Wednesday, February 21st, 3000

Time: 1200hrs

Location: Earth, Classified, South America

"Where the fuck is this guy?" Dwight cursed under his helmet as it began to turn noon. He sat on a densely forested hill with his back against a tree, his legs outstretched, with a semi-automatic Boomslang sniper rifle clutched to his body. The sun was bearing down on the thickly-leaved trees that concealed his position. Patiently, he waited for 8hrs, overlooking a mansion that was covered in a single color of white. It was grand and sat atop a hill with a swimming pool almost the size of a basketball court. It was an excellent placement for someone who wanted to watch from afar; they could see every nook and cranny of the place, and in this case, the person watching was Dwight.

He contemplated why he took the job, but he was already this many hours in, why should he back out now? The guy who gave him the Job was a very old man, who goes by the name Santiago Pereira. He was to take out a big-time drug lord named Francisco Oliviera, but the people called him ghost face. He was covered head to toe in tattoos—impossible to miss him.

Inside Dwight's helmet, was as hot as a furnace. He had the urge to just take it off and relax but he needed to keep an eye on the place. The helmet was advanced; just like every other helmet worn by almost every military on Earth and her colonies. A screen with an assortment of very advanced instruments is what the person who wore the helmet would see laid out neatly for them on the left side of the heads-up display. One of the instruments Dwight was currently using was the magnifier, which was conveniently connected to his neural uplink, allowing him easy control.

The people he watched partied and drank, ignorant of his presence—and that at any moment, with a quick squeeze of his trigger—their lives could be snuffed out. Knowing that made Dwight feel superior. It was approaching 1300hrs and his target still hadn't arrived. He was sitting in that position for an hour now, and he could barely feel his ass. The party was still going strong, and Francisco was supposed to be here an hour ago, and exhaustion was beginning to take effect. Dwight contemplated taking a couple of minutes of shut-eye but it seems the devil felt like toying with him today. A motorcade of Cadillacs arrived—five in total. They traversed the hill rapidly before stopping at the automatic gate. If this wasn't Francisco, something would have had to go wrong.

Dwight arose to stand on one knee, holding his boomslang close to his body letting the barrel face the ground while resting his finger on the trigger guard. He was itching to kill this fucker, the moment he sets his eyes on Francisco, he would be clapped without hesitation. The Cadillacs entered the mansion one by one and parked in the massive driveway. Men in black suits exited, but nothing about them piqued his interest except the thought of them looking like generic bad guys you would see in one of those old movies. The anticipation tugged at his neck as he raised the barrel of his weapon toward the mansion.

The hud placed a red square on each of the faces of the men, searching to find a match of the image on the right side of the screen. Finally, the square turned green, and a smile crept up Dwight's cheek as he tightened his hand on the pistol grip. He made a quick check of the barrel to make sure the suppressor was still attached—it was. He held the foregrip and took a deep breath as he tracked his prey. Francisco headed toward the grand entrance to his mansion. If Dwight wanted the bullet to hit, he would have to shoot in front of him. Quickly, he changed the direction of the barrel and squeezed the trigger. A muffled bang echoed through the air but became distorted as it got further away—it would conceal his position. He waited for a microsecond to see if the bullet met the target, and sure enough, it did. Francisco dropped like a brick underwater, nothing was left but a red mist.

Mission complete.

His bodyguards all ran to his rescue; a futile effort. Dwight grabbed his rifle by the strap and slung it over his shoulder before making his way down the forested hill. Finally, he reached the edge of the tree line. His old-time landrover was still where he left it. It was all black with massive all-terrain bulletproof tires and a bulletproof window with tint. Patiently, he waited for the road to be clear before dashing for the SUV. He jumped into the vehicle and shoved his key into the ignition, and with a growl, the Suv came to life. He mashed the gas, and with a roar, the engine revved as the tires quickly gained traction. Dwight sped down the road as phonk by Igarashi Kanta blasts through his speakers. He took off his helmet, and an explosion of bright light made him slightly swerve. He was met with a beautiful blue sky, with clouds sparsely scattered in its vastness. A massive cargo ship marked with the words ORCO flew past, with the light whirring of its thrusters reaching his ears. The road ahead was straight and wide with lush green trees on either side.

The drive was about an hour. He drove down a dirt path and arrived at a gated hotel he rented titled, "Morada de Ben." It was too expensive for his liking, but it was better than some rundown shack. Exiting his vehicle, he unlocked the massive black gate with the key he received. He entered and shut the entrance before driving down the pebbled driveway, and parking in the open garage. The hotel was yellow with an assortment of South American plants in a short cage that was connected to the house.

