《Angel and Wolf》


 Chapter 1: Du Bist Gefuckt

    A scruff faced man rode quietly in the train car without any concern for the countryside outside his window. He scrolled away at an instagram feed, skimming through art pages, busty models and truck groups.


    A knock on his door. Oh, what the fuck now? The vulgar minded man thought to himself. He stood up to open the door, but stopped when the banging became incessant and repetitive. A moment more and the banging got harder.


    ¡°?ffen die t¨¹r!¡± shouted an authoritative voice. It didn¡¯t seem right. ?ffen? He was pretty sure someone had gotten the letters mixed up. He readied his knife. The person on the other side rattled the handle.


    The man gritted his teeth with anger, feelings of anxiety coupled with intrusive memories began attempting to work on his mind. This isn¡¯t home he told himself. I¡¯m no longer the child. He focused his mind on the here and now.


    He reached the necessary calm, his anxiety dissipated, his mind focused on the present. With his knife ready, he unlatched the cabin door.


    The door flew open. The stranger who turned out to be an assailant, barged in with his gun in hand. Makarov PM, small, soviet, simple. Cheap, easy to acquire. Reliable when used right. But the gun was more seasoned than this lesser who had just made his last mistake. He jammed it against the passengers chest.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Leaning further against the firmly held pistol, the passenger kept it out of battery; the slide was unaligned just enough to prevent the hammer from striking correctly. Malfunction.


    Two quick movements followed simultaneously.


    With one hand, he thumbed the shooters finger from the trigger space. He gripped the front of the pistol with great force and yanked it out to the side, away from himself. The other movement, a deep thrust of his five inch blade into the lung of his attacker.


    The failed attacker tried to scream, but it was hard to do with a punctured lung.


    The passenger used his knife as a handle to move the attacker to a seat, out of his way so he could close and lock the door. As he latched the door, he yanked the knife from the mans chest and reinserted it slowly into the other side of his chest. Holding the gun in a now proper grip, he smiled as he spoke in a low voice.


    ¡°Vielen dank, doch der E und N waren vertauscht.¡± The assailant choked, trying to inhale with lungs he no longer had. ¡°?ffne, not ?ffen, you idiot. I¡¯m letting you die for your transgression against a beautiful language.¡±


    The dying attacker made a half hearted attempt at breath, then a moment of stillness followed. The assailant expired, his head slumping forward. As the attacker sat dead in the seat, the passenger sat across from him and cleaned off his blade with a cloth.


    The passengers name was Michael.


    Before leaving his cabin and taking the pistol, spare magazines, money and his own carryon bag with him, he grabbed a permanent marker and wrote a message on the dead attackers wrist;


    Du bist gefuckt; you¡¯re fucked

 Chapter 2: Who

    Michael was bald, bearded, fair skinned, middle aged and abnormal. A genetic deforming accident left him faster and stronger than the average athlete who stood five feet and ten inches tall. He could hit much harder than most men who weighed 175 pounds. He wasn¡¯t invincible by any means, but he was far from helpless.


    Training further enhanced this. Shooting academies, martial arts programs and various cross training opportunities during his military career enhanced him before he could retire and travel the world to bring death to bad people.


    Germany was a place he liked when not living in his place of origin in Western Washington State. In Germany, though his anonymity was greater, there was a great deal more criminality due to his collection of firearms being entirely illegal. While gun control had been nearly quashed in the United States, it had effectively worsened in most of Europe.


    However, with michaels logic, as long as the verdammten polizei stayed away, and he never gave them a reason to snoop near his home, he could maintain some operational freedom.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    At home, a glock was his everyday first choice for carry. Here, it was anything he could get. Makarov? USP? When unarmed an old Webley was better than nothing because he knew he could use it to get a better gun.


    He wasn¡¯t always so fast, strong or smart. His early years saw him barely passing army physical fitness tests. As a child, he was easily shoved about by bullies and when he wasn¡¯t being tormented by his classmates, he was either being judged and falsely disciplined by teachers or shamed and misunderstood by his family.


    Much to the disdain of society, Michael survived and endured the less fortunate points in his life. Much of his past he tried to black out. Some of his memories were smothered by the same accident that made him so powerful today.


    That day, was not a memory he¡¯d be able to bury.

 Chapter 3: How

    Fifteen years ago.


    A ¡®stupid specialist¡¯ in the army who wasn¡¯t stupid after all. A top secret box that needed to be carried. An improperly built worktable. Bad luck and a nasty habit of making good out of lousy situations. The recipe that made him.


    Going through an inventory sheet for errors, the Specialist was called upon by a bearded man in khakis. He knew better than to ask questions about who anyone was. This was what they called a secret squirrel post.


    The Specialist walked down the hall and outside to a pickup truck with a box in the back. One contractor looking person tells him it¡¯s heavy, and that they needed a fourth person to help carry it. Seems legit. He dug his gloves out of his cargo pocket.


    A short trip later, they¡¯re in a workshop with the lights out. Just enough ambient light let them see the table. What they didn¡¯t see was the two bolts on the floor, and the table leg that was held in place by gravity and nothing else. With these factors in place, the stage was set for things to go horribly wrong.


    The first error was when one of the contractors slipped on the bolts. ¡®The fuck!¡¯ was all the warning they got before the first man fell into the second man. This sent the box and the table both tumbling into the Specialist.


    A loud crunch could be heard. The soldier had just experienced his first broken bone, and it hurt very badly. Out of reflex, he used his good leg to kick the box as hard as he could. This was the bad idea that lead to the events being worth this current moment of suffering.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    As the Specialist kicked the box, the lid hiding the item he was never meant to know about flew off. A red crystal floated in the space of the container. His first thought upon seeing the crystal, how is that thing heavy enough to break my leg. The thought about the case being heavier than the crystal didn¡¯t have time to occur. The team of contractors fled the room. He was alone with a floating, glowing hazard. After a moment, a voice was heard.


    ¡°You are a good choice.¡±


    No explanation was given.There was no time to ask before an electric current surged through the injured soldier. A moment later, the crystal shattered. The box was no longer on his leg, but the most confusing aspect of this when the contractors returned in hazmat suits and weapons, was the leg no longer being broken.


    ¡°You feelin alright?¡± one of the men asked.


    ¡°Pretty sure?¡± the soldier replied. He slowly stood to his feet.


    ¡°We need to get you checked out,¡± one of the men said softly, ¡°you got pretty fucked up.¡±


    The soldier shook his head. ¡°Nothing happened,¡± he said through narrow eyes. ¡°I helped some dudes carry a box and left.¡± He was certain that this was the best story to go with.


    ¡°Okay,¡± the lead contractor began to retort, ¡°where¡¯s our cargo?¡± he slowly clenched a gloved fist.


    The soldier happened to notice this threatening posture that the man was now taking. ¡°Unclench that fist and unfuck your attitude when you address me,¡± The soldier stated plainly to the man, ¡°And avoid asking ¡®or what¡¯ cuz yeah, don¡¯t say that shit.¡±


    The contractors eyes widened with anger and disbelief. ¡°Do you know who the fuck yer talkin to?¡± The man said as he turned his head towards the soldiers uniform to read his name, ¡°Specialist, uh, Kramer.¡±


    With no interest in continuing this conversation, the soldier nodded. ¡°A bitch on a power trip? A guy who¡¯s gonna get in more trouble for having an uncleared joe in a compartmentalized office?¡± A shrug and a turn, he began walking away.


    A fist struck the side of his head.

 Chapter 4: Her Face

    Back to present day


    Michael turned the key in his vehicle. The engine turned over and hummed softly.


    Benz G55.  Comfortable,  regular in the area,  room for stuff.


    Rolling down the autobahn, he kept mindful of the speed limit. A new gun and a knife with traces of DNA on it, he didn¡¯t need the attention.


    Skipping through songs, he settled on the electronica portion of his playlist. Fast moving but smooth, just enough to stay awake for the long drive ahead.


    A few circles through random towns and cities to ensure he wasn¡¯t tracked, and a journey down redundant off road trails before he finally arrived. The garage door opened, the dogs came outside and sat attentively by the driveway.


    Two big brown shepherds, K9 trained and happy to see Michael return, wagging their tails. As michael backed his vehicle into the garage, he watched the mirrors until his back tire touched the curb he had affixed to the floor to prevent ramming into the workbench.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    As he shut off the vehicle and opened the door, soft steps could be heard coming down the stairs. The door into the house slowly opened. As it did, Michael could see her soft greeting smile.


    Lani was four and a half feet tall, her hair was blue with yellow tips. She was of slender build with hints of athletic lifestyle. Her face and unpainted skin tone revealed her pacific origins, though she was very much an American minded German. When Michael wasn¡¯t looking, a secret hid behind her eyes.


    Michael stepped out of the SUV, a half hearted grin looking expression appeared on his face. This was as much smiling as he could do. His face hid emotions better than hers because he had been numbed to certain sociological things. Unlike Lani¡¯s ability to hide emotions and mask feelings to disguise it with an alternate cause, which came from practice in merciful deception.


    ¡°How was your trip?¡± Lani asked with relaxed excitement.


    ¡°It was dull, as usual,¡± Michael replied in his meager attempt at a social tone as his attention suddenly shifted to her hair which he had last remembered was a golden synthetic yellow before it had become this blue color that it now was.


    Lani giggled as she noticed that his eyes had locked onto her hair. ¡°Like it?¡± she asked as she moved her head side to side in an effort to wave her hair lightly.


    Michael nodded, letting out a faint chuckle. ¡°Of course I like it,¡± Michael said softly, ¡°you smiled when you thought about it.¡±


    Lani¡¯s heart pounded a moment. Hope surfaced, but nervousness reinforced her hesitation as she stepped out of Michaels way and let him walk into the house.

 Chapter 5: Her Truth

    Last week


    Lani sat in her room upstairs in Michaels house, the lights were off, her laptop dimmed, the sounds on her videos low, she could see much from either window. She sat away from them. She was relatively sleepless, mostly due to being more aware than she let on.


    The basement he wont let me in. Unexplained bruises. Acting like he only sees me as his housekeeper and friend.


    She saw through much of him, and knew his secrets.


    One of the dogs darted upstairs and let out a soft bark. Intruder. The dog was facing Lani, which meant that the danger was outside. The dogs had been taught only to intercept or attack people who attack Michael or Lani directly. Anything else, they were to detect and announce quietly, much like having a silent alarm.


    Quickly understanding all the cues, Lani grabbed her MP3 player with an external speaker and cranked the volume on the angriest playlist she could find while navigating quickly. Placing the music next to a window, she immediately grabbed a bag from under her recliner and yanked out her kit. A minimalist plate carrier, a gun belt with a USP9 Compact, and a helmet with a ballistic mask.


    Pulling on her cover-alls and quickly putting on her kit, being careful not to let the buckles snap loudly, she made little adjustments to tighten the fit.


    Once it was all on, she grabbed one last thing; an AS VAL, one of the hardest guns to get in a gun control nation such as germany, but made simple when you can take it from a dead dealer. Loaded with subsonic 9x39mm, and equipped with a holographic sight that had been paired with a three power magnifier, this folding rifle from the late soviet union could punch body armor in near silence. In Lani¡¯s hands, this weapon could maintain a one inch group beyond 100 meters.


