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| Xeogaming Forums - Story Realm - Soldier of Fortune: Arizona |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie!          Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 933 days Last activity: 933 days |
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Figured I start a series.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. I sat at the computer watching Brandon scroll through the credits from a chinese film, expertly reading the Chinese with perfect inflection and tone, astonished that a person with a lack of the ability to speak the language could actually pull off faking it. He stopped as soon as his girlfriend, Christine, walked into the room. When she left for the upstairs bathroom, he turned to me. "I didn't want to tell you this," he started as he moved closer to me, "but I'm your agent." The news did not come as a shock to me, but I really thought it was Steve--a former coworker from the Transportation Security Administration--not this metal rocker pudgy man that was the beloved of my best friend. "What? No, you're not. Very funny though," I said not turning away from the AOL IM window I had open while holding a conversation with some random guy across the continent. With the whole Iraq mission behind me years ago, the thought of doing anything at all remotely resembling those days had long left my active memory banks. Everything since then had been a mediocre assignment here and a chat monitoring session there. "No," he leaned over me glancing behind him to make sure Christine wasn't eavesdropping, "Agent X3PH1R, I am your assigned tracking agent, and I have another assignment for you." God dammit! I go out with this person and entrusted my entire secrecy to him, and I found out he's my new agent? "Sure, what's up?" He removed an envelope from his jeans pocket and placed it on the desk next to me. The white envelope, emblazoned with the Southwest Airlines logo in the left hand corner, rested lightly over my hands at the keyboard. I opened the envelope; inside, a fabricated letter complete with a Southwest Airlines watermark announcing their acceptance of myself to an information session for a flight attendant position with their illustrious airline. "What's this?" I said holding up the letter while turning to face him. His dilated hazel eyes gleaming in the artificial light emitted from the TV turning his attention away to hand me my cell phone. "Make the reservation, you're headed to Arizona. But, not for an interview. No, you'll meet your follow-up briefing agents there, and we'll give you your full objective there." "Since when did you become a full agent for the NSA?" I asked dialing the reservation number. "Not NSA, Agent, but CIA. You are high profile material, Lee, and we all need to watch over you." "You got my dream job before I did?" I screamed out, but quickly lowered my tone of voice, "Why?" He moved to the doorway listening as Christine finished her shower, "No word of any of this to Christine, and you leave on the 26th of April. I suggest you make vehicle and hotel arrangements. We'll cover the flight." He sat down on the bed and resumed his TV watching while I resumed my instant messaging, a new assignment on the horizon and yet another agent with which to deal. And, this agent I actually tolerated and liked. Christine popped back into the room, freshly showered, and ushered us out towards the car. We had a premiere to get to in Hollywood, and I had a hotel and car to book upon my return that night. The days of long ago started flooding back, and I hoped the new assignment would not be as fun as the last one overseas. (Last edited by Zabuza on 11-09-07 09:45 PM) |
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Spartan Metal battleaxe Is back. Kind of. Since: 11-15-04 Since last post: 88 days Last activity: 77 days |
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| MUST HAVE MORE!!!!!!
Please. |
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WhiteRose Warrior Sailor Delerium Have you ever spent days and days and days making up flavors of ice cream that no ones ever eaten before? Like chicken and telephone ice cream?...Green mouse ice cream was the worst.  Since: 08-17-04 From: The Dreaming Since last post: 4451 days Last activity: 5155 days |
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| Wow! Spiffy! I want to know what happened next! I like it because I know everyone in the story as well as the intrguing plotline. | |||
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 933 days Last activity: 933 days |
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| Upon return from the Hollywood trip, Brandon pulled me aside as Christine ducked into the house and handed me my tickets for my Southwest Airlines flight set for two o'clock the next day. "One carryon, and your Toughbook. Nothing more, nothing less."
