The American People

[Admonish Misconstruction]

JANUARY 10TH
CALLSIGN: PI
OPERATION BUNKER HILL

Now they were breaking through the door, into the night. A fresh blast of cool air swarming over the two TAP soldier's. Pi's body was broiling with heat, sweat boiling beneath layers of black. It could have been the cold as much as the Desert Eagle pointed precariously at the Senator's head by a Special Forces operator that sent those chills thrashing across Pi's spine. There were three soldiers with the Senator, and each would fall.

Winter stopped mid-step, brought his rifle to bear, and fired a barrage of oscillating shots at the Special Forces Operators. Two fell to Pi's name while Epsilon's hand took down the third, the one holding the Desert Eagle at the Senator's head. An muzzle flash exploded from that soldier's handgun, a bloody hole suddenly opening up with the flesh on the Senator's belly. The politician fell to the ground, bleeding, and screaming as one of TAP's helicopters broke the horizon of Winter's vision.

With haste Winter rushed to the Senator's side assault rifle dangling at his side from its sling. As the Senator bellowed some bloody curses between his bloodied screams of pain Winter groped for the Senator's limbs. Winter swung the weight of Tail-Fin's body over his shoulders harshly. Unapologetic with the potato sack treatment he gave the Senator. The b*****d could moan, and Winter would relish it.

"How does it feel? Your own protection getting an order to end you..." Pi rasped over the noise of the massive helicopter's spinning rotors. Someone in the helicopter opened its sliding door and grabbed for the moaning Senator. Once the Senator's weight was lifted from Winter'e shoulders Winter trudged back to the corpses picking from the dead like some ravenous hurried Vulture at some carrion. In a ten second spurge he grabbed three I.D's, a cellular, a notebook, several handguns, and a set of Kriss Super V's. Pi trudged back to the helicopter taking a seat across from the Senator in the Blackhawk's uncomfortable bench seats.

"Let's get the hell out of here," he bellowed into his headset as he simultaneously removed the tango's cellular phone's battery and simcard.
 

[Norijitsu]

January 10th, 20XX
18:47:10 ZULU HOURS
CALLSIGN: "EPSILON"
OPERATION BUNKER HILL
Location: USAF Blackhawk [82749-D], Brooklyn, NY

The gravity pressed down on his innards upon take off. A humming noise from the bulkhead swarmed his ears and thoughts even through the headset he dawned upon take off. But the fear of whatever problem Omega just brought upon him started to creep up his spine.

"What do you mean, 'Problem'." Epsilon said into his Mic piece.

"We've got word from Savehouse Bravo that they just got hit. Recommend doubling back to The Farm."

Epsilon's reply was caught short in his throat by another message from his teammate
"Also, get us out of here, we're short on ammo and close to being overrun. How copy?"

"Solid copy, give us 2 mikes till EVAC."

He jolted forward out of his seat, taking his position on the Aft mini-gun, and prepping it for assault.

"Pi, you need to prep for a quick get away for the other two. Get the ropes ready, Ridgeback, hover in low and focus on your Aft end, we're gonna give them a show. How copy?

"Good Copy. Ridgeback said.  

[Admonish Misconstruction]

JANUARY 10TH
CALLSIGN: PI
OPERATION BUNKER HILL

A helicopter was to Pi as the sea was to a seasoned sailor. He checked up on Tail-Fin. Content with the Senator's restraints he moved aft at Epsilon's orders mounting up a set of ropes. Like popping firecrackers muzzles flashed bellow, sparks dancing off the concrete in cars as bullets went back and forth like some unholy game of hot potato.

"Bravo's down?" He said, instead of a string of curses that had felt more appropriate. Safe house Bravo's demise meant that those men and women were gone, or worse... captured. He slammed a closed fist into the bulkhead, pain shooting from his knuckles to his spine like an arrow. The helicopter groaned in response as it turned.

The helicopter descended as Epsilon's mini-gun began to roar. Hot lava spewed from its spinning barrel as brass tumbled haphazardly about. The street was bathed in violent hurricane of 7.62mm rounds. There were definitely screams, but Pi would never hear them over the mini-gun's whine.
 

[Norijitsu]

January 10th, 20XX
18:48:56 ZULU HOURS
CALLSIGN: "EPSILON"
OPERATION BUNKER HILL
Location: USAF Blackhawk [82749-D], Brooklyn, NY

The gun spun at a rapid rate, spitting out a red streak of death into the ground below. Hot streaks of metal found their way passing through flesh, bone, and metal, resting finally beneath the asphalt of the street. Where Epsilon pointed, people died.