He was weary but he needed to collect the payment and leave the country before tomorrow morning. He gathered the gear and packed them into a crate labeled potatoes. After taking a much-needed shower, he dropped himself onto the couch and turned on the blocky Samsung tv, and connected his uplink to his phone. He searched through a multitude of contacts and finally found the contact he named, "Asshole." One second didn't even pass and the contact picked up the phone.

"A Víbora! What is up my friend?!" He asked, enthusiastically, but in a terrible accent.

"I am doing well americano," the old man said in a heavy Brazilian accent. "I assume you have finished the job?"

"That's right, it's done," Dwight said, leaning back in his seat.

There was silence before the old man responded. "Nice work americano! Expect, the full payment wired to you in an hour or two."

"Looking forward to it, thank you."

"No need to thank me, after all, it's what you deserve." Abruptly, he disconnected the call. It was so unexpected Dwight couldn't help but look at the phone. His attention was now fixated on the tv as the breaking news caught his attention. A female reporter had a look of distress as she prepared her viewers for the news. Quickly, he dashed to the refrigerator and acquired a cold beverage as the reporter relayed the news.

"Twenty minutes ago, a brutal, destructive attack occurred at a Helium 3 refinery in China in the Sichuan province in the Xichang area. A suspect who has been recognized as being from the terrorist organization known as Vertumnus entered the factory and had begun to murder the refinery workers in cold blood. We do not have a confirmation on how many had been killed or injured but unofficial confirmations put the death toll at over 100. Armed guards at the facility then eliminated the suspect. Officials said, and I quote,"

' if he had not been eliminated he would have detonated an explosive making the death tool astronomical.'

Dwight listened intently as he slowly began to open a can of soda. His eyes were opened so wide he had to force himself to blink. "Damn, these guys have balls!" He said, inhaling the soda and letting out a deep and guttural burp. Picking up the remote, he turned off the tv and got about his business. He packed his gear in the trunk of the SUV and headed to his room. It was a good-sized room with a king-size bed directly underneath a small window with rust dotted along the burglar bars. To the left of the bed was a massive white-painted closet with four sliding doors that folded. A black duffle bag lay beside the bed opened, with a sturdy laptop sticking out of the opening. He grabbed it and jumped onto the bed covering himself with the sheets. Dwight powered the computer on and began searching through a list of jobs on software that was more secure than any government—or at least that's what the guy who made it told him. His eyes darted from word to word as he tried to find a job more suitable for him. They were hit jobs on Mars in the city of Olympus, and some on the underground cities on the moon such as Armstrong City under the Sea Of Tranquility. They all paid well, but Dwight never liked to leave Earth, if he ever did, it was because he had to, and to his luck, he found a good one just a hop away. It was titled "Hit job," with a location leading to Berlin, Germany. Dwight messaged the guy who put out the job telling him he was on his way in a fortnight.

In the time Dwight scrolled through those jobs two hours had passed, and not a single notification popped up allowing him to know if he received payment. He picked up his phone and called the old fucker, but his number was no longer available. "What the fuck?!" He said as he called once more. He received the same answer. This was Dwight's third job and the thought of him being scammed, made his blood boil. "Shit!"

It was now 6:25 pm and outside already looked like it was midnight. Dwight had a flight tomorrow at 8:00 am and he was going to visit that Viper before he left. He placed his computer in the bag and as soon as he hit the pillow he fell asleep.

Dwight dreamt of a scene familiar to him as a child. He sat in the back seat of his father's car with his brother and sister on either side of him. His mother and father were in the front and their voices sounded muffled. Shadowy figures that looked like smoke approached the car with weapons, and their red glowing eyes illuminated the window as they approached. The shadowy figure raised a hand holding a handgun and pointed it at his father's window, signaling him to roll it down. His father did as was told. Dwight looked to his siblings who had looks of horror on their faces then looked back to their father and the shadowy figure with red eyes. He had the gun to their father's head. He pulled the trigger and squeezed he screamed but no sound emerged. The figure pulled the trigger but it didn't sound like the bang of a gun but the bang of a piece of wood or glass. Everything went black and Dwight continued to hear the same sounds. Bump! Thump!

