Operation Capital Gains pt 3

Wizard was in a good mood.  Everything had gone as smoothly as could be expected.  Sure there were a few hiccups along the way.  But that was nothing new.  Simian and Stygan had handled things fine so far.  Plus Miss Neko had had no problems to speak of.  That, also, was not new.

"Time."  He demanded of the tech at the terminal in front of him.

"Forty-four, twenty-eight, sir."  The tech obediently replied.

"Excellent,"  everything was proceeding according to plan.  "Status on Precision?"  His query on Miss Neko's progress was directed at the tech monitoring the comms channels.

"All sings nominal.  Radio check in," he paused to double check his screen.  "Seventeen seconds, sir."  Wizard had trained his techs well.  They gave precisely the information he asked, and did it in the manner demanded of them.

"Primary objective achieved.  Secondary objective secure."  Miss Neko's sultry voice was right on schedule and music to his ears.  "Returning to base.  Precision, out."

Neko was never much for words.  Say what was needed, nothing more, nothing less.  That's how she always operated and Wizard liked it that way.  She was by far his most effective operative and definitely his favorite.  He'd be sure to reward her well once she returned from New York.  Suddenly he was snapped from his thoughts.

"Sir," apparently the comms tech had something new to report.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Well, sir," the tech was hesitant to continue.  Fearing retribution from Wizard, he continued.  "There seems to be a situation with Hammer."

That was Simian's call-sign.  This can't be good.  "On my screen," he snapped at the tech.  "Now!"  Rage was beginning to swell from deep within him.

The feed from the building Wizard had sent Simian and Stygan to was on the screen in front of him in a mere second.  The scene was indeed not something he wished to see at that moment.  Simian had gotten himself into trouble, again.  At Simian's feet, he could see, was the seemingly lifeless body of what appeared to be a British Intelligence Agent.  More disturbing were the four BI Agents standing between Simian and his objective.  As if on cue, Simian's voice came over the comms.

"Boss, I've got a bit of a situation here."  Always with the obvious, that one.

"I don't care.  Get that Plasmic Generator or you're finished!  You hear me, Simian?"  Wizard didn't wait for a response, cutting the comms off immediately.

His mood was now utterly ruined.  Where did I go wrong with that one?  He mused to himself.  Worse yet, how did British Intelligence know we were going to hit Orion Technologies tonight.  Do I have a leak.  He would have to look into that.  Personally.

Operation Capital Gains pt 2

"Get up here, like, now."  Stygan was used to getting frantic messages from Simian.  He had a habit of getting into tight spots.  This time his friend sounded a bit more frantic than usual.  Maybe he had gotten in a bit to far over his head.

"On my way," Stygan replied.  There was no response.  He's really in it this time, he thought.  I'd better hurry.

Luckily his pad had finished uploading what ever it was that needed uploading.  It mattered not what that was to Stygan.  He thought little of technology.  A means to an end, he'd always thought.  If Wizard said do it, he'd do it.  So long as he got to bust some heads along the way.  And bust head he had done tonight.  Half a dozen security guards lay motionless on the floor around the room.  As he scooped the pad back into his pocket and turned toward the exit, the nearest guard began to groan and move ever so slightly.

"Aren't you dead?"

The guard's barely audible groan was the only reply.

"Well, I'll have to fix that then."  And with one quick motion, barely noticeable to the human eye, Stygan had brought his sizable foot down on the head of the suffering guard.  Splattering brain and bits of skull in the process.  For good measure he gave his foot a quick twist, grinding some of the bits into the concrete.

"Anyone else still alive in here?"  Stygan got no response this time.  "Good."  His work here was finished.  His thoughts turned back to Simian.  Better go save his sorry ass.  With that thought he broke into a sprint, heading back to the main floor where his friend was in trouble.

Operation Capital Gains pt 1

“This is not good,” exclaimed Simian. “This so not good.” Operation Capital Gains was not going as planned, and was at risk of total failure. Not only that, but the entire European Operations Division was in jeopardy of being exposed. “Wizard’s not going to be happy.”  He reported his status back to base.

“I don't care. Get that Plasmic Regulator, or you’re finished! You hear me, Simian?” Wizard’s voice came over comms dripping with rage. No he was not happy at all. Worst of all he seem angry at Simian, and the current situation wasn’t even his fault. Not this time anyway. How was he to know British Intelligence actually had competent people work for them.

“I hear you, boss,” he replied. After shutting of the transmitter he muttered, “easier said then done.” No this was not going to be easy at all. The Regulator sat just a mere twenty feet away. Between him and it, though, were four of the fiercest looking BI agents he had ever seen.

No if these guys were anything like the one he dispatched a few moments ago, his night would end badly. Very badly, he realized. Unless, with a quick motion he moved his hand to his ear. “Stygan,” he said into the newly reopened comms channel. “I could really use your help up here. Like two minutes ago. Get up here, like now.”

