead, saying, "Near Nags Head. Not many people – if any – know this little air strip exists."

At the end of the runway was an old Ford F-150, long bed and powerful V8 engine. Its blue interior and exterior made it seem a little awkward for going to a mission. Stone said it had character; not everything the movies portray is true. Stone walked around to the passenger side. I stopped him, "Aren't you driving?"

He shook his head, "Nope, I want you to drive."

Aghast, I stood back, "M… me?"

"Yeah you. What, you've never driven a truck before?"

"Not this size… no."

"Jessica, don't tell me you can fly a plane, operate a boat, and fire a gun, but you can't drive a simple old pickup truck?"

"Well… I guess I could give it a shot."

The doors creaked open as we climbed into the blue felt bench seat. The keys were in the ignition.

"Buckle up," Stone said. "Follow the dirt path over there; take a right at the end of that."

I cranked up the old pickup. The engine turned over and roared loudly before I put it into gear and drove off. The mighty truck tore down the dirt path as Stone grabbed the shit handle above his door.

I looked over at him, "Too fast for ya?"

"Nah, I'm all right," he said with a small grin.

Finally we reached the end of the dirt path. I swerved a right onto the main road and sped off. The beach was to my left; the city lights were ahead a couple of miles in the distance. After about ten minutes, Stone said, "Pull off the road down here on the left."

I obeyed.

The truck went off road and down the hill. We slammed into the sand and down the beach. The moonlight shimmered across the ocean ahead. I brought the truck to a stop in front of a small inflatable craft. Stone motioned for me to kill the engine and got out. I turned off the headlights and left the truck. The inflatable raft was black and had a silent motor equipped on it.

"No turning back now," Stone said. "Get in, I'll cast us off."

I climbed into the raft and sat down. Stone pushed it out onto the water as I started the motor. Stone took control of the steering; I scooted aside. We tore through water seamlessly.

"Do you know where you're going?" I finally asked.

Stone looked at me, "Yeah, why?"

"Just making sure."

I checked the scuba equipment that was in the raft. It looked military grade. Suddenly, Stone brought the raft to a screeching halt.

"Gear up," he said.

I looked all around us into the depths of nothing, "This is where it is?"

"We're about to find out."

Stone killed the motor and we slipped into our scuba gear. Stone checked my connections and tightened my straps before I went overboard. He followed shortly. Under the water, Stone grabbed my hand as we began to descend as fast as possible. After getting about three yards away, the raft above exploded.

There was definitely no going back now.

The suit managed to repel water very well. The rubber masks were also made out of the same material. I managed to stay warm and fight my way through the pressure of the ocean. After a few minutes, some sort of underwater bay area came into view. Stone guided me with his flashlight as we came upon the facility.

It was massive.

The underwater submarine bay was about the length of a football field. Reinforced steel barriers and beams managed to keep the structure stable. Concrete lined the walls and poured cement made the floors. Security cameras were everywhere along with automated turret systems. Stone kept me by his side as we swam inside up to a nearby loading dock. There were no subs harbored in here yet – thank God – but there were some maintenance technicians. Stone turned off his flashlight as we swam under the cargo bay into a large drainage pipe.

We swam forward until we reached an air pocket right below the bay. The small square area was lit with a glaring red service light. Stone and I surfaced. We removed our respirators.

"Ditch the tanks, but keep your mask on until we get up there. Understand?" he asked.

I nodded.

Together, we unstrapped our tanks and let them sink to the bottom of the pipe. We held our breath and swam back out towards the mouth of the pipe. The water was fiercely cold on my face; it drowned my nose and hurt my lips. Stone stepped aside and motioned for me to go first. I swam out towards a set of stairs leading up to the bay floor. Stone stayed in the pipe and gave me a thumb up. I swallowed hard and surfaced quietly. I looked back over at Stone: he motioned that I draw my knife and get ready for some action. I reached into the holster strapped across my chest and removed my survival knife. Stone was now giving A-OK hand signals.

Placing both hands on the first step, I hoisted myself out of the water. None of the technicians seemed to notice me; they continued working in their blue jumpsuits and orange hard hats. I took one last look at Stone… who disappeared. He was no longer watching me from the mouth of the pipe.

"Shit," I muttered.

I climbed up the steps, crouching low. Overhead fluorescent lights beat down upon us in the bay. I could hear some technicians talking, others working diligently at workstations and forklifts. I made it to the top of the flight and surveyed the bay. Rows and rows of palettes, storage tanks and buildings, and lots of security. I slid behind one of the first stack of palettes I saw and peered around the corner. Nobody noticed my entrance. Where the hell was Stone?

Alright Jessie girl, time for action.

I peered around towards the back and saw a service elevator. The only problem I faced was the small amount of armed guards in the area. They patrolled up and down the rows; each one was equipped with an M5 and what looked to be flash-bang grenades. They were dressed in black camouflage uniforms and donned headsets connected to radios on their belts.