He awoke and he could still hear the sound of thumping. Dwight raised his head to witness something that made his heart race. The blue light of the moon painted the shadow of the iron guard and of a male figure hitting the window on the door. Dwight's eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Slowly, he shuffled himself off the bed hoping the man did not see him. He didn't know what the glass was made out of but it held up quite well.

He grabbed the black duffle bag beside his bed and took out a vest and equipped a T5 plasma stinger SMG along with three magazine chargers. It was an all-black and compact bullpup smg.

The window finally broke. There was no way anyone was getting through that window and anything they threw would just bounce right off.

"What were they trying to do?" Dwight thought to himself as he shoved all three magazines into his pockets. Soon, his question was answered. A thin hose was inserted through the guards and a hissing sound followed after—they were trying to smoke him out. Dwight took a shirt from the closet and wrapped it tightly around his face. He didn't know what it was, but it became difficult to breathe. He looked around trying to find an exit but, "if they were trying to smoke him out, that meant someone was on the other side waiting," He thought to himself.

Dwight found the only way out of this hell and that was the closet. He ran to it and shut the folding doors hoping only a minimum amount of gas entered. Dwight took even more clothing and pushed it against his face. Soon after, he heard a loud bang and multiple footsteps entering the room. "Where is he?!" A deep voice, muffled by static asked. He silently heat the charge and now his weapon was chambered. He waited for them to search the closet; sure enough, they did. "Check that closet!" One of them ordered as their voice modulator glitched for a second.

Dwight shuffled over as quickly as he could to the right side. They opened the side where he once sat. "This section is clear!" A man said. One of their feet thumped the floor as they came to the section Dwight was at. He lifted his submachine gun and squeezed the trigger fanning his hand from left to right so not a single part of this room would be missed. The closet lit up with a bright violet light, and with the sharp sound of the weapon. Dwight switched to the first section of the closet while loading a second magazine. He did this knowing that some of them would be alive—and they were. The section Dwight was previously in was fired upon but he was out. He dashed from his position and fired upon the men with impunity who lay on the ground. Most of them were lifeless but one man sat upright injured with his rifle pointed at the closet. The man who Dwight noticed had his weapon still aimed at the closet ignorant of his presence. He finally noticed him and his eyes widened as he knew he was about to meet his end.

He raised both hands letting his rifle drop carelessly on the ground. "Don't do anything stupid," the man said with a New York accent. This piqued the interest of Dwight, who decided to satiate his curiosity. Dwight stepped closer, "Who sent you guys after me, hmm?" He asked, tightening his grip on the weapon. The man sat resolutely, not making a move. He contorted his nose and sniffled, with every action being illuminated by the blue lights in his opened helmet. " I could tell ya, but first you gotta lemme stand, aight, no funny business," the man, proposed. Dwight was reluctant but after a long exhale, he nodded for the man to rise.

Not once did Dwight blink, every single move the man made sent stabs of fear in his chest. "We're getting somewhere," the man said, not breaking eye contact with Dwight. "Now," Dwight said. "Tell me who sent you here, I won't ask-" before he could finish his sentence the man dashed toward him, and for being in such armor, he moved quickly. In his left hand was a blade that glowed red. Dwight lost his balance at the sudden charge of the man, but he still had his hand on the trigger.

He squeezed it and a flash of light emerged out of the muzzle and the man became limp. In total five expertly equipped men lay on the bedroom floor. \

Dwight's heart was still racing after that confrontation.

He had one magazine left. He ejected the wasted one and loaded in his last. Dwight crouched to pick up the modified Cobra assault rifle with an electronic sight, an angled foregrip, and a rectangular suppressor. He then looked at his uniform for any patches of attachment to any government agency. He found a patch but, he wasn't from any branch of the G.U.P. He was a mercenary, from the Red Serpent Company, and he had the gear to back it up. These were the most sought-after group due to their track record. A quick and lethal group that got the job done.

Dwight stepped over their bodies and made his way to the door. He peeked his head out and looked from right to left before exiting. He walked slowly with his weapon at the ready. He couldn't hear a peep, but he knew there were more of them. Taking light steps he walked down the stairs. It was pitch black, but the patio light brought some illumination to the dark room. The sound of heavy boots approached the front door. Their shadows were stretched and painted on the red carpet floor, and they whispered loudly, but incoherently. Dwight walked rapidly and he stood by the door and slowly, they opened it with a creak. When they enter, one of them was going to look this way and Dwight was going to be ready. Dwight saw the muzzle of the attacker's weapon pass the door and he knew this was an opportune moment. He stepped back and opened fire—the sharp cracks coming from the suppressed muzzle of the assault rifle made his ears feel clogged. The glass in the door violently shattered, and both of the men dropped to the floor; one grunting as he did so. Dwight walked up to them and made sure they were finished.

