Vicious World - The Fist and the Eagle

Chapter 3

        Danger and I look toward the lights of York City from our nest, sun just starting to rise. We’d always wondered what was in northern York City, and now we now. New Russia, the main base for the Russia’s occupying forces in America. In the tallest building in all of York city sits the President, Yuri Malchov, the man we’ve been ordered to assassinate.

        “Are we gonna do this, Danger?” I ask after taking a sip of flat Coke.

        “Well, if we have a choice in it,” he says as he takes out his knife and begins polishing it, “I say we kill the bastard.”

        I maintain a serious expression, “You know this is probably going to be a suicide mission, right?”

        “I think I have plenty of lives to spare,” he says, chuckling as he sheathes his knife.

        “You guys ready to head out?” we hear Trip yell from the barracks door.

        “Yeah, Trip!” we both yell. We climb down from the nest and make our way to the barracks, passing wounded citizens and a few lethargic guards puffing on cigars.

        Trip claps Danger and I on the shoulder and smiles, “Alright, I need you guys to head to Redton.”

        Danger looks at Trip, confused, “So wait. We’re not going to York City yet?”

        “How are you supposed to get in without some official identification, Danger?” says Trip, raising an eyebrow.

        “I kind of just figured we’d shoot our way through the gate.”

        “And get yourselves on Russia’s bad side? No. We need you guys to make friends with them.”

        I shake my head, “What? I thought we were going to kill their President?” I ask.

        “In due time, yes,” says Trip, clapping his hands together, “Now. There is a man in Redton, same man that helped us get your armor and guns, who took the two dogtags off the Russian soldiers. He’s refurbished them a bit and disabled the death indication, effectively convincing New Russia that they have nothing to worry about. You guys need to pick them up.”

        “So we’re going all the way to Redton to pick up a couple pieces of metal?” Danger asks, “These would make this so much easier,” he says, lifting up his shotgun and nodding at my sniper rifle.

        “Believe me, the trip to Redton is well-needed. A few Fists have dropped caches of medical supplies throughout Dread Park. You’ll need those supplies if you’re going to rip out the heart of New Russia.”

        “With all due respect, it’s called Dread Park for a reason,” I inquire. And it is, too. It was once known as Prospect Park, but it’s now filled with mutated zoo animals from Prospect Zoo, so the place is naturally dreadful.

        “We could argue this all day,” says Trip, throwing his hands up, “But the fact is, we need you to do this. We’ve put a lot of time and effort into planning this. We know what you have to do.”

        Danger and I look at each other and nod, “Alright, can you tell us the locations of the caches?” I ask.

        “Way ahead of you,” he says as he waves a sheet of paper in front of my face, “Oh, and you’ll want these.” He tosses us decals depicting the Russian insignia, “The reasons should be obvious.”