10 feet below the metallic flying monster, Omega and Theta were falling back to the ropes laid out for them. They gripped for dear life onto the nylon rope and fastened themselves to the metal safety bars. Gravity once again gripped on their innards, and the chopper took off from the city.

The minigun stopped spinning. Epsilon quickly locked it back into a stable position and began helping Pi retrieve his teammates from the open air. The two pulled the ropes into the Helicopter, until their bodies were safely inside. With a sudden action, Theta tossed his helmet into the far corner of the cabin. If it was in relief or frustration, Epsilon couldn't tell; but the ex-Marine looked happy he was off that street.

Omega set his rifle next to him as he sat on the bench opposite of Senator Beller. He gestured toward the man, now handcuffed, bleeding and blinded by a black burlap sack over his head with a nod. "That him?"

Epsilon nodded. "Yep."

"Wounds?" Theta jumped in, noticing the blood on his suit.

"He took one to the stomach. You'll never believe this... It was from his own bodyguard."

Omega's eyes glinted of surprise. "Looks like he was a loose end."

"That's my guess. From what Pi and I gathered, he had Special Forces guarding him. Meaning the order was high up. Thank god we got there before they put one in his head."

Theta scoffed. "And the b*****d was able to squeeze one off into his gullet before biting your bullet. Eh, Ep?"

"Right. Well, since Safe House Bravo has been taken, its actually going to give us perfect balance of what happens."

The entire cabin gave him puzzled glances. Epsilon answered with his own devious smirk.

"I'll de-brief you at The Farm. Pi, give them notice."  

[Admonish Misconstruction]

JANUARY 10TH
CALLSIGN: PI
OPERATION BUNKER HILL

Pi stood at the helicopter's doorway looking out, a grim smile flashing behind his mask. For a moment he was useless, able stand at the edge of the cabin doors focusing on the scene bellow them. Beneath the whirlwind gusts of the helicopters rotors, the blinding streaks of death that were the mini-gun, there was a street. It was bathed in light, flashes, and death. Pi smelled the stench of death in the used casings, in the scent of burned primers. He wanted to see the street when daylight broke. He hoped the military would leave the bloody bullet warped and mutilated bodies so the street dogs could tear them apart. Safe house Bravo was gone, and with it Winter's empathy. There was no silent prayer for those left dead bellow. His gut burned as he saw the faces he would never see again. It was uncomfortable losing comrades.

As Pi broke from his thoughts he was pulling Omega into the cabin. While Theta and Omega were physically find their eyes were something else. They were hazed, lost, retracted. The street was hell for them.

"Along with some extra small arms," Pi said. "I got a cellular, a notebook, and some identification cards." Winter rummaged through his gear finally stumbling upon a cellular, a battery, and SIM card all separated from each other wadded up in a plastic ziplock. He handed it to Epsilon. "The order to take down the Senator probably came through this phone, I bet it's just a burner but we might be able to skim something off of it."

With the phone handed off Winter went to the cockpit and informed the pilots to take them to the Farm.
 

[Admonish Misconstruction]

JANUARY 10TH
LT. ANDERSON
ALPHA TEAM
DELTA FORCE, US ARMY
TAP SAFEHOUSE 'BRAVO', NEW YORK

"Empty. We're talking burner phones and the laptop's are dead ends. All we have are stacks of munitions, uniforms, fake ID's... loads of water and MREs." The Army Intelligence Sergeant voiced. He seemed frustrated. "We're looking into the hostages next of kin and trying to find any leverage. Meanwhile we are tearing this place apart for any hidden compartments, a flash drive, a SD card, maps, paperwork, notebook, anything. Nothing so far."

Anderson scowled. The moment his team blew through the doors he knew that the hostages were going to be the only intelligence source. Despite that the truth he had still hoped there would be something. TAPs wasn't leaving information lying around, they weren't making that sort of mistake. Yet.

"Let me know if the situation changes."