Simian did hear if Stygan gave a reply.  The agents began fanning out and moving toward him.  The fight was on, Simian couldn’t wait for backup.

Shades To Come

This is a revised edition.  The original can be found here.

As I walk into the room I notice things appear much as they always do. In the center of the room sits a large table, made of mahogany I believe. It's very old as well. Once belonged to Prince Hadjabooti, if I'm not mistaken. Around said table are six chairs, only two of which are in use, despite there being four other people in the room.

Sitting at the head of the table like he owns the place is Stygan. He gets results, so I let him have the appearance of some authority.

To his left facing away from the table and everyone else for that matter sits the lovely, but totally insane Hannah. I keep her around simply for the amusement factor. That and she gets even better results than Stygan.

Standing off in a corner, as she is known to do, waits Miss Neko. She is by far the most effective of my operatives. A quick glance is all it takes for me to know that she is ready to obey any command I give her. That includes killing anyone in the room if need be.

Then of course there is Simian. He sits on the edge of the table as always. I not even sure he knows what a chair is for. Presently he's using one as a foot stool. He's also distracted by the hand-held device he's playing with. So much so that he doesn't notice me until I smack the back of his head and remove the chair from under his feet.

“Ow! What was that for?” He asks while rubbing the back of his head with his hand. Momentarily taking his attention from the device.

“You need not know why I do such things,” I reply. He says something under his breath that I don't quite catch. Judging by the quick snarl of Neko, I take it she does though. “Now that I have your undivided attention.” Simian has started playing with the hand-held again. I take it away as I continue. “I have a job that requires all of you.”

“Oh yeah?” That was Stygan this time. “I only have two questions. Where and when?”

“If you let me finish, I'll tell you. The Eggheads in the Science Department have need of some rare materials. I need you to acquire these and get back here as soon as possible.” I start handing out individual assignments. “Good news is everything we need is in one place. Bad news, it's a heavily guarded Government facility. Three items are all that's required. They are in three different rooms on two separate levels. Simian, Stygan, you get the two on level five. Here and here.” I point them out on the blueprints.

“Neko, Hannah.”

“I like the pretty pictures.” Hannah piped in, referring to the blueprints. One would hope anyway. Who knows what goes on in that insane head of hers.

“Yes, well, you two will be handling the big score on the third level.”

“Wait. How come they only have to get the one thing and we have to get two?” Asked Simian. Always with the questions that one.

“Because, you two are likely too break what's on level three. And we really need that item. The other two we can make do with out. Get the picture?” I don't wait for a response. “Good. Now get going.”

-Later that day-

“You did what!” I yell into the comms. All chatter in the Communications Room suddenly stops as I quickly stand up, knocking my chair over in the process. It's a nice chair too. Leather, and Corinthian at that. We got it from an old Chrysler Imperial. Or was that a Cordoba? I forget. Anyway, Simian has succeeded in nearly fouling up the whole damn mission. Again.

“Yeah, uh, sorry boss. I kinda set off the security system.”

“How in the... Oh, never mind, I don't want to know. Just get the items and get out. Oh and try not to mess anything else up.”

“Right Boss. We'll try.”

I let out a long sigh. “That's the best that I can ask for.” And it is. I can't even expect them to arrive with all three items intact. I'll be happy if just one is usable.

I was lucky today, they made it back with all three items in seemingly fully operable condition. To say I was surprised is a understatement of epic proportions.

“Here you go Boss.” Simian said as he laid all three items on the table. “All items as requested. And not broken neither.”

“Well that remains to be seen.” I replied. Turning to Neko I said, “Take these down to the lab for me. Make sure no one else touches them.”

Neko took the items from me, turned, and left without so much as a word. She's like that. Not much for words, she lets her actions speak for her. It's no wonder she's my favorite.

Turning back to the others I said, “Now the rest of you go get some sleep. We have another big day tomorrow.”

They exit the Command Center with nary a word. Except for Hannah who skips off singing something about people living in cars.

Wharehouse

This is a revised edition.  The original can be found here.

It was raining again. It was always raining these days it seemed. To make matters worse, there was a fierce cold wind cutting me to the bone. Why did he always have to meet with us on nights like this? And why in the Warehouse District? Doesn't he know that's where they expect you to have these kind of meetings? He's so damn cliche.

I really shouldn't complain though. He's been feeding us excellent intel ever since he turn on his Master. Not that we've actually been able to do much good with it. How is this Wizard, or whatever his name is, always able to stay one step ahead of us. I mean don't we have inside information? Or are we...

"Joe!" That was Al. Damn, I must have been lost in my thoughts again.

"Yeah, uh, what?"

