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I have nothing relevant to say today, therefore I shall wax philosophical:
Wax on. Wax off.

Previous Chapter

Part Two: The Plan


Kenji laughed, “of course I do. All we have to do is let the Templar’s know we’re working with Hospitaller agents.”

“I don’t follow,” it was an occupational hazard.

“We go disguised as members of the Illuminati, just like they plan. Except, we also let the Templar’s know the ones with us aren’t real Illuminati, but that some of us are. The Templar’s will assume an Illuminati faction has allied with the Hospitallers, and there we go. It’s perfect, man!”

I sighed and massaged my head, “alright, how do you propose we reveal their true allegiance without revealing who the hell we are?”

Kenji reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small gold ring in a bag. He lifted the bag up and I took a closer look at it. It looked like a gold ring the Illuminati and Templar’s wore, except it had the simple cross and shield symbol of the Hospitaller.

“That jeweler we cleared owed me a favor, so I had him make me this beauty,” Kenji said, “we get one of the Hospitaller’s unconscious or dead, and stick the ring in their clothes somewhere, since they wouldn’t be stupid enough to wear it.”

“Of course,” I said, putting the bagged ring down, “and what happens when the Hospitaller find out we set them up?”

Kenji scoffed, “how will they? This plan is perfect, man.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Kyoto perfect or Thailand perfect?”

Kenji rolled his eyes, “Thailand perfect, of course. So, you ready to go into the breach again?”

It was my insistence I go with him, so yes. I know it seemed odd, but Kenji had become family over the years, and I had to help him out when he decided to do something crazy, like play James Bond. Besides, the Hospitaller were just as likely to come after me as Kenji if things went to hell in a hand basket.

I nodded, “I know I’ll regret it, but yes. I better call my wife.”

The gold coins were mailed as promised, and Kenji didn’t waste any time having most of it exchanged. I wondered why they didn’t just send the cash, but maybe they preferred hard currency. My wife was, as usual, more then willing to buy my story of working late with Kenji over the weekend, which by keeping vague and generic enough, managed to be the truth.

After Saturday’s class I went back to Kenji’s office, where Miss Chapelle was waiting with four other men in black suits. The four men were holding large, black briefcases, while Miss Chapelle had two. Kenji was sitting behind his desk, his hands once again close to the shotgun. When I walked in he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at the door.

“Hello, Mr. Nakai,” Miss Chapelle said, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Uh-huh. This is the part where you explain the plan and send us on our little field trip, right?” I asked, leaning against the hallway’s right wall.

Miss Chapelle nodded, “it is. Once I have gone over the details, we can depart for the transport and you can all get changed for the operation. Before I do that, however, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Andrews, who will be leading the mission once you take off.”

She gestured toward the man directly to her right. He was tall, with tanned skin and a short, trimmed beard. He nodded quickly to me and said nothing. With that done, she started explaining the plan to the two of us.

Overall it was pretty solid. We fly in, we get close, we shoot the place up, maybe sabotage some Templar armor, and get out. Kenji would lead one group of two men that did the dirty work, while me, Mr. Andrews, and the other Hospitaller would provide a distraction for security. By making our objective seem to be mass destruction, the base’s security would be focused on stopping us blowing the place to hell, rather than on three guys sneaking around taking potshots at guys in suits- hopefully. Kenji’s part of the plan would be hard to do with us split up, and I didn’t like that part of her plan myself. Unfortunately, when the person paying you is running the show, there’s not a whole lot you can do about it.

Once the plan was reviewed and everyone was sure of what we were doing, we were driven to a small airport in some small town somewhere. We were taken there by an old bus, and along the way we put on our outfits for the attack. The clothing was light gray, and apparently designed to partially refract motion sensors, though it wasn’t foolproof. We also wore goggles and gas masks beneath our face masks. For weaponry we were equipped with a black nine millimeter pistol, three clips of ammo, four flashbang grenades, two frag grenades, two small packs of C-4, and our choice of an automatic shotgun or a submachine gun. I took the shotgun, for which I was provided both buckshot and slug ammo. Twelve gauge, if you’re curious. Kenji chose the submachine gun- he liked to make up for his eyesight with moar dakka whenever he had the chance. Which with me around wasn’t very often, but we needed the firepower.

With the sun set and darkness firmly sprawled across our portion of the globe, the seven of us unloaded off the ancient bus and stepped onto a small helipad in the middle of nowhere. It was probably an old US Army base from after the war, or an old Cold War post that was abandoned when the Berlin Wall fell. The Secret Societies seemed to thrive on such places. Them, and artifacts of mysterious power the likes of which mortal man was not meant to wield. At least not without a good pair of gloves.

Our ride was an old American Huey helicopter, painted black and patiently waiting for its garishly dressed passengers. I noticed there wasn’t a pilot, and to my surprise, Miss Chapelle strode casually forward to the pilot’s chair, removing her suit jacket and grabbing a helmet that had been waiting in the seat. Mr. Andrews hefted the right side panel open, and we all slid and strapped ourselves in. I ended up next to Kenji, while Mr. Andrews took the seat next to me after sliding the panel closed.

Mr. Andrews asked us all if our gear was ready, which it was. He nodded once and put his right hand up to his ear, “this is Squad Leader to Pilot, we are ready for departure, over.”

“This is Pilot to Jake, reminding him to remove the stick from its firm placement in his rectum, over. We will arrive at our destination in roughly an hour. Please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times, and thank you for flying Hospitaller Air!”

No one could tell, but my mouth was hanging open. For someone who acted and spoke like a British Lady, her casual attitude while flying, of all things, struck me as ridiculous. It was also comforting, in its own absurd way.

I heard the buzz and hum of machinery activate, and the helicopter slowly rose into the air. After some mild shaking and groaning from somewhere within the copter’s workings, the helicopter rose a bit higher before zooming towards our destination.

Once we were firmly on course, Mr. Andrews turned his head to face us, “mic check, Fire Team Leader Baker.”

Kenji rolled his eyes- I think- and placed his right index finger firmly in his ear, “Fire Team Leader Baker responding, mic check affirmative.”

