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The Last Mission
The Last Mission
After 9/11, the government decided that a secret security force was necessary to protect important civilian locations from terrorist attack. They brought in experienced police officers and soldiers from all branches of the military to form the Department of Defensive Action to assist normal law enforcement in protecting America. In major cities around the country, agents work in small teams in covert locations around the urban areas doing surveillance and intervening when necessary.
GX-38R. Chemists are amazed and horrified by it. At least the government chemists who have access to it in the deep dark chemical weapons labs where it’s stored are. It’s a harmless liquid by itself and all it’s good for is use as a mediocre fire repellent. But, it does have a dangerous property. If it comes into contact with the liquid substance KP-46J, then the mixture becomes an extremely deadly chemical weapon, capable of killing an adult male in less than five minutes without him even noticing that he’s being affected by it. These substances are obviously kept in high security lockdown. No civilian ever can access them.
Unless they’re stolen that is....
“Pick up the phone Damian!” yelled the man who had been sleeping in the office chair. “I’m working on these tapes, you get it!” yelled back Damian. The man in the office chair grunted. “Five years of service, and I thought they’d at least thank me with a receptionist. I’ll get it then.”
“Hello who’s callin’” “Is this Department of Defensive Action office NY-08.” “Yeah, and this is agent Kameron Wells talking.” “Agent Wells, we have a problem.”
“When don’t they,” yelled Damian from the back, where he was listening on the other line.
“At 0300 hours there was a break in at a government lab in New Jersey and we believe that a chemical weapon was stolen.” “Let me guess, whoever stole it is probably headed for New York. Am I right?” “Affirmative agent. We believe that he’s already headed for his target, a water treatment plant on 34th Street that pipes out most of New York’s tap water. I’ll send the details your way.”
Kameron put down the phone.
“Suit up man,” he yelled back to his partner, “we’ve got work to do.”
The email had been to the point. They had gotten a picture of their target; 29, Arab, with dark hair, and a long history of being under surveillance. How he’d gotten within 20 miles of the lab without alarm bells going off was a mystery. Their orders were expected, “Bring subject in by any means necessary, alive if possible.” Kameron and Damian were working this one in cooperation with two other teams. One team would guard the plant, and the other two would try to keep the subject from even getting that far.
Damian stared out the window of the black SUV. “We’ve been sitting here for hours. Does he plan to come or not?” “Just be patient,” answered Kameron, “he’ll come eventually, they always do.”
As if in response to Kameron, Damian’s radio came to life. “Subject has been spotted on foot heading towards your location. We’re tailing him and you should move to block him off.”
“See Damian, we’ll trap him between us and then go home.”
A few minutes later the other team radioed in again. “Shots fired! This crazy idiot just turned around and started shooting at our car! We’re engaging now.” There was a short silence.
The radio came back on. “Team 2 this isn’t our guy.”
“What do you mean he’s not our guy,” yelled Damian.
“Well he’s got a bullet hole in his head, but he looks nothin’ like the picture at all. I think-” The agent was cut off by a transmission from head-quarters.
“All agents change position! There was a decoy, I repeat, a decoy. The real target is headed for somewhere else, his picture just showed up on a security camera near 30th street. We believe he may have found a way to release the chemical into the air and is planning to release it near the center of Manhattan. Agents Wells and Faulkner, you’re closest. Move to intercept target immediately.” Kameron started the SUV and floored the accelerator.
The city streaked past in the windows as Damian checked his weapon, a Glock automatic pistol. “Think we’ll need the Barrett?” “Probably not, but it couldn’t hurt to grab it.”
Damian turned around to grab the sniper rifle’s case from the back seats. He assembled it quickly and put its strap over his shoulder. Kameron slowed the car down.
“He should be in this area so keep your eyes peeled.” Damian watched the streams of people trickle past the car. A woman in an ugly hat, a seven-foot guy in a black t-shirt, and.... there was the target carrying a backpack probably laden with the chemicals.
“Stop the car!” he yelled. Kameron slammed the breaks and Damian jumped out. The target turned around, hearing the car’s breaks and saw Damian; he must have sensed trouble because he dropped his pack and took off. Damian ran to the pack and ripped it open. He saw a timer counting down. “When it hits zero the chemicals must be released,” he thought. He heard Kameron yelling and turned around.
“I’ll get the chemicals! You go after the target!” And with that, Damian started running. His target wasn’t far off. Damian could have caught him on foot easily if the guy hadn’t jumped onto a motorcycle that had been waiting for him and sped down the road.
Damian stopped; he knew further chase was pointless. He brought around the Barrett that had been slung over his shoulder to take one desperation shot. He put his eye up to the scope, the wind was at his back. He fired. The motorcycle stopped. Damian heaved a sigh of relief. He grabbed his radio to call Kameron, but he was stopped by a feeling. Something was wrong, he thought. Then he noticed the strange smell in the air. He felt numbness in his legs. The world started spinning. He fell.