Anderson walked over to his six man team. Richardson handsomely coddled the stock of his M14 smiling a disturbingly crystal white smile. Why Richardson became a soldier and not a model was beyond Anderson. Beneath Sammy's puffy beard was the remnants of a IED and a hole left by a 9mm. Frank was a six foot tall but always seemed a foot taller than anyone with all the muscle from the coliseum. Micky looked more like a acne ridden teenager than a twenty-eight year old killer. Singlehandedly turning three burly Russians into bloody confetti was just one of many examples of why nobody cared to ******** with Micky. Then there was Colbert, an odd surly fellow who reminded Anderson of a old dusty Englishman with the accent of an Irishman from the Bronks. Meanwhile Anderson was just ruggedly handsome. They had suffered no more than some bruises and ringing ears; a lot less than TAPs had suffered. They had been true defectors and not just some kids spray painting alley walls with revolutionary slogans and emblems.

"We did what we needed to do; perfectly. We have a debriefing with our CIA friends 1100 hours and I have a feeling that they'll be needing us again very soon."  

[Admonish Misconstruction]

January 10th
Mr. Clean
Central Intelligence Agency
Fort Drum

Mr. Clean was currently his name and the man who now owned it wasn't sure how well it tasted. Was it sour, putrid, squeamish, or too comical? Names spoke loudly, and sometimes viciously (Richard the Lion Hearted?). The name Mr. Clean spoke as if he belonged in a infomercial or a graphic novel. Regardless Mr. Clean was temporarily his name and soon the name would be recycled and as with every name in his career washed down the mystical drain of aliases. At least it wasn't Mr. Frumpton this time around.

The man wore a tie and Mr. Clean liked his ties. It was black dyed silk and ordered with one of the CIA's banking accounts. This time around Mr. Clean wore a black Armani suit with his white dress shirt and black tie. His sunglasses were tucked inside his suit pocket and he wore dark leather gloves.

From where the light was weakest Mr. Clean stood; half shadow or half man. He watched the six TAP's hostages being offloaded under the guard of a dozen or so Army Military Police officers. Black bags were slung over the hostages heads, their hands were cuffed, and anklets shackled. It felt romantic somehow. Maybe it was one of Mr. Clean's fetishes he had yet to explore.

Mr. Clean would soon begin the interrogations. This was a CIA operation and Clean's methods weren't kosher at best, diabolical at worst. He loved using families as leverage; it was part of his technique. It wasn't very surprising that most of the hostage's families were inactive; dead, underground, or otherwise. Fortunately the police had picked up two of hostage's immediate family members who were about to be graciously handed over to the Military Police and incidentally Mr. Clean himself. There was a mother and a child too. How, how sweet and it wouldn't take too many sharp needles and a screaming wife to get the hostage talking.

"The American People," Clean scoffed to himself. Wasn't it just a ridiculous name for a revolutionary group? It was beyond tacky. It had been a little over two years since he had been assigned to tracking and eliminating TAP and very soon the group's walls would start crumbling in and like rats they would try to run underground into the sewers. No where would be safe for them; not even the sewers. Clean had found their safe house and next it would be their very heart. If only he had eliminated TAP sooner, than maybe the Chairman wouldn't have ordered the Senator dead.  

[Norijitsu]

January 10th, 20XX
19:20:00 ZULU HOURS
CALLSIGN: "EPSILON"
OPERATION BUNKER HILL
Location: Codename: "The Farm", Outskirts of Albany, NY

The whirling blades of the Blackhawk split through the air like a knife as the roar of its wake announced its arrival to the men and women at The Farm. As the metallic monster lowered closer to the soft green earth, the grass swayed with the wind against it, as if it were cowering from its awesome wake.

Epsilon leaped out of the chopper and landed to the ground with a sharp thud. As he looked up, he was greeted by a familiar figure: Sigma, the team's doctor along with Beta, and Zeta. Epsilon gave the a kurt nod and a smirk.

"We've got a patient for you doc." Epsilon said with a smile and a gesture behind him to the chopper, where Omega, Theta and Pi were unloading the Senator.

Sigma shook his head. "Well, atleast he's not a dead patient. Bring him inside. We've gotta get this show on the road."

Epsilon signaled to everyone to head into the building. They had a war to win.

19:35:09

The spotlight kicked on in Epsilon's face as he, Zeta, and Omega stood in front of a camera being operated by Pi. In between Zeta and Omega sat Beller.

He cleared his throat, and spoke the first words that would enter them in eternity.

"Members of the United States... Citizens, countrymen, servicemen, anyone who can call them selves 'American' heed this message. Many of you are never aware of the actions your government takes behind your back. The lives you all lead are shrouded by the people who have sworn to protect you. People like this gentleman I have behind me. But, we'll get to that in a moment." He began to pace back and forth.

