"God this is so boring." Private Jamison flicked away the butt of his cigarette, the red ashes bursting apart as it hit the only part of dry pavement.

"Yeah, yeah. You said that 2 minutes ago." Replied Corporal Grimes as he adjusted his standard issue assault rifle.

"It's still true."

"Yeah so? I know it's boring; you don't have to keep telling me." Grimes fished a cigarette out of his pocket and thrust it into his mouth. He searched his pockets for a lighter, but this was hampered by his exaggerative hand gestures. "That's like saying, Hey, its cold out here? Or, Guess what it's raining?"

Jamison rubbed at his nose and sniffled, scowling at Grimes.

"I was just trying to make conversation."

"Great, but I know it's boring, I know its cold and I know it's fucking raining! If you're gonna keep stating the obvious, just don't fucking talk, o...k...?" He finally found his lighter and lit up, an action soon followed by other MJ12 troopers patrolling the dark streets of Paris. Around the square the short burst of light was all that could be seen through the pelting rain, a dozen short lived fire-flies.

"Fine." Jamison snorted and spat. "What got up your ass?"

"The fact that I'm stuck out here, on this lovely evening," Grimes drawled sarcastically, "with a dumb shit like you for company. While that prick Dillon is at this very moment sitting in his cosy quarters with hot coffee, a warm bed and no doubt, a talented French prostitute."

"Maybe if you worked harder you'd be a Captain too."

"Fuck off! The only reason that jerk is a Captain is because "Daddy" knew somebody, who knew a Senator or some bullshit." Again he had to adjust his rifle as he flailed his arms about. "They've all got their fingers so far up each others asses, the only time they take them out is to offload a useless shit-stain like Dillon onto us."

"Can I have a cigarette?" Jamison asked, stomping his feet in an effort to stay warm.

"I just gave you a cigarette."

"Yeah I finished it."

"Christ." Grimes took another cigarette from his pocket and handed it to his partner. Jamison put it in his mouth and motioned to Grimes that he also needed to use his lighter. Grimes shook his head in a disapproving manner and pulled out his lighter for Jamison too.

Jamison took a long pull and exhaled appreciatively.

"Thanks buddy."

"Yeah, yeah." Grimes muttered.

They could hear boots slapping on the wet concrete as two more troopers hurried to join them under the small balcony.

"Ladies, ladies! Lovely evening isn't it?" One of the troopers exclaimed as he shook the rain off.

"Sure thing Jones." Jamison replied giving Jones a little salute, his hand shaking so much from the cold that little cinders flew off his cigarette.

"And it only gets better." Grimes moaned. "Come on Jamison." Grimes commanded as he stepped out into the rain to begin their patrol.

"But I just started this!" Jamison moaned.

"Give it to me pal." Said Jones and Jamison reluctantly handed over his half finished cigarette. "Have fun!" Jones sang to them over the din of the storm as Grimes and Jamison marched out into it. They walked along with their shoulders hunched as the rain beat against their helmets.

Neither of them tried to speak, they kept their eyes on the path ahead of them. There was no point even trying to pay attention to the area around them when they couldn't see more than a few feet in either direction. Twenty minutes later the rain started to ease off and slowed to a fine drizzle.

"Finally." Grimes muttered as he and Jamison paused under the side of a building in a small courtyard. No-one could see them and it was the custom among the troops that they took a break from their patrol here. The courtyard was lit by a single lamppost, which was covered in years of grime, so the light it cast was dim at best. In their dark uniforms the pair were all but invisible as they stood in the shadow of the old warehouse.

"Hey look." Grimes suddenly thumped Jamison on the chest and nodded opposite them. A young woman had appeared at the third alleyway that led into the courtyard. She was thoroughly soaked and shivered in the cold. She looked around nervously but clearly didn't see them. Slowly at first she crept cautiously toward the lamppost and soon she sped up to a half canter. Grimes unslung his rifle and stepped out of the shadows.

"You grab her Jamison." Jamison nodded and broke away from Grimes, keeping in the shadows and moving to flank the girl.

"You there! Stop!" Grimes shouted as he ran full pelt to intercept her. The girl halted immediately but tensed up. Grimes could tell by her posture that she was unsure whether to keep running, or stay as she was commanded. But it was too late. The minute she saw the gun she took a step backwards, her eyes full of fear, but she wasn't so stupid as to run for it.