    Once she had her tools, she made a quick dash downstairs and opened the cupboard under the sink. Opening a hideaway panel, she slipped through and crawled through a space into a tunnel network. Once there, it was a quick sprint till she was near a hidden sewer entry. For a normal athlete, this 150 meter dash would have been time consuming and leave a person exhausted. For lani, it was a brief moment covered in a few long strides.


    Moments later, she emerged from an exit door in the ground under dense brush. Once out of the bush, she began crawling low, occasionally listening for movements. After about twenty minutes of scouring the landscape, she found all seven of the intruders.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    The terrain was uneven at best, while covered in foliage and long grass in big patches. Sitting halfway up a hill was a team of observers watching the house. Professionals


    One lay sleeping under a naturally fallen log. The others lay paired together while watching their assigned sectors. All approaches were covered. Some of them were lying on their backs so as to avoid getting tunnel vision and hyperfocusing on just one spot.


    From the look of it, they had minimal gear in regards to weapons. Some of them had MP5¡¯s under them. A couple of them had G36¡¯s, while one of them had an M60 general purpose machinegun that looked to have come out of a museum. The gunner was positioned to do damage to the house and an SUV that might come home with a precious driver. Lani knew that she had to take their lives, and their equipment.


    As predicted, one of them had a directional microphone pointed at the house. Lani heard one mumble something about ¡®some bitch¡¯ listening to ¡®loud shit.¡¯ Another man had a radio, connected to a helmet headset to minimize noise getting out.


    Lani decided that the radio and machinegunner had to go first. She slowly crawled her way to a higher point. It was midnight, she had until five in the morning before the sun would rise, but expected them to possibly pack up and leave their spot for another hiding point by four. She had until then to eliminate them and dispose of them and their potential extraction vehicle while recovering and stashing any equipment worth taking.


    She reached her vantage point by 1245. She was ready to start placing shots. The first landed through the radio operators headset. A short moment from the shot smashing its way through the earpieces and mashing his cerebellum into the upper portion of his skull, he slumped his head down and bled into the grass.


    The machine gunner turned his head towards the radioman as he heard the faint sound of the first shot landing. Before he could fully realize what was happening, a round tore through his eye and left him laying his head next to his weapon.


    The assistant gunner awoke to the blood spattering along his face. He tried to sit up to grab the gun, even to make any kind of noise with it, a shot placed in his shoulder ended that plan. A followup shot landing in his forehead kept him from getting any other brilliant ideas.


    The others began to talk to each other, trying to convey that they were taking fire. The three who were awake each caught rounds in their necks and heads, two shots per man. This left Lani with the sleepy boy under the tree.


    Lani watched for a moment, confirming that he was indeed still asleep. She quietly walked over, slinging her weapon. As she approached, his eyes slowly opened. It was far too late. Lani unsheathed the knife in his kit and calmly inserted it through his teeth into the back of his throat.


    Once the last one was dead, she dumped the bodies into the van where their footprints had originated from. The weapons and ammo, she recovered it all and stashed it away in the house. By the time she was done, it was only 0330.

 Chapter 6: Home in the Hills

    Present Moment


    Michael sat at his workbench in the basement. His newly acquired Makarov lay field stripped as he scrubbed away at the slide grooves. The barrel was submerged in a small tupperware bowl of solvent.


    Lani sat on her computer, giggling at cat videos and scrolling through news feeds, while browsing for replacing running shoes. Occasionally, Lani would send Michael a cat picture here and there that he would receive on his tablet that he had so he didn¡¯t have to take his phone all the way into his basement. Seeing cat memes brought michael some sense of positive feeling. He wasn¡¯t sure what those feelings were, but he knew it was a good feeling and didn¡¯t want to waste energy overthinking it.


    The cat video was interrupted by a message from Lani. ¡°Food?¡± Michael glared at his phone for a moment, thinking that she had already devoured the candy he had previously brought home and that she was expecting him to get up to go get more. She followed up her unanswered message with ¡°thinking of pasta.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Michael smirked. He hit the keyboard button and tossed a reply, ¡°yes.¡± About twenty minutes later, another message notification buzzed. The food was done. Michael knew that aside from housekeeping, grounds work and tending to animals, Lani had a lot of kitchen talent. She also spoke much better german than he could.


    Before going upstairs, Michael had to wash the CLP and solvent off his hands. Once done, he made his way upstairs and washed his hands in the kitchen sink. He sat down to a full bowl of properly made raviolis with scratch made cheese sauce. He ate, occasionally glancing up to Lani to see how she was doing. ¡°You know you did a good job, right?¡± he asked in his warmer voice.


    Lani perked up, her face brightened slightly with a more natural smile. ¡°Thank you¡± she said softly as she finished her food. She sat and enjoyed how far Michael had come, being able to sit at a table for entire meals. Her only worry lately was that she couldn¡¯t tell Michael as much about herself as she had read of him. This was a recurring theme in her thoughts.


    ¡°How were things these last couple weeks?¡± Michael asked after swallowing the last of his food.


    Lani shrugged. ¡°Aside from cleaning a house that never gets dirty, and feeding the doggos, not much goes on around here.¡±


    Meanwhile, as Michael and Lani would go on to laugh about random anime and shows, a van full of bodies lay crushed at the bottom of a cliff, undiscovered.

 Chapter 7: Old Revelations

    Fifteen Years Ago


    Specialist Kramer slowly turned back towards the man who had struck him. He took slow, deep breaths to control a gradually building rage. His intention to keep this interaction peaceful was quickly fading.


    ¡°Do I got yer fuckin attention, you shitbird motherfucker?¡± The bearded contractor said through heavy breaths, ¡°This is a bigger issue than you could possibly understand!¡± he began shouting through his helmet.


    Kramer nodded slowly, ¡°I understand that if you touch me again, you will die.¡±


    One of the other men in the room moved between the two, turning to the lead contractor. ¡°Ease up sir,¡± he said quietly as he took his hand to draw Kramers attention to the fact that he was holding a matte black brass knuckle. Turning to Kramer, ¡°This guy is 200 pound boxer, and you didn¡¯t feel this on his hand.¡±


    After hearing this, his temper began to fade as the situation became more clear. ¡°So, you know what that thing was?¡±


    Each of the contractors stood around him nodding.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°And I probably don¡¯t have the clearance yet to be told, do I?¡± Kramer said slowly.


    ¡°I think you just got moved into the ¡®need to know¡¯ category my guy¡± the lead contractor stated.


    What followed this event was a meeting, a debrief, a lecture, a stack of nondisclosure paperwork, an additional clearance background check, and a lesson on this power crystal that had been rumored to be a power source but turned out to be a thing that gave great strength and speed to the recipient. Specialist Kramer was the first successful bond with one of these crystals.


    For the remainder of his career, Michael was reassigned and sent through martial arts programs, language school, and underwent various tests and activities designed to enhance his combat capabilities.


    In addition, he also had to attend required schools and follow the same career track that normal soldiers followed while keeping his power a closely guarded secret. This meant that during tests with graders who had compartmentalized clearance, he could run two miles in a straight line in five minutes and act like he hadn¡¯t run hard. With ¡°normal¡± and ¡°official¡± graders and tests, he had to slow it down a bit and keep his scores under 295 so that nobody suspected anything from the guy who used to pass with an average of 195 and 220 on a scale that maxed at 300. He eventually was able to retire quietly from military service as a Sergeant First Class and begin doing the things he wanted to do with his capabilities. Though his retirement paperwork reflected a man who was little more than a staff duty man who was kept in the rear, he knew the truth. And that was good enough for him.

 Chapter 8: The Bandit Line

    Present


    Days after having returned to his home in Germany, Michael was back on his way to yet another place. One eight hour flight to Texas, a drive into Arizona to a border town. A motorcycle ride into the desert.


    Inside his shanty little wood shack, there lay a dark skinned man on an old army cot. Michael knew he had a friend here, but part of maintaining security was that nobody knew the exact days and times of his arrival. To announce himself, he slid the back of his bike and faced it toward the door of the shack and began spinning the back tire, throwing rocks and dirt at the little building.


    Waking up to the sound of revving dirt bike and clattering rocks, Marcus went to the door and stepped outside with a laughing grin. His hair was dark gray, his skin was a darker espresso brown. His complexion was rough from years of summers in the desert. A glock 21 sat in a holster on his hip. He stood outside chuckling as Michael dismounted the bike.


    ¡°Ya know,¡± Marcus said with his sarcastic smile, ¡°For a super ninja, you¡¯re a noisy motherfucka.¡±


    Shrugging, Michael pulled out a pack of tribal cigarettes. ¡°I could racialize half your ass next time,¡± Michael said as he handed the smokes and fresh lighter to Marcus, ¡°Maybe you want menthols.¡±


    Marcus chuckled, wasting no time opening the pack to get a cig in his mouth and test his new lighter. ¡°For a nonsmoker, you sure know your shit old boy¡±


    Michael nodded. ¡°I sure had a bunch of you to teach me all about that smoking dipping vape shit.¡±


    As Michael stepped into the shack, Marcus pointed him to a duffel bag that sat waiting for him. Inside the gear bag sat a couple rifles and some clothing. Tan combat shirts, multicam combat pants, and a tan plate carrier with magazines already loaded and placed in their pouches.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The first rifle he pulled from the bag was an M4A1 with a custom upper receiver, comprised of a 10 inch barrel, chambered in .300 Blackout. His magazines were loaded with 220 grain subsonic ammo, which his red dot sight was very much zeroed for. Also attached was a PEQ-15 infrared laser emitter and a four inch government grade silencer and a mount space behind his optic for placing a night vision device.


    The other rifle, sitting in a bag inside the duffel, was a customized AR10 with a 20 inch stainless steel match barrel. Attached was a variable power scope with a front focal pane bullet drop compensator reticle. Under the barrel was an old harris bipod. The stock was an adjustable five position stock. This weapon was zeroed for surplus match ammo, 175 grain M118LR, this weapon had very consistent performance at just slightly beyond military requirements.


    Putting on his equipment, he listened to Marcus explain the details about how the cartels were getting emboldened with a continuation of the Mexican government''s inaction against them, as well as a small deconstructed portion of the Arizona Mexico wall. Local law enforcement was under equipped to handle the cartels heavily armed incursions. Michael and his very small team were the locals only hope at getting any kind of advantage over the roaming bandits. The only problem Marcus really saw, ¡°At a distance, the police don¡¯t know where you¡¯re from.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re invisible to the law here,¡± Michael tried to assure Marcus, ¡°We¡¯re making their jobs easier.¡±


    Marcus shook his head. ¡°I know society came a long damn way, but I¡¯m black and brown. They gon¡¯ hate my ass twice around here.¡±


    Michael rolled his eyes, refusing to care. ¡°You¡¯re American, we both know that,¡± Michael grumbled. ¡°Anyone unable to grasp that, they¡¯re too far gone.¡± Slinging his M4 to his side, Michael grabbed and gently shook his drag bag with his AR10 in it. ¡°Nobody¡¯s getting that close to us anyway. If they do, they won¡¯t live long.¡±


    Marcus grinned, enjoying Michaels way of reassuring people with his forecasts of violence. He geared up, grabbing his AKM with a drum and a fixed 4 power optic. He was not the expert shot that Michael was, but he was quite proficient at placing volumes of fire on his enemies.


