NaNoWriMo Day 20

Word Count: 35,013

Molly



I can smell the Colonel’s horrid cologne through the door, I would know exactly where he was even if he didn’t constantly yell when he talked. I can hear other voices, much quieter, and I estimate that there are three other men in the room, all with their back to the door. I close my eyes and ready myself for the swift carnage that is about to go down by my hands. In my left, an Uzi nine millimeter automatic submachine gun. In my right, a long range electric tazer. I silently count to three in my head and kick the door right off of its hinges like a force of nature. The three men who are standing exactly where I thought they would be standing only have time to spin around in surprise before I cut them down messily with my ‘nine. The Colonel stumbles backwards, fumbling for his sidearm when the prongs from my tazer stick perfectly into his neck and he goes down shrieking like a big old pig. I let him fry for just a second longer than is probably necessary or safe, then congratulate myself on a job well done. The Colonel’s body goes into a nice big bag with handles and the hard part is done. Now I just have to drag his heavy ass out of here.

A team is waiting at the extraction point and I hand the Colonel over to them, grateful to be relieved of the load. The squad leader points my attention to a sexy looking motorcycle parked behind him and tells me that my mission objectives have been updated on my PDA. He motions the rest of his team and they head out silently with their new cargo. I make my way over to the sleek, black bike and mount it with a small moan of pleasure. This baby is built for speed, and I will be more than happy to oblige. I check my PDA and smile. I’ve never been scuba diving before. Jamming the accelerator down hard, I blast off on the motorcycle toward the coast. The wind feels so exhilarating at the insanely dangerous speeds I am pushing and the bike throbbing between my legs is simply divine. I can’t understand why more women don’t ride bikes.

It takes a while for me to hear the rotors of the helicopter behind me over all of the wind, but when I finally do, the damn thing is almost on top of me. I curse and brake hard, ducking as the craft overshoots me and begins maneuvering to turn around. I don’t know who these guys are, but there is a good chance that they mean to do me harm. The highway is wide and flat, with nothing but straight asphalt for as far as I can see before me. I squeal the tires and spin the bike around, heading back in the direction from which I came. Seconds later, there are shots from the helicopter and a huge chunk of road erupts just to the right of me. That’s some heavy firepower they have there. I gun it harder, barely maintaining control, forcing the helicopter to haul ass to keep up with me. In the distance, I can see the short overpass tunnel that I emerged from just minutes before, I only hope I can make it before the guys in the helicopter get off a lucky shot. I am weaving like a lunatic, and their shots keep going wild. By some miracle, I manage to make the tunnel and the helicopter shoots overhead. I have a few seconds to catch my breath and figure out how I am going to get away from this flying death machine.

The copter stays hovering over the entrance and before too long, I see a drop wire come down at the mouth of the tunnel. Perfect. As soon as the poor bastard’s feet hit the ground there is a bullet caving in his face from the rifle that was strapped to my bike. For his sake, I hope he didn’t feel anything because that was nasty. And I used to be such a nice girl. I gun the bike once more, hurling to the entrance of the tunnel. Before they even know what happened I grab the drop rope with my right hand and let it swing me high in the air as I fire into the helicopter with my left. The bike keeps going and flips over the guardrail about one hundred feet down the road The confused men inside the copter scramble for nonexistent cover as I take them down one by one. The pilot banks furiously, trying to shake me off. One well-placed bullet ends his life and the whole thing goes down in flames. I land in a heap on the brush by the side of the road thanks to the momentum I had from the swinging rope, barely escaping the flaming wreckage of the helicopter. That hurt, but it sure was a lot of fun. Dusting myself off, I limp slightly over to the bike and breathe a sigh of relief that it is still intact. I take off down the highway once more, feeling rather like a badass.

I make the dock before sundown and happily greet Drake, my favorite operative. I was hoping he would be involved in this mission. He briefs me quickly and hands me my gear before turning his back so that I can change into the wetsuit. I smirk and quickly get suited up. The water is freezing cold when we dive in, but the suit quickly adjusts and makes things quite comfortable.