"The city is under martial law, what are you doing roaming the streets?" His tone was harsh and gave no hint of compassion.

"Forgive me Monsieur. Mama is very ill, for days I have waited to hope she would get better, but she does not. Please I need to get her some medicine."

Grimes' eyes flicked beyond her for a mere second to see that Jamison was but a few feet behind her now. The girl was too oblivious to notice his eyes and so remained unaware that there was any danger.

"A likely story." He scoffed and Jamison grabbed hold of her. She struggled and shrieked until Jamison clapped a heavy gloved hand over her mouth. He had managed to pin both her arms against her body and she tried to kick him, but it was no good.

"Why do you struggle? If you're innocent, you have nothing to be afraid of." Grimes' voice oozed mock comfort. But the girl heard his words and stopped struggling; she eyed Grimes warily though, her chest heaving with her terrified breathing.

"You must understand Mademoiselle, in these times we cannot be too careful. Why anyone could be a terrorist. How do we know?" She managed to shake her head slightly, her eyes pleading with him. Grimes' eyes fell from her face to her heaving chest and this she could not help but notice. The water had made her thin shirt almost see through and a smirk spread across Grimes' hard features.

"It is our duty at the very least, to search you for weapons." He grinned at her lasciviously. "Don't you agree Jamison?"

"Absolutely." Jamison replied with a wicked chuckle and tightened his grip on the small girl. Grimes slung his rifle back over his shoulder and stepped menacingly toward the girl. His hands took hold of her shirt and he tore it apart. Immediately she began to struggle again and Grimes laughed in delight. The movement just made her body all the more appetising. He bit down on one of the fingers on his glove and pulled it off. He winked at her as he ran his bare hand over her skin, feeling the goose pimples that covered her chilled flesh.

Grimes couldn't tell if the droplets that ran down her face was rain or tears. Either way he didn't really care. He grabbed a handful of her hair as he licked at the moisture on her face, his other hand roughly squeezing her breast. All the struggling had exhausted her and she was being held upright mostly by Jamison. Her body shook, yet when Grimes looked into her eyes he suddenly saw her naked hatred.

"Ooh feisty." He murmured as his hand slid down between her legs, which she clutched tightly together until he roughly tugged on her hair again. Jamison helped by pushing a knee against the back of hers and she lost what little balance she had.

"What's the matter?" Grimes laughed mockingly. "This is all routine procedure."

The laughter of the two men was cut short as a bullet suddenly punched through the side of Grimes' head, a spray of blood and brain matter exploding out the other side.

"Fuck!" Jamison exclaimed, and squeezed the air out of the girl as he further tightened his grip on her. He turned about to try and find the attacker.

A figure clad in a black trench coat stepped calmly out of the shadows, a heavily modified pistol held easily and surely in his hands. Jamison held the girl in front of him, dropping his hand from her mouth he clutched his rifle and pressed it against her back. Jamison regarded his own reflection in the man's sunglasses and waited for him to speak, but he was silent and still.

"Hold it, or I'll kill the girl." He shouted and the girl winced as the icy barrel was burrowed into her skin.

"I suggest you let her go." A cold voice commanded as the stranger raised his pistol.

Jamison barked a laugh keeping his face hidden behind the girl, watching the man with one eye. They stood in a silent plateau for many minutes, the rain washing around them. The girl remained utterly still as she waited for one of the men to react. She didn't even hear the shot go off, she just felt herself pulled backwards as Jamison went crashing to the ground. She quickly struggled out of his dead grasp and turned to look at him. The bullet had hit him directly in the eye.

She turned again and the man was standing right behind her, she let out a small shriek and jumped back.

"Chad sent me to find you, he was getting worried Nicolette."

She felt uneasy not being able to see his eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Merci, you came just in time... um?" She paused, waiting for his name.

"My names J.C."

"Merci, J.C."


She turned away from him again, the anger returning to her eyes as she looked at the two bodies.

"Pigs!" She spat on Grimes' corpse. "And they wonder, why we fight them."


"Well..." She began awkwardly. "I guess I should get back to the safe house."

JC took firm hold of her elbow.

"There's something I need from you first." He demanded with his husky voice. Nicolette swallowed nervously.

"What?" She asked tentatively.

"I need you to help me find Morgan Everett."