    Once both of them had everything, Michael and Marcus got on their bikes and rode south towards their intended ambush point. There was a drug smuggling route that they intended to disrupt, as well as a possible arms shipment that they planned on taking and giving to a local militia in hopes of causing problems for the cartels and bandit operations in the area.


    Basic kind of work for soldiers or guerillas. Not so doable by the sheriff, binded by laws and policies.

 Chapter 9: Wild Denmother

    Back in Germany


    Lani was out and about on the rather large property. Being the official keeper of the grounds, she went about throwing fertilizer on the grass. Her real intent, however, was to look for more clues of intrusion and surveillance.


    Her compact USP9 hidden under her apron, and the two spare magazines in her waistband under a long shirt, she spent some time fertilizing the freshly blooded grass. Afterwards, she strolled around her vantage point to ensure that she hadn''t left brass.


    After running out of fertilizer, Lani went back to the garage and began organizing the tools. A van marked as a home repair company proceeded up the driveway. Lani knew that Michael would never call one of these companies, which meant that something was very wrong.


    As the van stopped in front of the garage, a clean shaven man stepped out and looked at Lani with confusion. He was six feet tall, and was a minimum of 200 pounds. The other man who still sat in the van looked to be built the same, as were the four men hidden in the cargo space inside the van, clutching their MP5''s.


    The dogs were inside the house, walking back and forth frantically as they knew something was up, though they were taught not to get involved unless invited.


    As for Lani, her huntress nature picked up on the pending hostility before the man had a chance to open his mouth. "Hallo kleines m?dchen," the man uttered with such a horrible chechen accent that nobody could ever mistake him for a valid German, "ist dein Vater zu Hause?"


    "You''re at the wrong address," Lani said with boldness, in English, "Also, your Deutche is shit!"


    The man chuckled. "Bad accent perhaps?" he began approaching Lani, stepping to the edge of the garage where she was now standing. "I''m told there''s a plumbing issue that needs fixed."


    Her eyes narrowed. "I''m the one who''d be responsible for that," she said firm and slow, "The owner doesn''t outsource my job."


    As the second man began stepping out of the van, the first man lifted the bottom of his shirt and unsheathed a seven inch hunting knife, a bright reflective blade surface and a cheap wood grip. The man snarled as he reached his other hand towards Lani. mistake.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Lani quickly grabbed his wrists and squeezed with crushing pressure, shattering the bones in both his forearms. She followed up with a very strong kick to his lower abdomen. As he doubled over, she delivered one very powerful right hook, which caused the man''s neck to crack and his skull to nearly break open.


    The second man, startled at seeing what originally looked like a helpless child sized girl utterly destroy his very large team leader, reached back into the van for a handgun. He didn''t have a chance to wrap his hand around the grip before Lani placed two rounds through the windshield and into his head.


    As the shots rang out, the men in the back of the van scrambled to get out through the side and back doors. The men at the side door turned and began spraying fire in Lani''s general direction.


    Quickly laying on the ground, she shot out the ankles of the men who had stepped out. As they fell, she got back up and placed anchoring shots in their necks and foreheads. A step forward and up the front of the van, and she began shooting through the windshield into the back of the van. One more man fell dead as he caught the shots in his chest, shoulder and through his nasal cavity.


    The last man fired wildly under the van in desperation, realizing that he was in over his head. Lani had already ran up the van and was on the back of the van while the man scrambled to reload his weapon. He didn''t get the chance to finish charging his weapon before Lani had landed and grabbed his neck, applying pressure to the arteries and knocking him out cold while ripping the weapon from his hands.


    The man awoke to Lani''s expressionless stare. He was tied to a chair, smelling of some kind of fuel. He could see a zippo lighter in her hand.


    "I know you''re expecting some kind of interrogation," Lani said calmly. "I already know what you were planning." She opened the lighter and held it up. "Before I burn you alive," she said with a gradually emerging smile, flicking the lighter and igniting the wick, "You should know that the recording devices have been shoved up your ass!"


    As the man watched the lighter get tossed on his lap, his eyes widened in terror. His abdomen and waist ignited first, which would mean that the fire would have to burn its way up his body to completely kill him. He tried to scream in terror and torment, finding his voice had no volume to it. His lungs were already feeling the fire that was burning inside his body. Wriggling and writhing about, he tried to thrash and make bigger movements but to no avail. He had been tied to a metal chair with tie-wire. He knew at this moment, as he caught glimpses of Lani who stood in front of him and watched, there was no delight in her expression. She was doing this for a purpose. Not to get information, not to dispose of him, not even to entertain herself. He was a message.


    As she watched him burn, she waited for him to finish so she could be certain to confirm his death and ensure her message was readable;


    You will not harm him.

 Chapter 10: Heat of War

    Arizona Desert


    Michael and Marcus took their positions. A third of the way down an elevated terrain feature, Michael set the legs of his bipod against a rock and got his view through his scope after having set his drag bag in front of his position to reduce muzzle wash. Marcus set his equipment up in complete cover behind a larger rock, unpacking his surveillance equipment.


    "I miss having air support" Marcus muttered as he adjusted the tripod of his spotting scope.


    Michael rolled his eyes and laughed softly. "so do I."


    Several hours went by.


    They finally saw movement on the route. A heavy duty van was being escorted by a pair of Chevy gun trucks. The van was noticeably bogged down from being loaded over capacity. It stayed on hard packed roads while the trucks stayed to the sides, further off the road to keep more area covered for the cargo. They looked like potential pros.


    "twelve hundred, you won''t hit that shit" Marcus said as he lased with his rangefinder, "you should have brought a fifty with ya."


    Michael watched through the scope as he made an adjustment. He noticed that the van was moving at one fixed speed, possibly cruise control. The wind was not moving yet, but he knew that at any given second the wind would pick up and start chopping randomly. He shifted and took his shot.


    A few seconds later, the van began to lose control and veered into a rock. From the drivers perspective, he simply had a flat tire at the worst possible time. From reality, Michael had done exactly what he wanted.


    The gun trucks slowed down and started to circle the van while the gunners looked around. After a few minutes of searching, they drove over to the van and kicked out their teams. These trucks were four door cab models, each having four passengers inside the cabs with equipment, practically forming the minimum components of an infantry squad. The passenger from the van stepped out and started pointing at different places, which the dismounted men began moving to and setting up a perimeter.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Michael watched as they set up some of the best security he''d seen a non-military entity perform. He turned to Marcus and said the one thing he wasn''t expecting to be told; "Pack your shit."


    Marcus looked at Michael with confusion and near disgust. "You do got something in mind, right?"


    Michael packed his AR10 back into the drag bag and set his 25 round .308 magazines in the pouches, while grabbing out magazines of .300 Blackout and filling the empty pouches on his vest. "You''re fuckin right I have something in mind," Michael said through loosely held teeth. "I''m gonna go see where they got that training from."


    "By your damn self!?" Marcus couldn''t believe he was hearing his fellow veteran and brother send him away before wading into a firefight, by himself.


    "Staff Sergeant," Michael said sharply as his eyes narrowed, "what the fuck am I?"


    Marcus stared at Michael like he had just been slapped in the dick. "I know you didn''t pull retirement rank on me," he said as he sat up away from his rifle. "But if you were a Marine I''d have called you Gunny, ain''t that right?"


    Michael smirked, "Not my rank, Recon," Michael said as he began to chuckle, "What did I do all those years?"


    Marcus took a slow sigh, conceding to Michaels mostly valid point. "You were a Wolf Operator,"


    "Lone, a Lone Wolf Operator." Michael interrupted.


    "Yeah, a goddamn solo act," Marcus barked back, "There''s too much open space, You won''t get close enough for that little ass gun of yours." He said as his face gradually revealed his worry. He picked up his AKM and grabbed a second drum out of his kit. "You gonna do some dumb shit, fine. Do it right."


    Michael paused, looking at the rifle. He knew deep down that Marcus was right. He was carrying a rifle with ammunition that had the flight ballistics of a two handed pistol, at best. He wrapped his support hand around the front of the receiver and nodded. "Thank you Marcus," He said softly.


    Marcus nodded and released the weapon from his own grasp, letting Michael wrap the sling around his torso. "Those are armor piercing," He said as his near sorrowful expression shifted to a grin, "And I''m not leaving, I wanna watch you fuck these guys up worse than Venezuela."


    Venezuela, Marine Recon mission gone bad, a rescue operation, many dead on both sides before intervention. The first time the project had been put to use with an adjacent unit. Rescue operation. A delay in the fall of the Maduro regime. Some men''s nightmare.

 Chapter 11: His Hate

    Michael got on his bike and rode down the hill until he was down in a valley where he could begin his approach with minimal skyline exposure. The valley took many turns but he kept himself on track. As he came around to the front of the large elevated position, he looked up and saw the giant rock where Marcus was hidden.


    Meanwhile, two of the bandits had the busted tire pulled off of the hub. They were still trying to figure out how they were going to get the entirety of the cargo out of the van delivered to its location. The leader of the team tried to call for help, but his cell signal was weak. He kept dialing but couldn''t get enough of a connection to establish an actual call.


    Michael got within four hundred meters of the van before shutting off his bike and dismounting from it. He knew that he could only move another two hundred before he was out of options for cover or concealment. He walked low and slow, holding the AK in his hands. After a while, he got to a point where he was just outside that two hundred meter point. He could see half the team, and knew that the rest of them would react once he made his presence known.


    Looking through his optic, he was glad that Marcus had put something with magnification on it. He could see old looking half uniforms, what appeared to be the old tri-color desert uniforms that had been replaced in the US Army''s inventory. Black vests, Tri-color pants, t-shirts of varying color, and different sorts of headgear ranging from patrol caps, baseball hats and helmets. He observed mostly black AK looking weapons, but one stood out. It looked to be a general purpose machine gun of some sort. It had an optic on its top.


    After scanning the rest of the group, Michael decided that the machinegunner was the bigger threat. He sighted in and let off one shot. The round landed in the shoulder, traveling through the neck and doubling the gunner over. He could hear shouting. Couldn''t make out the words, but two of the men got up and repositioned themselves onto a line with another two other men. They were facing his general direction. Is this the reacting to direct fire drill?


    Shots started taking flight, though they were way off. He was fairly certain that they either hadn''t zeroed their weapons or didn''t know where Michael was. The weapon Michael was using had a very good aftermarket flash hider. He let off a few more shots at the team. The guy who appeared to be the squad leader caught two of those shots in his chest. The third landed in his hip, causing him to double over.


    One of the riflemen started landing shots a lot closer to Michaels position. The sorry part is that Michael figured out which rifleman it was and sent one more shot at him. He caught it in his collar bone. A loud yell could be heard, though Michael wasn''t listening as he fired another shot that smashed through his forehead and into his brain stem.


    Three enemies dead, but he had to get rid of the rest. Michael let out a burst of ten into the cab of the van. He was viewing the van from about a 45 degree angle from the front, which meant that pelting the engine block and drivers door would give him a greater chance of killing or injuring anyone in the cab. As he observed the van to see how much damage his burst had caused, he saw something under the van. Someone had gotten under it to try and find Michael. He saw a blast of dust blow out from under the engine block.


    As Michael sighted in on the man under the van, a rock near Michael burst into many pieces. The blast scraped the side of his head, though this would not dissuade Michael from taking a few controlled shots. They landed in the bumper of the van, indicating to Michael that he needed to aim down. He let out another burst, aiming low and figuring that he''d have to skip rounds off the ground to have a chance to hit this shooter. Sure enough, the marksman under the van was hit several times. He slumped down and stopped moving.


