Project Blackwater: File Ø
Resident Riptide: Chapter 2
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Scott Chambers crept stealthily through the trees until he was within ten yards of the entrance to the mine. The previous flurry of activity had ceased. Now, only a pair of troopers guarded the cave mouth. He was close enough to eavesdrop on their tense conversation.
“You heard what they said, right?”
“No. What did they say?”
“They said the truck was clean. Too clean…if you catch my drift.”
Chambers cursed under his breath. They knew he was here.
“You think it’s the feds?”
“Could be feds.” The speaker paused for dramatic effect. “Could be someone else…like SRV.”
“What?! No way. Those guys are urban legends.”
“You don’t think SRV exists?”
“Do I think a blacker than black ops unit, with experimental weapons tech, and where they say a single operative is worth as many as thirty soldiers from any other regiment, exists?”
“You really think it’s that far-fetched? When you work for a company like Elysium? At a place like this?”
“Look, man,” Chambers could hear the quavering uncertainty in the mercenary’s voice. “We don’t know for sure what really goes on in there. Elysium pays us a fortune to keep this place locked down. And to keep their cargo secure. Anything beyond that…none of our damn business.”
One of their radios squawked, interrupting the philosophical debate. “Sykes! Come in!”
“Sykes here.”
“Echo Squad is tracking the intruder through the woods along the creek. They estimate he’s in your quadrant. Keep your eyes peeled. Orders are to shoot on sight.”
Chambers cursed once again, scolding himself for his carelessness.
“Affirmative,” the one named Sykes responded. “We’ll keep a lookout.”
The radio crackled once more, and then went silent.
“Let’s hope the SRV really is just an urban legend.” Sykes flashed a mocking grin at his nervous companion. Little do they know, Scott Chambers thought to himself as he sighted down the barrel of his rifle.
“Silent strike,” he whispered. The weapon’s holosight flashed green to alert him that his orders had been acknowledged. With effortless precision, he squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession, and a pair of muted thwacks punctuated the still night air. The first shot punched a bloody hole into Sykes’ temple, and the second took Mr. Anxious in the throat. As he flailed on the ground, gargling and choking on his own blood, Chambers emerged and, very much like a high tech Grim Reaper, loomed over the dying man.
“Just so you know, your friend was right: I’m from SRV, and I’m very real.”
The telltale staccato of automatic gunfire erupted from the trees. Echo Squad had found him.
Chambers spun and dropped into a crouch. Bullets whizzed by overhead as he scanned the forest and his holosight picked out targets.
“Triple shot!” he barked. The rifle complied, spitting out return fire in tightly controlled bursts. Chambers grunted and fell backwards forcefully as enemy rounds zeroed in on him. Thankfully, the kevlarite weave sewn into his jacket did its job preventing the bullets from shredding his torso. He would, however, have some ugly bruises to show for it if he survived this ordeal.
He felled several enemy troopers, but they continued to advance using the trees as cover, and Chambers knew he was in a vulnerable position. Staying low, he withdrew into the tunnel as he continued to exchange gunshots with the swarming Echo Squad.
Somewhere, deep within the bowels of the underground complex, in a dank and grimy ramshackle laboratory, a man in a white coat stared at an antiquated screen, watching Scott Chambers…the Scott Chambers…retreat. Though he didn’t look it, the man was old: well over a hundred. He had been here since 1945, when the United States government pursued him for his scientific expertise as part of Operation Paperclip.
He plucked an intravenous needle from the veins in his wrist, wincing as it broke free of his skin. Black liquid sloshed out of the needlepoint, as well as the wound where it had been attached to his forearm. To his right, another archaic monitor flared to life. On it, the immaculate visage of Dr. Robert J. Karasevdas appeared.
“Well?” the face on the screen demanded impatiently.
“Scott Chambers; just as you predicted.” croaked the ancient Nazi scientist. While the Blackwater preserved the man’s youthful appearance, his voice nevertheless betrayed his age. “You knew it would be him. How?”
“Because, this is the kind of job SRV specializes in, and he’s their best operative.” Unlike his contemporary, Dr. Karasevdas’ voice was soft and smooth, like butter on hot bread.
“Why do you know so much about how the SRV operates?”
“Where do you think they get all those wonderful toys?” Karasevdas flashed a condescending, predatory smile. “Keep me informed. I want to know the second you have him in custody: dead or alive.”
As the carefully manicured handsomeness of his superior’s countenance faded out, the old man returned his gaze to the other screen, where Scott Chambers was safe for the moment, riding an elevator down into the depths of the mine.
“Welcome, Mr. Chambers. We’re going to accomplish such marvelous things together, you and I.”
Author’s Note: The Chronicler has initiated this incredible collaborative effort for us Substackers to take part in, which revolves around the quite possibly (probably?) nefarious company Elysium and its cryptic Project Blackwater.
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Unethical human experimentation... potentially mutagenic substance harboring... collaborating with Nazi scientists... Elysium is really cornering the market on "evil corporation" stereotypes :P I don't think "possibly" sinister is the right quantifier.
There's also a joke about Operation Paperclip and NASA to be made, there, but... maybe next time.
The Judge Dredd method of changing a weapons fire type, always a fan.
Great read!