Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I'm borrowing her characters, dressing them up in MARPAT, and giving them some guns (again).
Unbeta'd, unedited.
OPERATION:
Light the Fires
Summary: A bomb goes off in Paris. A world leader is executed in Davos. Scientists are again disappearing, and a powerful new enemy has risen from the ashes of Aronovic's Deathstalkers to finish what was started. The situation is dire, but nothing is impossible. The Marines who took them down the first time are back in action. Sequel to OPERATION: Break the Dawn. AH.
Jan 4
Unnamed Cathedral, 18th Arrondissement
Paris, France
A hard, metallic clang echoed off the stone and plaster walls.
Crouched in the back corner of the dimly lit, rarely opened maintenance closet, a blonde twenty-something in black froze. Listening, she picked up the distant scuff of boots against tile. A radio squawked a beat later, and the woman's ice-blue eyes shot from the pair of cylindrical canisters at her feet to the sliver of yellow light seeping in through the crack at the door.
"Lyosha!" she whispered as she retrieved the thin aluminum plate to her left. Careful not to jar the nest of multi-colored wiring, she quickly fitted the panel over the circuit board and snapped the clips. "Chto proiskhodit?"
A tall, lean shadow moved outside the door, blocking the light, and then her partner's low baritone filtered through the darkened room. "Dumayu, eto prosto okhrannik."
The blonde checked her wrist and cursed the security guard's timing. "Ya yeshche ne zakonchila. Izbav'sya ot nego."
"Ladno, ostavaysya tam," Aleksey said, pulling the door to until all she could see was a thin, glowing frame around the centuries-old wood. "Ya s nim razberus'."
Rolling her eyes at the nonchalant arrogance dripping in his tone, Jana flipped down the pair of slim, next-gen NVGs perched on her forehead and turned back to the canisters to finish what she'd started. Grabbing the one closest, she unscrewed the end cap and reached into the padded crate to her right.
She recoiled as her fingertips grazed cool, smooth glass.
For a moment, she hesitated. Inside her chest, her heart pounded a wild, jagged rhythm, interrupted only by a second squawk of the guard's radio somewhere outside in the hall.
Another pissed-off curse slid between her lips.
Giving herself a hard, internal shake, Jana sucked in a deep, steadying breath, gripped the tube, and slowly extracted it from its casing.
Lit in shades of bright, neon, night vision green, the viscous, highly – highly – toxic liquid sloshed against the glass, coating the underside of the stopper she'd shoved in herself. Even though it'd been mere days, the chemical-grade rubber already showed signs of swelling and degradation, hinting at the nightmare lurking inside.
Ignoring the sink in her gut, Jana loaded the tube into the base of the canister, locking it in place, and then repeated the procedure a half dozen more times before moving to the second cylinder.
"Bonjour? Qui est là?"
Out in the corridor, Aleksey tucked the silenced barrel of a matte black Lebedev pistol into the back of his waistband and spun away from the ancient, hand-cut slabs of granite to face the oncoming guard. He plastered on the easy, friendly smile of a fellow laborer, and the moment the grizzled sixty-something rounded the corner, he threw his palms up in mock surrender. "Hey, hey! There you are!"
The guard's soles squeaked against the stone tile floor, and his right flew to the telescoping baton sitting on his hip. "Qui êtes-vous? Que faites-vous ici?"
"My apologies." Aleksey ducked his head and scrubbed his chin, rasping over the dark, neat beard that masked the long, iridescent scar running the length of his jaw. His smile turned sheepish as he continued in hesitant, halting English, mimicking the softer, shushing lilt of his western neighbors. "English okay? My French is not so good yet."
"You are not supposed to be here," the guard said, clocking the athletic build and the military-style fade of the man who topped him by at least a head. His thumb twitched against the smooth handle of his baton as his eyes fell to the white embroidered square on Aleksey's uniform. "Where did you come from, Paweł?"
Aleksey's head tilted. "I come from Gdańsk? Only last month."
The older man huffed in irritation, swiped a hand through cropped, pepper-gray hair, and motioned toward the arc of the vacant hallway behind him. "No, why are you here? Who opened the security gate for you? Where is your identification?"
"Ah." Shrugging a set of broad, straight shoulders, Aleksey toed the heavy denier toolbag on the floor, jangling its contents. He handed over an old, banged-up metal clipboard, along with a stack of greasy, crinkled work requests. "I come to fix troubles with water heaters. Was told it was emergency situation, a leak or something."
Bushy, unkempt brows climbed as the guard skimmed the scrawled blend of French and Polish, and then his forehead creased as he took a cautious step toward the unlatched door. "I was not informed of this."
