"So, he's run to Africa?" Mark questioned Barak. The suited man stood next to a hologram in Russo's Brittany facility, "We've searched Europe for almost 3 weeks... and he's fucked off to some random nation in Africa? Why is he not running to cooperators or something?"
"Yes. Secundo is too conspicuous for commercial transport, and he knows of HAP. He cannot get away through conventional means, hence moving to Africa, where tech is worse. Presumably, he's intending to make a getaway without us noticing. Maybe a distraction?"
"Well, unfortunately for him, every fucker in Africa has some variation of the S-Phone." Russo added, "Ironic, he's getting fucked by the inventions of the same man he is working with."
"So, we going then? We know the location, might as well kill this guy whilst we got the chance." Ed spoke, standing up.
"No, no. We are not killing him. We need him alive to understand what they are planning. Their invasion of Mexico is a clear indicator they have something coming. Mexico might be the first stage of a world war. Or an attempt at unification. I don't know."
"And what are we going to do once we get him?" The gruff voice of Victor asked, "They're a fanatical cult. We aren't going to get anything from him. They're off their rockers."
Mark glanced at the big man, tall and muscular but similar to himself, plain looking with shaved hair - the same colour, too. He pondered for a moment, "I... might have something for that. It's a risk, but the payoff could be big. But first, we've got to capture the guy. Gonna be easier to remove him than capture."
Mack moved the hologram with his hand. The sensors registered it and enlarged the screen to show a document to Barak to read aloud, "Courtesy of HAP, we have a degree of the guy's methods. Named Secundo, real name unknown. Born in the 2030s and proficient in all manner of weapons handling, explosives and demolition, close-quarters combat, covert operations... the list goes on. Been a military man for over 65 years. So, we're looking at taking on the best of the American military, but on steroids."
"Phew. In his 80s? Not even our genetic engineering can do that, shit." Ed stated.
Russo glanced at the second youngest in the group, amused, "The Americans are miles ahead on genetic engineering. Potentially, these so-called 'demons' Mark has fought could bulldoze through most of us in the room. They did with the Black Guard in Watford."
"So, what you're saying... is that we are fucked? Besides, Mark, that is."
"No, actually. The armour and technology they are utilizing were partly created at Tayi. They've had some extensive modifications, enough that it is hard to recognize, sure, but the transport corpses were pretty telling. As long as you don't go into melee, or too close quarters, they cannot leverage their physical superiority. Regarding Secundo, though, only Mark can do so. The rest of you will die if you try."
"Nice injection of confidence, Russo. Shall we get onto the plan, then? Otherwise, we are going to die." Barak questioned the group in a plain tone. Some of them nodded as an interactive map was brought up, "We know he is in Marrakesh, Morrocco, for any of you who are geographically illiterate, in an abandoned compound. The civilian population will be a bargaining chip, so full force will have to be swift and decisive, with little room for error. I propose we split into teams. Victor and Eric for the frontal assault, the girls and Ed going from behind. We keep our distance when we find him, and Mark is fast enough to swoop in to save you. Secundo will think he's dead, so you have one chance, Mark. Hit to cripple, nothing less. If you can't, it is going to be a big brawl. Consequences will come."
Russo shook his head, "Tayi can cover for that. He's going after a 'known terrorist cell'."
"Ah. Same excuse for..."
"Yes, same reason. Secundo murdered my family in cold blood; it is only logical Mark would follow the perpetrator considering our relationship. Secundo won't survive the month." He spoke, seemingly reaffirming to himself, at the end.
Eric spoke next; his voice was calming as he moved part of his brown hair that was sticking upwards, "How do you propose we get there? The border is a no-go whilst armed to the teeth with weapons. Unless Becky has something?"
The woman smiled, her white teeth on display, "My, my, indeed I do. One of my exes works in the government as a minister. Pretty high up, I believe, so getting permission is not impossible. But, if I put the weight of Tayi, along with some incentives, it shouldn't be too much trouble."
"That isn't impossible to do." Russo said, "However, corruption is rife after the civil war. If you refer to a bribe, it won't be too expensive, but if he wants financial assistance to rebuild, we need to be wary of how much and what they ask for. Even with Becker's help, Sishaf still controls a large portion of the liquid funds. I cannot afford to weaken my faction too heavily despite my personal desire for Secundo's capture."
"Find out, please, Becky." Barak said as she removed herself to make the call.
Sasha, quiet so far, spoke up next, "Who says we need all this effort to get in? It's strange, but could Mark not just carry us in a car or something? Relatively small, and we can load everything with us. He flies us there; job done."
