Day 6, 1032HRS
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

Whuzzut? Wheremi? Safe house? How’d I get back here?

Ugh. Stumble, lurch. Crikey. What time is it? Did I get past that blasted watch tower? Computer, what time is it? Ooh, email.



Wait, what mission? “Clean up crew”? “Horseman of the apocalypse?” That sounds nothing like me. Oh, there’s an AAR attached. Scroll further.

“...zip-lined covertly onto an unsuspecting enemy, knocking him unconscious.”

Ah, that’s better. Classic Thorton.

“...proceeded to stamp the prone figure’s head into the concrete.”


No, wait, that’s not right. This is all very suspect.

“…massacred every enemy combatant in an unnecessary orgy of blood.”


Didn’t happen. Definitely didn’t happen. I would’ve remembered an orgy of blood.

“…his handler, Agent Darcy, crouched casually in the exfiltration helicopter, staring dispassionately at the terrorist several feet in front of him who was busy attempting to shoot Agent Thorton as he made his way to the vehicle.”


Well, that… actually, that sounds about right. Screw you, Darcy!

Enough! Hiccups, momentary hiccups. I’m a relatively new agent, of course I’m still getting used to being in the field. Apparently I racked up fifty kills over the last two operations. My next mission will be much improved.


There’s already one waiting, too: I’m to infiltrate an arms smuggling operation and interrogate the ringleader over some stolen shoulder-launched missiles used to take down an airliner a week ago. This time I’m not going to wait until dusk, I get in a truck and drive out to the location my handler has marked as the likely site of the deal.

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