The strike point is a tanker anchored nearly three miles off the coast. Luckily, we have our personal water transport modules or we would wear ourselves out swimming before we even got there. Our objective is a cell phone in the pocket of a man who is locked up tight in the heavily guarded brig that is located deep within the bowels of the massive ship. Entering the correct series of codes into this special phone will stop the impeding launch of a barrage of nuclear weapons that just happen to be pointed at major United States cities. Luckily for us, my associates managed to extract the codes from the Colonel while I made my way to the docks. I bet he had a bad day. We have to get all the way through this ship and enter the codes in just over twenty minutes. Piece of cake.

Drake fires off the rappelling hook and it catches the railing on the first try. He hooks the other end to his belt and up he goes out of the water. After securing himself and checking the immediate area, he drops the line down to me and I hook up and join him on deck. I feel like I’ve known Drake my whole life, we are an excellent compliment to each other. Quite the deadly team indeed. It breaks my heart that he isn’t real, it’s as if they scanned my brain and programmed the perfect man just for me. I get lost in schoolgirl crush mode every once in a while and forget that he is just lines of code. He is always in my dreams, which makes every morning a brand new tragedy. But here, with him, doing what we do best, I am in heaven.

There is a guy taking a smoke break by the railing on the far side if the ship and Drake sneaks up and snaps his neck quickly and cleanly. We both memorized a complete schematic of the tanker before the mission, I could get to the brig with my eyes closed. We make our way level by level, sneaking around those we can successfully avoid without going too far out of our way, and silently killing those who would take too long to evade. We are making good time but it is really getting down to the wire. Soon, only one heavy door separates us from the hallway to the brig that I just know is packed to the gills with men who are armed to the teeth and have very nervous, itchy trigger fingers. Drake and I lock and load before he plants the small explosive that should blow a nice big hole right through the steel door. He duck around the corner at a safe distance and Drake gives me a wink that makes me melt inside before blowing the charge. The men inside start shouting and firing immediately, though I bet the blast blew out each and every one of their ear drums. We each toss a flash grenade into the hall and two big white booms later the shooting stops. Drake and I storm the hall, putting bullets into every staggering man until we are the only ones left standing.

I open the first cell door and a small, quiet old man smiles up at us from his cot. Drake nods to him and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the phone. Damn we’re good, we still have a whole minute to spare. Drake touches his earpiece to receive the codes from the uplink when a single shot blows the top of his beautiful head apart and he falls to the floor, stunned at being killed. The little old man turns the pistol that he had hidden in his robe on me and puts three slugs into my chest before I can react. As I struggle to take my last breaths, the timer on my wrist goes off with urgent beeps, and I know we screwed up big time.

The transition back to real life is painfully jarring, and I collapse from the rig sobbing deeply. Even though he wasn’t real, I was not prepared to see Drake killed like that and it hurt me more than I ever thought I could be hurt again. Dr. Wong rushes over while I try to contain myself and he tries to comfort me. Brandt, on the other hand, is less kind and stalks away from his monitor with a frustrated sigh. He asks me how many times he has to tell me not to let my guard down at any time. I feebly reply that the man in the brig was supposed to be one of ours but he cuts me off and reiterates that at no time should I trust anyone, ever, not even my own squad mates. I nod weakly, hoping that he will just stop yelling at me until I can get myself under control. The tears won’t stop and he certainly isn’t helping things.

Dr. Wong sits me down and hands me a cup of water while Brandt walks over to check the simulation readouts. Just as I get the sobs down to sniffles the door to the lab opens and who should walk in looking like a deer in headlights but Joseph. He lights up when he sees me and he comes running over and actually hugs me with glee. I hug him back, flustered but kind of in need of a hug. When he pulls back he sees that I’m crying, sees my missing arm, and flies into a rage. I barely manage to hold him back as he yells and lunges toward poor Dr. Wong, who goes white as a sheet. Eventually I am able to calm him down and assure him that I am ok. He is utterly bewildered and Brandt steps over and offers to explain. I tell Joseph that it is good to see him but I need some time to collect myself. He nods like a lost little boy and allows Brandt to pull him away.

