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The Four Spies of Nazareth

Tristan_Lively
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Synopsis
Jason is an average 18-year-old, going on about his daily life. Everything is going smoothly, considering just moving out of his parents' home. Adapting to this life he finds that his life is in a routine, from waking up in the morning and going to work, then back to sleep at night. One morning Jason was going through his routine when he accepted the phone call that will forever change his life. Fueled by pure rage, Jason is put through the hardest trial of his life, but not alone. With his friends by his side, he has to face the hard battle between choosing justice or revenge.
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Chapter 1 - Prologue

"Six come in. Hello, Agent Six!"

"Yes," I groan as I struggle to lift myself up to my feet. I feel a wave of pain and agony and note that there is a fairly nice-sized lump on my head. I look around and note that i'm not in my home. I am in a den of some sort, one with a vacuum door and a window that I can barely fit my hand through for the only source of light.

After hearing no reply I say again, "Yes." A muffled voice comes over the receiver.

"There is something that is terrible." A long silence fills the conversation. I try to remember what could have possibly gone wrong, but I fail in such a simple task as this.

"What?" I reply.

"The Muaketona...has have been...Stollen!"

Muaketona. For a brief moment things like a warship, mothership, and many others fill my mind, but none of the recognition regarding the case. I hear a crackling sound, as of a burst of static, and then nothing. He is gone, and I am alone.

I turn on instinct as I hear the vacuum door open, and shudder when a man with the build of an ox, and the complexion of mud walks into the room.

"Don't touch his face. The master would not be pleased if he is not seen fully presentable," says a voice from someone that sounds to be from behind the door.

"Ohh I won't, trust me." comes the man's voice.

As the vacuum door shuts, the man smiles a smile that only a crooked and nasty human with a blood-lust thirst can give.

"I won't," he mocks as he cracks the whip thrice as if it needs priming.