"Now, un-announced to any of you, today 5 o'clock this afternoon, the United States Government were planning to sign a document and disclose information that not only takes away YOUR right to bare arms, but allows sanctioned, unsigned searches of your home to seize these weapons. For those of you not well versed in the founding document that made this country, you are entitled to the right to bare arms, or in simple terms, you may own a weapon. In that same document, it also says any American citizen is encouraged to fight for their freedoms and defend this nation and its principals against any terrorist, foreign or domestic. Which is what we are doing."

Epsilon stopped, took a breath and a step back. Then, with one motion, swiped the black sack off of the Senators head, revealing his face, which was cringing from the light in front of him.

"My fellow Americans, this is Senator Beller, from Kansas. He was the one who was planning to help cast the bill forward to stop your rights. And as I believe many of you are thinking, No, we are not going to kill him. This is not an assassination video. But I will tell you another story. About 15 minutes after 5, another even took place that none of you are aware of... your United States Military stormed into a homeless shelter, planted C4, and intended to make it look like a terrorist bombing. They were attempting to frame us, American people like you. But that is who we are... We are The American People... And we will fight for you."

As the red light on the camera went off, the hand behind Epsilon's back, holding a cylindrical detonator was clicked, and some 75 miles away, in Brooklyn, 37 bricks of C4 explosives were set off in a homeless shelter off W. 125th, killing all the US servicemen and the people inside it.

The first piece was moved.  

[Admonish Misconstruction]

JANUARY 10TH
CALLSIGN: PI
OPERATION BUNKER HILL

The UH-60 Blackhawk made one last lazy in-air circle before a soft thud snaked through the underbelly of the bird when they landed. Pi looked towards New York's center. It was as true on the ground as it was in the sky; New York's lights were dimming. Those lights were the lifeblood of the city. A symbol that shows the city's vitality, strength, and motive. The city was a dying beast decaying from the inside. The rich and famous, the lavish parties, and New York's famous night scene had once filled the skies with spotlights and American dreams. Now all of that was fading as New York was being eaten alive by the necrotic flesh that plagued it.

A deep pitted groan escaped the Senator's lungs as Pi grappled with the sack of meaty flesh. “It's just a bullet wound,” Pi said with a hint of annoyance. “Stop weeping.” He lifted the Senator, hands tugging upwards from beneath the man's armpits. Pi put his lips next to the Senator's ears. “We're not going to kill you Senator.” The soldier sighed. “Instead we're going to return you. Someone's going kill you but not us. In a few days you'll be found in a gutter, gutted and cut open naval to throat by your own precious government friends.” The man smirked. “Once we're done with you they'll be taking care of your execution...”

Omega and Theta hauled the frightened body away.

Pi followed to the video room, grabbing a bottle of water on the way. He drank deep replacing his mask before Epsilon lifted the Senator's black bag that covered the man's eyes. The video room reminded Pi of his two unsavory deployments in Iran and Korea. Those memories had settled; a dozen scars marking those memories. There were no recorded or publicized executions in TAP. They were not the North Koreans of Iranians. TAP's were like fishermen respecting the catch and release program. Those released fish were often found murdered swiftly after their return by their own government. As Epsilon activated the detonator the man did not flinch; Pi did. Pi felt a shuddering explosion within his gut catching in his throat like wildfire.

Chess was a game of sacrifice and blood.
 

[Norijitsu]

January 10th, 20XX
19:50:56 ZULU HOURS
CALLSIGN: "EPSILON"
OPERATION BUNKER HILL
Location: Codename: "The Farm", Outskirts of Albany, NY

Epsilon clapped his hands and looked to his crew. "Shall we break for dinner?" He said jokingly. An expected chuckle came from his team.

He then turned his attention to the Senator, whom was now looking at him with fear of what he was going to do. Epsilon took his mask off and smiled.

"Clean up his wound, and then let him go." Epsilon said in a cooled manner.

"But, He's seen us, and where we are..." Zeta protested.

Epsilon gave a slight chuckle. "It doesn't matter. They'll shoot him on the spot. Ta-Ta, Senator." And with one last wave, walked out of the room.