I gather my things and head to my room, still aching inside. I am flummoxed that Drake’s death in the simulation has affected me so. Apparently, my infatuation with him was way out in dangerously unhealthy territory. I must be sorely in need of human contact. I have lost track of how long I have been here, the simulations make it seem like I have been training for years but I know that can’t be right. The only male in the complex that I’ve ever been even remotely interested in was Dr. Giles. Unfortunately, he made it explicitly clear that he wasn’t interested in women when I none too subtly tried to get a little closer to him. The good ones are always gay.

I sincerely hope that a long, hot shower will make me feel better and I strip off my workout clothes and step under the stream. The image of Drake’s head exploding is seared into my eyes, I can see it clearly even when they are closed. Dr. Wong has never before reused dead teammates from previous simulations, but maybe I can convince him to make an exception with Drake. Maybe if I promise to Brandt that I’ll be extra careful from now on, he’ll let me have him back. I suddenly realize that I am thinking about begging them to reinstate my digital boyfriend and I sob once again with a shudder. I am really cracking up, I can’t stay here much longer.

Finally, after lots and lots of scrubbing, I feel centered enough to get through the rest of the day. Brandt sent me a message while I was in the shower that he and Joseph would meet me in the mess hall for lunch, so I get dressed and make my way there. I join them at the table and Joseph looks exactly as confused as he was when I left them forty-five minutes ago. Brandt is patiently trying to explain about the handpicked current government as if he’s been over it quite a few times already, and his patience seems to be wearing a little thin. Amazing how Joseph has that talent. He seems distracted, which is probably not helping his comprehension skills, and as soon as Brandt stops talking Joseph turns to me and tells me that Candy is in trouble and needs our help. It takes me a few moments to remember who candy even is, and I ask him what he is talking about. He launches into this grand tale of danger and intrigue, how he and candy narrowly escaped death but she ended up being sold to slave traders by General Xu. Brandt sighs and says we have too much important work to do to be wasting time worrying about a street rat criminal and for a second there I really believe that Joseph is going to knock his block off. Something has changed about him, he seems more assertive and I’m pretty sure he’s sober. Brandt backs off and says with a nervous chuckle that he will have his people ask around for any word about Candy. Joseph seems momentarily satisfied and the situation smoothes over.

We finish eating and Joseph accompanies us to my visit with Dr. Giles. He does his usual examination and tests, then takes me back into a part of his office that has a closing door. We have never come back here before and he sits me down with a look of concern. He says he saw me fall to pieces after today’s simulation and that he is concerned about my mental toughness. I try to give him some crap about being traumatized from getting killed like that but he waves me off and rolls his eyes. He reminds me that I’ve died dozens of times in simulation, in fact I was laughing my ass off when I came out of the one where I fell off a thirty story building and pancaked in the middle of the street. He sternly tells me that he knows about my past troubles with relationships, and he’s worried that in the real world I won’t be able to detach my feelings from the task at hand. I must be scarlet red because I am so hurt, angry, and embarrassed, I can’t speak for fear that I will burst into tears again. He keeps pushing me, telling me that they created Drake to be a combination of traits that my psychological profile determined I would find appealing. His entire existence was a test of my ability to maintain a professional relationship with my teammates, and unfortunately, I failed badly. I want to crawl into a hole and die, they set me up to fall in love with someone who wasn’t real and as soon as they did they destroyed him right in front of my face. I can never think of Dr. Giles as the kind, soulful man I once did. Now he is no more than a monster to me, and it would seem that I am noting more than a guinea pig to him. He finished his lecture and I coldly asked if I was excused. He nodded, seeming angry, and I left calmly.

When I come out Joseph and Brandt have left so I veg out in front of some stupid old movie in the media room, killing time until my afternoon session rolls around. I was fine with being abducted. I was ok with losing my arm for the good of the company, as long as they promised to fix it. I was even fine with one day possibly being thrust into a situation where it was kill or be killed. What I will not tolerate is having my emotions experimented upon. I decided right then and there that if they wanted a sociopathic super-killer, then I would be all that and more. I will show them the meaning of emotional detachment. I will be a stone-cold killing machine, and no foolin’.