“Good,” Mr. Andrews lowered his hand and continued speaking, “I want to be clear about this: I’m not thrilled you two are here, and I’m less thrilled one of you is leading the main thrust of this mission. My opinion on the matter has been clearly documented, but the higher-ups seem to think you two are well suited for the job, so I’m stuck with you. Shoot straight, stay alive, don’t screw up, and we’ll get along fine. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Kenji and I responded.

Mr. Andrews nodded once again, and that was that. The rest of the trip was relatively quiet and peaceful, until someone started shooting missiles at us.

+++

Next Chapter

The Emperor Protects. Some chaff might come in handy, though.

Cripes, I hadn't even gotten to read the last one yet, and here you go posting another chapter. Dammit, man! I only have one brain to use each week, per doctor's orders, so being inundated in this way could lead to my loss of privileges; like sleep. Wonderful, comfortable, restful sleep, sometimes for more than three hours each night; or day. Usually it depends on the relative kindness of the orderlies.

I kinda wish my novelizations weren't so ginormous, such that I could post them in little chunks like this.

Helbereth wrote:Cripes, I hadn't even gotten to read the last one yet, and here you go posting another chapter. Dammit, man! I only have one brain to use each week, per doctor's orders, so being inundated in this way could lead to my loss of privileges; like sleep. Wonderful, comfortable, restful sleep, sometimes for more than three hours each night; or day. Usually it depends on the relative kindness of the orderlies.

.

C'mon, man, my schedule has been Tuesday/Saturday since USM. Besides, sleep, like sanity, is for the weak! Just ask any Tech Priest or a disciple of the gods of Chaos.

It'll be here when you're ready, don't worry. I'm supposed to be the strung out anxious one; it's kinda my shtick.

I kinda wish my novelizations weren't so ginormous, such that I could post them in little chunks like this.

Trust me, having issues with word length is a curse, not a gift. Unless you do well selling short stories, but you can guess how well that's worked out.

(Yet another reason to pursue self publishing.)

This whole series is one of the best detective [read: ass-kickers who bend the law] stories I've read.
And I swear that this quote

“This is Pilot to Jake, reminding him to remove the stick from its firm placement in his rectum, over. We will arrive at our destination in roughly an hour. Please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times, and thank you for flying Hospitaller Air!”

Left me re-reading and laughing for 3 minutes. I do not know why.

Ario wrote:This whole series is one of the best detective [read: ass-kickers who bend the law] stories I've read.

Thanks, glad you're enjoying it

Although at this point these two don't so much bend the law as hogtie it and force it into the tool shed.

Hebereth, if you need someone to bust you out so you can get more sleep, I know a guy who’s handy with a sword and a shotgun. Don’t ask how I handle both at the same time; it’s a trade secret.

Previous Chapter

Part Three: Infiltration


“Incoming enemy shore fire,” Miss Chapelle said. She sounded awfully calm abut it, too.

“We’re still over the ocean,” Mr. Andrews remarked, looking down into the inky blackness below.

“I noticed that. We’re ten minutes from the drop, I can get us there. Deploying forward chaff tube one.”

Well, we were off to a great start. The missile exploded somewhere in front of us, and as the helicopter maneuvered around I heard shrapnel and bits of debris scrape and ding against the outside of the copter. Another missile came at us, and this one forced us down several dozen feet before it also exploded. The shrapnel was getting louder, and I noticed next to us the small glass panel built into the left sliding door was cracked.

“Five minutes,” Miss Chapelle said. She was definitely weaving around, as if our copter was a lumbering drunk in a bar fight. I tried to look below us but couldn’t see anything. Still, I knew we were only a minute from land. Unfortunately, that was one minute we didn’t have.

“Fuck!” Miss Chapelle snapped. The reason for her curse hit us with full force- literally. A missile exploded just above us, scraping and scratching the roof and probably ripping the rotary blades to gnarled hunks of scrap metal.

“Brace for impact!” Miss Chapelle shouted.

“We’re over land, prepare for a hot landing,” Mr. Andrews barked. They had prepared for this.

Mr. Andrews had to kick the panel open. When he managed to force it open it snapped off and flew away into the night. If we hadn’t been strapped in we might have followed. The wind howled past us as the dark specter of scraggly trees and shrubs grew closer. We were going pretty fast, too, and losing altitude at an annoyingly quick rate. Somehow we leveled off and started descending at a slower speed.

“Another missile inbound!”

I could see the brown and gray earth below us. Mr. Andrews barked something to the other row of seats, and to my amazement they started un-strapping themselves and rolling out of the copter. We were only a few feet from the ground by now, but that seemed a bit reckless. Although we were wearing body armor under our stealth outfits, which included some padding. Mr. Andrews turned to me.

“Tuck and roll, and keep your limbs as close to your chest as you can,” he was shouting over the howl of the wind and the whine of the engine, “it’ll hurt, but you should be fine.”

Hoping I could tuck and roll well enough to avoid a heart flutter, I swore and quickly followed Mr. Andrews as he jumped out the copter, Kenji right behind me. The freefall lasted only a few seconds, and I managed to roll quite well. Once I stopped rolling I looked up and watched as the missile slammed into the helicopter, consuming it in a ball of fire and molten metal that temporarily brightened the sky and landscape like a grizzly sun.

We finally worked with a Secret Society that hired women- the Warehouses notwithstanding- and she got blown up. I hoped it was a quick death, at least. The debris and shrapnel managed to avoid us, and once I had recovered from my rough landing, I heaved myself up and readied my weapon. I also quickly checked to make sure I still had all my equipment, including a little secret the Hospitaller’s didn’t know about. My shotgun, unsurprisingly, was an Italian model with an eight shell magazine. I quickly dove for a nearby scraggly bush that was my closest bit of cover, in the process running headlong into someone.

“Honeymuffin,” I said when I recognized the glint of Kenji’s prescription goggles; he had brought his own rather than rely on the Hospitallers. I heaved myself off him and we both hunkered down.

“Shits already hit the fan, man,” he whispered, “sorry to drag you into this.”

I shrugged even though he probably couldn’t tell, “It was my idea.”