The next day, I arrived at the airport offsite parking area and boarded the shuttle into the airport. I reluctantly entered the terminal, breezed through both check-in and security, and was on my way to a standby seat on the flight. Half an hour later, I sat leaning into the windows at the rear of the plane staring at the luggage loaders as they tossed boxes clearly marked fragile onto the conveyor belt. My backpack, sitting in the overhead compartment, contained nothing more than my clothes and GPS accessories. My laptop, resting in underseat storage, contained nothing more than its accessories and $120 dollars in cash along with my identification documents. No more weapons on this trip, just the digital realm of weaponry--the laptop--and a good book for my one hour flight to the sprawling land of brown; Arizona. I had secured a brand new Silver Kia Rio from the Enterprise Rent-A-Car near the airport along with a two-night stay at the airport close Red Roof Inn Phoenix Airport just off the 10 freeway placing me just minutes from my target locations. Rendezvous agent at the airport gave me my mission details on a CD-ROM, and instructed that I view them only upon arrival to the hotel. After much complaining about the lack of power in the new vehicle, including the decrease in the coolness factor, and the lack of wireless access from the Red Roof Inn, my agent decided I could be silenced with a gift certificate to the Carl's Jr up the street towards the 10 freeway. He was right, and after consuming my much needed meal, I set forth on the freeway until I arrived--a few hours later--at my hotel greeted by an extremely friendly concierge eager to help me despite my uneasiness with Arizona traffic. Ushered into my room with the urge to fall asleep on one of the two beds, I shed the computer's case and plopped myself down at the table preparing the laptop for a quick study session of the data on the CD. Much like London and Iraq years before, the disc exploded onscreen with full-motion video narrating my mission objectives for the following two days. In the morning, I was to leave, dressed in the "G-man" suit consisting of black slack, black shoes and socks, black leather belt, pressed white shirt, black silk tie, black sunglasses, and the black trenchcoat, and proceed to the first address on my list of activities where I'd meet my next informant. Entranced by the activities built into my TV, and the basic cable channels, I settled into the bed nearest the door and played Nintendo 64 for about an hour before deciding on just watching television until I nodded off to sleep in my warm, humid, pitch dark room. |
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Spartan Metal battleaxe Is back. Kind of. Since: 11-15-04 Since last post: 88 days Last activity: 77 days |
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| Lack of wirelessness those bastards...
Get some wireless in you hotel. This is great so far... |
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable  Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 99 days Last activity: 99 days |
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| Well, I replied to this before, but it seems that it didn't show up. Anywho, I am intrigued to know what they have in store for you this time.
Now I am hungry. |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 933 days Last activity: 933 days |
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| The next morning came as a surprise before I realized I wasn’t laying in my own bed mangled in foreign sheets in the small double occupancy room somewhere outside of Phoenix. My cell phone started ringing from somewhere within the room. I searched through the pockets in my backpack locating the phone towards the bottom of the last pocket.
“The Hobbit” appeared on the caller ID. “Do I have to do the ‘Agent Almodovar’ thing with you, too?” I answered unaware of whom might be on the other end of the call. Balancing the small Motorola cell phone on my shoulder, I paced around the room in a t-shirt and underwear walking towards the window to draw the curtains allowing some of the morning sunlight to filter through the clean room. I pulled a pair of black slacks from my backpack and walked towards the bathroom. “No, you don’t have to answer the phone that way this time around. Although, you will refer to me as Agent Demaria. Are you progressing alright?” Sounds of a computer keyboard could be heard in the background. After putting on the slacks, I walked over to my backpack to retrieve my shirt and tie. “Progressing? Yes, I’m progressing along quite nicely,” I mocked, “Would you like me to give you status on my pants as well?” “Very funny, Lee. No, just do what you’ve been instructed to do on the CD, and I’ll check in with you later on today.” “Just one more question; are you sure that I won’t be needing any form of protection while I’m here?” There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Not unless you plan on picking up any one-night boyfriends near the university.” Ha ha, funny, I thought, “Wait, I remember you now. You were the technician that took my hard drive upon completion of the Iraq mission? Damn you,” and I hung up on him. After fully dressing myself in the “G-man” suit, I walked out to the KIA and proceeded to connect the necessary peripherals to the computer to aid the GPS software in directing me to the areas I needed to be at. (Last edited by Zabuza on 05-07-05 05:49 PM) |
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WhiteRose Warrior Sailor Delerium Have you ever spent days and days and days making up flavors of ice cream that no ones ever eaten before? Like chicken and telephone ice cream?...Green mouse ice cream was the worst. Since: 08-17-04 From: The Dreaming Since last post: 4451 days Last activity: 5155 days |
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| ...MORE! Must read more. I'm realy enjoy this story. Humor, intrguie (sp?), people I know. Can't wait to see where this leads. | |||
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Spartan Metal battleaxe Is back. Kind of. Since: 11-15-04 Since last post: 88 days Last activity: 77 days |
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| Very Nice...Hmmmmmmmmmm...
Hobbit Eh. |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 933 days Last activity: 933 days |
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| The drive to the business park three miles south of Sky Harbor International Airport proved that Arizonian drivers lacked the conviction to survive against, or with, California drivers. It also proved that despite my free food, the KIA still lacked the power to move me let alone itself along the 10 freeway; I was forced to take surface streets in order to avoid causing unneeded delays to traffic flow. At least the air conditioning worked.