"What can I say? This is where they send me," Aleksey said with another lazy shrug. Mirroring the other man's movements, he pivoted and casually blocked the door. As he shifted, the cold tip of his barrel jabbed into the rough, pocked skin of his lower back. The muscles there tingled and flexed, waiting to strike with eager anticipation. "Boss said go to maintenance room on second basement level in north wing." He jabbed a tanned finger at the stack of papers. His eyes glittered and danced as they darted to the ceiling above. "Right below altar."
"Merde." The guard's features pinched as he muttered a round of expletives under his breath. His gaze swung away from Aleksey, down the hall, and then flitted back to the younger man in front of him. "Look, Paweł from Gdańsk, the water heaters are nowhere close to here, and as I am aware, they are not broken, and there is no leak anywhere. You are not needed here. You must leave immediately."
"Please, my friend, there must be some kind of mistake or maybe some misunderstanding." Aleksey's voice softened to a cajoling plea as his left simultaneously crept toward the small of his back. "My boss will murder me if I return tonight without completing this task."
"That is not my problem." The security guard let out an aggravated harrumph. "I will escort you to the exit."
The man took another step forward, and as he began to reach for his radio, Aleksey intercepted him, placing a hand on his forearm, halting his movement. "You don't want to do that."
The guard flinched on contact. "What are yo–"
"Enough."
The door abruptly swung open. When the slim, diminutive blonde emerged from the darkened room, the guard's mouth fell open. There was a beat of mute, stunned surprise, but then he wheeled away, yanking his arm away and staggering backward until he bumped into the wall behind him. His radio banged into the stone, cracking its case with an audible pop.
"What is going on here?" the guard said, panicked and stuttering, as he belatedly grabbed for his baton. His hands shook, and when his weapon caught on the lip of its holster, the guard let out an involuntary whine. "Who are you people?"
Angling toward her partner, Jana glared daggers and spat out a furious curse. "Pochemu ya vsegda vse dolzhna delat' sama?"
Unperturbed by the sharpness riding her tone, Aleksey huffed and returned her scowl, even as he skated sideways, placing himself between the shaking guard and the long hallway leading back to the entrance. "Chto ty blya delayesh'?"
"Ya izbavlyayus' ot nego," Jana said, growling as she stalked toward the guard. Her lips curved into a slow, menacing smile. "Tak kak ty ne mozhesh'."
"What are you saying? What do you want?" Frantic, the guard tried for his baton again. The second it cleared his holster, Aleksey batted the thing away with effortless ease.
Almost as if in slow motion, the weapon clattered against the tile, loud and echoing as it rolled.
The older man opened his mouth to scream. A large, calloused hand clamped over his lips, muffling the noise. A thick, muscled forearm looped through his elbows. Before the guard could react, Aleksey swung in behind him, wrenched the man's arms, pinning them to his back, and then shoved forward until the his spine bent into a tight, s-shaped curve, just on the verge of snapping.
"I'm so very sorry," Jana said, as soft as silk. The overhead light glinted off the wicked, serrated edge of the blade by her side. As she approached, the man whimpered, and the pungent stench of urea hit the air. She tsked at the dark stain spreading across the front of his pants and again when a terrified tear leaked down his cheek. "I told Lyosha to get rid of you. Unfortunately for you, he didn't…" She hummed, drawing it out as if in deliberation. "So, as always, I will."
She struck before he could blink.
In a lightning-fast move, Jana's combat blade sank into the guard's torso, right below the sternum. She leaned into the blow, using momentum and weight to plunge the tip deeper, thrusting it upward inside his chest cavity until it found its target. His whole body convulsed as the blade pierced his heart, and as she twisted, splitting the muscle and severing its arteries, his eyes rolled back in his head. A single trickle of blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth before he went limp and collapsed.
In well-practiced choreography, Aleksey caught the man by the armpits. As soon as Jana pushed open the door, without a word, he dragged the body into the maintenance closet and deposited it behind a stack of boxes.
"Ty gotova?" Aleksey asked, turning just in time to catch the filthy, wadded-up tarp Jana chucked across the room.
"Nakroy ego." It was a sharp, no-nonsense command that he knew better than to question. She motioned to the suitcase-sized device at her feet and then to the large, rectangular open intake vent cut into the wall. "I potom idi syuda i pomogi mne."
Aleksey nodded a single, curt affirmative.
No more than ten minutes later, they stepped out onto the cobblestones of the dark, empty plaza behind the massive, centuries-old gothic cathedral. High overhead, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, shining down through the center dome. Light reflected and refracted through the stained glass windows, casting muted, colorful shadows on the ground in front of them.
