Description: With that foul island tournament complete, Task Force International has returned back to their base, a man short, and a mission failure. With Agent Little gone rogue, the rest of the Task Force Internation is forced to recoup and return. With the combined efforts of General Zima and Chief Mallone, the Task Force Internation get the facts on what they must do to save the world now when they receive... After Actions! (The cover shows a circular war room, where the remaining members of the International Task Force stand. The White Angel Of Death, garbed in her White Spetznaz Uniform, stands with her arms crossed beside Major Nash, running a finger on her own scarred face as she warily stares at her. Both are holding cups of coffee. Agent Diez is busy with the high-quality HitSip, a fantastic new product created by Violet Systems, preparing himself a hot cup of coffee as he tries to flirt with Agent Lita. Agent Lita is not paying attention to him, instead holding her own cup of coffee as she looks at the screen. There, the cruel and callous frame of Daniel Jack, cast in shadows, clutches a helpless woman in a strapless red gown in with his yellow claws in some dark alleyway. Both are holding cups of coffee in their opposing hands.) (45 cents)
The mission was a failure.
Failure, as it cuts, can cut shallow, or it can cut deep. For the purposes of Interpol, Chief Mallone only knew how much damage a failure can be. An agent, killed in the field. Another, killed. Another, killed, Another, killed. Fully executed, KIA. Adding a KIA for every single member of a mission was a painful prospect. And yet they came back home. All but one. Dead, and then, back to life, escaping that damnable island. All but one.
Agent Little was missing.
Chief Mallone enters the war room, a dark, shadowy room where various representatives of the United Nations meet to conduct only the most sinister of dark ops within the technological and ethical limits of the sane, legal world. A large, circular table sits in the middle of the room, with a giant computer screen stretched over it in a semi-circular dome. Underneath it, at more eye level, rows of CRT monitors circle around it, with an infinity of wires twisting in and out of them. Chief Mallone came alone. This was Interpol business.
The Russians had something to show him.
In the center of the computers, underneath the apex of the dome, a tall swivel chair was turned with it's back towards Chief Mallone. Russian agents worked tirelessly on the computers, producer a drone of keyboards and mice. The weight of the meeting could not be understated. The fate of the world, no, several worlds, were based on this meeting.
The tall black chair turned to face Chief Mallone, showing General Zima carefully sipping a drink.
"Welcome Chief Mallone, care for a coffee. They have a HitSip here."
Chief Mallone had a purpose here.
He wanted answers. None of those phony answers to evade the truth. He wanted to know how the hell all his agents got killed. He wanted to know how they came back to life. He wanted to know what the hell happened to Agent Little, because heaven help him, once he finds out where that little moron is, he was going to wring his neck. He wouldn't be damned to paperwork. He would be damned to preparing paperwork for people in lesser circles of punishment. He wanted all that, right now.
That is, until his good friend General Zima points out there is a HitSip.
"Oh hell yes!" The Chief says, rushing over to the high quality Violet Systems contraption. "My god! I know you Russians are a godless bunch, but I can't help but make an exclamation of my diety of choice over this fine coffee machine!" He charges the machine, taking his place as he goes through the menus. "It's like a latte machine, but you can skip the latte, and go right into the flavors!" Tap, tap, tap. After a moment, a cup pops out, filled to the grim with hot coffee, no sugar, no cream, and with a shot of whiskey in it. Da Chief looks towards General Zima. "You know I asked my daughter for one of these for father's day, you know?" Chief Mallone takes a draw off the coffee. "That is a high quality cup of joe. My god." He sniffs once.
"So what the hell went down on that damn island, General?"
"Hell would be a very apt word Chief."
Zima placed down his coffee in the chair's convenient cup holder. "Dragunov was able to provide a report of what he could, and the island was deadly. Unfortunately, Dragunov was also the first one to die in the tournament, as far as we are aware."
"Dragunov able to tell us of the limbo the fallen fighters were in if their fight ended... fatally. We the tournament ended, they were placed back into the world of the living. Sergei was able to tell everything he knew, but death limited what he could see. "
"Mind getting me a delicious Jamaica Violet, while there Mallone." Zima loved the wonders that the HitDrip technology allowed, innovation his coffee experience.
It really was good coffee. Also, what Zima said. As Zima makes his request, Da Chief digests the information carefully. "So what you're telling me was that the tournament. And people lives were on the line? Well, that sounds pretty illegal to me. But with Sergei being the first to die... my god. What about from the others? Have they given any reports?" Da Chief begins the Jamaica Violet, leaning at the side of the machine as he sips his coffee.
"What was the whole tournament about then?"
"The fate of the world, our 'Earthrelm' as they called it."
"Little said Interpol liked to keep your heads in the sand. There are forces beyond our world, forces that wanted to take it. The tournament acted as some sort of test."
"The most important thing is that it appears we won."
Zima then flicked his cup into a waste bin. "Now, what else do you wish to know Chief Mallone?"
The HitSip finishes up with a ding.