Taking a moment to pause, he stared at their shocked faces illuminated by the blue light in their open visors. A hint of sympathy washed over him, but he got back on track when the cold blood spreading on the floor touched his bare feet. He took up three magazines from the body closest to the doorway and he exited. Dwight had no time to put on shoes. If these men were professionals that means more were on their way. He got in the truck and shoved his key into the ignition. He pushed the shifter into drive and stomped on the gas. The engine growled as he made his way toward the gate. Increasing the speed, Dwight smashed through. The truck bounced and shook as he sped on the dirt path. Dwight's heart sank to his feet as his theory was correct. The floodlights of trucks approaching shone brightly making him squint. He Swerved off the path dodging the truck that tried to hit him. He got a good look at how many vehicles approached: One pickup and five black Chevrolets all occupied by armed men.

Through his rearview mirror, sand kicked up as the men whipped their vehicles around. He was startled at the thump of three bullets hitting his back window leaving three craters.

Their engines roared as they gradually caught up to him. He was approaching a hill that led to the main road. He struggled to stay in his seat as the truck bounced on the uneven road. A long drawn-out roar came from the engine as he began to traverse a hill leading to a main road. Dwight's truck got a couple of seconds of air as it jumped onto that road, landing violently and throwing the boxes in the back. The car that sped toward him braked hard with a screech. He pushed down the gas once more and turned the steering wheel to his right, violently straightening the vehicle.

The trucks emerged from the dirt path onto the road and immediately gave chase. He kept looking at the mirror hoping to see if he gained some distance, but they were right on his tail. He went for a second look but ducked, surprised at the sudden automatic fire that erupted. His back window was now peppered with craters.

He stretched over to his right seat and grabbed the Stinger. The pickup truck was gaining. A roar erupted to his right as the pickup was now at the right side of his vehicle with a total of five heavily armed men. To Dwight's surprise, they weren't as well equipped as the men who stormed his house, and he barely recognized they didn't speak English either. One of the men raised their AK-12 modified to shoot plasma rounds toward him. The man let off the first rounds followed by the others.

Dwight's heart pounded in his chest as the sounds of their bullets hitting his window made the hair at the back of his neck stand. At any moment that glass could break. Reluctantly, he swerved toward them. He could see nothing but bright lights. He braced himself for the moment the car would hit and when it did, it was violent. The glass facing his attackers shattered. Dwight pointed his smg toward them and opened fire. He tightened his grip as the recoil along with the road conditions threw off his aim. He managed to eliminate two of them and injure the rest.

He was approaching a sharp turn and lights illuminated the plants on the side of the road. Dwight furrowed his brow as the fate the pickup next to him was about to face would be devastating. He turned his wheel to the left and smoothly passed the corner. The same could not be said about the pickup truck. The long blare of a fusion-powered semi truck's airhorn was the warning. In a chaotic head-on, a metallic thump followed by crunching occurred. In a flash, the pickup was removed from his sight leaving only pieces of it bouncing on the road. That was one down, but there were five more to go. Before he could even figure out what to do next, one of the Chevys slammed right into the back of his SUV. Dwight picked up some speed, but it wasn't enough. We were now on a straight road with high hills to his left. More thumps were heard as the men opened fire on the already battered back window.

His heart was racing relentlessly, just thinking of all the things that might happen to him if he was to be captured. While in his thoughts, one of the chevy's engines revved and tried to pit him. He panicked tightly gripping the steering wheel trying to keep control of the vehicle. Dwight's smg was out of bullets leaving only the assault rifle.

'What am I going to do? Fuck!' Dwight said, while looking around to see where he could go, his sight lead him to an abandoned building in the hills. Dwight was approaching it rapidly but, if he wanted a chance to fight back he needed cover.

Dwight kept his eyes peeled for a dirt road leading up the hill to the building and sure enough, He found one. He dug his foot into the acceleration and lifted the handbrake while simultaneously, he whipped the steering wheel to the left, he felt the back tires lose traction just as the car began to turn. He turned the steering wheel in the opposite direction to straighten the car as he pushed down the handbrake and mashed the acceleration once more, his Suv speeding up the hill with a growl.