My phone started ringing again, this time displaying a caller ID tag I never thought I would see again, "GOVERNMENT 1". "Agent, I trust you're on schedule this time," the familiar raspy, fake British voice of my London agent filtered through the cellular airwaves of my phone, "since we're not directly monitoring you." "Took you long enough to find me. How did you like my exit?" I tried balancing my phone on my shoulder, but failed in keeping it there allowing the phone to fall between my legs, then allowed it to slide onto the floor and wedge itselt shut underneath my driver's seat. With the phone deciding that it wanted to end the call, I continued to the office park locating the warehouse across the street from the Southwest Airlines headquarters. The phone began to ring again from below my seat, but as I was unable to reach it, I resolved to park the car underneath a large shady tree. The phone continued to play the theme from James Bond while I walked around to the trunk to retrieve my trenchcoat, and then walked around to the passenger side to place the Toughbook 27 on hibernation. The phone stopped ringing for a moment then started again, this time playing the guitar solo from the Bohemian Rhapsody. I dove across the seats wedging myself slightly between the steering column and front seat, my legs dangling out of the passenger side door. "Moshi moshi?" I answered trying to sit up from my constricted position. "Brandon asked me to call you," Christine chimed in on the other end, "to find out how you're doing there, and if you need any help. Oh, and I coaxed it out of him last night, rather, tickled it out of him." "Tickled what?" I sat up in the passenger seat adjusting my tie in the reflection of the passenger mirror. As I adjusted, a desert camouflaged Hummer drove by on the street behind me immediately shuttling me back to the last few days in Iraq. The destruction of the prototype XM8 rifle, the intense heat and dryness of the desert, the final drive out of Baghdad, and the great award of the Panasonic Toughbook 27 upon my return of the Toughbook 38. The Toughbook that shall be forever known as "The Brick" because of its armored eight pounds of Pentium III fury. "Lee!" she yelled as I snapped back into reality after zoning out for a whole minute of silence, "I know he's your agent. It makes him sexier in an odd stalker kind of way, but he's your stalker...kind of." "Yeah, well, let him know that everything is going as planned, and I'll check in with him tonight." I killed the phone, dropped it in my trenchcoat pocket, locked the vehicle, and walked towards the empty, imposing warehouse. A Southwest Airlines 737 roared overhead interrupting my thoughtless humming while I slowly paced towards the warehouse main entrance. The air smelled sweetly of jet fumes from the nearby airport, and the building ignited flashbacks of the crumbling compound in Iraq moments before I destroyed the compound. I stopped walking just short of reaching the door, and took a deep breath. My eyes started hurting, my chest felt constricted, and my heart began to race. Sweat started to bead on my forehead, but it wasn't the hot mid-morning sun causing it. My vision began to blur; I dialed my London agent. "I'm not ready," my voice shook as I struggled to verbalize my body's reactions to the surroundings, "the memories are still there." I began to lose my balance as I talked and stumbled wheezingly towards the wall nearest the door; I could hear my informants moving around inside the warehouse. "Where's the young man that killed all those people in London and Iraq? Where's the talented hacker that granted himself a permanent secret agent position with us? This isn't the man that tried to electrocute me in Iraq." I could hear him take a drag on his cigarette with sounds of a helicopter rotor thumping in the background. The phone beeped a second incoming call from the Hobbit. "Give me a sec," I clicked over to the other line, "I'm not doing it. I'm turning around and getting back into that car and I'm driving back to the hotel. Then I'm getting back on that plane, no matter what, and I'm heading home." "Turn around, Agent." Behind me stood the Hobbit, clad in his trademark black Metallica shirt and black jeans, resting up against my rental with a Phoenix police car sitting right behind it. I closed my flip phone, and dropped it into my pocket. "You'll sour the deal with the po-po here." "And you'll sour the deal if you don't get those thoughts out of your head," he said motioning to the police officers to depart the scene, "whether you like it or not, you're government property and we need you to operate under any and all conditions, including flashbacks." I turned my back to him, "Fine, but you owe me." He settled himself into my passenger side and watched as I walked up to the door. Three knocks, then pause, then the code on the door, I thought nearing the door. I closed my fist and pounded the door three times, waiting a few seconds, then entered the unlock code on the keypad next to the door, and waited for them to retrieve me. The door opened and a short, thin man donning thick black rimmed glasses stood in front of me. He held out his hands, motioning for me to step inside. I glanced over his shoulder into the darkened room watching three shadows move about the otherwise empty room. I took another deep breath, and stepped inside fully unarmed and resting my entire life on the man sitting in my rental car outside. (Last edited by Zabuza on 05-03-05 02:59 AM) |
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Zoso Goomba  Since: 08-17-04 From: Long Beach, CA Since last post: 6112 days Last activity: 4943 days |
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| [drivethruspeaker]...and then?
And Then? And THEN? AND THEN!!!!!!!!?[/drivethruspeaker] |
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 99 days Last activity: 99 days |
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| My gods, the Hobbit posted!