    As this went on, the gun trucks started moving and repositioned themselves towards Michaels general direction. These gunners had optics on their weapon systems, and were about to find him very soon. Michael let off a longer burst at one of the trucks. The windshield was ballistic rated, but the gunner was not so well protected. Four of the fifteen shots hit the gunner in the chest, sending him down to the bed of the truck.


    As the second truck sped around from the other side of the van with its dismounts loaded in the back, Michael turned his weapon to the last dismount from the first team and let out five more shots. Three of these shots hit their target.


    The second truck had something much worse than the GPMG that the first one had mounted to it. It had a M2 Fifty Caliber. The familiar sound of this machinegun opening fire on Michael gave him all the info he needed on what was shooting at him. Thankfully for Michael, he hadn''t actually figured out exactly where he was. Michael emptied the remainder of his current drum into the back of the second truck. Thankfully this gunner wasn''t well protected either, and neither were the dismounts in the back. While most of them ducked down, one didn''t move fast enough and caught one in his shoulder, which passed through and into his lung. Another gunman had not moved at all and caught one through the back of his head. With only three men left to really deal with, Michael decided now was a good enough time to advance.


    Dropping the first drum and loading the second into the weapon, Michael racked the charging handle back and let it fly forward. Feeling it shove that next round into the chamber, Michael stood up and began making his mad dash towards the still moving gun trucks. By the time another man had gotten up and grabbed the handle of the 50 cal, Michael had managed to close the distance by 150 meters. Raising his AKM, he sprayed the back of the truck again. This time he did not let go of the trigger until he had finished dumping rounds into the side of the truck. Once the AK had clicked dry, the last of the men in the back had fallen dead from being shredded.


    As Michael tossed the AK aside, he grabbed up his M4 and placed it on Auto as he walked up to the truck. The driver attempted to drive away, though he could not move his armored pickup fast enough before Michael grabbed the handle and ripped it from the door.


    As He tossed the door handle away, the driver of the other truck opened his door and tried to stick his weapon out to engage. Michael pointed his weapon with a single hand and let out four shots. The weapon stay surprisingly steady for being held in one hand. The driver fell to the ground, his life was extinguished.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The driver of the fleeing truck turned his vehicle to keep it between him and Michael. Getting out, he lay underneath and tried to fire his pistol at Michael. Michael had begun moving and got to an angle where he was protected by a truck rim. closing the distance, Michael jumped on top of this truck and stood on top of the cab. The driver looked up in horror as he tried to aim his pistol at Michael. Michael already had leveled his M4 at the driver. A quick squeeze and three rounds passed through the mans face.


    The threats had been neutralized.


    Michael opened up the back of the van and started pulling open the things he could see. As he searched, a small hand reached up and climbed from the front of the cargo area. This was followed by a few more hands reaching up, followed by three small faces emerging from their hiding space. Children, human shields.


    Michael raised his weapon upward, waving his left hand to show that he was not there to harm them. "ingles?" Michael tried asking. no reply. "al-injlezeeyah?" nothing. "angliski?" still no answer. "Englisch?"


    the little boy finally spoke up, "it''s pronounced English."


    Michael let out a frustrated huff. "No shit kid," Michael snapped back at the child, "The question was if you fucking speak it!"


    One of the other children, a girl, began to cry quietly. "you''re not gonna help us!" she said sobbing.


    Michael paused for a moment. He looked around to see if any of the men he had shot up were still alive. He walked to the front of the van and grabbed its driver by the feet. He yanked him out of the van and dropped him on the ground. The man groaned. you''re alive. I''ll ask you.


    Grabbing the injured man by the drag handle of his vest, he pulled him to the back of the van and sat him upright, facing the children in the van. "I''ve got questions for you. Ingles? angliski? englisch? english?"


    "I am speak the english" the man said slowly with what sounded like a russian accent.


    "Russkiy?" Michael said as he slapped the side of the man''s head, "you''re from the goddamn red bloc?" His rage began to burn brighter.


    "Da, yes, Russia is my home," the man uttered, "served in army, got out and followed money"


    A merc. Explains the squad level tactics. "Who are you moving this cargo for?"


    "which cargo?" The merc questioned back. This was followed by a strike to his jaw.


    "In the van," Michael said through a snarling hiss. "The weapons, the children, who the fuck is it for?" Michael began slapping the man in the face repeatedly in the same spot. Not satisfied with how slowly he was responding, he closed his fist and struck his cheekbone a few more times.


    The merc began groaning more, wincing with each hit to his face. "One box drugs, Cartel. Sinaloa."


    "And the weapons?" ''Dealer product, some cartel, some independent.''


    "And the children?" ''...'' The man stared blank.


    "The children," Michael repeated. "Those kids, the human people, the boy and two girls." He raised his hand to resume striking the mans face.


    "labor," the man finally uttered out. "The boy is to be cleaner, the girls for a man."


    This struck a nerve for Michael. "The fuck you mean?" Michael grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed his face against the van door. "Who are the girls for?" he again struck the van door with the mans face.


    "A buyer!" the man finally shouted out, "man buy girls, likes young, expensive, it''s why the security!"


    Michael let go of the man. He trembled with rage, pacing about behind the van. Gotta focus. But someone needs to die. But I''m here for a specific purpose. But this needs attention. But not from you. But who else is gonna deal with it?


    He walked back over to the man and slammed his head into the ground. He placed a hand under his jaw and with his free hand began punching his face under his eyes. For about five minutes, he was so tunnel visioned on beating this man to death that he didn''t hear Marcus approach on his dirt bike.


    Marcus threw a small rock at Michael to get his attention. As Michael stopped, Marcus walked over and looked into the van. Seeing the three kids, he had the last piece to the mystery of what was going on down here at ground level. Looking at the man with the pummeled face, Marcus drew his pistol and fired twice into the pulpy head. "That''s done now," Marcus barked, "We got shit to do now!"


    Michael nodded as he stood up from the body. "right," he said as he turned to look at the different bodies strewn about. "One of these motherfuckers tried to call out." He went over to the man who lay next to a phone and picked it up. He continued walking body to body and digging up their devices that might have info. He carried some of the phones to Marcus. "These kids, guns and a box of drugs are going to different places."


    Marcus shook his head. "This is some fucked shit," he said in a somber tone, "We gotta get the shit we came for and get out of here, but we ain''t gonna leave the kids."


    Michael walked to the truck with the lighter machine gun on it. It was equipped with an M240B and had a commercial market scope on it. In the back was the body of a gunner and many boxes of ammo. There''s at least two thousand rounds here. He hopped into the driver''s seat and drove the truck to the bodies. Once there, he and Marcus began stripping ammo and weapons. Loading them into the back of the cab, they finished gathering all the individual weapons and magazines up and backed the truck up to the van.


    The children stood next to the van and watched, their hands still tied with a cable keeping their feet together. Michael walked over to the kids. They looked to be between the ages of nine and twelve. "I was never here, do you understand?" he watched as the boy and one of the girls nodded. The shorter of the girls stared blankly at him. "English?"


    She nodded her head.


    Michael repeated himself more sternly, "I am a secret. I don''t exist. You never saw who shot these men."


    "how did we get out?" the girl retorted, "Why are you any better than them?"


    Michaels eyes narrowed. "I don''t deliver children to perverts," he explained as calmly as he could, "If I get caught, I won''t be able to stop people from hurting innocent people."


    The little girl nodded, "as long as they''re worse than you, it''s okay, right?"


    Michael started to laugh as he walked away from this argumentative child. Rather than continue to debate morality with a kid, Michael knew he had to figure out the drugs from the weapons and get this shipment ready for the rancher militia.

 Chapter 12: His Fall

    Three Days Later


    Michael had departed Arizona and made it and was en route home. He had been driving for a couple hours in circles in his SUV when he noticed that he had been followed by the same set of headlights. He had detoured through two cities, changed directions on the autobahn twice and still the same vehicle travelled behind him. That''s a mistake little guy.


    Grabbing a USP40 from under his seat, he pulled to the side of the road and put on his emergency flashers as if something were potentially wrong with his vehicle. Not his go-to caliber, but it''s what he had.


    As he pulled over, the tailing vehicle pulled over behind him. He knew this was gonna get bad. It was dark outside, but his weapon had tritium sights. He was sure that this was about to get ugly. Sure enough, he was right.


    Shots struck his back window, nothing got through the ballistic windshield but there was a large ballistic suited man dismounting the vehicle. As that man got out and reached back in for something, Michael threw his vehicle in reverse and slammed back as hard as he could into the front of the car. Sure enough, his reinforced bumper crushed the front bumper and punctured the radiator. This was good for disabling the vehicle to prevent a chase, but this didn''t get him far enough from the large padded man who had brought out a sledgehammer and had enough momentum to swing it at Michaels door. The impact put a large break in the window and door, though it hadn''t given way yet, he was certain that a little more effort would break the door or the window and render him vulnerable to incoming fire.


    Michael put it back in drive and tried to pull away, before the hammer hit the window again. This caused a gap in the doorjamb. He shoved his pistol in it and opened fire as he pulled away, aiming for the neck of the padded suit. After several hits in nearly the same spot, the large man fell down clutching his neck. Blood started to soak the suit quickly. got that artery, did I?


    As he continued to gain forward momentum, the damaged car gave chase. He was certain he had broken that thing, which meant that if they were stupid enough to chase him down the road in an open gun battle, their engine would overheat soon. He also had no intent to leave an attacker alive.


    Turning his vehicle 45 degrees to the left, he stopped and reloaded his weapon. Aiming through the gap in his door, he shot the driver of the vehicle. As he did this, the back door on the drivers side flew open. A man stood up and quickly aimed a lightweight belt fed weapon and immediately opened up on Michael. This man was unusually efficient with his shots, able to keep it aimed pretty close to the gap in the door. Michael ducked down to keep from getting hit as rounds barely missed his head. After a brief moment, the weapon stopped firing. Michael peeked back up and fired two shots at the shooter who had moved about four meters to the side as he grabbed the charging handle on the side and had already re-racked it and was aiming again for the hole in the door. Michael quickly fired off three more shots, this time hitting the shooter in the neck, face and forehead. The shooter stood still as his arms slumped down. He fell to his knees, even though he had just been shot in three individually fatal points, he seemed to still look intently at Michael before falling sideways, finally being all the way dead.


    What the fuck is this?You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Michael didn''t have time to wonder much about anything before another man jumped down from on top of his vehicle. This man reached for the gap and ripped the door wide open. By this time, Michael had already unfastened his seatbelt and was poised to disembark. As the door flew open, this attacker fired shots from a large revolver that he tried to press against Michaels head. He was too quick to catch the shots, but the concussion and flash from the cylinder gap still hurt. Eventually the shooter managed to get lucky and get a flesh shot on his left arm.


    Unphased by this injury, Michael struck the gun hard enough to break the wheel from the frame. Following this, Michael moved to strike the mans chest. He landed his hit, but felt a ceramic plate crunch under his hand. He moved his hand to slap away an incoming strike, then had to jump back to avoid a kick.


    The man drew a knife from his belt. Michael met this escalation with his own knife, a fixed karambit that he kept in his belt. The man leapt forward quicker than Michael was used to. A quick move to the side as he palmed the fist of the attackers knife hand, Michael swiped his karambit that he had gripped like an ice pick towards the attackers other arm. Successful slice of flesh, but he too was unphased by such an injury.