20:37:09

Laid before them was a special of various meats and food. All of the operatives were now present; Alpha through Zeta. Alpha, who was the mission head, looked upon us and the table. And with a subtle smirk he waved his hands up and announced: "Well, lets eat!" With that, the table was alive in Conversation.

The last time the entire group was here, was 4 years ago. They all sat, just like this, discussing the plans of the future. But now, it was like a family dinner. Everyone was alive with laughter. Zeta and Beta, who were 2 twins from a small town in Montana called New Manchester, were listening to a story Omega was telling them about the days when he went on missions in Siberia. Rho, one of the only female team members, talked with Psi, Chi, and Omicron about how the operations in Los Angeles were holding up; while Alpha captivated the rest of the table with a hilarious tale that was too soaked with the surrounding noise to make out. Epsilon listened and took a bite of steak.

About 20 minutes passed when suddenly, Alpha broke the silence. He stood up, raising his champagne glass with a smirk, his age reflected off his grey stubble in the light. Everyone around him looked to him and smiled as well while they mimicked his action.

"My friends." he said, "This is to what we stand for. What we have worked years to accomplish. To the future of our great nation, and the people who reside inside of it."

A simultaneous "here-here!" arose from the table as every drank from their glass. Again the silence was broken with the commanding voice of their Number One.

"And now, Its time for some announcements and talks of what is happening..."  

[Admonish Misconstruction]

JANUARY 10TH
CALLSIGN: PI
OPERATION BUNKER HILL

Steam rose in plumes from the scalding hot water. Winter entered, the bath washing over his naked body until only the tip of his nose rose from the water like a snorkel. The bathroom was made out of white tile immaculately scrubbed and cleaned until it was so sterile it glowed. Much in the way a morgue seemed to gleam, until the bodies came rolling in. The only shred of cloth in the bathroom was a navy towel that was folded atop the toilet. A 9mm Beretta and a set of spare magazines sat atop of that.

Pi must have been in the bathtub for a long time because when he arrived at diner he was late. He was dressed in a gray t-shirt and tan cargoes and a holstered 9mm hung from his waist on a hefty green belt.

Pi took one look across the table; from Alpha to Zeta before sitting and plunging into the food stuffs. He chewed, swallowed, and consumed until his starving stomach was finally becoming content. As Alpha stood the entire table turned towards him all of their stories falling to silence for the man. Pi toasted with the rest.
 

[Norijitsu]

January 10th, 20XX
20:43:09 ZULU HOURS
CALLSIGN: "EPSILON"
OPERATION BUNKER HILL
Location: Codename: "The Farm", Outskirts of Albany, NY

Epsilon's ears tuned in on his commander's bellowing voice as it slithered past the table, in through ears, around the turkey and bouncing off the wine glasses. He talked of the future, the success of Operation Bunker Hill, the failure of Operation Olympus and the loss of Mu, Iota, Phi, and Delta.

As Alpha's words lingered on Delta, Epsilon's heart fluttered a bit off beat. Delta was Epsilon's friend. They had known each other before he joined this band of soldiers.

The lights of the room faded into a memory he could not escape.

August 14th, 20XX
14:01:00 ZULU HOURS
CALLSIGN: SGT. ***** "Trident" *********** : US ARMY RANGERS
Initial Strike on Gaza Strip
Location: Gaza Strip, Israel/Palistine

The dust kicked up into Trident's face as the gunfire ripped through his hearing. Chaos gripped the air around him. Nothing seemed right, the plan was already going haywire as it was.

His 5 man fireteam was already down to 2 people, himself, and his explosives expert who liked being called Rotor were now pinned down in a small bazaar shop in the middle of a Palestine invasion. His mission was to prevent this, and his mission was failing.

"I'm out!" Rotor called, searching his vest for another cartage he might have hidden somewhere.

With one motion, Trident tossed a magazine to Rotor. "Last one!" he called out, and returned to his sights.

All of his training kicked in, and every instinct told him that he might not survive today. But he would not accept that, he would never let that ever settle in his mind. He was a Ranger, and Rangers dont die.

The last of his magazine flew through the chamber into one of the several tango's that were now out flanking him and his partner.

And then from above, the rattling belch of a minigun cut the ground to shreds in front of them. His enemies vanished in a puff of red mist and sand. Their angel had arrived in the form of a US Blackhawk.

***

In the metal chamber, Rotor and Trident gave each other a look of acceptance. Finally, Rotor broke the silent gaze around them.

"Ryan." He extended his hand.