I picked up a nearby stone.

I immediately dropped it after the first explosion erupted halfway down the dock.

A couple of bodies were flung into the ocean and to the other side of the bay area. I pulled out my gun and peered around. Guards were running everywhere as alarms sounded. Everyone was screaming and running. They believed it to be an accident, but I knew better.

Stone had snuck around to the other side.

Another explosion rocked the area again. More screaming and alarms. Everyone around me began to run in every direction. Now was my chance. I looked down at the service elevator to see it rising. Stone was taking off his mask and cocking his gun. He pointed to the wall I was at before he disappeared into the upper floor. I ran down the wall, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, until I came to a set of double-doors. I pushed onto the handle and opened the door. After it slammed shut behind me, I removed my mask and threw it on the ground. I cocked my 1911 and looked down the hallway ahead.

Operation Derail was commencing.

The hallways were lined with smooth green wallpaper with a wooden trim. The floor was buffed and waxed. Recessed lighting provided a soft porcelain glow from their housing. The doors were electronically controlled; reminded me of Star Trek. A small plate stating the room name and number was posted next to each doorway. From the looks of things, I was alone.

For now.

I kept to the wall and made my way down the long hallway. An adjoining hallway connected after the first door on the left. At the end of the hall, the passage made a right turn into God knows what.

Suddenly, there was a beeping in my ear.

My Codec was being called.

I reached around the back and pressed the first button I found. For my sake, it was the right one. Stone's voice came on the air, "Ponchita, you there?"

I stayed next to the wall, "Yeah… wait, did you just call me Ponchita again?"

"Huh? Oh… never mind that. Listen, where are you at now."

I described my location to him. Stone replied that I was currently in the library wing of the compound.

He then said, "I'm sorry we couldn't obtain any blueprints of this place. I've been here a time or two; I'll try to guide you the best I can should you get lost. Do you understand how to use your Codec yet?"

"Some," I glanced down at the small device. "It's like tuning a digital FM radio."

"Yeah, I know. Just tune in the frequency for whoever you want to speak to. My frequency is 149.24. Can you remember that?"

"I guess so."

"Good. I'm on the… holy shit…"

Stone trailed off. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

"What? What is it?" I demanded.

"Gotta go… SHIT…"

And then there was silence. I looked ahead and made my way around to the adjacent hallway. I stood behind a floor plant as some researchers made their way out of one of the rooms. In their lab coats, they looked defenseless. Unfortunately, a trained eye could see the bulge of a weapon underneath. Apparently, Dr. Yaegar didn't trust her employees to rely solely on the security implemented. I slid around the plant but bumped into the damn thing, knocking it over.

The two researchers flung around, drawing their guns and taking cover to the best of their abilities in the doorway.

"Who is that!" One shouted.

The other responded, "Hell if I know! Hey! Drop your weapons and come out!"

I stayed behind the wall and listened. These guys had been trained to not take any chances with suspicious looking characters, which included me. I heard the soft clack of dress shoes onto the smooth tile floor. I put my gun back into its holster and waited. The first one rounded the corner and kept his .38 special trained on me.

"Get up," he commanded. "Keep your hands behind your head."

I slowly rose and interlocked my hands behind my head. He stepped up close, "Who are you?"

I simply stared into his empty brown eyes. His short blonde hair started to perspire.

My captor was getting annoyed, "I said 'who are you!'"

The other one called something out. The researcher turned his head.

Now was my chance.

Using a technique Daddy taught me, I grabbed the researcher's hand and twisted his wrist to where the gun was pointing back at his face and bent his elbow. His reflexes taking control, the researcher pulled the trigger. His throat exploded out behind his neck. The empty look was now filled with surprise as the man gurgled and fell to the floor to make a crumpled heap. I immediately withdrew my .45 and took a shot at the other researcher who was now firing wildly in my direction. Lead slammed into the wall behind me and on the floor. My first shot missed; I took cover behind the bend. My target took refuge in the room he had previously occupied.

I guess this was my incentive for dealing with everybody: kill or be killed.

Lucky for me, although this is questionable, they were lousy shots.

I aimed and waited for the bastard to poke his head around the corner again. He didn't disappoint me. The lab rat, in a desperate attempt to run, bolted from the sanctity of his room. I shot him in between the shoulder blades, severing his spine. His body fell sideways and crashed into the nearby wall. I stood upright and twirled my gun.

Then I caught myself.

What the hell was I doing?

"Oh… my God…" I said as I leaned back onto the wall.

I wasn't a killer. The adrenaline was getting the best of me; that, or the "soldier gene" inside of me. I didn't have time to stop and weigh the options to dealing with these guys who were even more dangerous than your average grunt. But here I was, taking people's lives without remorse. I slid down to the floor again, next to the body of my first encounter. I looked over at him: the look of shock was still plastered all over his face.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, knowing it wouldn't do much good.

My Codec started to beep.

I tried to get my nerves back in order as I pressed the button to receive.