Missions
Serial 1: Prologue
Season 1: A Fall of Hammers
"Half of everything is luck." -- Alec Trevelyan
"And the other half?" -- James Bond
"Fate." -- Alec Trevelyan
-- GoldenEye
- Date: January 12, 2007
- Country: Islamic Republic of Iran
- Location: Darak Nuclear Research Facility
- Music: A subdued opening track from James Bond, with the signature theme slowly building.
- Resources: Forum Link | Mission Index
The smoldering imploded crater comprising the remains of Iran's premiere nuclear weapons facility lay behind him, as did the bodies of five of the best Army Rangers he'd ever served with.
But the past did not concern Michael Leone. What lay ahead did. Somewhere, out behind the rocks, brush and sand of the Iranian high desert lay a terrorist asshole with enough plutonium to level a small city. A small American city. He had to kill him before the bastard could reach his extraction point. Before he could make it back to whatever Nazi rock he'd crawled out from under. He continued scanning the landscape before him, his radiation-hardened night vision goggles transforming the landscape into bright whites and greens.
There. Just beyond that dune. Movement. Tme to act. Time to kill. Time to save the world ... again. Leone -- codenamed "Ranger" -- peaked over his dune, sneaking a glance at his enemy. "That's it... just give me something, you sh..." he mumbled to himself, and then snapped off two rounds at the target. The first shot startled his enemy badly, while the second one struck home, sending an explosion of blood erupting from the back of the terrorist's shoulder.
The scum behind the opposing dune cursed in a gutteral voice Leone couldn't quite catch. The brief case he'd been carrying in his left hand fell to the ground as he stumbled from the dibilitating shot, then raised his right arm and fired off a single bullet of his own. The shot whizzed past Ranger's ear, causing him to flinch -- but only barely. The terrorist then dropped to the ground behind the down, seeking out what added protection it could provide.
Seeing this Ranger again mumbled something to himself, then moved out from behind his own dune, looking to come up around his enemy's flank. The expert marksman rounded the dune carefully, looking to take a shot as soon as it presented itself. And then he saw it.
The neo-Nazi bastard was leaning against the done, looking decidedly pale and sickly. The reason why was clear from the blackish pool of blood about 3 feet from he's current location. He'd been hit bad, and apparently crawled to his present location against the dune. He was obviously expecting Ranger to round the corner, and hoped to get off a killing shot of his own.
He guessed the American would come around the dune's eastern corner. He guessed wrong.
Ranger raised his gun lightening fast, and by the time the terrorist managed to catch a glimpse of him, he was already beaten. A single shot range out clear and true, and the enemy collapsed against the dune, a new hole in his chest spilling even more of his life's blood out onto the sand.
Standing upright on the sand a few feet from him was a black briefcase, somewhat dented but apparently intact.
The enemy down, Ranger approached the body slowly. He quickly knelt down, checking the body for a pulse. As he did so, the terrorist's eyes flickered open. He scowled at the man who'd killed him, and then gasped "the fuhrer ... will return!" A final cascade of blood ran from the man's mouth, and a second check of the neck of his vein confirmed his death.
After a quick scan of the area revealed no other hostiles, Ranger turned his attention to the briefcase. It was painted pitch black, but dents and scratchhes along its bottom revealed its original silvered skin. He flicked out the Geiger counter he'd been carrying, scanning the package for leaks. He mumbled lowly as the counter barely ticked higher. The plutonium was secure.
He turned on his tactical radio, and then started scanning the sky. "Endzone, this is Quarterback. The team is down, but I have the ball. Request immediate evac."
The message sent, he turned to the job of finding his fallen comrades. As he did so, the fires consuming the Iranian facility flared ever higher, creating a funeral pyre that would consume all trace of what had happened that night.