Over time Shep had come to acknowledge the darkness in himself. He had spoken about his nightmares or memories, he still wasn't sure which they were, with Grace. Grace had become the only thing that could calm him and bring him back down after he awoke in "battle mode."
They had decided, (well he would say Grace decided), that he should see someone to talk out the situation. After he had done this his therapist had determined that they were almost certainly memories. He felt that they had come from a psychotic break he suffered due to the stress of the situation. Taking this to heart he began to work through his issues and soon the nightmares faded to memory.
Life was finally getting back to normal, Shep and Grace had enjoyed a day off together spending time cleaning around their house, performing minor chores outside and just over all enjoying eachothers company.
They settled in to watch a movie they both wanted to see on one of their numerous streaming services. Lazing on the couch together while engrossed their film, they never expected their evening to end the way it did.
The front door exploded inward slamming into the wall of the entranceway. Three masked and armed men moved through the door with military precision.
Shep reacted quickly. Though his nightmares had stopped he still maintained hypervigilance. It was a side effect of another condition he suffered from, according to his shrink.
In an instant he shoved Grace to the floor narrowly dodging a burst of suppressed gunfire that ripped through the couch where they had just been sitting. The men moved quickly tracking Shep and Grace's movements as they drove for their bedroom door. More suppressed gunfire struck all around them, striking both of them. Shep took a round in his left arm while Grace was hit in the left calf.
Neither of them acknowledged their injuries as shep went for the pistol he kept in his nightstand. He retrieved the weapon and turned to face their attackers as he got in front of Grace.
The masked men pressed forward. Shep could see that they were well trained, and trained in a similar manner to himself. Their movements were quick and precise. Their aim deadly.
The moved in a leapfrog fashion from cover to cover point. One man moving toward Sheps strong hold in the bedroom while both others drew and returned fire.
This was an identical technique he had used many times. Though he was wounded he was ready. He focused on the man who called out "moving!" as he prepared the press forward again. Weathering the rounds sent at him from the others he fired twice into the moving mans chest and once into his head.
The attacker dropped mid stride. His associates opened up on Sheps postion as one of them scrambled to retrieve their downed colleague. Shep took the opportunity to get Grace into a safer position in the room and checked the windows for anyone set up outside. After all that's how he would've done it.
He saw no one. Covering fire still poured through the doorway and wall of his room. He was considering both of them jumping out the window and attempting an escape when a grenade bounced off the door and landed in the center of the room.
He dove on Grace while jerking their mattress on top of them a split second before the explosion. They were peppered with shrapnel through the mattress. He supposed that only worked in movies. However, since they were both still alive and not missing any limbs he decided it must have helped some.
His thoughts went to the door way, he whispered to Grace making sure she was as ok as she could be, then he moved quickly and quietly toward the door. His ears still ringing, blood from several small wounds running into his eyes.
He could hear both men coming closer to the door way, they were whispering something he couldn't make out but assumed were plans for sweeping his room.
He took the initiative, he burst into his doorway firing half blind, his earlier precision all but gone, he saw one man go down and another take cover in the doorway to his hall bathroom.
More suppressed fire was coming at him from the downed but obviously not dead attacker. He peeked and fired twice more at the man striking him in the upper chest and neck, quickly putting an end to him.
Now full of confidence he looked to Grace. She gave him a small "thumbs up" indicating that she was still ok. He began to press forward, assuming the odds were now even he moved cautiously but with grim purpose.
He checked the final attackers last location allowing his pistol to lead him around every corner and through each entryway as he searched for the man. Just as he was starting to believe that the final attacker had fled he heard a noise coming from his kitchen. He internally flinched, the kitchen was behind him, between him and Grace.
He swung around quickly in enough time to see a flash of black come around the corner and disappear headed toward the bedroom. He sprinted, his vision starting to go black, an almost inaudible laugh starting to form in his mind. His only thought was to get to that man before he got to Grace.
He arrived in time to see the man start to go through his bedroom door. The rage built in him as he ran. All of a sudden a booming shot rang out from the bedroom. His mind went blank. Not like it did long ago, but with a new feeling of terror. He rushed through the bedroom door hoping against hope. He found Grace holding a still smoking shotgun and a masked man on the ground with a baseball sized hole in his chest.
The relief he felt was overwhelming making him fall to his knees, Grace met him in this and both embraced eachother. Neither of them could believe what happened. They had no idea who or why they had been targeted.
They stood together feeling a wash of relief as they verified that the three men were dead. They took a moment to look at each other, tears of relief in Grace's eyes as she stared into Sheps.
A bullet pierced the right side of Grace's head and exited the other side sending a spray of blood against the wall, her body falling in slow motion reflected in Sheps rapidly widening eyes.
Before he could grasp what was happening he dove for her, narrowly avoiding a second round coming through the window on his left. The instant he saw Grace's eyes a part of him knew that she was gone. Those beautiful blue eyes he had come to love, were now lifeless.
Something inside of him broke in that instant. Almost as if a small piece of his soul had been cut away. His vision went black.
--------------2 Years Later-----------------
Frank Shepherd was not a good man. Over the past two years the amount of people he had killed was well into the double digits. He no longer cared for anything other than revenge.
He had long ago stopped caring about consequences of being caught or his inevitable death. He was single minded in his pursuit of those responsible for the attack on his home that took Grace away. His laser focus had brought great results.