Trident smirked and took his hand in good gesture. "Steve." he replied with a smile. Light filled through his eyes... and his mind began to sift through reality and time... back to the table where they praised his friends with a moment of silence. Epsilon raised his glass; with a silent prayer, he gave a nod to the heavens. This is to you my friend.

"Now on to buisness..." Alpha said, breaking the silence. "I'm relinquishing my command of TAP."

The last words out of his mouth ruptured the table in a slight murmur. Things were now askew, and questions could be seeing boiling over into the minds of his comrades.

"My successor will be announced after our next operation, which Pi will now give the presentation to." Alpha gestured to Epsilon's squad mate.  

[Admonish Misconstruction]

JANUARY 10TH
CALLSIGN: PI

Pi was stuffing himself. A little devil in the meats, breads, and sides. Though his stomach was content he was not and plundered onwards as if he was trying to wipe out starvation. Then Alpha spoke and relinquished his command. The table was seething with questions and the murmurs boiled and fumed, becoming a indistinguishable vat of hushed inquest. As Alpha beckoned Pi to proceed with the logistics of the next mission the table was silenced once more. Their faces were still in wonder eyes alive with questions.

"I was to present Operation Stonewall," Pi said, now standing. "I will not be presenting Operation Stonewall. As you know earlier tonight safe house Bravo was attacked. A source tells me that a Delta team was responsible for the raid on safe house Bravo and that six hostages were brought to Fort Drum soon after and are to be interrogated by a unknown member of the CIA. This intelligence leads me to believe that two of our comrades perished in raid." The successful raid and capture of Tail-Fin wasn't enough to outweigh the disheartening truth. Safe house Bravo, along with their friends and comrades had been destroyed. Alpha, the leader of TAP's was stepping down and those captured in the Bravo raid were going to be tortured; they would break.

"Furthermore my source tells me that they're looking for relatives and friends of the hostages to use as leverage against them. Our friend's are going to break. The CIA isn't going to be ripping of their toenails and bashing up some fingers to get what they want. They're going to get what they want. Not us nor them can stay silent forever. I plan on infiltrating Fort Drum and attempt to rescue our comrades and if I can't rescue them I will have to kill them before they can break."

The room's tone was putrid and tasted of bile. The exhaustion was a thick bubbly current. Pi wanted to sleep and to rest; it was etched into his face. He couldn't.

"That is all."
 

[Admonish Misconstruction]

THE PAST:

OCTOBER 28th 2014
CODENAME: 233
CALL SIGN: SPARROW
GERMANY, BERLIN

Sparrow looked over his shoulder, out of the payphone booth, and out into the street. It was a thick with foot traffic and the cars were a rainbow of grayscale colors. Everything was seemed gray. The line clicked; someone was waiting in silence on the other end of the line.

"223. I've been compromised. Give me the safe house location."

"This is a unsecure line and you know the protocol." The voice was unsympathetic, almost robotic in its cold delivery. Giving someone a death sentence was dish best served cold.

Sparrow looked out again; somewhere in the pedestrian crowd there were at least three men. Armed and ready to kill. More would be coming, he knew that with certainty. The enemy would converge on him and eliminate their intended target. Sparrow was about to be murdered.

A slew impatient curses blasted from Sparrow's throat. "Where is the bloody safe house?"

"Protocol cannot be broken. You're on the own." The line died. If Sparrow redialed they would not pick up. He was on his own.

Sparrow muttered bastards before exiting the booth. Outside the wind blew, the cars honked, and the foot traffic moved. There were too many sounds, too many colors, and too many people. In the mess by the time Sparrow recognized his killers they'd nearly be on him. Evening had started its decent ever so stubbornly. Nightfall wouldn't come any sooner and his attackers wouldn't come any later.

There was a squadron of gray clad burly men sifting through the crowd. Sparrow's and their eyes met for only a moment before the starter gun was fired and the race was on. Sparrow turned on his heel and made a line for a nearby bakery. Sparrow went through the front, pushed through a throng of bewildered customers, vaulted over the glass counter, ran past the angered employees, and made out a hefty scratched metal door. The quaint cobblestone backstreet was almost inviting beckoning for Sparrow to take a evening stroll through hand and hand with a pretty German girl. Plumes of smoke rose from small chimneys that ran across the block of restaurants, bakeries, bars, and lofts.

There was one body. It was left drowning in its own pool of blood red spots in his chest where there was once none. After that, Sparrow had disappeared.