"It's a good point." Mark stated, "Stealthy, too. We have no idea if the Moroccans will help us or whether they will support the Americans. Is there an already existing presence? Have they already been working with them, or is there potential for us to face Secundo's allies? I remember the US briefly occupied Morocco during the Occupation years."
HAP spoke from the intercom, "CIA black sites existed in the past. During the Aaban Occupation, 2 compounds were located by investigative journalists. Potential allies are an unclear possibility."
"So, a 50/50. The CIA should be less armed than the 'demons', right?"
Victor grunted, "Yeah, we can handle them. Done it before; do it again. Although, that was a decade and a half ago. If America is militarizing, it may not be easy anymore."
Becky returned, "I can get us in, but he wants a bribe. And by bribe, I don't just mean money, either. He wants to know why I need access and also investment from Tayi. I couldn't get him to believe any excuses."
Eric casually shrugged as he fiddled with one of his two earrings, "Fuck 'em, then. Mark brings all the gear, and we're just tourists having a nice group stroll through Marrakesh. The plan will go out the window, anyway. Only Mark can deal with that force of nature."
Stroking his stubble, Victor voiced his thoughts, "You sure you can handle him, Mark. I know he ambushed you, but even you couldn't just shrug off an Eneph Bullet. Like, it blew a goddamn hole through your chest. You're lucky you're alive."
"The suit he will wear will protect him against it." Russo interjected, "It'll only be one shot, but enough to keep him in the fight. The bullets are hard to produce, never mind the Grail Gun. Secundo will only have a few shots left, max."
Mark puffed, "So, pretty much, I get one chance if it turns into a fight. After that, I'm somewhat fucked?"
"One chance, no more, no less, as I've said. And remember, it only protects your chest, not your head. You may be able to live without a heart, but a brain? I'd wager it'll be lethal."
"Well, easier said than done. I can understand how it's being used for FTL now."
"It wasn't at max speed. The range he shot you, it'll was at roughly 60%, so be wary. It also didn't explode, something I'm presuming is due to your relationship. It's obvious advice, but don't get shot in the head."
"Right, plan done, then." Victor spoke, "We strike tonight with HAP keeping an eye on movement. So... 5 hours before we leave. Make sure you're all ready."
"Suicidal odds? High certainty of death? I can't wait!" Ed sarcastically replied as he walked away.
The group left, Mark staying behind with Russo, "You... visited them?"
Russo sighed, "No. This business is taking all my time. I... cannot grieve... not until his head is on a spike."
"We'll get him, Michael." Mark patted his shoulder, "It's all going to shit. I got the court papers yesterday. I'm going to need the lawyers."
Russo rubbed his temples, "Yeah, they're already on it. Amity Hospital is practically a lost cause. We can delay it for a while, but our opponents will use the public to force our hand. Bad publicity. The Irish ones can be damned; payouts will suffice. Either way, though, this is a loss; our position is weakening."
"What of my government? The British. Their support would help, even with the payments."
"Heh, they're gone, Mark. We'll get token aid. To keep up appearances, but since you left them and joined Tayi, they aren't interested. Barak spoke to Naya, the Defence Secretary, and she seemed... pretty upset, shall we put it."
Mark snorted, "So, it's ok for me to leave the facility but not to get help from others? Tsk, I understand the politics; the reasoning still irritates me."
Russo chuckled, "Naya and Zack are two peas in a pod. A PM and Defence Secretary combo that reeks of unguided ambition, hubris and stupidity. Naya less so, but Zack is a buffoon. The man has ambitions for the old Empire but rules a democracy. They'll be out of government by June."
"I see… I was his chance at re-election, and now it's slipping away." Mark said before turning to leave, "Right, I'm going to chill for a bit. I want to be in the right mindset for this."
"Before you go, Mark. The reporter, Abigail Moran. The one who started the Freya Montjoy controversy. She is becoming a thorn in our side. She is heavily focusing on your... misdeeds? Mistakes? She's abusing the fame for her reporting on you first to go international. The woman is becoming too big of a problem. But... an accident could fix this. For your own good, Mark."
He frowned as he paused, contemplating the issue, "That's murder, Michael. I promised to save lives, despite having to take some to achieve your vengeance and my goals. But, I will not outright be responsible for an innocent's demise. Abigail is fine; it is free reporting, free speech. Let her babble on; people will see reason."
Finished with his words, Mark walked out, leaving Russo to mutter to himself, "Yet, Mark. Soon you will understand. Let them take an inch; they will take a mile."
