Husk

Chapter 1

Time - 2:40 am

Location - Classified

His cold, brown eyes scanned the storage room below him, taking in every detail he could in case something went wrong.

The room is approximately 12 by 15 metres. Crate stacks are placed in a grid formation, and will provide appropriate cover. Two steel doors at opposite ends of the room. No windows, no surveillance cameras. Floor is concrete; additional care is required to stay silent.

There was no sound as he crept along the steel strut, knees bent in a crouch to minimise the chance of being seen. The strut was above the room and below the roof, acting as a support beam for the structure. Husk used this to his advantage, as it gave him a bird's-eye view of the area.

Husk was certainly a sight to behold. Black combat gear donned his figure, making some parts of his body appear bulkier than what they really were. His boots were steel-tipped, and the legs attached were inside long black pants, many Velcro pockets lining the sides. Special gloves gave him free movement of the fingers, whilst keeping the skin protected. A belt hugged Husk's waist, where more pockets and a pistol and its holster were located. Tucked into the belt was the bottom of a military grade black stealth coat. The back looked quite plain, but the front was a much different story.

The zip was covered by a fold material to cover any reflection, and in addition to even more pockets was the casing for a very large, curved knife; the handle sticking out was a hard black plastic. It was his favourite weapon by far, and he never went without it. The collar of the coat went halfway up his neck, where the difference between fabric and flesh were indistinguishable. Black paint heavily coated his skin; the neck was a solid black, yet his face was merely striped with jagged vertical lines contrasted the pale skin beneath. His hair was trapped under a black beanie, where a pair of night vision goggles sat, green glass pointing skyward.

He moved with trained precision, each step was cautious yet confident. Dim lamps hung below him from holes drilled into the side of the strut at regular intervals, illuminating the room in a weak glow. As he reached the other side of the beam, the new vantage point showed him what he missed before.

Three patrol personnel, armed but unaware of my presence. I'll take them down one by one when they're out of sight from each other.

Husk slunk across the strut once more above a stack of crates. He grasped the edge of the beam and swung his body under, hanging above the crates. He dropped down soundlessly, the wood of the crate not even creaking under him. He peered over the wooden box, 4 metres above the ground, and above the enemies that lurked beneath him. He watched with silent amusement as one casually passed right below him, oblivious to his existence.

Once the guard turned the corner of the stack he was on, moving out of sight of the other two soldiers, Husk leapt down and landed right behind him. Faster than the eye could see, he thrust his arms out a grabbed the enemy's head, twisting hard. The lifeless body fell to the floor, but Husk caught it and softened the impact, nothing but the faint clinking of the weapon being placed on the floor was heard.

Husk straightened and listened out for any cries of alarm, but none were made. Carefully edging against the crates and peeking around the corner, he saw them. The other two patrols were talking a few metres away from him, a seemingly calm conversation.

It won't be long until they realise their friend is gone. He thought.

Husk patiently waited for one to start walking away. When nothing happened, he cursed silently.

Damn.

A new approach to the situation was needed.

He looked across from where he stood. The next stack of crates lay 2 metres away from him. If he were to cross it, he risked being spotted. Instead, he studied the men again, and a decision was made.

Husk pulled his pistol out of his tactical belt and screwed a silencer onto the barrel.

He pressed his back against the wooden crate and took a few deep breaths, preparing for his next action. Spinning from his hiding place and facing the foes, he aimed and pulled the trigger.