Kenji sighed, nodded, and went for his earpiece, “This is Team Leader Baker, all members report in.”

The two team members presumably reported in, but Kenji muttered something and reached for his right arm. Strapped to his arm was a small black armband, with a monitor and small keypad attached to it. Kenji brought the device close to his face and tapped a large blue key. The formerly black screen became a blue hued monitor with little blips and a constantly moving white line back and forth. One blip- Kenji- was in the center. I was to his left, and somewhere to our right and behind us was another blip.

Kenji quickly stopped looking at his motion detector and put his hand to his earpiece. The conversation he had with the caller was in English, but I think it was Mr. Andrews checking in. After a brief call Kenji started communicating with his fire team again. While he did that, my own earpiece crackled to life.

“Team Able, this is Squad Leader, Team Able is gathering at rendezvous point Alpha. Team Baker will meet at point Bravo and proceed on mission,” Mr. Andrews paused for a moment, “Team Able Three is down.”

Yeah, great start. Two casualties, including our ride home, and we weren’t even where we were supposed to be.

“I gotta join my group,” I told Kenji, “good luck on your end of the mission.”

He nodded and smiled, “thanks, man. You, too. Stay low and don’t get shot.”

I nodded and smirked, “that’s the plan.”

And with that, I sauntered off into the night. It was cold out, but all the layers of armor and clothing helped keep my warm. Only Team Leaders had motion detectors, so I had to make my way slowly forward based on Mr. Andrews’ directions. Eventually I saw him by a tree. He raised his weapon but quickly lowered it and waved me next to him. When I was near him, we both crouched down and looked out towards the clearing ahead of us.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” I said.

“Lucky us,” he said, and pointed ahead of us at the edge of the clearing, “our entry point is past the end of that clearing; about one hundred feet- roughly thirty meters. We were supposed to land here, but now we have to go around it, and do it double time. How’re you?”

Somehow Miss Chapelle had found out about my arrhythmia, and had informed the infiltration team for contingency’s sake, “so far fine. My heart seems to enjoy near-death experiences.”

Mr. Andrews nodded, “good. Let’s go.”

Mr. Andrews readied his rifle and we crouch ran around the clearing, hugging whatever bits of shrubs and trees we could. We made it about halfway when he held up his right hand in a fist. I immediately stopped and crouched further down. He kneeled down and checked his detector, which was on his left arm.

“Three unknown contacts to our right,” he whispered, “presumed hostile. Proceed with caution.”

As we moved slowly forward I could just make out the dark blue figures we were going around. They looked like a group of security men in body armor, but it was hard to tell. We managed to avoid them and continue forward.

Our objective was an old radar station that had been bought by a Templar front company. It was perfect for these meetings because it was relatively close to Thailand, Russia, and Japan, all three of which were major Templar/Illuminati warzones. Our access was an old elevator used for hauling equipment from the surface. Once down there, we just had to wait for Team Baker to get close, and we could unleash hell. Now, with our copter destroyed, we would also have to return to the surface and commandeer one of the Templar helicopters, three of which were parked near the edge of the base, we hoped. We also had to keep Mr. Andrews alive, because he was the only one of us who could fly. Kenji said he could, but I’d rather swim back to Japan then let him pilot anything that left the ground. Our other option was to wait for emergency extraction, which would take sixteen hours, by which point we would probably be dead.

As we got closer to the radar outpost, it became increasingly clear we were expected. Dark blue security members with large, imposing looking machine guns trotted in patrol patterns, while several large swivel mounted machine guns slowly rotated around. As we crouched down behind a bush, the last bit of natural cover before the outpost, I noticed four security members huddled around one with his arm reflecting a blue glow.

“Our entry point is right there,” Mr. Andrews said, pointing to a slightly raised rectangular platform about thirty meters to our left. The outpost was actually pretty small, both above and below ground. I saw the platform, a large generator shed, a couple of the old radar monitoring rooms, and some other scattered sheds and buildings. They were all made of prefabricated sheets of metal, which had been painted a dull gray to fight off rust. On the far edge of the post, directly in front of us, I could see four large helicopters, painted- what else- dark blue. They were definitely newer then the Huey we had flown in on, and I think they were a French design. Topping off the scene before us, besides the dozen or so security members roaming around, was the old radar dish itself, immobile, rusting, and looming above and to our right as it perched atop the largest building in the outpost.

The four security men who had been checking their motion detector quickly formed a diamond and started slowly walking towards. The one in back had the radar, checking it as the other three had their weapons raised. Assault rifles of some sort was my guess. Mr. Andrews motioned for me to move, and we carefully bolted for the shed nearest to us. While we managed to make that run unnoticed as we crouched and avoided both scanning eyes and the occasional flashlight, we still had the problem of getting into the base unnoticed. Kenji’s team didn’t have that problem; they were using an old service tunnel that the Templar’s hadn’t blocked off. Since it was both wide and tall enough to fit Crusader Power Armor inside it, that made some sense, at least.

I really wished I hadn’t thought about that armor. Red glowing eyes that peered from two meters of bulky ceramic, reportedly forged in a kiln infused with the ashes of the First Bishop of Rome, the First Patriarch of Constantinople, and the first Grand Master of the Knights Templar, the kiln was probably one of the most powerful artifacts in existence. It had been built shortly before the dissolution of the Knights Templar, so only a few dozen of the suits existed, scattered across the globe over centuries of warfare. The kiln itself had supposedly been destroyed when the Ottoman Turks began their invasion of Asia Minor, but no one was sure. Worse still, not only had the Illuminati taken to digging up the things whenever they could, they were also fond of stealing them from the Templars. In recent years, the Hospitaller had been working to build modern versions, with no real success. No one had yet been able to make a modern version; the power of the kiln seemingly far beyond that of mortal man.

There were supposedly four suits in this post, which in addition to housing these meetings also housed a repair room for the Armor. If we could destroy or severely damage them, that would pretty much cut the number of Armor suits in Asia by half, at least on the Templar side. First we had to get into the damn outpost, though.

The security team following their radar came closer, but when someone on the other side of the base snapped at them they changed course, heading towards the service tunnel. Not good.