The vehicles behind him screeched and hit each other at Dwight's unexpected move. His car bounced and shook as he went up the rocky hill. Finally, he reached the building. The front area was filled with concrete tiles that had grass sprouting in between the groves.

In the distance, Dwight could hear the Chevys approaching. He took up the assault rifle and the three magazines in his seat. At the last moment, he remembered he had kept a knife in his glove box. Quickly, he took it out and shoved it into his pocket.

Dwight's heart continued to pound' as the trucks got even closer. He ran hard and fast to the entrance of the building, just as the men arrived. He was about to enter before he heard the whistle and whip as the bullet slammed into the building kicking up dust and barely missing him. In front were stairs. Quickly, he climbed them and found himself in a hallway that was dimly lit by the moonlight. It stretched and ended at a dark abyss that led to who knows where. He ran toward that abyss, for it was his only refuge against the hell illuminated by the moon's light.

The minutes felt like hours as Dwight quickly maneuvered through the abandoned building. He did this all while the sounds of men who were beginning to breach the building echoed throughout it. Dwight made his way down another dark hallway, and with every door he passed, he shook the lock hoping that it would be open. He reached another door but stumbled as his hands touched nothing. He dashed into the even darker room, which he soon realized was a bathroom.

Dwight rests his back against the wall of the bathroom not realizing that he was breathing rapidly. The relentless pounding of his heart made his hands shiver along with the adrenaline.

He chambered a round into the assault rifle and held it so the barrel was facing upward. Dwight took three quick breaths, and as he stopped the light sound of feet shuffling was heard. Then he heard their voices; Incoherent whispers of impending doom.

As he sat there with his rifle at the ready, he contemplated how he got himself into this situation. It made him chuckle, but he was snapped out of his daze as the sound of their feet got even closer. "We got a corner here," the man said, voice warped by his voice modulator. The lights of their weapons illuminated the bathroom door. It also showed Dwight that there was another hallway to run to. He slowly got up, when suddenly, a loud thump was heard; they were breaking down doors---this was his shot.

Dwight gripped his weapon, and without hesitation dashed for the second hallway.

"Contact!" One of the men said before opening fire. Dwight felt something hit his side but he was too busy to care what it was. "Target on the move!" Another man said, his voice echoing throughout the building. Dwight knew they were about to turn that corner, so reluctantly, he stopped and knelt before opening fire. His bullets hit the wall kicking up smoke and stopping the men in their tracks. He arose and backed away all the while laying down fire.

Through the corner of his left eye, he saw an open door next to two broken windows. He entered the room filled with old and rusted metal cabinets all lined up neatly with five cabinets in four rows. On the opposite side of the room was another door. The footsteps of the men from the previous engagement were slowly coming closer. Dwight fast-walked to the second door.

His heart skipped a beat, and he contemplated running away but, this was the only way out. The second door creaked and slowly gained speed as the weight of the person on the other side pushed it open. In a feat of expert reflex and strength, Dwight slapped the muzzle of his attacker downward. An audible gasp of intense fear emerged from the attacker's voice modulator. With quick speed and unfathomable strength, Dwight grabbed the man by his collar, and right arm and threw him overhead, slamming him into the concrete floor, and in the blink of an eye, he shoved his knife into the man's neck.

"What the hell?!" A voice called out. The multiple clatters of footsteps began to come toward him. He could not go forward, and he could not go back. So the only way was out. The thought of what they would do if they captured him made all fears of killing himself wash away. He tensed, his fingers ready to squeeze the trigger, those soldiers were almost here, but he could not push himself to do it.

He hid in between the cabinets and began to fire wildly at the first door and the second door. "Shit!" One of the attackers said, suddenly, and as a surprise to Dwight, a woman spoke, her voice raspy.

"You don't have to do this, Harper, just drop your weapon and come out!" She pleaded.

Dwight did not know how to respond, he did not want to die, but he did not want to give up himself either. Alas, he took too long to respond.

"Alright then, bring the pain!" The woman shouted.

Three loud metallic clatters entered the room, and before he could figure out what it was, three sharp bangs rang out, causing his ears to ring like a bell, his vision went black for a second before returning to him blurry.

The soldiers entered the room and cuffed Dwight's arms behind his back. He wanted to fight back, but all he saw was double, and his right side was in pain.

"Should've surrendered when you had the chance, Harper." She tapped the soldier closest to his face with the back of her hand, before giving him an order. "Light's out, then bag him." The man grunted with a nod, before striking him once, then twice, then Dwight blacked out."