"Don't you find it weird?" Abigail voiced to her podcast listeners, Mark listening attentively, "First, he turns up, and everyone just... accepts it. Governments don't experiment or anything. They just... let him be. That is after he had just killed an entire children's ward, destroyed the Irish countryside and murdered 4 in collateral. It is unacceptable! He should be held accountable!"
'She really knows how to drive a crowd. Really radiates passion.'
"Alongside this, is it not weird? That proof, on Freya Montjoy's death, with a known dislike between the two, disappears? Poof! Gone like that. Or should I be politically correct? That it was linked to a known serial killer found in Yorkshire. That, somehow, this murderer had gone from Leicester to Yorkshire without notice, missing all cameras with no car or anything. Do they take us for fools? Are any of you fools? No! Mark Evans was involved, whether directly or indirectly, and his recent to-do with Tayi means they're covering for him. Maybe, even the British government is involved." She sighed, "I know. I know. This all sounds like a crazy conspiracy story. Like a raving madwoman on the TV, but this is real. If you just... think, for a few minutes, over everything. It all just... conveniently works out, despite the ludicrosity of it all."
Rudely interrupted by an AD, he grumbled before continuing to listen to her scarily accurate predictions, "... this really shows what a monster he is. That God gave power to the wrong man. Or, should I say, the Devil did to the right man. Just wait. You will see a cover-up of the century during the trial. Victims, witnesses going missing; evidence tampered with or wiped clean. Tayi is known for this; the 2093 War Crimes case. They knowingly used innocent Aaban civilians for weapon testing. And, in true corporate fashion, they get a slap on the wrist as evidence goes missing. A few tens of millions in fines, that's all. They make a mockery of justice; Mark Evans makes a mockery of justice!"
He huffed out air, the woman getting rather passionate in her speech. Having enough of the rant, he stopped listening as he stepped into the complex's lounge, spotting Ed and Sasha conversing on the sofas.
"... not going well, then? To be fair to him, it has only been two months. You gotta give him time. But then again, I ain't one to ask. I just fuck the girls and leave 'em. They love the big E!" Ed laughed loudly as he looked at his lower area.
"Ed... what the fuck is wrong with you. That's gross and all kinda wrong."
"What you two talking about?" Mark inquired, presuming Ed's part to be about himself.
Sasha shook her head, "We were talking about, erm... well, if you've moved on. Russo is kinda going through the same thing, and we were wondering how long he'd grieve or stay on this quest for revenge."
He frowned, the conversation being a bit odd, but the team was an odd bunch, "I see. Well, he's coping. He's mellowed out from the day, but not entirely."
"You agree with his quest for vengeance? I feel this is the closing of an era at Tayi. He will never be the same."
Mark shrugged, "I agree. He deserves his pound of flesh. What I saw that day, what we saw... will haunt us. Secundo is barbaric. I have no pity for the monster; nor those covering for him. They will all die, no matter the consequences."
Watching as he become more feverous and angry as he went on, Ed shook his head, "Shit. Really that bad? Probably got some lessons from the cartels in South America. Hear they're the monsters of the most depraved kind."
"It was horrific, Ed. Worse things have happened throughout history but in the modern day? What he did was heinous. He defiled them to the worse degree. Fucking animal." He took a short pause as he calmed down and looked at their worried gazes before attempting to steer the conversation, "You ever saw any of the shit from the reporter, Abigail Moran?"
Ed looked confused before shrugging, Sasha grimacing as she spoke, "Yeah, she is... zealous, I'd say. Maybe a bit too into it, yanno. Down the rabbit hole kinda stuff. I can't tell if she's milking the popularity or whether she believes half the shit that comes outta her mouth."
"She is a strange one, for sure." Mark uttered.
With the conversation diverted, the rest of the hour flew by as Mark carried a car with five passengers over Morocco. They arrived in the dead of night, the local time, roughly an hour before midnight, as they silently dropped to the ground. The five passengers got out of the vehicle, a sparse amount of buildings dotting the city outskirts around them. They were war-torn, battered and decrepit; not aesthetically pleasing in contrast to the countryside.
With the nighttime quiet, besides the chirping of some insects and birds, Victor spoke to the group, "Stay in the air from now, Mark. We'll get changed in the car, which hopefully still works."
Mark ascended into the air before landing on a high-rise rooftop after being directed by HAP. He watched from above as the team drove into the city a few minutes later after dressing into custom-made black metal battle suits similar to those worn by the 'demons'. Equipped with a primitive version of their shields, and armour made of Russophene, traditional ballistic weapons would pose a limited threat. A railgun, or high-calibre sniper, however, was still considered a substantial threat.