Mr. Andrews had noticed that, too. He spoke into his earpiece for a while before ending the conversation and looking down at me.

“We need to move now, or Team Baker will be discovered before they reach the tunnel.”

“How do you propose we get to the elevator without getting shot?”

Mr. Andrews reached for his belt and pulled off a flashbang, “we shoot first.”

I sighed and grabbed a flashbang myself. He took the left side of the shed and I the right. After waiting for the biggest gap in the search pattern relative us and the elevator, we readied and threw our grenades. Mr. Andrews’ managed to stun one of the heavy machine gun crews, and mine took out a wandering two man patrol. We both quickly moved for the raised platform of the elevator, a mere few dozen meters in front of us and to our left. The problem with running over open terrain at night while wearing white and light gray clothing is, you tend to draw some notice. Not to mention enemy fire. Snipers on top of the outpost buildings started taking potshots at us, so we zigzagged as the ground force started firing. I fired my shotgun three times and managed to hit someone in the knee. The security team that had been walking away from us had turned and started running for us.

Actually, they were running for Mr. Andrews. He had managed to hit several people and a machine gunner, and I wasn’t surprised when he got to the platform first. He fired in short bursts in every direction while I caught up, my heart pounding hard at the sudden exertion. With a quick potshot at a two man group coming in from my right I slid onto the platform at the same time he had turned it on.

“They’ll be down there waiting for us,” I gasped out, steadying my breathing. When I was done I noticed Mr. Andrews had extended a hand out for me. I grasped it and he heaved me up, then went prone himself.

“We can drop a grenade and you can hold them off with suppressive fire, right?” I asked as he spun himself around, so we faced opposite directions. As he did that the sky above us grew smaller as the shaft’s dark gray concrete began to circle us. I fired up as the security tried to surround the tunnel. They started tossing down grenades at the same time the shaft gave way to the four support struts and the open room of the basement below. I was able to kick off the grenades before they exploded, though bits of shrapnel zinged past me, and a few small bits hit my armor. The body armor I wore would stop anything short of a direct rifle or shotgun slug, or an explosion within arms length. The pressure from any of that would probably give me a heart attack anyway.

I quickly scanned the room around us as Mr. Andrews started shooting. The elevator and its support rig took up about half the room we were being lowered into, with the rest of the room empty. At the corner of the basement, there were two wide double doors out to the rest of the base, one behind me and one to my right in an L shape. We were at the far left corner of the base, and I was parallel to the length of the room. Both doors were shut and bolted, and painted a dark blue. The walls were a light blue that was almost calming, except there was a dozen more security personnel below us trying to shoot us.

They at least had mostly pistols and shotguns- the Templar version of rent-a-cops, I guess. Unfortunately, with the double doors locked, they were as trapped as we were. Worse, the security personnel above us were probably heading for the auxiliary elevator by the copters, so they’d be joining us soon, too. I reloaded my shotgun while Mr. Andrews fired on his side, his precise shots hitting knees, shins, and legs. I did the same once my shotgun was reloaded, though even with deer slugs it was rough work. By the time the elevator managed to land the twelve security members were on the ground. Heading towards the door that Mr. Andrews was facing, we eased up to it and waited. While we did that we also attached some C-4 so we could blow the doors when we needed to. I noticed in the partial ceiling above, in the corner across from us, a large camera was scanning the room in a pattern. Mr. Andrews saw it too, and he fired a couple shots into it before reloading.

“I’m camera shy,” he quipped.

Nice to know he had a sense of humor, at least. I heard the door to our left unbolt and we both turned to face it. Before it could open Mr. Andrews put his finger to his ear. After a few moments he lowered his finger and turned to the C-4.

“Team Baker is in position, we can get outta here.”

The most annoying part of the plan was that we had to attract as much of the outpost’s security to us as possible. To do that we needed to stay put once in a while to give them a location to move to. We hit the arming buttons on the explosives and ran for the other side of the room. They exploded at the same time the other doors swung open. We didn’t bother counting how many people wanted to shoot us as I tossed a flashbang to my left and Mr. Andrews started heading for the now unlocked door.

Ready or not, here we came.

+++

Next Chapter

I present to you the Sandy Mitchell School of Explaining Layouts.

Hoitash wrote:Don’t ask how I handle both at the same time; it’s a trade secret.

I assume you saw off the stock and handle it like a heavy pistol, cocking it by rolling it around in your hand. My question is why you bother having the sword when you can easily beat someone to death with the shotgun.

Helbereth wrote: I assume you saw off the stock and handle it like a heavy pistol, cocking it by rolling it around in your hand. My question is why you bother having the sword when you can easily beat someone to death with the shotgun.

Well, you're partially right: it's a sawed off semi auto. I'd break my wrist trying the Shwarzie technique- heck, he almost broke a finger when he tried it with the real gun.

The sword is because I read Deathstalker. Also for intimidation and it looks awesome in the press releases.

The shotgun for melee purposes is a contigency plan. I like to be prepared.

If you’re sense of direction is as bad as mine and Hisao’s, the next few parts will probably hurt your brain. Sorry about that. Also sorry if you’re getting overwhelmed, Helbereth- hope everything’s okay. We should join a third world militia for some vacation time. Take over a country; build some schools, slaughter traitors and brigands. Just some wholesome, old fashioned fun.

Previous Chapter

Part Four: Distraction


We both tossed a frag grenade into our respective halls and started firing while we took up defensive positions along the walls near the doors. When my grenade was done exploding I checked the tall, wide, long light blue hallway beyond. I saw four men on the ground and another one still up in the hall. The right door nearest to us had someone firing from the door’s recess. I shot in that direction before hitting the guy in the hall. While I did that, Mr. Andrews poured enough bullets into the other hallway to kill anything in it several times over. Once he was satisfied that that hallway was properly saturated with lead, he hefted the large metal doors closed again, though since they locked on the other side, I doubted that would be much help.

