Splinter Cell… Chaos Theory?

Written by Lord Zeuss

It had been a profitable day for Ivan Idiotovich. He had swindled four lowlifes out of their life-savings, arrested two people for staring at a statue too hard, and gotten a dozen drinks while he supposed to be on duty. Life was good. Since the police in T'Bilisi were encouraged to be corrupt, he got away with pretty much anything. One exception was hiring out a prostitute to play a practical joke on his boss - his boss hadn't appreciated it, and cut his pay for an entire day.

His two buddies - Alexei Moronovich and Oleg Stupikov - came off shift at the same time as he did, and they exchanged hilarious jokes at poor people's expense as they went up to the top floor office to log in their shift hours on the station computers.

Stupikov flipped the light switch on the wall as they entered the strangely pitch black office and the three were greeted with a spectacle.

The office was completely ransacked.

Someone had apparently come through the place dumping everything on the desks to the floor, breaking the computer monitors (and the computers themselves), and tossing trash everywhere. It was a disaster.

Idiotovich spluttered. "Look at this place! Soda cans everywhere, papers all over the place, computers smashed!" He was at a loss to say anything else. The devastation was overpowering.

Moronovich, concerned for the police station's budget (which governed his own pay) asked, "How much do you think it will cost to replace all this?"

"Oh, practically nothing. Nine or ten billion lari," Stupikov offered, wanting to be helpful.

"Nine or ten b-b-BILLION?!"

"We cannot afford to pay all that!" Idiotovich chastened Stupikov.

"Call the police!" Moronovich blurted, as if he had found the solution to all their problems.

"You IDIOT! We ARE the police!" Idiotovich rebuked him with scorn.

"Well, we have to call someone," Moronovich muttered weakly.

"Call the plumber!" Stupikov again being most unhelpful.

Idiotovich stared numbly at the mess. His boss was going to have his head for this.

At a secret hideout somewhere…

Sam Fisher chuckled to himself at the thought of imagining the expressions on the faces of the poor souls who managed to be the first to see the office he had wrecked on his way to find out who had killed the CIA's missing agents…