Anywho, I second his post... MORE DAMN YOU!! |
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 933 days Last activity: 933 days |
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| I've changed a few paragraphs in the beginning and have reflected thus since I've finished writing Soldier of Fortune, and it has to tie in to this one.
I've highlighted the changes to the beginning in bold. (Last edited by Zabuza on 05-07-05 05:49 PM) |
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Spartan Metal battleaxe Is back. Kind of. Since: 11-15-04 Since last post: 88 days Last activity: 77 days |
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| Hmmmmmm...I cant wait for your next update Zabusa... | |||
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 99 days Last activity: 99 days |
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| Well, now that SoF is done, I am looking foward to this one. Excellent short stories Zabuza. | |||
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 933 days Last activity: 933 days |
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| I don't know, at over 19K words, does it still count as a short story? | |||
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 99 days Last activity: 99 days |
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| It's the number of pages that determine it actually. Need to check one what makes a short story. | |||
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Stitch Roy Koopa Holy crap, it is the RoboCoonie! Since: 08-20-04 From: California Since last post: 933 days Last activity: 933 days |
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| My eyes refocused under the dim light revealing a familiar face inside the warehouse. My former Starbucks agent. The door closed firmly behind me, and the thick-rimmed glasses man standing behind me, I walked up to my former tracking agent.
He stood, dressed in dark black suit, removing a wire detector from his pocket and waved it around my body. "He's clean," he started, "so, we meet again, Agent X3PH1R. How was Iraq?" I walked passed him to a stack of envelopes sitting at the table behind him. He followed me, placing his hand upon the envelopes. "I asked you a question agent." "I know, I heard you. I chose not to answer," I removed his gloved hand from atop the envelopes and placed the envelopes inside my trenchcoat, "I prefer not to speak to people whom repeatedly try to kill me. I'm sorry for your forced separation." I turned to walk away, but he stepped in front of me, "This isn't the last you'll see of me, agent. Give my best to Agent Demaria." I shoved him aside and walked towards the door. As the doors unlocked, I turned to my former tracking agent, "I shall be looking forward to our meeting in the future, and this time, I shall be the only one walking away." He smirked, "I thought you renounced killing anyone ever again, agent?" "I had, but you're not a person to me anymore," I stepped back outside, "good day." Brandon stepped out of my rental car, and held out his hand waiting for the envelopes. I walked up to him handing over the envelopes, and then we boarded my vehicle and headed back towards my hotel. "Had fun?" he asked never releasing his gaze from the freeway ahead. The six yellow envelopes sat in his lap, his hands resting over them. A small, clear earpiece left the back of his shirt and trailed into his ear. Faint sounds of radio transmissions cut through the silence in the car. I sat watching traffic move gracefully around me reading the exit signs as we drove. "My Starbucks agent was there." His eyes widened, but he didn't move. He sat there, and then opened the first envelope sitting in his lap. He removed fourteen 8 x 10 photographs--mostly aerial shots of the lands south of Phoenix--and placed them face down on the backseat of the car. "Next time you see him..." he began, but I interrupted him, "I terminate him." He merely nodded as he lifted his arm to point out the Broadway exit before I missed it. We arrived at my hotel, where a Phoenix squad car had been waiting for him in the parking lot. He exited the vehicle with the remaining five envelopes, and then leaned into the open window, "Memorize those photographs, and destroy them. I'll brief you again tonight via e-mail. Christine and I have things to do tonight." I nodded and parked the car, picked up the photos, and returned to my room. After securing the photos under my laptop, I walked towards the ice machine just left of the main lobby. The concierge stopped me to inquire on my "interview". "Huh? Oh yeah, the interview," I hesitated while holding my ice bucket and still dressed in my "G-man" suit, "it...it went well, I think." She brightened up, "So, you think you'll get the job?" I shifted from one foot to the other trying to inch towards the ice machine. "Yeah I do, give me a sec," then I scurried off to the ice machine for much needed ice. I stood in front of the machine watching the ice flood into the bucket when I noticed a small shiny object embedded in the carpet on the floor. It was a component to a micro-tap device. I picked up and ice cube and dropped it on the component before picking up my bucket and making my attempt across the lobby back towards my room. The concierge was busy with another guest, so I slinked effortlessly into my room. |
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 99 days Last activity: 99 days |
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| So why was there a micro-tap device? We shall see I hope.
See, I am a good filler kitty... Spartan's losing his touch.  |
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Spartan Metal battleaxe Is back. Kind of. Since: 11-15-04 Since last post: 88 days Last activity: 77 days |
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| OK...Whos testicles do i need to cut off for more of this story... |
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| Xeogaming Forums - Story Realm - Soldier of Fortune: Arizona |
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