Targeting the white and blue service van waiting on the other end of the plaza, Aleksey flashed a signal to the team in the apartment across the street as Jana fished her phone from her pocket.
Her thumb trembled as she hit send, and her stomach fluttered as she waited for him to pick up. When she finally heard the telltale click, a shiver skated down her spine, pebbling her skin.
"Status?" he asked, so quiet she almost missed it.
Not questioning his choice of language, she replied in the same. "It's done."
"Were there any problems?"
"There was a minor delay," she said, almost breathless, as her gaze instinctively lapped the empty plaza. "It was handled in a way I knew you would approve."
A low, masculine chuckle answered her, sending another dizzying flutter through her midsection. "Well done, solnyshko. You have pleased me greatly tonight… I must reward you when you return to me."
He paused then, long enough that Jana's heart raced inside her chest. Blood rushed in her ears, singing in a musical, high-pitched whine. Almost as if he knew, as if he could sense the deep-seated need crawling beneath her skin, he finally chuckled again before giving her one more softly spoken gift.
"And, Jana, know that your father would be very proud of you."
.
.
.
Notes [Please Read – These are 1-time notes that will apply to the entire story]:
1. This is a sequel to OPERATION: Break the Dawn. I strongly, strongly recommend reading OPERATION: Break the Dawn before starting this one
2. This is fiction of the action/thriller variety and written for the express purpose of entertainment, not accuracy (although I try pretty hard when I can). I will be taking liberties with regard to the current roles, regulations, and protocols within the military. Some of the weaponry doesn't exist. I'll be making up some science, too
3. There be graphic violence, adult language and themes, and likely a little sexin' in here, so mind that M rating accordingly. No other warnings will be provided
4. This story includes phrases in languages other than English, including Russian, Hebrew, and others. Translations are provided at the bottom of each chapter. If the information is critical, you should be able to pick up the gist from the context without having to scroll down immediately. Anyagal is again graciously fixing my not-fluent Russian and acting as a general sounding board (Spasibo, Anyagal!). All remaining mistakes are 100% mine
5. The timeline: I originally started OPERATION: Break the Dawn over a decade ago. The story itself was set in approx. 2013, with references to a situation in 2007 (See: MISSION: Ghost). I am lifting and dropping the entire timeline to an unspecified year, but approx. present day, and I'm ignoring the continuity holes that may create. In other words, we're all going to pretend that the original story just happened and the main protagonists are all still in their early 30s (plus/minus). I'm shifting the time because I want to play with more modern weapons, and I want to maintain relevance with regard to current events and some of the locations where we'll be going
6. Lastly, thank you for joining me on this little ride. I always, always love hearing from you. Interacting with you and seeing your reactions makes this truly fun for me. I'll do some teasers as we go along, so if you're interested, come find me on FB (I'm "katinki writes stuff")
Russian [transliterated]:
Lyosha: shortened name or diminutive for Aleksey. Most Russian names have standard short forms and diminutives, which are used by friends, family, close associates, etc. Some have several variants, and their use will depend on the specific relationship and context. Examples: Ekaterina: Katya; Anna: Anya; Mikhail: Misha; Aleksandr: Sasha
Dumayu, eto prosto okhrannik: I think it's just a security guard
Ya yeshche ne zakonchila. Izbav'sya ot nego: I'm not finished yet. Get rid of him
Ladno, ostavaysya tam: Fine, you stay there
Ya s nim razberus': I'll deal with him
Pochemu ya vsegda vse dolzhna delat' sama: Why do I always have to do everything myself?
Chto ty blya delayesh': What the fuck are you doing?
Ya izbavlyayus' ot nego… Tak kak ty ne mozhesh': I'm getting rid of him… since you can't
Ty gotova: Are you ready?
Nakroy ego… I potom idi syuda i pomogi mne: Cover him and then come here and help me
Solnyshko: Term of endearment, meaning little sun
French:
Bonjour? Qui est là: Hello? Who is there?
Qui êtes-vous? Que faites-vous ici: Who are you? What are you doing here?
Glossary:
NVGs: aka Night vision goggles, are optoelectronic devices that allow visualization of images in low levels of light, improving the user's night vision. Images are typically rendered monochrome green, as green has typically been considered to be the easiest color to look at for prolonged periods in the dark
Lebedev: is a semi-automatic pistol produced by Russian manufacturer Kalashnikov Concern. It fires a 919 mm Parabellum cartridge, and the PL-15 variant can be fitted with a suppressor (aka silencer)
Gdańsk: a lovely city and seaport in northern Poland