    The attacker brought his strong arm back to try and swing it full force at Michaels neck. Michael met this motion by gripping his wrist and gripping enough to fracture the bones in his forearm. As he crushed the wrist and stabbed the hand, the attacker had no intention of losing this fight. He let go of the knife, only to catch it in what should have been an already disabled weak hand. He used this split second window to thrust the knife into the left side of Michaels chest.


    Feeling the knife start to pierce his chest, Michael twisted his body enough to keep it from hitting anything too vital. It still went in an inch, and cut through flesh on its way out. It was guided out by his rib, which was somehow strong enough to not be cut up by this blade.


    Leaving his Karambit in his attackers hand, Michael quickly grabbed the knife and turned it back towards him. He began shoving his entire body toward this man. As he did so, he managed to step on the attackers food and stumble him into a backward fall. With how he had the knife positioned, he forced his entire body weight and strength behind the knife. His attacker was unable to keep the knife out of his heart as Michael quickly pushed it in.


    Yanking the knife back out and stabbing the man repeatedly in the chest to ensure he was down, Michael started to feel dizzy. He missed everything vital but I''m still bleeding. He got up and reentered his vehicle, grabbing a tourniquet and tying it high on his left arm. His next step was to grab tape and gauze, affixing it to his chest and the wound on his arm. Certain that he had stopped the bleeding, he loosened the windlass by one half turn before ripping his shirt off and hiding it under his passenger seat. He pulled another shirt from his carryon bag, and after putting it on dug a jacket out of the trunk space. Once he had changed, he grabbed up his weapon and reloaded it. Pulling the door shut, he was relieved to find that it still latched shut.


    He drove home quickly, being sure to be long gone before the Polizei could arrive. He couldn''t drive too fast as it was getting harder to focus on the road. Once he got to his driveway, he drove straight in, not having the focus to drive backwards into the garage.


    As he got out of the vehicle, he stumbled and noticed that he was having difficulty walking. As he made his way into the house, thoughts of ponder and critical question scattered through his mind in a disorganized and frantic manner, how the fuck, this is painful, did I contain the blood? A tourniquet securely tied on his left arm, his breathing labored, he walked down the hallway to the basement door. He stopped. He looked to the floor which was approaching fast. But the floor wasn¡¯t moving, he was falling. One clear thought formed before he blacked out.


    How did I let this happen?

 Chapter 13: The Angel

    Lani had watched the SUV pull straight into the garage from her bedroom window. This was unusual to her because he always backed in. Not once had he ever pulled forward. As she put on her new shoes in hopes of showing them off, she heard a hard thud. He''s collapsed?


    She ran downstairs and found Michael laying on the floor, passed out. I''ve failed, her first thought. She knelt down beside him and took his jacket off. Finding the tourniquet, she pulled the shirt away from the tape. Blood had seeped out and around his self treatment. She picked him up and carried him into the basement.


    Once there, she set him down and layed out a sleeping pad on the floor and placed him on it. After that, it was on to inspecting him for further injuries. Cutting his shirt all the way off, she found the taped piece of gauze that was barely holding on. She put on blue rubber gloves and proceeded to rip his remedies straight off. Michael was so out of it that he didn''t react much other than his head trying to turn left and right occasionally.


    After some time went by, there was a chest seal glued over a stitched chest wound, a closed flesh wound on his arm and a bag of blood in an IV line being fed into his arm. Lani sat beside Michael as she waited for him to wake back up.


    Michael eventually opened his eyes very slowly, looking around to figure out where he was. He looked down at his arm, finding it taped up with a catheter inserted. He began breathing faster until Lani placed her hands on his chest and forehead.


    "Stay calm," she whispered softly, "You hadn''t fixed your wounds right, so I had to give you blood and stitches."


    "how?" Michael managed to say through a groan.


    "Oh, there''s some awesome stuff I wanted to tell you," she replied as she slowly petted the side of his head. "That you aren''t the only one who was enhanced with a crystal, that I''ve been repelling attacks against this house, that I''m also infused by the power of the other half of the same red crystal that you are, or that there''s a special place in my heart that knows only that your safety and well being are what matter."


    Michael stared upward as he breathed deep, slow and hard. Blinking rapidly, his mind raced as he tried to process what she had just said. His mind fixated on the part about him belonging in a special place. While the idea that there were other enhanced people out there wasn''t as much of a surprise, given the manner in which he had just gotten his injuries. The concept behind a crystal having been in two pieces may not have made sense yet, but that was something he expected an explanation on. "you," Michael began to attempt speaking, "have been in danger?"


    Lani giggled and shook her head slowly. "No Michael," she said through her grin as she leaned closer to his ear, "I''m the danger. None of them survived." She caught a tear trying to escape his eye and wiped it with her thumb. "I have to keep you safe, and they wanted to hurt you."This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    "I," he tried to generate words as she placed a finger over his mouth to shush him, "I matter," he managed to say as she pressed against the bottom of his jaw with her thumb.


    She nodded. "You always mattered," she said softly, "you just never had anyone smart enough to tell you." She adjusted the pillow under his head. "You need to rest so you can get better before whoever managed to do this realizes that they failed."


    Michael gently grabbed her arm to get her attention before she could walk away. "You matter too," he blurted out. "I don''t know why I can''t express things, but I never told you because I didn''t want you to hate me."


    Lani began giggling in a maniacal fashion. "I was more worried you''d think I was some creepy yandere, if you even know what that is." She took a soft slow sigh as she shut down the blood transfusion line. "I also kinda like the little bit of money I get for cleaning your house. You''re like a big brother to me."


    Michael smiled. I''m big brother. it suddenly clicked in his head, the looks of admiration, the extra distance she''d go to make sure he was taken care of, the fact that nobody had yet succeeded in breaking into his house this whole time. He also had the question in his mind on how he had never figured out what was going on.


    ¡°Michael,¡± Lani said as she rubbed the top of his forehead softly, ¡°you need to lie down. Sleep,¡± she said softly as she began rubbing her thumb on the side of his head in a slow circular pattern.


    He could feel himself getting drowsy, though his heart was racing. He tried to open his mouth and object, being that there were questions and curiosities, mainly what had been happening to the bodies and how there hadn¡¯t been any police investigations. What is she doing to me? His last thought before passing out.


    As Lani laid his head down gently, a tear escaped her eye. I won¡¯t lose you. She reexamined her work on the catheter in Michael''s arm, the bandaging and the stitch job on his injuries. Doctors would do half as good and charge for this. She wiped the sweat from his forehead, then proceeded upstairs to get her kit and wait with him to make sure nobody could come around to finish their work.


    As she pulled her kit out and put it back on, she dragged the M60 out of her closet. Hauling it downstairs, with all the ammo in a large backpack. With her strength and ease of movement, an observer would not believe that this was a real machine gun, nor would they believe that she was carrying two thousand rounds in the bag. She made it back to the basement safe room where Michael was left to sleep off his recovery. She made a few more trips to bring down more equipment, since she hadn¡¯t bothered to unlock any of the storage in the basement to see what Michael had available.


    Her last trip down, she brought down a rolled cloth with what looked like a sling hanging from it. This was in fact a special katana, custom made of high density metal and a razor edge. Her proficiency with this weapon would seem like something out of a fantasy if an observer tried to describe it. This was part of the point in the displays she had done at a time in her past.

 Chapter 14: Her Origin

    A Bunch of Years ago


    The little girl who had spent most of what portion of her life that she could remember in an orphanage being pushed about for being the weird child, young Lani did what most people expected the seemingly asian children to do. She studied. She studied English, German, and various warrior cultures. The samurai was perhaps one of her favorites. Though the role was held traditionally by men, that tradition was several hundred years ago. I could be a great warrior she would tell herself as she read the novels and history books. The pictures of the armor always dazzled her through the years growing up. Even though the fighting style of the ninja seemed more practical to her small size and stature, the code of the Bushido and the honor of the Samurai who fought in service of their lords and rulers while cleaving their enemies with the finest of man crafted swords.


    Her reading would occasionally be interrupted by the orphanage bullies who would push her down or smack her books while she was reading. The bullies were usually twice her age and dwarfed her by about five years in age. Children who were nearing the age of legal adulthood who were so unlovable that none could teach them to respect others or show compassion for smaller people. Occasionally going as far as to call her a ¡®little ching chong¡¯ who might ¡®make a living on her back,¡¯ she shrugged as she knew she was fairly certain of two things. She wasn¡¯t from China, and ¡®I¡¯m not a prostitute, that¡¯s how you were born.¡¯ She would say these things regardless how hard they hit her for talking back.


    Other children were passed over or returned after an adoption went bad. Little Lani didn¡¯t have that problem, because she avoided the people who came to shop for children. Rumors and stories of bad people becoming foster parents scared the kids in her orphanage. While some children were willing to take the chance just to escape the hell of being trapped with unruly kids and seemingly uncaring staff, Lani had the patience to wait out her time and stay to herself as much as possible. Ich bin das gelbe M?dchen, she thought to herself every time a new shopper came through. Yellow girls attract predators. Being worried that her skin would get her molested or sold into slavery of some kind, the aspect of living out her childhood getting hit once in a while by bullies didn¡¯t seem so bad.


    One fateful day however, a week before her 18th birthday, she was digging through rocks and discovered something strange. There was a red rock that was seemingly out of place with its surroundings. She was not far from the orphanage, but she had wandered off where the other children wouldn¡¯t follow her. Though she hadn¡¯t made any distinct enemies, she hadn¡¯t bothered to try very hard to maintain friendships with people who she expected to vanish once they were adopted out. Sitting there looking at the rock, she felt like something was drawing her attention to it. Why would a rock want my attention?


    She decided to pick it up. At first this seemed like a mistake. As she reached for it, the rock began to glow and float in place. What did I just do? Before she could get up to run away from it, she heard a faint voice. ¡°Half of me I gave to him, the rest of me shall belong to you.¡± Though she understood the English of the message, she had no idea what this talk of halves was about, nor who ¡®him¡¯ was. She was struck by an electric shock without warning, having only enough time to let out a scream before she was knocked out by it.


    While in an unconscious daze, she saw a face of a man who fought great battles alone. His heart was worn and his head was bald. Between fighting physical fights for his life, to fighting internal struggles for his own peace of mind, he was never out of conflict. She knew she had to find him and help him.


    When she woke up, she was in a hospital bed. A very ungerman looking man sat in a chair scratching notes on some paper. He looked up once he realized she had awoken. ¡°How ya feelin?¡± he asked unenthusiastically. Lani just stared at him. ¡°I was told you spoke English. Spreche Englisch?¡±


    ¡°Sie?¡± she answered with an annoyed glare, ¡°sprechen sie Englisch? Yes, probably better than you can grind up German.¡±


    The man laughed. ¡°Thank god,¡± He said through his chuckling, ¡°I can say five things, two of which I won¡¯t say to kids.¡± He approached and handed her a picture. In the picture was a red crystal. It looked much like the one she had seen before she blacked out. ¡°Did you see something like this?¡± He asked with a more sincere tone.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Lani didn¡¯t feel the need to hide it, even though she didn¡¯t have any reason to trust this guy. She nodded softly. ¡°Do you know anything about what I found?¡± She asked with her sweet little M?dchen tone.


