[Location: The Mojave Desert, Sector 4]
[Perspective: SWORD Agent Foster]
"We are securing a classified perimeter," Foster hissed, keeping his voice low. "Nobody gets in, nobody takes a sample of that glass andnobody takes a picture."
"It was on the national news, Foster," Davis argued, shifting his weight. The gravel crunched loudly beneath his boots. "The whole world saw the hole. We're locking the barn door after the horse exploded."
"Keep your voice down," Foster snapped, lowering his thermals and glaring at the younger agent. "The Director says this was an act of sabotage. That means whoever hit this facility might send a cleanup crew to scrub their tracks. We hold the line until the extraction teams arrive at dawn."
"Sabotage," Davis scoffed quietly. "Right. Because terrorists usually evaporate three billion dollars of concrete without leaving a single trace of radiation."
"It doesn't matter what you think happened," Foster said, gripping his rifle tighter. "You get paid to stand behind this rock and shoot anyone who doesn't have a SWORD badge. Now shut up and scan the northern ridge."
The wind howled across the flat expanse of glass, creating a high whining whistle that set Foster's teeth on edge.
Suddenly, a low hum vibrated through the ground.
Foster raised a hand, clenching it into a fist.
He brought the thermal goggles back down over his eyes. Three solid heat signatures were cresting the dune to the west. They were walking upright, a tight tactical wedge, moving straight toward the edge of the crater.
"Three bogeys," Foster whispered into his comms unit. "Sector West. Weapons hot."
"I see them," Davis whispered, the distinctive clack of his safety disengaging sounding far too loud in the quiet desert.
The three figures stopped about fifty yards away. They were dressed in matte black tactical gear, indistinguishable from SWORD issue except for the complete lack of insignia.
The lead figure raised a hand, tapping a device on his wrist. A small beam of blue light shot out, scanning the fused glass of the crater edge.
Foster stood up slowly from behind the rock, bringing his rifle up to his shoulder.
"Halt!" Foster shouted, his voice echoing across the empty expanse. "You are trespassing on a classified federal site! Drop your equipment and put your hands in the air!"
The three figures didn't flinch. The lead figure turned off his wrist scanner and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Identify yourselves!" Foster yelled, taking two steps forward. Davis flanked him, his rifle shaking slightly.
"Relax, trigger," the lead figure called back. The voice was calm, dripping with a casual authority. "We're just taking some soil samples. Or, glass samples, given the current real estate situation."
"I said identify!" Foster bellowed.
The lead figure reached into his tactical vest.
"He's reaching!" Davis yelled, his voice cracking with panic.
"Hold your fire, Davis!" Foster ordered.
The man pulled out a metallic badge, tossing it onto the sand halfway between them. It glinted in the moonlight.
"Agent Keller," the man said. "S.A.B.E.R. Strategic Aerospace Bilateral Espionage and Response. We're here under the direct authority of Director Fury to assess the unauthorized detonation of a restricted energy core."
Foster hesitated. S.A.B.E.R. The space cops.
"This is SWORD jurisdiction, Keller," Foster called out, keeping his rifle raised. "You need to turn around and walk back to whatever stealth transport dropped you here."
Keller let out a humorless laugh. He took a step forward.
"I have orders," Foster said, his finger resting heavily on the trigger guard. "You do not cross this line."
"I'm crossing it," Keller said, taking another step. "And you're going to put that plastic toy down before you hurt yourself."
"Step back!" Davis screamed, his rifle panning erratically between Keller and the two agents flanking him. "I mean it!"
"Davis, calm down," Foster hissed, realizing the rookie was hyperventilating.
"He's advancing, Foster!" Davis yelled.
"Kid," Keller said, his voice dropping to a steady calm. "Drop the weapon. We have legal authority to be here."
Keller took one more step, reaching out to push the barrel of Davis's rifle away.
Davis panicked.
His finger jerked.
The crack of the gunshot was deafening, a violent crack of thunder that shattered the silence of the desert. The muzzle flash illuminated Davis's terrified face for a fraction of a second.
The bullet struck the S.A.B.E.R. agent standing to Keller's left. It hit him square in the gap between his tactical vest and his collarbone.
The agent let out a choked gasp, his knees buckling instantly as he collapsed onto the sand, a dark pool spreading rapidly around him.
"Officer down!" Keller roared.
All hell broke loose.
Foster didn't even have time to aim. Before he could pull his trigger, a blinding flash of light erupted from Keller's weapon… a non lethal concussive blast.
The shockwave hit Foster in the chest, lifting him off his feet and throwing him backward into the sandstone rock. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs, his vision going white with pain.
Through the ringing in his ears, he heard the sounds of a swift takedown.
The crunch of bone.
A sharp cry of pain from Davis.
The clatter of a rifle hitting the glass.
Foster tried to push himself up, gasping for air, but a heavy combat boot slammed down onto the center of his chest, pinning him to the dirt.
He blinked, his vision clearing. Keller was standing over him, an energy pistol leveled directly at his forehead.
"Secure the perimeter," Keller barked over his shoulder to his remaining agent, who was currently kneeling beside the bleeding S.A.B.E.R. operative. "Status on Jenkins?"
"He's dead, sir," the agent replied, his voice tight. "Arterial hit."
Keller looked down at Foster. The S.A.B.E.R. agent's eyes were cold, devoid of any mercy.
"You idiots," Keller whispered, pressing the barrel of the pistol harder against Foster's skull.
"It was an accident," Foster wheezed, tasting copper in his mouth. "The kid... he just panicked."
"Zip tie them," Keller ordered, ignoring the plea. "Call the transport. Tell Fury we have confirmation. SWORD is firing on federal agents."
Rough hands grabbed Foster's arms, hauling him up and wrenching his wrists behind his back.
The sharp bite of plastic zip ties dug into his skin. He looked over to see Davis on his knees, sobbing, a nasty bruise swelling on his cheekbone.
PS: Here we go, the bonus chapter is here. Come on guys, we just need 86 more Power Stones for the next one, haha.