Chapter 1 Infiltration

It was a pitch black night in the suburbs of Chicago. Business men drove home to greet their loved ones, and gangsters came out of hiding. The streets were a very dangerous place, for anyone, rich or not, except for one. His name was Ben Hansen, and he was a Splinter Cell, a warrior of the darkness.

Hansen, however, was not with Third Echelon, the Splinter Cell's agency, for the first time. Field Agent Sam Fisher had assigned him this, but Director Grímsdóttir had not supported the idea, due to the high risk of street criminals gaining state of the art technology. So, Hansen and Fisher had only managed to get a small cache off of the dunes of Lake Michigan. All that it contained was an older SC Pistol with four magazines and thermal goggles. This was going to be a change for Hansen, with no OPSAT, only a fellow agent for contact, and no SC3000 rifle.

So, as Hansen was sitting in Fisher's car, he truly understand the point of it. Street criminals were getting drugs into the border, but were dispersing it into the public, trying to get the entire city addicted to the drug. Large Supply, with a large demand, was pure business. And pure business meant better arms. The murder rate of Chicago had gone soaring, and Fisher feared foreign mercenaries were also in play.

Hansen was going to have to infiltrate a neighborhood full of gangsters. There was a bigger house in the center of it all, where a gang leader was currently sleeping. If Fisher was correct there were computers and files of the overall plan. A quick interrogation of the man, some records of what was going on, and it would be a clean and safe operation.

The entire community was fenced in by giant white blocks on all sides, with an entrance on one side. Hansen was not black, nor could he pass for a cop killer, so he and Sam had decided to go over the wall to the west of the gang leader's house, whom they had nick named Big Cheese. Fisher hadn't spotted any complex security systems, but Cheese's house was well guarded. For each cardinal direction, there was two guards. One with a Dragonauv sniper rifle and another with, you guessed it, AK-47.

"So, one more time for me Sam. Why are we doing this?"

"A big puddle of blood just for a fine powder needs mopped up." Fisher had replied.

With that, Ben Hansen got out of the car, made sure his equipment was in check, and slammed the door. Fisher drove off seconds after Hansen made his way into the foliage that surrounded the secluded neighborhood. After maybe twenty seconds of sprinting, Hansen stopped and got ready to go up over the wall.

Hansen was at west side of the wall and was listening for any signs of life beyond it. After fifteen seconds of near silence, he was satisfied. He flipped down the older thermal goggles and saw that each block was equally as warm as the other, no alarm. He withdrew his knife and jumped, and stabbed it into a crack between two blocks, lifted himself up some more and slung himself over on his back. Hansen removed the knife and scanned the area below. The young Splinter Cell was in the empty backyard of a small house. Hansen slid down to the grass, holstered his knife and closed his eyes. Remembering the map, he needed to round the houses, get across a road, and kill two guards.

With a miniature blue tooth headset, Fisher called Hansen.

"Listen, I've been doing some prying with my limited skills on a laptop. This particular gang has been bribing the police department, and even buying arms. If you see police act as needed."

Hansen told Fisher he understood and would do so, as he rounded the block and came to a street, and he dug himself into a bush. The sidewalk was full of gangsters, some selling drugs, others trading and looking at firearms. Hansen, being the white man he was, would not blend in easily. The streets were full of this, and there was absolutely no way past it. He was dressed in a green sweat shirt and blue jeans, and he slid on a loose fitting Cubs baseball cap to hide his goggles. He got up, loosened the pistol from the holster and walked across the street, thankfully not drawing any stares.

As he got to the other sidewalk, a black man, with two goons behind him approached Hanson and said,

"Hey, white man, give me your money."

His breath making a reply hard to mumble,

"Get the hell out of my way, just visiting a friend."

"You see these two guys? They got M9 pistols, the ones from the video games! I can get someone with an AK here, now give me some damn money!" The gangster screamed, and was drawing a knife.

Hansen instinctively smacked the knife to the ground, kicked the man in the knee, spun him around and drew his pistol and aimed it at the two men. Finally, he threw the man at the two gangsters, and all three tumbled to the floor.

"Piss off, you dipshit." Hansen told them, as he snatched up the two firearms and put them in his drawstring sack.

Hansen now had full attention, but no one was attacking him. In fact, people smiled when they saw him walk by. While the average person wold like this, Ben Hansen did not. The thing was people know his location and he was not incognito. He was going to have to disappear, and Sam Fisher would help.

"Sam, I had to rough up some low life pieces of shit. Have anything for a diversion?" Ben asked.

"I do. Police sirens from a nearby department. Make a run." Fisher replied, and got to work.

Ben, when he got to a dark side of the neighborhood, went into the bushes and the deafening sirens went to work. People started running, others were sitting up positions if a fire fight started, and no one was paying attention to Hansen. The hat was slid off, and he sprinted down the sidewalk, got into a backyard and finally got a glance at the gangster's house. It wasn't great, just a blue two story house with a built in garage and a long drive way. However, like Fisher had stated, the two guards were there. One was very close, the AK-47 and the other was leaning on the house, rifles ready to fire.

"Hey, these guards aren't moving. Should I engage?" Hansen asked Sam, and readied his pistol for a quick double kill.

"Tough call," Sam thought out loud, wishing for his SC3000 and his ASE. "If you have to, do so." Sam gave his permission to fire at will.

Hansen, still wanting this to be as non-lethal as possible, dug into the dirt and slid over in close proximity of the riflemen. Next he drew his pistol and shoved this guy to the ground, raised his pistol and gave the sniper a clean shot in between the eyeballs. Next, Hansen punched the gun into the rifleman's forehead and demanded, "Where is your leader?"

"Fuck you." Was his response, and one Hansen was not a stranger to.

"One more chance, then we have to get dirty, and we both won't enjoy it."

"Go to hell shit brains." And again, Hansen was not a stranger to this as well.

Ben took the knife, and jabbed it into the gangster's shoulder.

"Talk."

"Fuck no."

Hansen drove the blade deeper and started twisting back and forth.

"Okay! His upstairs. Climb the staircase and to the right he'll be in bed. He might have a ho with him." The man said, and Hansen paused.

"Tell me about her, innocent or gangster?"

"How do I know? If shes like the rest we use her for executions and for persuasions."

With that information, Hansen knocked him out, and hid the bodies in a decorative shrub. After doing so, he went to the nearby window and pressed his face against it. It lead to the single car garage and there was a SUV in there, a small refrigerator and a work bench. Ben opened up the unlocked windows, and slid in.