    The man handed her another picture. This was of a man in a military uniform glaring at the camera for a formal portrait. Lani recognized this face from her visions. ¡°Do you recognize this man?¡± the guy asked her with a look on his face like he must have seen what she saw. As Lani nodded, the man dropped both pictures on her lap. ¡°Okay, you¡¯re about to learn some deep secret stuff.¡± he grabbed a red plastic cylinder and placed it in her hand. ¡°Squeeze this.¡± Lani looked at it, then looked at the man. He nodded, ¡°It¡¯s okay, just squeeze it as tight as you can.¡±


    Lani squeezed the plastic cylinder. She didn¡¯t think much of it, just squeezing some cheap plastic. As it crushed under her grasp, she noticed as the plastic broke it revealed a small piece of lead pipe. It was two millimeters thick and she had just crushed this piece of metal with little effort. She shuddered, dropping the thing she had smashed and started to breath heavily. At first, she was panicked as she didn¡¯t realize she could do such a thing.


    ¡°Relax Lani,¡± the man said quietly, ¡°That¡¯s part of the secret that we can¡¯t tell anybody.¡±


    Lani¡¯s panic subsided as a big smile stretched across her face. ¡°I¡¯m super strong?¡± she asked the man with excitement. She observed his nod, which began to bring her a sense of happiness. ¡°This is great, I turn 18 in less than a week, I could go into helping people and,¡±


    The man put up a finger as if to interrupt her. ¡°Gotta be careful with that, nobody can know. And I gotta give you a brief history lesson on this thing that just happened and make you sign a nondisclosure.¡± He looked at Lani as her happy smile quickly swapped out for an annoyed pout. Goddamn, you really are a teen girl. ¡°Listen, you can help people, but you gotta be quiet about it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a fuckin idiot¡± Lani blurted out. ¡°I don¡¯t care if they know who I am or not, have you ever done anything for someone besides yourself?¡± She glared angrily as she waited for a response. ¡°Hey shit head, I¡¯m answering your questions, answer mine!¡±


    The man flinched, realizing he had stepped on something of a nerve with Lani. ¡°Chill, I¡¯m totally okay with you being the good guy,¡± he said nervously, ¡°That¡¯s actually why I¡¯m here, to make sure you don¡¯t go trying to tip over the world and get revenge on those bad kids from your orphanage years.¡± He handed her another form that had been filled out. It was orphanage paperwork, adoption forms. ¡°You¡¯re a free woman, and you have a kind of a family for a week before you¡¯re free to do most of what you want.¡±


    She stared at the papers, a soft smile coming to her. After sitting there staring off for a few minutes, she grabbed the picture of the man. ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the guy who had the same rock as you,¡± he said straightforward. ¡°Apparently the rocks are sometimes connected and the personality of the first person can be glimpsed into by the second person.¡± He handed her another piece of paper. It was a job listing. ¡°We shadowbanned this because it just went up a couple of days ago. He¡¯s looking for someone to live in his new house. Retired army dude who travels too much and doesn''t want his dogs to be lonely.¡± He grabbed yet another piece of paper. ¡°A newly eighteen year old girl looking for a housekeeping job, he shouldn¡¯t suspect¡­¡± He stopped as he saw a look of annoyance on Lani.


    ¡°I¡¯m not gonna be your fucking spy,¡± she said sternly, ¡°I¡¯ll work for him cuz I need a job, and if you need me to look after him, that¡¯s cool too I guess. I won¡¯t feed you info on his movements. That¡¯s fucked up. He¡¯s retired, leave him be!¡±


    The man took a big sigh and shook his head. ¡°We don¡¯t need a spy. We know what he really does.¡± he leaned forward and spoke a little quieter, ¡°He¡¯s doing good things, just like he used to do, he¡¯s just off the reservation.¡±


    ¡°Reservation?¡± she repeated as she sounded puzzled.


    ¡°Um, it means he¡¯s wasting motherfuckers like we used to have him do, but he¡¯s not getting his directions from us anymore.¡± He said softly. ¡°He¡¯s butchering pedophiles, shooting drug lords, and cutting up high profile bad dudes who are all kinds of fuckin bad.¡± He shifted the papers around and handed her the job application. ¡°He¡¯s the best place for you to find yourself.¡± He stood back up. ¡°You have some school finals to finish up these next two months young lady, then you¡¯re off to your new job once he accepts it.¡±


    She smiled faintly as she took the application and started filling it out. ¡°What school am I gonna go to for two months?¡± She asked as she wrote out her information.


    ¡°Oh,¡± the man said as he shrugged, ¡°a crash course in hand to hand combat, an introduction to firearms marksmanship, and some rudimentary Kendo courses for enhanced individuals.


    For some time after that, she embraced her new studies and after finishing her short study of these subjects, she was dropped off in a Taxi with two big bags of clothing. Don¡¯t carry it on your shoulders, look small she had to remind herself. Don¡¯t tell this fucking guy that you¡¯ve seen in his head she also told herself harshly. Don¡¯t be fucking creepy, as she dragged her bags on their wheels. He¡¯ll never know what I know.

 Chapter 15: Her Wrath

    Back to the Now


    After the years had gone by, Michael finally knew the secret. Given the new situation, there was no choice but for him to know the truth. Lani knew that eventually he¡¯d find out that she was planted. What she hoped was that he¡¯d find out that she was genuinely happy to stay. And while she was happy to finally have the weight of the secrets released, she was still stirring with a bit of anger as to the situation that brought this about.


    A while went by as Michael napped involuntarily. He began to open his eyes again, looking around for Lani. As he tried to sit back up, Lani walked into the basement with a bag. Knowing what happened last time Lani had caught him awake, he started trying to crawl back. ¡°I don¡¯t need to sleep,¡± he muttered as he tried to gain his footing and stand up.


    Lani moved quickly to grab his hands and hold him still. ¡°You¡¯re not ready to get up yet,¡± she pleaded with him. ¡°Please don¡¯t get up yet.¡± Though Michael was still trying to scramble, she didn¡¯t let up. ¡°You¡¯re able to heal quick but you gotta lay still.¡±


    Michael whimpered, breathing fast and starting to panic. ¡°Don¡¯t make me sleep again,¡± he managed to mutter during his hyperventilating. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ll wake up there again.¡±


    Lani placed her hand on the side of his face, worried that he¡¯d start making bigger movements and tear open his bandages or rip the IV catheter out of his arm in careless rage. She also remembered the visions, and how this was very much like a bad time Michael had been through in his younger years. ¡°Please don¡¯t fight me on this,¡± she whispered as she wrapped an arm around him, ¡°I know this reminds you of bad times, but I won¡¯t leave you like this, you¡¯ll be safe.¡±


    Michael paused, his mind coming to a focal point. ¡°Lani,¡± he asked softly, ¡°I haven¡¯t told you about my hospital trauma.¡± As Lani positioned herself on his lap, Michael looked directly into her eyes. ¡°How do you know?¡±


    Realizing that she¡¯d have to admit it at some point, Lani decided to explain the visions. ¡°I don¡¯t know the details,¡± she said in a matter of fact tone. ¡°I just know you have some kind of terror in your head that¡¯s related to hospitals.¡± she ran her hand over the side of his head, ¡°My exposure to the red crystal showed me something when it knocked me the fuck out.¡± She paused as she observed Michaels face relaxing. ¡°It showed me your face, and it showed me that you fought things.¡±


    ¡°What kind of things?¡±


    ¡°You fought bad people and you fight memories and thoughts in your head.¡± she took a breath. ¡°Not details, but enough of your mind was shown to me that I knew you were a good person.¡±


    Before any clarification could be given, the discussion was cut short by an explosion. Outside, an overwatch position had been set up and instead of waiting for vehicle movement, they decided to simply destroy the house. Firing rockets and machine guns at the structure, the shooters aimed for where they thought the structure supports would be. Long bursts of fire tore through the structure. In the shooting position, there were two machine guns in action, though only one of them fired at a time. They knew that a pair of belt fed weapons would be very vulnerable if they both had to stop to reload, so they planned carefully to minimize any halting in the fire.


    Lani grabbed the arm that was set up with the catheter and carefully began removing it. Shutting off the drip in the line, she ensured that he was safe to use his arm before grabbing one of his own plate carriers and handing it to him. ¡°We gotta go, I have an escape route.¡± she shouted as she grabbed her armor out of the bag she had carried down the stairs.


    ¡°Good¡± Michael replied loudly as he got up, as if seemingly nothing was wrong with him though his chest still ached a little bit, ¡°Use it. We¡¯re not done talking, I¡¯ll meet up with you once I take care of what¡¯s going on outside.¡±


    Lani put on what looked like a set of ancient Japanese samurai armor. This was not the wood layered metal stuff used hundreds of years ago. This armor was layers of ceramic plating, ballistic metal and an experimental dragon scale armor. On anyone else Lani¡¯s size, this armor would be heavy and cumbersome. On Lani, a vastly enhanced individual, she could move quite freely in this armor. She could even operate a sword or a rifle as she saw fit. After tightening her armor to herself, she slid the M60 to Michael. ¡°Take this, bring it with us, we¡¯ll get an advantage on them.¡±


    Michael picked it up and racked the action back. Loading it, he picked it up and looked at the belt. Armor Piercing and incendiary in a two and one feed ratio? He looked at Lani, wondering where she got this.


    ¡°Last time some assholes set up an ambush for you.¡± Lani said, reading Michaels confused face. ¡°I thought you¡¯d like the nice gun they had.¡±


    ¡°This would have disabled my car,¡± Michael said softly, ¡°They might have actually taken me out.¡±


    ¡°And I couldn¡¯t have that!¡± Lani snapped at Michael. ¡°Now you¡¯re gonna show them how to run it.¡± She smiled as she thought of how nice it would be to see Michael fight. She grabbed her helmet and affixed it to her head. Placing her sword on her back and grabbing her AS VAL, she unloaded it and grabbed another set of magazines. This time she was loading it with supersonic ammo as she wasn¡¯t so concerned with concealing the fact that she was shooting people. Though the weapon would fire quiet, the rounds would fly faster, make snapping noises in flight and hit harder. ¡°Once I get to my exit,¡± Lani said as she placed her hand on his shoulder, ¡°wait one minute, then get up there and start shooting back.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Michael was nervous of this plan. A little girl he hired out of school at 18 somehow had a suit of armor, a russian special rifle and was laying out a tactical action. He didn¡¯t feel like arguing as rounds and rockets smashed his house apart. He nodded slowly.


    Lani walked up the stairs, still having structure to hide her movements to the sink where she had escaped before. The rounds were not flying through her path. She ran low to the floor and made it halfway to the cupboard before one stray shot hit her leg and caused her to trip over herself. Michael watched in horror as she fell, but his urge to run out to her subsided as he watched her immediately get right back up and continue moving as though nothing happened. That¡¯s some great fuckin armor he thought to himself as he heard Lani giggling loudly.


    He waited as she asked him to do. The minute was almost up. How far is she gonna get? He trusted her, having no choice in the matter. He charged out of the wreckage coming down around him. Wielding his M60 with the ease that most men would carry a carbine, Michael brought the weapon up and sighted in on the muzzle flash. He opened fire with long angry bursts that stayed well grouped on the enemy position. At least two men had fallen from the first spray of fire. Michael ducked quickly behind rubble and began quickly crawling to another vantage point once both enemy machine guns began targeting him directly. Rockets flew overhead, one even falling short. He wasn¡¯t sure about the total count but the position had to have at least five to seven people from his perspective, and there had to be at least one more team somewhere ready to help these guys if they were bold enough to use explosives and machine guns in Germany of all places.