Sat in the car outside an innocuous, worn-down gated compound within the city, Victor went over the plan once more, "Once we leave the car, we're on a timer before we're reported or seen. Non-lethal for police and civvies, lethal for everything else. Me and Eric got the front; you three got the back. And remember, you see the target, scream it down the comms, or HAP will do it for you. Do not engage; just run. The stuns will delay, but only momentarily. We gotta trust the kid on this one. Trust he'll save us when the fucker appears. Everyone got it?"
They all nodded and, done with the roundup, separated into the pre-set teams as they stepped out of the vehicle. The two buff and hardened veterans took the front whilst the two women and Ed took the back. Not wishing to arouse suspicion or lose the advantage of surprise, Victor spoke into the network.
"On three. One. Two. Three."
BOOM! BANG! CRASH!
Breach charges exploded as Mark watched it all from above. The back team had opened the rear gate before setting the breach charge. Victor and Eric had rushed the car through the main metal entrance and into a wooden courtyard door. Bright lights illuminated the dark street as explosions and gunfire erupted within, waking the city from its peaceful slumber.
SMASH!
Ed kicked a wooden door, splinters flying inwards as gunfire erupted from an enemy combatant. His hand before him, the shield blocked the handgun's projectiles as Becky hit the man in the chest. Blood pooled where he sat, lying against the cream-coloured wall, stained with death. With the lights off, and darkness covering the insides, the only light being their flashlights, they advanced further into the building.
Checking the L-shaped hallway, the door on their right shut and another one halfway down the hall, they ignored the one to the right and targeted the other.
"Sash." Ed uttered as he took the right side, Becky the left before Sasha kicked the door off its hinges, a device thrown in from Ed.
BANG!
With the opponents presumably stunned, they stormed the room. Spotting three targets, two plain clothes with handguns and a third seemingly unarmed, he shot the closest equipped combatant. The railgun's projectile whizzed, smashing into the man's skull like a rocket; half his head blew up like a watermelon. Another of his teammates hit the other armed opponent, the neck violently separated by the shot, crimson splattering everywhere as the last man screamed and fell.
Sat on the floor, the man emitting a mixture of sobs, cries and pleas for mercy, they surrounded him.
"What do we do with him?" Sasha questioned.
"Didn't you listen, Sash? No prisoners. No mercy." Ed coldly uttered as he put his leg on the guy's chest before a single shot desecrated the man's face.
Blood covered the black metal, dripping off his legs as Becky beckoned them towards an uncovered basement entrance. It was left open, likely where the three came from as Ed neared it. Pulling it open, Becky peered downwards and flashed her light before lobbing a stun grenade down.
BANG!
Hearing screams of terror and pain, they rushed down the metal staircase, rusted and bloody. Small chunks of flesh, skin, nails and teeth littered the ground, and noticeable pools of blood seeped into the metal as they arrived before a large cell. Five naked people were chained to the wall, all of them male, as the trio grimaced, their flashlights the only lighting.
"What the fuck." Ed muttered as he inspected the prisoners from afar, making sure his body camera could see, "Well, now we know what the CIA safe house is for. HAP, run their faces if you can."
The men were of Arabic descent, all suffering from some ghoulish wound. Some had no teeth, moans of agony coming from their mouths as they looked at the newcomers. Others had their tongues ripped out, feet and hand digits cut off, or parts of their body eaten by the rats scurrying around the cell. The rest of the room was crowded, a section set up for cruel torture tools as blood and disease littered the area. A pile of bodies sat in the corner, predominantly naked males but not entirely, as flies buzzed around it.
One of the prisoners, the one with the least injuries, spoke in Arabic as Becky translated it, "He says he is General Omar Ebeid from Aaban. Wants us to save him for a rich reward."
A moment later, HAP answered their query, "Aaban political prisoners. According to mission priority, none of them are important. Russo gives permission to remove the unknown element."
Ed shrugged as he glanced at Becky before looking back to the prisoners and chuckling, "Hey, Becky. What's farewell in Arabic?"
"You're sick, Ed." She looked towards the captives, "Tisbah ala khair"
Ed shot them one by one in the head before gunning their bodies further to ensure their demise, ignoring their pleas and screams before they died.
Becky shook her head as Ed glanced at her, "You know why, Beck. Get your ass in the game. Let's go."
They exited the degenerate dungeon, the group's communications network lighting up with Eric's shouting voice, "Bomb! Run!"
BOOOOOM!