Short Story: Hunting in Alexandria
2014-12-04 04:34 Zulu time
The German could hear the private jet above her accelerate while she was falling down towards the ground. The ground was the brightly lid city of Alexandria and her HUD provided her with all the information she needed. From the CCTV footage at her targets location over the thermal feed of the modified global hawk in the air to detailed telemetric of her jump. The only sound he heard was her own breathing.
Her view was magnificent and with a sad smile the agent took a picture with the camera recording her whole mission.
“Voice to tweet interface | DM Kyle | add pic | okay | Alexandria is beautiful at night. Reminds me of when you took me scuba diving. I miss you. Have fun with her.”
Rovena felt tears filling her eyes again and the sting in her hear made her cringe a little, putting her approach vector a little off. “Fuck” Warnings sparked. ‘correct approach by 2 degree east. heart rate critical.’
“Abort tweeting. Abort.”
She sighted. These feelings for him would kill her one day. Squeezing the tears out of her eyes she cleared her vision again and corrected her approach.
The roofs came closer fast. She prepared to open the HALO chute and for the heavy pull it would have. Rovena reached the opening high … and passed it not opening yet. What if she would just not open, just keep falling and splat on the roofs. All the pain would be gone. Tempting. So Tempting. But they would pay the price. They would get all the pain.
Rovena pulled the line and the chute pulled painful on her when it opened and slowed her down. Her approach vector was still good, the adaptive software running in her HUD used to her opening risky low above ground. Still her impact on the flat roof of the small villa her target owned was hard. Painful. But the sting brought her back to the hear and now. Woke up the special agent again.
Within seconds the chute was packed up again and Rovena double checked the CCTV footage. Like predicted she was not on any of them, she had done a good job. The German pulled up the profile of her target as a reference. Rabiah Sekani. The lean Egyptian man in his 40s had a reputation as recruiter for the Atenist cult. The CoV listed him as a low priority, low danger person of interest. Given how overwhelmed the organization was, they probably would never devote resources to him.
“Fuck them. Low danger? This bastard recruited half the people that lead the ambush on the Maryan convoy three days ago.”
Suddenly the lights went on and voices could be heard inside. “Fuck.”
Rovena drew both silenced pistols and kicked in the door that lead to the rooftop. Then it all happened quickly, the five men were still grabbing their AK47 rifles.
Pff Pff Pff
Blood and brains splattered against the walls. Three dropped to the ground, leaving their friends in shock. They looked at the German’s masked face, saw those blue eyes shining behind the ballistic glasses of the HUD and felt the cold the woman was radiating.
Pff Pff
Then they dropped as well.
Rovena proceeded her way into the house, sweeping through all rooms until she heard the ritualistic singing. Alarmed she moved on and kicked in the last door, wooden splinters spraying the room.
In a improvised ritual circle sat her target, reciting prayers from an ancient book but judging from his voice he did this probably was his first time.
And his last. “I’m sick trying.” was all the German said when she put a bullet to his head.
Now the real work began but about another hour later everything was set up to look like a accident. Gas explosions are a tragedy and after she smashed the skulls and got all her bullets from the walls there would not be enough evidence to suggest anything else, even if the overworked CSI team would do wonders.
Only seconds before the actual explosion Rovena vanished in the golden glow of the conduit.