    As he found his position and prepared to start shooting again, Lani had emerged from her exit and found the enemy position. Little snaps could be heard as she let loose with a tightly grouped volley of fire. She could see that the position had eight people, two of which Michael had killed. Lani managed to get four of them before having to reload. She made a mad dash to another position of cover as she reloaded.


    Before the remaining men could fix their attention on Lani, Michael let out a long burst of fire and began cutting the top of the ground where the men had positioned themselves. There were only two men left, one who had caught a round through his shoulder and had been rendered ineffective. The last one lay flat to the ground, unable to pick his head back up to find a target to engage.


    As Michael fired away at the position, Lani walked quickly to the cowering man and unloaded into him and the last wounded man. The enemy had been eradicated for the moment. Lani knew that there wasn¡¯t time to waste trying to sift through their equipment. She quickly began running back to Michael. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡± she asked as she got close enough to communicate with him quietly.


    Michael carried his weapon with him back down to the basement, as Lani followed him with a somewhat frantic shaking in her hand. As he went back into the basement, he pulled a case from under a workbench and opened it. Inside was an M16 with an aftermarket handguard, a four power fixed ranged combat optic and a simple three point sling. The magazines were loaded with 77 grain match rounds, which he grabbed up and placed in pouches on his vest. Once he finished doing that, he looked to Lani who had gotten the hint and replaced her two spent magazines with fresh ones. ¡°How much did you get taught?¡± he asked her as he adjusted his sling.


    ¡°I can ninja people up if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking, and I got taught how to make the bullets go where I want,¡± Lani answered through a smile. ¡°You were amazing.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Michael muttered back as he rolled his eyes. He had no idea what great amazing thing he did, though even if he had it would not be in his way to gloat over it.


    ¡°Watching you wreck shit,¡± Lani said softly, ¡°I really like it.¡±


    ¡°Well I can¡¯t leave you behind anymore,¡± Michael said through his teeth, ¡°If there¡¯s bad guys around who have our power and you were never a soldier,¡± Michael said as he turned to Lani and stopped as he realized that something he said had struck her feelings.


    ¡°I had two months to learn it all,¡± she said, holding back tears. ¡°I didn''t have an army job to go to the middle east with.¡± she took a few deep breaths in quick succession. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna fail you,¡± she said as a tear escaped.


    Michael walked to Lani and wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her close for a brief moment. ¡°You haven¡¯t failed me,¡± he whispered in her ear as he let out a slow breath. ¡°You have done far more for me than anyone could expect.¡± He brought his head back as he held her shoulders to keep her attention. ¡°You may have only had two months of training, but we have the rest of our lives together. I¡¯ll show you what they couldn¡¯t teach.¡± he said as he had a soft smile escape.


    Lani smiled back with tears still flowing down her face. ¡°Michael,¡± she said as she reached up and touched the side of his face. ¡°That¡¯s the most real smile I¡¯ve ever seen of you.¡±


    As they shared this brief moment, a truck arrived outside the wrecked house. This time, about twenty men jumped out of the back. This box truck looked like a normal twenty foot rental, but inside the space in the back was much like a military troop transport two ton truck. The twenty men in the back who had dismounted were dressed in full armor as any modern army would be. All of them were equipped with G36¡¯s, some of them the Kurz models, some of them the Commando variation. In the back of the truck, one man hadn¡¯t stepped out yet. He stood with a cigar in his hand, dressed in the same kit as all the others, he had a long gray beard. He did not have a G36 like the rest of the men, but he was armed with a well restored MG42 that didn¡¯t seem to be impeding his movements whatsoever.


    The men began searching through the rubble of the house that had finally finished collapsing. The path to the tunnel route was fully exposed and could not be used without someone seeing. Footsteps could be heard, though the location of the basement was not exactly known to everyone. A large piece of wall had fallen on top of the stairway, making the aspect of finding the basement that much harder.


    Michael and Lani looked up as they heard the men walking around. ¡°Whoever sent these fuckin idiots,¡± He began to mutter, ¡°Eventually we¡¯re gonna have a talk with someone.¡± he picked up the M60 as he pushed the M16 to his back. He walked to the bottom of the stairs and aimed his weapon up to the wall that had fallen over their escape.

 Chapter 16: End of Solitude

    The men moving around outside continued to walk around, searching the rubble for signs of life or death. The individual in the back of the truck finally stepped out. He quietly walked over to the middle of the rubble, looking down at a wall that lay conveniently flat. ¡°We check here yet?¡± he said as he looked to one of the men.


    ¡°The ground?¡± the man replied with puzzle and confusion.


    The figure stood on top of the flat wall and lifted his foot. Bringing it down with violent force, he punched a hole through it, revealing that there was a hollow space below it. He stumbled as he tried to pull his foot out, though he couldn¡¯t quite get it out in time before a long volley of M60 fire erupted. Michael had scored a lucky few hits, effectively amputating the figures ankle and causing him to fall backwards.


    The team of men pointed their weapons at the hole in the fallen wall and began firing wildly into the space below. While none of the weapons were aimed effectively down the stairs, Michael took cover behind the concrete at the end of the stairs so as not to take the chance of a shot bouncing off the stairs and getting lucky. A hand thrown grenade landed near the top of the stairs, being that they hadn¡¯t figured out which way to actually throw it. The following blast was not effective in doing anything to Michael or Lani in the basement, but it removed a significant amount of the fallen wall and revealed more of the stairs, which the men started positioning themselves to start aiming correctly down the descending corridor


    Another grenade came down the stairs, this time landing in Michaels hand. He quickly ripped the blasting core from the ball of metal. Before it could explode, he pushed it away from his hand. As he did this, Lani quickly wrapped her arm around his face, shielding his eyes from the exploding piece. With his face shielded, the blast did not cause him the concussive effect that it normally would have.


    Letting go of Michaels head, Lani moved across the volley of fire that was being fired down the stairs. Michael did his best to keep suppressive fire going towards the shooters, but Lani¡¯s only real safety was her armor. A couple shots bounced off her ankle, not doing much to impede her movements.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Meanwhile, the figure with the now amputated foot stumbled about while two of the men tried to tend to him. Tying a tourniquet to his injured leg in as high a position as they could, the figure grumbled. The second man tied another tourniquet below his knee, the men doing their best to minimize blood loss. Snarling in rage, he tried standing on the stump that had little more than flesh tissue holding his foot from being left behind. He managed to ignore the pain, but there was still a struggle to control his steps.


    Michael set his weapon on its bipod and went for another belt of ammo. He knew he had to attach the next one to the current one to remain effective against the threat that was beginning to stack up to breach the basement. Lani had by this time slung her VAL to her side and grabbed a shotgun. Having found Michaels Saiga and loaded up a drum, she aimed up the stairs. She glanced over to him as she pulled a bag of drums closer and knelt down.


    ¡°Nobody taught me what to do about this,¡± Lani said with falsified calmness in her voice. ¡°Is this our last stand?¡±


    ¡°No Lani,¡± Michael replied through his teeth as he finished linking the belt, ¡°We will kill them all.¡± His genuine confidence and wrath showed on his face as his eyes narrowed, his grip tightened on the grip of his weapon and he raised the muzzle back towards the top of the stairs.


    Lani smiled softly, feeling an increased sense of safety as she felt the rage fueled confidence radiate from him. ¡°Teach me how?¡±


    Michael gave a short nod before fixing his attention on the entrance. He really didn¡¯t have much of a plan, besides killing everyone outside. He didn¡¯t have a direct course set to achieve this end, and was primarily expecting to let his impulse get him through this. He couldn¡¯t say that to Lani, because she was a young girl in her early twenties with a wrecked past who had fixated her hopes on him. He couldn¡¯t admit that his success was based mainly on rolling dice against life and death.


    After a brief pause in the shooting, they could hear the distinct sound of an MG42 firing in a direction that wasn¡¯t down the stairs. Michael and Lani kept their weapons aimed, though they didn¡¯t yet have anything to shoot at. Shortly after hearing the MG42 open up on someone, small bursts of explosions could be heard. A faint crashing sound followed, along with much longer bursts of explosions. A Mk19? AGS-30? Michael knew that someone had to be hammering on his position with grenades, but it didn¡¯t make sense that someone would start shelling the position while twenty of their own men were in the kill zone. This meant one of two things; the enemy was that desperate, or someone had come to the rescue.

 Chapter 17: Signs of Truth

    Seven hundred meters from the house, a fallen Littlebird helicopter sat on its side as three soldiers stumbled dazed from the crash. The pilots and their team leader were dead before they hit the ground, having had their lives snuffed out by the volley of 8mm mauser that had been sent their way. The soldiers belonged to a locally stationed special unit, and were armed with recognizable HK416¡¯s with short barrels. What wasn¡¯t obvious was the fact that these were American operators.


    In short distance behind them was three ground vehicles that were in position and firing on the position of the house. One of the vehicles was a blacked out MXT-MV, an MRAP type of vehicle with four interior seats that looked much like a large bomb resistant pickup truck. Escorting this vehicle was a pair of Dingo-1¡¯s, a pair of German armored trucks marked with Bundeswehr insignia, though the men inside were not conventional troops. While the black MXT was equipped with a Mk19 machinegun grenade launcher which was now in use, the Dingo vehicles were armed with MG3¡¯s and occupied by a mixture of German commandos and some nonmilitary individuals.


    The MXT had identified the targets around the destroyed house first, and had begun to place very effective fire on the position. One of the German vehicles took position next to the MXT and let out occasional bursts from its weapon as they identified ground targets attempting to flee. The third vehicle was making its way toward the downed chopper to rescue the survivors.


    Meanwhile, Michael and Lani kept their heads down in the basement. There was three feet of earth between the surface and the concrete of the basement. The concrete of the basement, reinforced by metal plating and other structure enhancements was approximately two feet in thickness. As long as nothing came down the stairs, that basement was the only safe place within a square mile.


    Lani on the other hand, had no idea. She pressed herself against the wall and looked around fearfully. The explosions were landing very close to the entrance, and she was not used to things being blown up directly around her. ¡°Michael, what¡¯s happening?¡± she cried out with a shaken voice.


    ¡°Stay the fuck put!¡± Michael shouted over the noise, ¡°You¡¯re in a goddamn bunker, and people outside are dieing!¡± He looked around with a smile, glad that he had invested so much in this structure. He looked back at Lani and saw that she was rattled and near a possible break point. Setting his weapon on its legs, he walked casually to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. ¡°You can¡¯t be hurt in here,¡± he said calmly, ¡°this room was designed for what¡¯s literally happening outside right now.¡±


    Lani stopped shaking. The sincerity in his words worked in calming her. ¡°I¡¯m not worried about me,¡± she said faintly, ¡°I have to keep you safe.¡± She reached up and grabbed him by his vest and yanked him downward and stepped between him and the door. ¡°My armor is better than yours,¡± she said with determination and a small hint of fury in her voice.


