Status: Updated on random occasions
The Saint of All Sinners
Hysteria
I killed two before the others noticed. In the five seconds since I pushed the doors opened and entered the room I counted ten men loading two trucks and a single man supervising; all were about twenty feet away from me. As the two dead men fell to the concrete floor and their blood gushed from their head wounds the remaining men searched for cover. I shot one in the back as he tried to run behind the truck. He didn't move once he hit the ground. When the sound of gunshots that didn't come from Leon filled the room, I ducked down behind a near-by wooden crate.
Numerous bullet flew over my head and buried themselves in the wooden crate. When the bullets stopped I took a quick peak over the edge of the crate. I saw three men behind a set of crates to the right and I saw two more behind the truck. When I stood up again I fired five bullets in the direction of the crates. From the sounds that erupted from behind the crates I figured I managed to hit two out of the three. More bullets and gunshots filled the air and threatened to destroy my wooden protector. When the sounds stopped again I fired a few shots into the air; in no general direction before crawling over to the crates on the right.
I drew one of the Kukris from its place on my ankle. I put the handle in my mouth like I was a dog carrying a bone. I crawled around to the far side of the row of crates. I quietly placed Leon back in his holster before turning the corner. In front of me, crouching next to two dead bodies, was a man dressed in uninteresting clothing and brunette hairs grew out of his head. His back was to me, so he was still unaware that I had moved from my original position.
It only took me another twenty minutes to dispose of the rest of the men. I was cleaning my knives and debating on how to clean up the mess I was hired to make. Usually I just left the body where it was but there was too many bodies this time. It was too suspicious. In in the end I settled on burning the entire warehouse down. It wouldn't relieve the suspicion but it would destroy the evidence. I was about to search for gasoline when I heard the double doors swing open.
I jumped off the crate I was using as a chair and drew my guns but I didn't fire. The man who walked through was dressed in a dark green tailored suit. I instantly knew he was military by his uptight posture and from the amount of medals pinned to the front of his suit jacket I estimated that he was a major. His hair wasn't fully gray yet and his face on small signs of aging so I put his age to be in the mid to late forties.
I immediately lowered my guns but I didn't re-holster them. It has been almost twenty years since I had a face to face conversation with any authority figures so I was bit uncomfortable with this man's unexpected presence. I waited in silence as the man causally made his way across the room. “Gabriele Richter, my name is Major William Stryker and I have a job opportunity for you. It's completely voluntary of course. I'm putting together a special team, with special privileges.” His serious tone was that of a man who is use to getting what he wants, one way or another.
“What kind of team?” I kept my tone polite and considerate. I started to wonder how voluntary this job really was. Sure, I could decline his job offer but what would be the consequences of that? Mr. Stryker looked like a highly respected man and if he was given his own team as a major that meant he had very good connections. Which meant he knew the people who could get me fired and being fired from the C.I.A isn't very pretty. Let's just say they don't have a retirement plan for field agents.
“A team made up of people like you. A team made up of mutants. Now tell me Ms. Richter, how would you like to really serve your country?” Even though I'd rather stick with my quiet and isolated life I felt that denying Stryker's offer would not be a smart move.
The flight from Amsterdam to Fort Jackson, South Carolina was long and uneventful. The private jet was virtually empty apart from Stryker, a few soldiers and I. We didn't talk much during the flight and when we did it wasn't very mentally straining. We landed at the fort at about noon which meant the sun was at it's highest point and the temperature was on the rise. Over the course of my life I made a few personal decisions which kept me out of the south, especially in the summer. There was no point in putting myself in hot, uncomfortable conditions when it wasn't necessary. But no matter how hot or humid the weather was there was no way I would abandon my jeans, long sleeved shirts and gloves.
I followed Stryker across the concrete landing strip towards one of the many identical brick buildings. We stopped outside a boring gray door where Stryker felt the need to inform me of something “These are your barracks. It is where you and your teammates will be staying while you're here. And I feel the need to warn that a few of your teammates are.....quite the characters.” I could already tell that those last three words would be a major understatement.
Numerous bullet flew over my head and buried themselves in the wooden crate. When the bullets stopped I took a quick peak over the edge of the crate. I saw three men behind a set of crates to the right and I saw two more behind the truck. When I stood up again I fired five bullets in the direction of the crates. From the sounds that erupted from behind the crates I figured I managed to hit two out of the three. More bullets and gunshots filled the air and threatened to destroy my wooden protector. When the sounds stopped again I fired a few shots into the air; in no general direction before crawling over to the crates on the right.
I drew one of the Kukris from its place on my ankle. I put the handle in my mouth like I was a dog carrying a bone. I crawled around to the far side of the row of crates. I quietly placed Leon back in his holster before turning the corner. In front of me, crouching next to two dead bodies, was a man dressed in uninteresting clothing and brunette hairs grew out of his head. His back was to me, so he was still unaware that I had moved from my original position.
It only took me another twenty minutes to dispose of the rest of the men. I was cleaning my knives and debating on how to clean up the mess I was hired to make. Usually I just left the body where it was but there was too many bodies this time. It was too suspicious. In in the end I settled on burning the entire warehouse down. It wouldn't relieve the suspicion but it would destroy the evidence. I was about to search for gasoline when I heard the double doors swing open.
I jumped off the crate I was using as a chair and drew my guns but I didn't fire. The man who walked through was dressed in a dark green tailored suit. I instantly knew he was military by his uptight posture and from the amount of medals pinned to the front of his suit jacket I estimated that he was a major. His hair wasn't fully gray yet and his face on small signs of aging so I put his age to be in the mid to late forties.
I immediately lowered my guns but I didn't re-holster them. It has been almost twenty years since I had a face to face conversation with any authority figures so I was bit uncomfortable with this man's unexpected presence. I waited in silence as the man causally made his way across the room. “Gabriele Richter, my name is Major William Stryker and I have a job opportunity for you. It's completely voluntary of course. I'm putting together a special team, with special privileges.” His serious tone was that of a man who is use to getting what he wants, one way or another.
“What kind of team?” I kept my tone polite and considerate. I started to wonder how voluntary this job really was. Sure, I could decline his job offer but what would be the consequences of that? Mr. Stryker looked like a highly respected man and if he was given his own team as a major that meant he had very good connections. Which meant he knew the people who could get me fired and being fired from the C.I.A isn't very pretty. Let's just say they don't have a retirement plan for field agents.
“A team made up of people like you. A team made up of mutants. Now tell me Ms. Richter, how would you like to really serve your country?” Even though I'd rather stick with my quiet and isolated life I felt that denying Stryker's offer would not be a smart move.
The flight from Amsterdam to Fort Jackson, South Carolina was long and uneventful. The private jet was virtually empty apart from Stryker, a few soldiers and I. We didn't talk much during the flight and when we did it wasn't very mentally straining. We landed at the fort at about noon which meant the sun was at it's highest point and the temperature was on the rise. Over the course of my life I made a few personal decisions which kept me out of the south, especially in the summer. There was no point in putting myself in hot, uncomfortable conditions when it wasn't necessary. But no matter how hot or humid the weather was there was no way I would abandon my jeans, long sleeved shirts and gloves.
I followed Stryker across the concrete landing strip towards one of the many identical brick buildings. We stopped outside a boring gray door where Stryker felt the need to inform me of something “These are your barracks. It is where you and your teammates will be staying while you're here. And I feel the need to warn that a few of your teammates are.....quite the characters.” I could already tell that those last three words would be a major understatement.