Chief Mallone falls silent for a moment. He was pondering the implications. Heads in the sand. Was that what they were? Maybe General Zima was exaggerating but... that was not General Zima's nature. If the team really did contribute to saving the world... well, somebody did do it. Da Chief was nervous, nervous about his standing in a world where Interpol was the last piece in protecting the world. Da Chief gets the filled coffee cup, and comes over to his friend.
"It's all fine and good that we won but..."
"Where the hell is my Agent Little then?"
"That is why we are here, turn your attention to the screen."
"As it stands, we are trying to locate where Agent Little is. When we detained Little after the incident at the Great Wall, we also placed a tracker in him." Zima reached and grabbed his delicious cup of Jamaican Violet.
The screen featured a Waterman Butterfly, with a green line crossing it oh so slowly. "Pull up the historic data." barked Zima. The Butterfly Map then showed an orange dot crossing the sea, that disappeared. The dot then reappeared in Thailand, then began to flicker from one spot to another.
"And if you wish, the tracker is also a kill switch."
The evidence presents itself.
The chief looks at the dots, the map of the world. Daniel was traveling over the ocean.... and then, to Thailand? And then, elsewhere? How was he flickering in and out? How could that be. What was happening? And then, the idea reaches his head. Chief Mallone speaks softly at first. "My god, Zima. Are you telling me... are you telling me..." And the Chief furrows his brow.
"Are you telling me that Agent Little is hanging out with some teenage ladyboys in Thailand on Interpol time?!"
The chief doesn't hesitate.
"Where the hell is that kill switch? I'm gonna push that pervert's button right now!"
General Zima tossed a black box at Mallone. "if you feel it's time to tie up Agent Little as a loose end, by all means. Little is your agent, kill him at your will. He's good to me alive or dead, we just need the tracker back to find things out."
Zima then sipped his coffee.
Chief Mallone stares at the box, as he catches it in one hand.
He spilled his coffee just a bit. But as General Zima made it clear, it was HIS agent, and he would be the one that would kill him. He stares at the box, and then at the General. Push the button. And the idiot agent would be gone for good. No more stupidness, no more screw ups. Just a fatal heart attack or something while the agent was amongst his ladyboys, in the middle of snorting cocaine off Jezebel or something. And finally, Da Chief just... shakes his head.
"It was just a figure of speech..." He trails off.
Mallone looks at the map. "I think you're hiding something from me, General Zima. Like, why is it that your scanner stops working, and starts working again? Is there something jamming the signal?" He watches the map, the blip disappearing, and reappearing. "I mean, as far as I can tell, it looks like he is just.... teleporting all over the place."
"Has my agent gone rogue, General?"
"Honestly Mallone, I am not quite sure."
Zima savored his coffee. "But we do have a few ideas from what the other agents told us. While not as open as Sergei, we do know he attacked another Interpol agent. So a rouge Agent Little is likely, and it also our worst case scenario. We picked up, something, within Little. We dared not touch it, but the tracking probe sent out a signal that it was, waking up."
"So if you want to -try- to kill him, that may very well be warranted"
The decisions hang for the Interpol chief.
At the push of a button, he could eliminate a rogue agent. If he was rogue. Frankly, Mallone didn't like him very much anyways. A push of a button, and he would be gone. A thorn at his side, abolished. It was tempting. The Russian had given him the tools to conduct it. And yet, he didn't... do it himself. Da Chief knew what his old friend was doing.
"... Sergei. He's recovered, isn't he?"
Zima held the flavorful product of HitDrip technology in his mouth for a moment, and swallowed.
"Sergei has recovered from having his mind wrested from him and being forced to discharge his gun into his own temple."
Continuing the journey of the flavor of innovation, Zima sipped. "I see you propose to spend in agents to find the target. I could have sent Dragunov to Thailand, but that is not within Russian jurisdiction. If an Interpol investigation were too be sent, then we would have no issue at all with your plan."
So this was the play.
The Russians were... limited in what they could do to fetch the agent. As for what they would do with the agent... would be within the scope of the United Nations. It was not a hard choice for the Chief to make.
"I need the Task Force to retrieve Daniel jack alive. Once we learn what he is up to... then we can decide to capture him. Sergei has jurisdiction with Interpol to capture Daniel. I trust you General Zima." The chief turns back to the HitSip.
"Damn, that is much better than HitDrip they came up with."
Zima gazed at his coffee. "The original HitDrip always tasted of mold withing a week." The general rose from his seat, and went over to shake da chief's hand. "Then everything seems to be in order. Oh, and try to keep this, our little secret."
The die was cast.
The Chief shakes the General's hand in return, nodding firmly. "Of course, General. Between this and that little election trick in the Americas, it's for the best that I don't let any of our secrets out." Mallone knew what he had done was for the greater good of America. Sometimes, democracy would make mistakes. Sometimes, it was for the good of the new world order. Mallone felt the shadow of him. He couldn't have have any doubts.
He just couldn't let Rob Quist win.
Log created on 11:41:25 06/03/2017 by Daniel, and last modified on 18:12:13 06/04/2017.