“Hall’s clear for now,” I said when he was done. I stepped out into the hall, Mr. Andrews behind me. He closed this door behind him, too, even though most of it had been destroyed by the C-4. We scanned the hall and noticed another hall branch to our left a few dozen meters ahead. We bolted for the nearby door on the right, which was sealed shut. Mr. Andrews checked the lever, and left it alone once he confirmed it was locked. The hall had about six doors in total, and they alternated a bit as they went down the length of the hallway. While we were huddled in the recess, I heard gunfire coming from somewhere to our left. The basement was laid out in a grid-like structure, with halls connecting to other halls. All designed for bottlenecking, crossfire, and giving me a headache. Mr. Andrews checked his motion detector and snorted.

“Four contacts at the off-hall T. No CPA,” he said.

“You can tell with that?” I asked as a shot pinged against the wall near me.

“They’re a bit bigger blip on the screen.”

I felt better hearing that. Mr. Andrews let me return fire down the hall, which was good, because the double doors opened and another group- I was too busy to count the exact number- started firing at us. Mr. Andrews quickly started returning fire. I had to hug the right corner of the recess, while he hugged the left side. We were stuck in a crossfire as the soldiers at the T of the other hallway intensified there fire at us.

Still, we had a way out; grenade spam for the win. I tossed a flashbang down towards the double doors and waited. After it went off we darted for the next door. I had to shoot the security man who was there, and there were more people in the hall shooting at us. They managed to miss us for the most part, but I’m pretty sure a shot glanced off the armor on my left leg. I quickly reloaded while Mr. Andrews fired another burst back at the door. It was harder for them to shoot at us from here. It was harder for the others down the hall, too. Of course that meant it was more difficult for us to shoot them, too. Not that we really had to- we just had to not get shot.

“The armory is down the second hall and to the left,” Mr. Andrews said. He occasionally glanced at his detector between bursts of fire, and I noticed we were surrounded by about twenty men. Between that and the earlier security we had dealt with, nearly the entire security force was trying to shoot us while the rest of the base hunkered down. We were making quite a nuisance of ourselves, which got me thinking…

“If someone in Armor shows up, how do we stop them?” I asked.

“I have two clips of AP rounds, they’ll do the trick.”

That was refreshing. Though I’d faced power armor before, the two times I took down someone in power armor I had help, and I had merely exploited a weak point in the armor. I had never actually been able to penetrate the stuff directly. Worse, the last time I had fought a power armored opponent, I had nearly died twice- once from a heart murmur, and once when he tried to decapitate me.

I leaned over to check Mr. Andrews’ screen, and noticed that the blips down the two other halls were getting closer. I really wished we had more frag grenades, but we wanted to make a psychological impression, not a morgue. The blips by the double-doors were drifting off, which, while giving us some breathing room, meant they were likely heading for Kenji’s team. Time to ramp things up a bit.

“We need to hit harder,” Mr. Andrews said, reading my mind.

“Any suggestions?” I asked as I fired down the hall again.

“Cover me,” he said. He barely waited for me to reload before he rushed down the hall to the next door on the right while I hastily fired some slugs down the hall. That gave him a chance to force the Templars back, but it also spurred them on, too. I heard the clattering of grenades and immediately curled into a ball in the recess’ corner. I heard the deafening shriek of several flashbangs as the blackness of my closed eyes temporarily blazed white. I felt nauseous and queasy as I uncurled myself. I snapped out of it when a Templar came around the corner, the butt of his shotgun about to crush my skull. I fell back and fired my shotgun at his head, reducing it to a pasty mess that I would really prefer not to describe. I forced down the urge to vomit as bits of blood and gore flecked onto my outfit and face mask. Good thing I knew a discreet therapist.

“They’re pulling back,” Mr. Andrews called to me, “move up!”

I groaned and darted to where he was, emptying my shotgun along the way. I was running low on slugs, so I reloaded with buckshot. Mr. Andrews was checking his detector- I saw four or five blips, two at the first hall and the rest at the edge of the screen, down the hall somewhere. I peered down the hall and saw two security men taking potshots at us from the hall. With buckshot I couldn’t do much, so I slung my shotgun over my shoulder and pulled out my pistol. I fired a few shots down the hall while Mr. Andrews crouched down to fire a burst himself. When we took both of them down, we quickly moved to the next recess, the last one before the first cross hallway. Mr. Andrews made a groaning noise when the incoming fire from the hall picked up.

“The second hall has nearly a dozen men in it, we’ll have to go around,” he said.

I sighed, “I’ll go this time.”

Mr. Andrews nodded, “I’ll cover you. You try getting to the second hall; keep them occupied.”

I nodded and started firing down the hall while hugging the recess’ protection. I checked my heart, grabbed my shotgun, and bolted down the hall. I fired twice and quickly turned the corner into the first hall, which looked like the one I had just left, except it was shorter and ended by joining another hall in an I shape, since it did the same with the hall I had just ran from. This hall also had four men waiting for me, and I emptied my shotgun at them while taking cover behind the nearest recess on the left. I still felt a few bullets zing around me, and more then one glanced off my armor as I dove for cover. I think I managed to hit one or two.

I quickly reloaded my shotgun and waited. Peering down the hall, I saw three crouched men looking at a motion detector screen strapped to the left arm of the middle man. They looked at each other and two of them drew the Templar swords that were strapped to their right hips. The swords were straight and double-edged, and the metal shone with a light blue hue. As two of them moved forward the other leveled the rifle he was armed with, its sight bearing right where I would have to pop out at to return fire. If it weren’t for the risk of hitting vital equipment in the wall, he might’ve tried to just shoot at me anyway.

Naturally I stumbled into a veteran team of Templar security. I reached for my left boot and pulled out my surprise- a six inch, light blue hued dagger. Thanks to a friend at a certain Warehouse, the dagger had the same properties of a Templar sword; it could repel Tesla shots. It couldn’t do it very well- I had to pretty much aim it at the bolts to stop them. It also had a special quirk of its own. After absorbing several shots, the small red stone on the hilt would glow blue, and if I flicked the dagger, it would shoot the jolts it had stored at where I aimed the dagger’s point. I couldn’t do it very frequently or the thing would melt, but it was the perfect defense against electricity for someone with a heart condition.