The night had closed in and darkness had overcome the sky. Sparrow sat coddling the butt of a sub-machine gun beneath the wrinkled curtains of a cheap motel that had been opened up to the night sky. He wanted bring a cigarette or an energy to his lips to ease the tension but he dared not leave even to the corner store. Sparrow had grabbed his briefcase from the station, paid for the motel in cash, and had used a fake I.D and accent to get the room.
 

[Norijitsu]

January 10th, 20XX
21:12:49 ZULU HOURS
CALLSIGN: "EPSILON"
OPERATION BUNKER HILL
Location: Codename: "The Farm", Outskirts of Albany, NY

Pi had given his speech, and our mission. We were ready and willing to move at the slightest word. That was... before the cake was served.

As the global exhaustion set over the room from the wonderful meal, Epsilon couldn't help but feel a slight bit uneasy. Those people were civilians, and from what he knew, everyone from the house that had anything to do with their cause had been evacuated and are now in hiding. Maybe there was something they were not telling the rest of them? Did someone get left behind?

The unsettling thoughts caused Epsilon to shift in his chair. Too many things were happening at once. Epsilon could feel the left over adrenaline settle in the back of his spine and shift like an rough wave in the ocean. Everything happening just didn't read right.

Suddenly, his mind kicked over a thought he had left unturned. Why did they want to kill the package? Obviously someone as important as a US Senator would be a massive loss to the community. So, why was he that expendable? Did the information traded really mean the termination of someone that high up in the Government?

Questions as riveting as this called for a drink. Epsilon sprawled up from the arm chair he was sitting in and walked to the wine cellar door.

While walking through the dark corridor, he could slowly hear the muffled cries of someone being interrogated fill his ears. Down the stairs he went, deeper into the dark and deeper into the terror. At the bottom of the musty cellar, he found two of his team mates; Theta and Sigma, still attempting to soak the bloodstained Senator Beller of any last information. The two paused to acknowledge Epsilon with a slight nod from each. Epsilon gestured back as he looked over the table placed in the cellar with all of the Senator's belongings. Including his Cell phone and wallet.

Theta roughly grabbed the collar of Bellar and brought him close to his own face.

"What was the paper really for?" He growled.

This question startled Epsilon. Did the entire purpose of their assault have a new meaning? Unsettling feelings began to motion in his gut as he looked over the Senator's cell phone.

Beller's exhaustion began to stammer out of his mouth to desperately form words. The fatigue hung on his face like paint. He was barely beginning to form words when suddenly, the phone in Epsilon's hand vibrated. Epsilon opened the new text.

tarturus is now in place. nyc will fall tonight.

Epsilon quickly tossed the phone to Sigma and placed a hand on Theta's shoulder.

"Hold on..." He said, moving to Beller.

"Senator, what is Tarturus?" Epsilon asked in a low but demanding voice.

"I-Its a-" Beller began but spat blood mid sentence. "Bomb."

Beller spit the blood and broken bone that had been lingering in his mouth all that time out to the ground. A gasp of frustration and guilt let loose from his lungs as his eyes gazed into Epsilon's.

"Tarturus is a new biochemical bomb. We were planning to use it in Iraq, but when we pulled out of the Middle East, we needed test subjects. I was head of the committee." He caught his breath for a second, fighting back the tears of frustration that were peaking in the corners of his eyes. "I'm not sure of the effects. My department was in charge of building it, not the actual chemical."

Beller's look regained some strength, and his tone not so chaotic. "The "Bill" I was signing was actually a group 'Green' Signal. We disguised it as a bill to lure you out. We knew you would use radical action to stop a bill that threatened the freedom of Americans. The plan was to lure you all in one place. But you were a step ahead. Thats when they were going to kill me. They had the information the needed, my signature was the key. Once you all came in, the plan foiled. They would detonate the bomb at another time. Why I got that text... I have no idea."

Epsilon's fingers began to numb from the new rush of energy flooding him. "Senator," he began, "Is there more than one bomb? And do you know where the one in NYC is located?"

The Senator shook his head. Somewhere within his gut, Epsilon knew the Senator had nothing left to hide from the people who saved his life.

He looked to Theta, who he could tell was dumbfounded. Battle instincts began to crawl back into the positions they always take in his bones, and Epsilon knew what he had to do.

"Call a meeting. We have a new problem."