"Where you planning on walking all night? We're here."

Damn. I was lost in there again. So much so that I almost walked right past the meeting place. It was much like all the others. Our informant had a hard on for run down buildings. Abandoned factories. Empty warehouses. There was something different tonight though. Something I just couldn't quite put my finger on.

Walking inside I can see at least half a dozen spots where an ambush could be waiting. I mention this and the odd feeling I have to Al. He says it's just my paranoia, but that he'll stay alert anyway. That's the mark of a good partner. If I'm uneasy about something I know Al's got my back.

"Did you bring the stuff?" How the Hell does he do that? This guy just appeared out of nowhere. I could have sworn the spot he's now standing in was empty no more than a second ago.

"Yeah we got 'em," replies Al. "What'd you bring us?"

"Toss the goods over here and I'll show you." Wait, what. He never asked for his stuff without showing us he had something in return. Something's definitely wrong here. I say as much to Al.

"I think you're right. We should..." Why did he stop talking mid-sentence. I turn my head toward my partner and I can see why. He no longer has a head. Panic starts creeping in. Not good.

"You were trying to bring down the Boss." That voice. "We can't have that." Where have I heard that voice? "We already took care of the traitor." No it can't be. "Now it's time to take out the rest of the trash." Stygan.

They got to our informant. They killed my partner. It's time for me to get the Hell out of here. But I'm too slow. As I turn around to make my escape I find out first hand just how my partner died. The indescribable pain in my chest draws my attention down to where a sword is sticking out. Damn she's fast. So this is how I'm going to die. In a rundown old warehouse. Killed by a bitch with a fucking sword.

Scout's Date

Scout Thompson once hated her name. She had hated her parents for naming her after a character from "that Harper Lee book." But now she loved it. Fitting, she thought, considering what it is I've chosen as a career.

You see, Scout is an investigative journalist. One of the few remaining it seemed to her. Working for blogs and independent websites didn't pay well. It was a living though. Plus it allowed her the freedom to do what she loved, and get paid for it.

She was on to something big. Something that all journalist dream of. She was hot on the trail of the story that was going to make her a household name. If only she could find the damn meeting place.

The source she was meeting was flaky at best, but had provided some very useful information in the past. He had set up this rendezvous a couple of days before and insisted that it be in what was surely a dive in the worst part of town. After three wrong turns and much backtracking, she found the place.

"Pizzler's Pub, this should be interesting." She remarked as she opened the door. The place was sparsely occupied, even though it was happy hour. She was also hit with an olfactory sensation wholly new to her. She began analyzing it immediately.

"Hmm, sweat and stale beer, not unexpected." She stopped for a moment, getting a nose full of another scent in the air. She rankled her nose as she figured out the last major odor, "I that piss?"

"Why yes it is, darlin'." She recognized the voice of her informant, Deep Ten, from their many phone conversations. He was standing just two feet behind her right shoulder. As she turned towards him she noticed his attire. Clad head to toe in black.  With black ball cap pulled low and cheap sunglasses, he looked like something out of an old spy movie she'd seen growing up.

Is this guy for real, she thought. Pushing that thought aside, she continued with the conversation. "They picked a great name for this place then."

"Indeed. One of the reason I like it here. Have a seat."  He motioned to a booth a few paces away that was none to clean.  Deep Ten slipped into the seat without missing a beat.  Scout was a bit more hesitant.  With a deep breath, and a nose full of the putrid stench of the bar, she buried her disgust and sat down as well.

After a brief pause, Deep Ten continued, "I've come to you because the major networks won't return my calls. They think I'm a nutter or something. I think they just don't care about what's going on right under their feet. What I've got here will shake this country to its very core." He reached into his coat and pulled out a rather sizable envelope. "Do you have my payment?"

It was Scout's turn to present an envelope. This one, though, a bit smaller. "I don't know what you want with the stuff, but here it is." She put the parcel on the table.

"You'll find out when the time is right, darlin'." He picked up her offering and pushed his across the table. "That should be enough to get you a good start. Look for more at the drop point noted inside soon. All the instructions are there."

He got up from the table. "We won't be meeting like this again any time soon. I'll be in touch. Pleasure doing business with you, beautiful." With those words he turned and was out the door in mere seconds.

Scout turned back to her newly acquired packet. Opening it carefully she peaked inside. Deep Ten was right, it was a very good start indeed.

My Mission

About two years ago I started a blog as an outlet for my creativity.  Since then life has kind of gotten in the way, and I pretty much forgot about it.  I haven't written much since then either.  However I do still have a multitude of ideas floating around in my head.  I've decided to give it another go in hopes that this time I don't let it fall to the wayside.

New stories will be coming soon, as well as reworkings of the ones from the old blog.  Maybe you'll enjoy them as much as I enjoy writing them.

~DD