Now if only the bastards shooting at me would actually use their Tesla’s. Fancy toy or not, at least it still worked as a dagger. I slung my shotgun again and pulled out my pistol. If I had to have one, I would’ve preferred Kenji’s Colt, but in the interest of weight management I hadn’t brought it.

The first Templar rounded the corner and stabbed at me, so I shot him with my pistol while ducking out of his way. That got me in swinging range of the other Templar, who had swung down and managed to graze my left leg, though he only tore the cloth. I scrabbled up the door behind me and stabbed him while he tried to knock my feet out from under me. He dodged my stab but I kept my velocity going so I crashed into him. We both fell onto the floor and I fired the last shot in my pistol clip into his face. When he stopped moving, I heaved myself up and questioned why I wasn’t heavily perforated by bullets.

The hallway was clear. I heard a lot of gunfire where Mr. Andrews was supposed to be, so that helped explain that- he was drawing more security then I was. I reloaded my pistol and holstered it, going for my shotgun as I sheathed my dagger. I managed to make it down the hall and peered down the perpendicular hallway towards my right. I could just see the dark blue metal door of the break room that was to the right of the armory. Between me and that was two rows of four Templar security, one row kneeling, the other standing, and all of them armed with assault rifles. I ducked back into my hall and noticed another group of four heading towards me from the other end. I figured it was worth using it now, so I tossed my last frag grenade and went back to the downed security in the cross hallway to check them for anything useful.

Between the four of them I managed to grab two frag grenades, some ammo for my pistol, and a dozen or so slugs for my shotgun. I went back to my spot on the right side of the end of the cross hall, after checking there wasn’t another group waiting for me. The fire behind and to my right, roughly where Mr. Andrews was, was increasing, and I shuddered when I heard the lumbering footsteps of power armor. We needed to rejoin. Quickly. I tossed two of my new grenades down the hall at the two rows and waited. I heard them scatter before the grenades went off, and when I heard footsteps getting closer behind me I took a few steps back, crouched, and waited.

The first guy rounded the hallway entirely- not smart, as he found out when I shot him twice with buckshot. The next one was smarter, he blind fired into the hall and forced me back into the nearest recess on my side of the wall. I managed to return fire but I didn’t have anything to shoot at. I reloaded my gun while more footsteps grew closer. I peered into the hall just to see two security men hugging the left and right corners of the hall in front of me. We exchanged fire for a while before I was finally able to get both of them.

The main hallway was mostly clear, except for another guy at the end of the hall by the break room door. I still had two shots in my pistol, and I managed to wing him in his right shoulder with the second. I reloaded and holstered my pistol, thankful that the Templar’s were using the same ammo type as we were. I was readying my shotgun for my advance when I heard the thud and clattering of something heavy crashing onto the hard concrete floor. I wasn’t too surprised when shortly after that I stopped hearing fire echoing to my right, and Mr. Andrews’ voice in my ear.

“This hall’s clear,” he said.

“Copy that, moving up,” I said. I rounded the hall and entered the other hall to my right, and when I did, my jaw practically dislocated from my head.

Nearly a dozen Templar security were sprawled along the hall, pools of blood forming around several of them. The hall itself was riddled with bullet holes, shrapnel, and broken pieces of Templar swords. In the middle of the hall, just in front of the two large double doors of the armory, was the remains of the Power Armored warrior. His blue ceramic armor was heavily cracked and scratched, and his helmet was in pieces on the floor, as was his head. Another scene for my therapist.

“I really need to quit this line of work,” I said. Mr. Andrews was standing in front of the downed armored warrior, and I heard him grunt as he looked down at a piece of ceramic.

“Damn, I wanted that helmet for my wall,” he turned to look at me and sighed, “you’re not really cut out for this work, are you?”

I shook my head, “I’m a scientist, not a soldier.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said. Was that approval in his voice? Either way, we were where we wanted to be. The armory was sealed, naturally, so we blew the door locks with C-4, and they opened up just fine after that. While we were fiddling with that I snuck a piece of ceramic into my clothing; I knew a few people who’d want to study it. Mr. Andrews eased one of the doors open, and after he called clear, we slowly walked inside.

The armory was the second largest room in the outpost basement, according to the blueprints we had examined before arriving. It housed the storage for the body armor, the weapons, the ammo, and of course, the Power Armor. The armor housings took up the entire left wall, and there were four of the bulky supports for the armor. The empty ones looked like large stick figures, while the ones that had armor on them looked like a guy in power armor. If it wasn’t for the fact that the helmet’s eyes weren’t glowing, I would’ve probably shot at them. As I looked at the empty metal shelves and cabinets on the right wall, I couldn’t help thinking about the two missing suits.

“Where’s the other armored warrior?” I asked Mr. Andrews. He was looking intently at his detector, but looked up when I asked him.

“With our luck so far, probably going after Team Two.”

I sighed, “I hope your men have experience fighting power armor.”

He nodded, “they do. What about Setou?”

“He does, too. Though I had to help him last time.”

He had done most of the work; I just got in a lucky hit he could exploit. Mr. Andrews pulled a C-4 pack from his belt and examined one of the suits of armor, while I did the same.

“So what’s the best way to sabotage these things?” I asked.

Mr. Andrews shrugged, “depends. Destroying the helmet is easiest, but the power pack is the most crippling- it can take months to repair them.”

“Sounds good, where is it?”

Mr. Andrews pointed to the back of the torso armor. We had to shift the left arm and hand off the stand and take off the inside protective panel to see it, but once they were off, the power pack was pretty obvious. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised, but seeing the thing was powered by four ancient pottery batteries was a little underwhelming. Granted, they probably looked pretty cool when they were glowing and running, but no one ever saw that. Mr. Andrews stuck his charge in the middle of the four on the left suit, and I did the same with the right. He checked his detector again and nodded. We armed and readied the charges, and bolted with as much heroic dignity as we could.

We headed out the door and went right. We kept moving and prepared for the next phase of our plan, which was to keep our escape line open for Team Baker when they finally reported that their mission was complete. I didn’t get much past the door to the break room, however, because someone opened it and quickly yanked me inside before slamming it shut.

