Viper 1-1, on standby.

33: Returns

I pulled the helmet off my face, feeling my hair fizz up to the friction. "Well, Harry, I'm ready to be welcomed with fists and handguns." I said to him as we stood together in front of the main door.

Harry: "Yes John, you're in a bad position with GSG9 right now."

"Bloody hell." I muttered as we walked through the door. "I'll wait in the lounge." I told Harry. We walked away from each other, with me reaching the lounge without being spotted; but I still had that feeling that someone was watching me. I walked into the lounge, scanning the room for people. Once satisfied with my search, I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. As I'm searching through Netflix for Blackhawk down, a hand wrapped around my neck. Fuckin- Dammit! I ripped the hand off my neck, instinctively reaching for my knife. I turned around, facing a masked assailant, wearing a black lamb for a mask. I'd never met the man in person, but Echelon's data on Radioactive was enough to identify. The masked man; or at least the mask; was known by multiple names, Vasily Petrov, Peet Smirnov, Smith Peterson. I assumed all fake, due to the names being identified to an M.I.A Ranger, a dead pole, and a russian government official. The mask took the role of a twisted symbol, usually meaning an assassin. "Fuck you man!" He didn't bother to reply, and advanced towards me, grabbing out a knife and jumping the couch. The assassin jumped towards me, which I easily used to my advantage, grabbing his arm. I twisted it and forced the knife out of his hand, turning the tables. "Dumbass alert!" I mocked while I kicked him back. I ran towards the door, intending to get the fuck out. The masked man ran to the door, grabbing my leg as I shook him off. "Bastard!" I slashed the knife at his arm, narrowly missing as he juked away. Of fucking course man. I ran out the door before the assailant tried grabbing me again, which I used by putting him in a standing crucifix before slamming him to the ground and holding the knife to his neck. "Hey, I need a-!" My words were cut short as he grabbed my arm and stabbed at my vest. My vest managed to stop it decently, which I was grateful for 7th to the stab-proofing being a new addition to the armor. Thank God for fourth echelon! I instinctively tried stopping the knife, which hurt my gloves and tore them. The assailant punched me, pissing me a good amount. He took this time to try and stab my leg, which he most-likely assumed to be my weak-point. You fucker! I groaned in pain, feeling the pant legs fabric tear ever-so-slightly.

Kapkan: "Отвяжись!" Kapkan yelled, making the assassin flinch before he ran off, taking gunfire from small arms. I felt my pant leg with my hand, ready to feel blood, but didn't feel any liquid substance. I sighed in relief, glad I didn't have a large wound. The assailant had gotten off as far as I knew, and Kapkan began walking towards me. "Hello, Comrade Bryne. You are hurt?" I nodded no. "Good." He gave me his hand, which surprised me, but I took it anyway. He pulled me up to my feet, gesturing his head toward the mess hall. "You need to come see this." I followed him there, looking up towards the screen, which was broadcasting news. On the screen was the Lincoln Memorial, the Sydney Opera House, the Victoria and Albert Museum, the Pantheon, Cologne Cathedral, and Parliament Hill. They were all on fire or had a gaping crater where they were standing. I cupped my hands over my mouth, in shock of the events being played in my eyes. I watched as medical and fire moved into the buildings, attempting to save the survivors. They had bombed the damn world, and everyone knew. The masks had bombed the damn world.

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