Over the course of the past two years Frank's life had eroded completely. He refused to stay in his home, now living in a dilapidated travel camper in the middle of nowhere. He had spent so much time consumed by his inner darkness that he had become a shell of his former self. A shell filled with blinding rage and fierce, superhuman determination
He had learned through his "interrogations" that he had been the target all along. As well as the rest of his team. Grace had been collateral damage. This was something he had suspected once he could think the situation through, but having it verified enraged him further.
He had methodically worked up the ranks of all those he found to have had anything to do with his attempted assassination and the murder of his wife. He had discovered along the way that everything led back to that day, almost 6 years ago, when his team had been ambushed.
None of then were supposed to have survived.
The anonymous VIP they had been escorting had been the main focus. He was an investigator brought in by a nameless agency, undoubtedly with a three letter abbreviation, who had been sent in to collect information on reported war crimes committed by members of his chain of command.
He had undoubtedly discovered proof of these crimes, therefore marking him for death. The chain of command had revealed the route of the convoy to members of the opposing force and enticed them to attack. They were hoping for a clean slate. Wiping the investigator and Frank's team out in one fell swoop. Frank's team being the only team in this particular chain of command to have not been involved. Everyone else would turtle up and protect their own.
When this failed to happen they had been forced to remove the investigator directly. Intercepting him before he was able to leave the country. They made it look like a random street crime and even prosecuted the alleged killers.
They had then taken their time, waiting almost four years to eliminate Frank and his team. Unbeknownst to him at the time, the only surving members of his team where himself and Pierce after the wave of attacks on the same day as his.
Pierce only survived by being impossible to find. He was a country boy and had been staying by himself in the wilderness near his family home. He suffered from similar issues to Frank after being discharged. He had lost both of his parents in the attack meant to take his life.
Frank had found all of this out from who he assumed would be his final target. The supposed head of the snake. Colonel Jamis Webster.
He had blindsided the man just outside the front door of his home. Webster had just come in from a night out and was far drunker than Frank expected him to be. This had caused him to "interrogate" him far longer than usually necessary.
After the man had finally sobered up from the pain of Frank's interrogation methods. He had told him everything. He almost seemed too talkative about everything in Frank's mind. He had already spent too much time with the man.
At the same moment those thoughts went through his mind another thought slammed into him, the colonel had been keeping him there.
As soon as he realized what was happening it was too late. However, he couldn't let the man live. He reached out with a well practiced hand and cut the man's throat from ear to ear.
The front door disintegrated. Wooden shrapnel blasted through the entryway and a concussive blast shook the house to its foundation. A deafening BOOM resounded again as the back door experienced the same treatment. A full twelve man fire team immediately made their entry from both points, cutting off all avenues of quick escape.
Frank had come prepared but not prepared for all of this. He dove for cover while bringing up his rifle to fire, that was the last thing he remembered before waking up again.
Frank couldn't move, his vision was blurry and he felt nothing but pain and his life slipping away. He regained his senses briefly and discovered he was face down on the dirty carpet of his camping trailer, halfway through the door. his legs still hanging out off the rusted steps leading into it.
He knew he was dying and how he had gotten there meant nothing to him. In a most cliche fashion, images from his life began to flash through his mind. His happy childhood, his parents and siblings, his college and then military career all flowing continuously before his eyes in a nanosecond. Then he flashed to Grace, her short brown hair, blue eyes, her small nose and breathtaking smile. He used every ounce of strength and willpower he had to try to hold onto her image. It slipped away just as she had, their life together started streaming, all their happy moments, their wedding and honeymoon, buying their home, times spent together he could never get back.
He was mentally screaming "No, no, NOO!" knowing where his visions were taking him. Though he had replayed her death in his mind a million times, being forced to watch it again before he died seemed cruel and unnecessary.
He willed it stop with every ounce of his being and then to his surprise, it did. He coughed, regaining control of his mind for now, still barely able to move after losing so much blood. His body was a mess, so many wounds, so much blood, he knew his time was short.
He felt that he had finally accomplished his mission, everyone involved in the murder of his wife and teammates was dead. He had cut a path of death and destruction straight to the heart of the conspiracy, and then cut out that heart.
He felt a brief moment of peace, he had never been a religious man but he found himself hoping that he had been wrong and that his soul would find its mate in the afterlife.
His vision began to blur and a different kind of darkness began to envelop him. It felt warm and peaceful, not cold and and filled with hatred like the darkness he had become used to.
His last thought in this world made him laugh well, almost, what came out was more of a raspy gurgle. He didn't mind dying, he just didn't want to do it face down with a mouth full of dirty 70's era brown shag carpet.
The world faded away completely.
With his conciousness fading rapidly, Frank felt himself floating. He was being pulled ever so slightly upward. He had no control over anything and all he felt was tired. He just wanted to finally be able to rest.
With his last bit of conciousness he felt his upward momentum stop, and he was jerked violently toward a glowing blue orb of light, he heard muffled voices, speaking a language he didn't understand. Symbols and lights flashed around him as he hurtled toward the orb. He slammed into it at breakneck speed expecting pain.
He felt nothing. At least not at first. Then he felt pressure, a constant comfortable pressure. It expanded and contracted at regular intervals for a while. Then it was bright. He started to feel air on his skin, he was covered in some sort of slimey substance. He tried to shake it off but his body felt wrong, like it wasn't his. It wouldn't respond to him. He heard what to him sounded like a disembodied cry, then he opened his eyes.
Frank's first thought in this new world was, "What in the actual fuck just happened?"