+++

Next Chapter

Wow, that was a lot of action. I was worried my Emi fortified heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

In remembrance, Part Five has been postponed until tomorrow.

Long live the Republic.

You know, looking back on my earlier work, I think my emphasis on the action has degraded the overall quality of my writing. I’ll work on that. Actually, Helbereth is a help with fighting that, but I don’t want to get complacent or take him for granted. We will fight on for action adventure awesomeness!

Don’t worry, though; I’ll always need a proof reader

For now though, some more philosophizing, which is somehow actually a word.

Previous Chapter

Part Five: Monologue


I was dragged into the break room by a firm grip on my right arm. Before I could react I felt the barrel of a gun in my neck as I was dragged into the well lit break room. Besides the guy holding a gun to my head, four more men in Templar security armor were pointing their Tesla pistols at me. It was likely the one holding me had one, too. On the other end of the break room was an older man, with graying hair and sharp navy blue suit. He stood next to one of several small wooden tables, several of which, along with scattered matching chairs, were strewn about the room. A bookshelf was on the left wall, and on the right wall I saw a white counter with a sink, microwave, and a coffeepot. A refrigerator and water cooler were next to it.

“Ah, you managed to find one,” the older man said, “welcome, sir. Sorry for the abrupt introduction, but we seem to be under attack.”

The man holding me let go and took several paces back, but the five pistols were still aimed at me. For now, I figured I’d play along with Mr. Cliché Chatty Villain.

“Sorry, but I don’t believe we’ve met?” I asked.

The older man nodded, “true, true. Names in these sorts of situations are rather precious, and need not be stated. You may, however, refer to me as Mr. P.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I guess you can call me Mr. I, then,” I decided to use my wife’s maiden name initial- no sense giving him more information then he needed, after all.

Mr. P nodded again, “very good. Now, you are no doubt curious as to why we’re having this little chat, so I shall answer that question with a question of my own. What do you want?”

Not this crap again, not to speak ill of the dead. I sighed and thought for a minute. If I was going to play along, I may as well have been honest.

“I want to go back to the way things were like before I learned that the world was populated with puppet masters trying to recreate the world in some sort of weird version of what they think it should be. Since I can’t have that, I’ll settle for doing everything I can to stop those puppet masters.”

Mr. P blinked a few times before nodding slowly, “ah, an idealist. It is rare to meet such people in our lines of work. Well, since you were so candid with my question, I shall be candid with the question you are no doubt wanting to ask: why have I brought you here before me?”

“The thought did occur to me,” I said.

“Well, as you can tell, our war against the Illuminati and the Hospitaller is not going well. I have been… encouraged to seek new agents for an increased offensive against our foes.”

I raised an eyebrow behind my goggles, “so you decide to grab someone attacking you?”

Mr. P smiled, “it’s more effective then you might think. You want the world to be rid of those that seek to control it from behind the curtains. In a way, our goal is the same.”

“Except you want to run the show from behind the scenes, and only you. It’s not the same thing at all.”

Mr. P scoffed and took a step towards me, “isn’t it? Politics and power can be so… complex. Where do you draw the lines of power? How much power do those elected truly wield these days? The world is crumbling before our very eyes, and unless a strong source of power and authority is there to lead it, humanity is doomed. The Freemasons denied this, and it destroyed them. Even the noble minded Hospitaller know this. Their old ways of nobility and courage are giving way to proper strategy and grabs for power.”

He had no idea. I didn’t feel like getting in a political debate, but I also needed to get to my dagger before I was shot. About a meter in front of me there was a wooden chair next to a table. If I could get close enough to it, I might be able to fake trip over it and draw my dagger quickly. To get closer, though, meant humoring Mr. Chatty. I cautiously took a step forward, and though the Templar’s visibly tensed, none of them fired.

“All that proves is that you were able to drag a group of idealists down to your level.”

Mr. P shrugged, “that is one way of looking at it. On the other hand, do you really think the Hospitaller are as noble as they claim? Do you really expect them to just disperse into the night, after having accrued all that power and wealth? The Freemasons have a front they could return to. The Hospitaller do not. In the end, they are just as bad as the Illuminati.”

I took another step forward, just one more from the chair. The Templars got antsier, so I decided to go for it early. I made another short step and pretended to stumble, landing on my armor padded right knee.

“You talk too much,” I said, and grabbed my dagger. At the point I realized I had run out of plan. Planning these insane actions was always Kenji’s strong suit.

Mr. P smiled sadly, “I was so hopeful you could be persuaded. Perhaps less tasteful methods will prove useful. Shoot him.”

Five jolts of blue lightning arced at me, so I lifted my dagger up He-Man style and prayed. The arcs were drawn to the dagger like a lightning rod, and when the crystal on my hilt went blue, I flicked the dagger at the three men on my right. The jolts shot out of the dagger and zapped them, sending them down as the two on the left fired again. I re-aimed my dagger even as I stood up and drew my pistol, pointing it at Mr. P as he tried to reach for some concealed weapon. I quickly sent the fired jolts back at the two and holstered the now very warm dagger.

“You are not an Illuminati,” Mr. P said.

“You are correct,” I said. I kept my pistol aimed at him as I walked slowly over to the nearest guard on my left. I crouched down and picked up the Tesla he was holding. I stood back up and aimed it at Mr. P while I holstered my pistol.

“This is why I’m still the good guy, by the way,” I said. Then I shot him with the Tesla. In hindsight, shooting an old guy with electricity probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve done, but when he fell over I did check his pulse. He was alive, so I tossed the Tesla and checked the room’s security camera. It was the ball type, perched in the far left corner, and I noticed it had been scorched and burnt. Either from Mr. P or one of my jolts, the camera had been fried. That would make Kenji and I’s job easier- with any luck, the Templars would think Mr. P was an Illuminati agent, or a Freemason mole. Either way, we were in the clear.

I moved to walk to the door, but before I got there the door lever exploded. Shrapnel shot out at me as the door cracked open from the force of the blast. A second later and the door flew open, banging against the protector as Mr. Andrews heroically posed in the doorway, assault rifle ready. I saw him visibly slump in disappointment as he looked around the room.

