Author: dusk5646 PM
A new jumper emerges, But has to learn how to survive or learn how to die.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Sci-Fi - Chapters: 2 - Words: 3,035 - Updated: 11-24-12 - Published: 11-11-12 - id: 8694786
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
They took me to a laboratory, deep in the facility. There I saw the doctor. He was robbed in a white lab coat Which matched his wispy hair. I was pinned down, my left arm extended. The doctor pulled out a long scalpel out of his pocket, grinning manically. He reached behind him, and pulled out a long hypodermic needle. It was stabbed hard into my wrist, and I felt the liquid slowly flowing out of it. My mind felt like it was dribbling out of my ears. I stayed conscious, but barely. The good doctor then proceeded to cut open my wrist, my skin flapping wildly. I heard him talking distantly, as though he was in another room. "You know it's a shame really" he said scraping my bone back slightly. "I was forced to use anaesthetic otherwise you would be in excruciating pain right now"I tried to tell him he was a monster, To scream at him until my throat was coarse. All that came out of my mouth were mumblings. This entertained the doctor even further, making him laugh hysterically. He began to explain what he was doing to me, relishing in the prospect of describing his gruesome work. "Now I am going to screw this little chip between the bones in your arm. This will help us track you" he held up a small black square about the size of a fingernail. I find words and ask "what happens if you can't track me". The doctor looks up and grins. "Kaboom" he says enthusiastically. "So what, if I go under lead I'm basically screwed?"He looked at me as if I was a four year old. "there is a half hour time limit to get out of wherever you happen to be. You'll know when the satellite is being blocked because the chip will vibrate. Does that cover everything?" I nodded drowsily, and consciousness left me. I woke up on the side of the road with a small red drawstring bag and a mobile phone tucked in my pocket. That's how my new life started.
My first target was Victor Pevtrenski. Born and bred in Moscow, Victor had worked himself up in mafia ranks to get to master thief. The reason Uncle Sam wanted him was because he'd recently acquired some files of the top secret variety. I was to jump to St. Petersburg and hunt him down within 24 hours. If not the target might give away the information. The government had made it clear that failure was not an option. Either come back with the documents, or come back in a body bag. Unfortunately Victor was a man of habit. Every night he would stop at a local strip-club have some fun, then go for a walk to saint basil's cathedral, presumably to atone for his recently gained sins. This was where I struck. A simple matter of jumping behind him, grabbing him, then dangling him into the Moska river. By the time I was done, the man had gone whiter than the snow surrounding him. He handed me a small flash drive from in his left pocket, and then begged me to lift him up. I still remember his face when he fell, terror leaking off his features. The ice cracked like a gunshot as he hit it his own weight bringing him further down into the cold depths below. I stared at the flash drive in my hands and wondered, was it really worth it?
That was 3 years ago. Since then I've gained more experience, no more dangling them off riverbanks. Just cold- blooded murder. But the one thing that scared me the most was a new side of me that was showing. An evil side. A side that liked all the killings. It was definitely going to like this next kill. Sean Drake. Code-name: Serpent. wanted for arms manufacturing and arms-dealing. This guy had sold enough guns to supply a small army. He had already proven that bars couldn't hold him, after escaping from prison no less than three times. Now the Government hoped that death would be able to keep him.
It was a boring day in London. the sky had gone grey, the river had gone grey, everything seemed to have the colour drained out of it. Sat along one of the many benches next to the Thames was a tall man of about thirty, with a black trench coat, with a spiked dog-collar and a 'Bullet For My Valentine' shirt. his jet black hair had a blue streak down the fringe, which covered a face that seemed to be angry at the world. In other words, a stereotypical Goth. This was me. Not exactly what I wear normally but, duty calls. I stared around at the bleak pavement in front of me, dotted with the remains of thousands of chewing gums. Behind me, a blonde girl with shades is talking at a payphone. The target pulled up next to it, taking no notice of it's occupant. He began to sport a wild grin when he saw my less than normal appearance. "Jesus, my fortune cookie said I'd see something strange today but this, well, this just takes the biscuit". he guffawed at his own joke. I sat there, stone-faced, to keep up the impression of a depressed loner. Realising he had a tough crowd, he shifted straight to business mode. "So, you're the guy who wants an M249 squad automatic weapon" he said, sizing me up. "Pretty big toy for a fella such as yourself". He clicked his fingers and suddenly the car door opened. Inside was the gun in question. It was picked up by a set of hands from somewhere on the back seat. Problem. He was meant to be alone. No matter, I'm going to have to improvise. The dog collar that I was wearing had an easy-release system, so that it could be removed without difficulty. I slipped it off, and twisted it around his neck, so that the spikes penetrated the skin. This had the effect of also cutting the Jugular, one of the biggest arteries in the body. Blood spurted everywhere, covering my left arm. I quickly jumped behind the car and grabbed the frame, looking over the water as I did so. In a flash the car was slowly descending into the dark waters of the Thames, a surprised look coming from it's passenger. I watched the car until it vanished, then jumped away.
I appeared outside a penthouse apartment in St. Germaine, Paris. Out of the thirty seven different living quarters that existed around the globe, this was my favourite. I opened the door quickly, and went into the bathroom to clean the blood off me. However, I stopped when I saw a naked man walk out of the door. For a few seconds nobody did anything. Then all hell broke loose. He threw a towel at my head, blinding me for a few seconds. He used that time wisely, and smashed the left side of my face in with a painful right hook. I fell to the ground, blood flowing freely from my eye. I removed the towel from my face, looking at my assailant. He was a teaming mass of muscle, with arms as big as tree trunks. scars covered his body, and he had a broken the way he was standing, I would have said he was a fighter. I jumped behind him, catching him off-guard with a sweeping kick to the knees, bringing him to the floor. He went down like a fell tree. I wrapped my wrist around his neck, placing him in the classic sleeper-hold. "Who are you?" I growled, hoping to sound strong. What really came out were a few scared squeaks. "I'm Noon, dipshit. get off me" he flipped me over his shoulder, putting me in the sleeper hold. I dreaded to think what was resting against on my shoulder. "Since you know about this place, and that fancy little bit of teleporting you just did, I'd say you're Dusk". I looked at him blankly, wondering what the hell he was blabbing on about. "You have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" He asked, a quiet amusement in his voice. I shook my head. "Right, I'll start from the beginning. In December 1981 Ronald Reagan said that the United States government was not going to assassinate anyone ever again. This was complete bullshit. Twelve tears ago an elite unit was put together due to operation daystar. This was a covert op that brought in talented people to... Deal with their enemies. Does that cover everything?" I pondered for a second, before asking " what sort of talents are we talking about?" He smiled. "don't worry, I'm not going to turn into a dragon if that's what you're thinking. When I say talented I don't mean like you. I mean that we have skills. Like me. I was in the marines since I was 15, so I know my way around a gun". I nodded slowly. "And are there others?" Noon considered and then replied "there was two. Then Dawn escaped. She was like you". That made me stop dead in my tracks. "There was another like me?" I asked, the words around in my mouth like a bad sweet. Noon scoffed. "Did you think you were the only one?". I shrugged, embarrassed. This was the only meeting with Noon where he didn't point a gun at my face.