    Still surprised at how capable she was, Michael let himself be moved about as he knew he had to learn to trust Lani as much as he had to train her in his seasoned ways of war. He placed his hand on the back of her armors collar and reached his other hand over her shoulder to point to his weapon. ¡°Get me back to that,¡± he said slowly as if instructing a student. He had to resist the urge to move her and steer her like a shield and let her do what she instinctively knew how to do.


    Lani walked back to the edge of the entrance and picked up the machinegun by the carry handle. With Michael following behind her, she stepped back into cover and handed the weapon back to him. Michael grabbed up the M60 and stepped over to the wall, pointing to the spot in front of him while looking at Lani with a seemingly neutral facial expression.


    ¡°We just gotta wait this shit out,¡± Michael said with seemingly deflated enthusiasm. He stepped in front of Lani after a few moments. ¡°You have the nice suit,¡± he said assuringly, ¡°but I know what to do to people breaching my shit.¡± Lani nodded, trusting his experience.


    After about twenty minutes of hammering the structure, the barrage of fire finally stopped. As debris finished being thrown about, a large truck could be heard approaching and opening a door. It was one of the Dingos. The men who dismounted brought out the men from the fallen bird, guiding them towards the fallen house.


    Quickly behind was the MXT and the second Dingo. Radio chatter kicked up over the secure channels, and men started stepping out of the MXT and second Dingo. One man, dressed in plain clothes and holding no weapon, ran quickly towards the basement entrance. He waved his hands downward at the other men, warning them to stay back. He slowly got closed to the entrance and waved his hand over it in hopes that he¡¯d be seen and identified before anyone shot him.


    Michael saw the hand, and gradually lowered his muzzle before yelling out to the man. ¡°I still think Bernard is a dogs name!¡±


    The man who turned out to be Bernard yelled back, ¡°My parents liked it, fuck you!¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t deserve it bitch,¡± Michael said back, ¡°Dog names are too precious for admin pencil dicks.¡± He tapped Lani¡¯s shoulder and gave her a nod, letting her know that everything was okay. They began walking out, Michael glaring down Bernard. ¡°You leave out some really important information?¡±


    ¡°Which part?¡± Bernard replied, ¡°The part about us knowing where you lived,¡± he said as he looked around, ¡°or about you not being a fucking highlander?¡±


    Michael chuckled a little, understanding the movie refference about super people who had to kill all the other were the same as him. ¡°So I don¡¯t have to cut peoples heads off?¡±


    As Michael cracked his joke, the figure with the amputated foot groaned. Michael turned and walked over to him. Recognizing his ankle from the foolish moment when he had got it shot off, Michael pointed his machinegun at his chest and held the trigger. A little more than thirty shots later, he stopped firing. The figure who would never be known about had no torso and no head left to identify. Bernard shouted loudly, though to no avail as Michael really didn¡¯t give the slightest fuck about what he wanted.


    ¡°Are you out of your mind?¡± Bernard asked scoldingly to Michael. ¡°He was no longer a threat!¡±


    Lani finally spoke up. ¡°Can you shut the fuck up?¡± she asked with noticable annoyance in her voice, ¡°like, can you shut the entire, complete, whole way the fuck up?¡±


    Bernards eyes went wide. Michael laughed loudly as he walked toward the MXT. ¡°Bernie,¡± Michael finally said between chuckles, ¡°You were always a nuisance.¡± He walked to the back of the big truck as Bernard and Lani followed him. ¡°Is this thing my ride out?¡±


    ¡°Well, it wasn¡¯t supposed to be,¡± Bernie muttered, ¡°But your little bird got shot down.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s my ride out,¡± Michael replied, ¡°you¡¯re so kind.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Lani turned and went back in the basement and started looking for stuff to load into the truck. Michael set his M60 in the back and went after her, not fully knowing what she expected to be able to bring. She grabbed the bag of ammo for her VAL, and the bag of drums for the Saiga. Michael grabbed up a couple more cases of various equipment, while looking at Bernard with a look of disapproval.


    ¡°Is it hard to do work?¡± Michael asked as he tossed things into the back of the truck. While Bernard stood in complete disbelief, he couldn¡¯t think of something to say. ¡°Guess so, you were always worthless.¡±


    ¡°I just saved your lives!¡± Bernard shouted as he flailed his arms.


    Michael looked up at the top of the MTX, chuckling, ¡°hey, gunner,¡± Michael called out to the man standing in the turret, ¡°Did you switch seats with this dickless thing?¡± The gunner shook his head, looking down from his hatch with confusion. Turning back to Bernard, Michael rolled his eyes, ¡°I see you still try to take credit for other peoples work.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re still a rude inconsiderate fuck!¡± Bernard snapped at Michael. ¡°In case you haven¡¯t caught on, you¡¯re no longer the biggest boy on the yard.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m in prison now?¡± Michael questioned as he smirked, taking a slight amusement in Bernards annoyance. ¡°Yeah, I nearly got taken out by some tough fucks on the autobahn.¡± His eyes narrowed, ¡°You knew about that?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Bernard said in a slightly softer voice, ¡°But not that they were after you.¡±


    ¡°When would I have been told that these fucks exist?¡± Michael asked as he crossed his arms, leaning his head slightly towards Bernard. ¡°When would I find out that there¡¯s enough of them that my housekeeper turns out to be my guardian angel?¡± He paused, waiting for a response. Not satisfied with the silence, Michael stepped forward to within inches of his face. ¡°I might not be willing to hurt you, but you won¡¯t disrespect me. Answer my questions.¡±


    One of the men who were not in any kind of military uniform walked over from behind one of the Dingos. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said with a seemingly soft voice for a man travelling with a dual nation operations team, ¡°He might not have the entire story.¡±


    ¡°Is that it?¡± Michael said calmly to Bernard. Bernard nodded slowly. ¡°Say that shit,¡± Michael said with narrowed eyes. ¡°Just eyeball fuckin me makes me think you¡¯re an idiot.¡± Michael turned his attention to the gentle voiced gentleman. Lani looked around, noticing that two other plain clothed men were standing there watching.


    The softer voiced man extended his hand, ¡°I¡¯m Tom,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯m a type two enhanced. You¡¯re the only one not given a type, but had you been around when the researchers figured it out, you¡¯d be a type one.¡±


    Michael nodded, shaking the mans hand. ¡°You actually know something?¡± he asked, now speaking with tones of kindness as he no longer felt like he was being governmentally toyed with.


    ¡°I know a good bit.¡± the man said. ¡°But this isn¡¯t a good place to explain it.¡±


    ¡°What type am I?¡± Lani said with frustrated curiosity.


    The man turned with an excited smile, ¡°You¡¯re Lani?¡± pausing, he let out a faint giggle, ¡°You are a three, but lets get in a truck and get out of here and I¡¯ll start talking.¡±


    Michael nodded and turned to Lani. ¡°You¡¯re sitting next to me,¡± Michael said to her, ¡°I know Bernard, these others are unknowns to me.¡± Lani nodded and climbed into the MTX with Michael. Before fastening seatbelts, he stuck his head out and pointed to the well mannered gentleman. ¡°I¡¯d like for you to sit with me please, I think I might have hurt Bernards feelings.¡±


    The man climbed in, sat down and gave Bernard a shrug. ¡°Sorry bud, yer kind of a bitch.¡± He latched the door and away they went. Bernard was left to organize the cleanup,


    After rolling down the road for a few miles, the conversation was finally allowed to begin. Tom explained to Michael and Lani that there were repeated findings of power crystals that enhanced individuals, and that some of these individuals acted out before they could be met by anyone to make sure that they didn¡¯t go insane and do wild acts of terror. Some were interviewed and decided to misuse their capabilities anyway, which lead to a special task force being assembled to hunt down enhanced terrorists. He also explained what the three ¡®types¡¯ of enhanced people were, even though it had nothing to do with who was stronger than the other.


    Type 1 were the military applied individuals who were put to use in their respective nations and given further training as super soldiers. Type 2 were not military, but still did war things on occasion such as fighting and hunting. Type 3 were kids who stumbled into these crystals and didn¡¯t take on either government or military duties and instead chose to simply ¡®not be bad.¡¯


    ¡°So,¡± Michael interjected after some long talking from Tom, ¡°I was a prototype, but what improved since me?¡±


    ¡°So glad you asked,¡± Tom said excitedly, ¡°For one, we don¡¯t punch you in the face to show you how tough you are.¡± Michael glared, remembering the moment that a man had made this mistake.


    Lani giggled. ¡°I¡¯m glad they didn¡¯t do that to me.¡± She noticed that Michael wasn¡¯t laughing or smiling about it. ¡°Wait,¡± she said as she got serious and began to sound mildly irritated, ¡°they hit you?¡±


    ¡°With brass knuckles.¡± Michael replied in a flat tone. ¡°Felt like an open hand with bitch arms. Turns out the guy was some kind of heavyweight boxer in his spare time.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Lani said in disbelief, ¡°a heavy boxing dude, hit you in the face, with brass knuckles,¡± she paused as Michael nodded. ¡°And you barely felt that shit?¡±


    Tom chuckled as well, ¡°Well, they did that to project number two and he lost his temper and went straight into a rampage. Lost half a facility that day.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t lie,¡± Michael interrupted, ¡°I almost did the same shit.¡±


    ¡°I guess I should explain why we¡¯re taking you with us then.¡± Tom finally got to explaining that there were enhanced people committing open acts of terror, and that the deeply veiled secret was finally out. Michaels German house was not the only place that saw open gun battles and major property destruction. Some of the lesser governments were caught off guard because nobody thought to tell them that they might have super powered people living in their nations with the ability to do damn near whatever they want with too much survival instinct to be stopped by simple means.


    Lani tugged on Michaels arm, leaning in to ask him quietly, ¡°are you about to go hunt them down?¡±


    Michael shrugged. ¡°I think I might,¡± he said softly as he placed an arm around her shoulder. ¡°Question is, do you wanna help me?¡±


    Lani smiled, ¡°Whatever you do,¡± she said as leaned closer to lay on Michaels chest, ¡°I have to do, it¡¯s my job to keep big brother safe.¡±


    Michael had decisions to make, in regards to how he was going to go about his next move. Open conflict with enhanced beings, world destabilization a possible risk of inaction, the government trying to reel him back in, and now having a little sister to look after. He looked to Tom with a stern look. ¡°If I do this,¡± he said in his serious tone, ¡°I do it my way.¡± Tom nodded in response. ¡°I have people I need brought in.¡± To this, Tom hesitated. ¡°If I do this, I take information from you, not orders.¡±


    ¡°I understand entirely,¡± Tom answered. ¡°My supervisors might not like it though.¡±


    ¡°Explain it this way,¡± Michael said leaning towards him, ¡°If I¡¯m keeping your hands clean, and solving problems, and saving lives, does it really matter how I do it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll advocate for you to have independent movement,¡± Tom said through a sigh, ¡°and I¡¯ll make sure to emphasize minimal interference,¡± as he set his head on his hands, ¡°But please for the love of my sanity, be nice to Bernard.¡±


    ¡°He can get fucked,¡± Michael stated flat out, ¡°but I can try to balance out how mean I am to him.¡±


    For the next hour, they rode to a base where they¡¯d eventually be given the chance to make final decisions and plan out how they were going to go from here, now that their world had changed so drastically. The future was fluid and unfixed, leaving room for many paths and outcomes. The only thing that they knew collectively was that inaction was not going to be their next course.