“Oh. You handled it,” he said.

His motion detector must’ve given him an idea of what was going on, or he would’ve been more cautious.

“They did it themselves,” I lied, “one of the Templars must’ve been a Freemason agent.”

If the base’s security cameras had audio, that would help seal Kenji and I‘s protection from discovery. Not that we were in any real danger, but I had a family to consider. Especially with Hanako pregnant- in fact, most of my cut from this job was probably going to go to a college fund for him/her.

“Sorry I kept you waiting, Kenji was having a fit,” Mr. Andrews said, “they took out the CPA soldier and completed their mission, but both his team members are down and he’s pinned down at the room to the elevator shaft. We need to get to him and grab a helo, unless you want to swim back home.”

I grabbed my shotgun and reloaded it with slugs, “let’s not keep Kenji waiting; he hates that.”

“It looks like all the security is focused on him after he completed his mission, so the way there should be relatively clear.”

Even though he said that, his eyes barely moved from his detector screen as we darted from door recess to door recess, making our way to the elevator room door we hadn’t blown, because of course that was the one Kenji got stuck next to. No one shot at us until we got to the hall that led to the double doors. After confirming a dozen Templars were shooting at one blip, we peeked out from our hall and were almost immediately shot at by at by the Templar security. Most of them were using the recessess for cover, but a few had taken to using their fallen comrades as a bulwark in the hallway.

“If it’s this bad down here, that means its clear up-top, right?” I asked.

“We can only hope. This base is too remote for reinforcements to be called in, but there could be at least a dozen more security waiting for us. And the regular base personnel all have some combat training. Now that we’re leaving, they might get ideas.”

I smirked behind my mask, “just another day at the office.”

We prepped two flashbangs and tossed them down the hall. After they went off we started firing down the hall, and we managed to down a few of the Templars before they returned fire. Fortunately, with their fire divided between us and Kenji, we were able to pick them off, though it took a while.

“Clear,” Kenji said to us. We cautiously stepped into the hall, and I only lowered my weapon when no one shot at me. Kenji was near the double doors, and, to my surprise, was using the corpse of the second active Power Armor as a defensive bulwark. The ceramic was heavily scratched and dented, and a few pieces were missing, but it was largely intact, except for the helmet, which was missing, along with the wearer’s skull.

“Well, you were busy,” I said, "it worries me sometimes how much easier this seems to get everytime we do this."

Kenji nodded and tapped the Power Armor, “this guy did not go quietly. Oh, and most of their best troops are being used to fight each other, so we usually end up fighting second string soldiers and guards," Kenji frowned and turned to Mr. Andrews, "sorry about your team mates, man.”

Mr. Andrews nodded an acknowledgement before striding over to the closed double-doors and checking his detector.

“They knew the risks. We got four more Templars in the room, and odds are good they have heavy machine guns.”

“We still have a few flashbangs,” I said.

“I managed to grab a shitload of frags,” Kenji said.

“Use them down here, we’ll use flashbangs on the surface to protect the helo’s. Once we’re up there, we need to secure one ASAP, understand?”

We nodded and I spoke up, “and if they’re gone or sabotaged?”

“Then we’re stuck here until the emergency pickup.”

With that bleak pronouncement, he and Kenji set some C-4 onto the double doors and readied them.

+++

Next Chapter

wow, this Mystery is substantially longer then the others. Must be all the sex scenes.

After the discussion with Mirage_GSM, I have added a Hand Wave.

By now 80% of your story seems to be Hisao and Kenji shooting at bad guys who fall like flies despite supposedly having had combat training and superior equipment.
Why did they even retreat from that island in the previous chapter? They faced much worse odds before and since.
Besides, it's one thing for Kenji to come up with crazy plans, but now supposedly normal people come up with plans for suicide missions as well.

I recommend to try to tune it down a bit.

While you have an excellent point- or rather, the main problem with this work pinpointed, I feel the need to politiely defend it. Well, try to, at least.

Mirage_GSM wrote:By now 80% of your story seems to be Hisao and Kenji shooting at bad guys who fall like flies despite supposedly having had combat training and superior equipment.

I would like to point out that at no point have they done anything alone- except Mystery Four, where they had some element of surprise and superior weaponry. Other then that, they have always been accompanied by highly trained professionals with similar equipment, who have taken the brunt of the wounds and injuries for the two.

Also, as the series progresses, the best troops are increasingly dying fighting other Societies. So that means the guys left over aren't exactly the brightest bulb in the bunch. I should have made that clearer sooner in story, instead of asspulling it in a discussion. I apoligize for that and have added a Hand Wave to the last part.

Also, you're right that the constant escelation is a bit desensitizing. Awesome, but disconcerting. I was trying to indicate that the two are getting better at the dirtier side of their jobs, but I failed. For this, I am sorry as well.

Besides, it's one thing for Kenji to come up with crazy plans, but now supposedly normal people come up with plans for suicide missions as well.

Members of Secret Societies are not normal. If they were, they wouldn't be members.

I recommend to try to tune it down a bit.

Um, could you hold that thought until after Mystery Six? After that I try and go back to my roots (though I'll need to revise it to improve the writing to earlier quality levels.)

Wait, does Hisao fighting a Predator using US prototype power armor count as tuned down?

Members of Secret Societies are not normal. If they were, they wouldn't be members.

Okay, substitute "rational" for "normal"

Mirage_GSM wrote:

Members of Secret Societies are not normal. If they were, they wouldn't be members.

Okay, substitute "rational" for "normal"

Okay. Members of Secret Societies are not rational. If they were, they wouldn't be members.

Huh, you're right, that does work better

Seriously, thanks for the feedback. It's more important now then ever, [shamelessselfplug]since I've decided to pursue self publishing[/shamelessselfplug.]

ADDENDUM: I've been looking ahead a bit, and I think this Mystery is these most combat action oriented heavy one. It could've been handled better, but I just want to ressure my readers it is not a precedent. Also, do NOT use hand sanitisor as a makeshift explosive device for gold prospecting.