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Wetwork Ch. 01

By: djwillis1988



Chris Bradford had always chased adrenaline, when he was in high school he had been an All-American linebacker with a tendency for big hits. His performance had attracted interest from the major colleges. LSU, Texas, Miami, and USC had all offered him full ride scholarships, and in the end he had chosen to go to USC because it was the furthest away from his small town in Kentucky. While at USC he had studied international relations, and graduated at the top of his class, he had contemplated going pro, but he needed more adrenaline, and just hitting people was getting old. When he was 23 he was commissioned in the United States Army as a Lieutenant. He served with the 82nd airborne and did a tour in Afghanistan before going to Special Forces selection. He passed selection with relative ease, and breezed through the Q-course. He became a weapons officer, and stood out in 5th group. He was approached one day by a full bird colonel who had noticed him during a mission in which his SF team had worked with some very shady Americans. Not bad shady, but rather the kind of shady that left even Chris in awe. The colonel was a Delta Operator, and offered a Chris a chance to work for him. Once Chris made the cut he was promoted to Major and placed on a Operational Detachment Delta team. The job took him all over the world to places the military was not supposed to be, doing things the government claimed not to do. Chris loved the job and all the challenges it brought to the table, but eventually he grew tired of it and left the service after having spent 10 years doing things in places he "wasn't".

Now at 33, Chris was still in outstanding shape, he never failed to make it to the gym or run his usual eight miles every other day. His hair was thinning due to the stressors he had to put up with, but other than a receding hair line he didn't look a day over 25. His only vice was cigarettes, which made his running harder than it had to be, but not enough to quit. Finding a job wasn't hard with his experience, he could find employment at any private security firms, or any of the government agencies, but he wanted to take a year off work and enjoy life. This morning he woke up at eight o' clock, and walked to the bathroom after a quick shower he stepped in front of his mirror and examined his body. His steely green eyes that could pierce anyone, his nose which bared the mark of having been broken in a bar fight back from his college days. His short stubbly beard which he kept at just a certain length. Below his right collar bone a scar sat from a snipers round, he had gone a week with a piece of lead sitting in his shoulder before his team had been able to get out of the small fishing village of North Korea, but since that could never have been acknowledged it was simply a training exercise gone awry. He tensed his muscles and looked at other small scars along his right arm from a bomb blast he had been involved in during his one deployment in Afghanistan, that one was alright to talk about though. A knife wound sat above his left knee from the same bar fight his nose had been broken in. Adrenaline had left permanent marks on his body, and his mind. He splashed cold water on his face, and toweled off.

He started breakfast, which for him meant putting waffles in the toaster, and got dressed. This was perhaps the best part of being back in the civilian world. Comfortable shoes, relaxed jeans, a tee shirt, and a coat was all he needed to wear. No armor, no racks filled with several hundred rounds, no ruck sacks filled with 60 pounds of bull shit. The only thing that he carried to remind him of his past was a pistol in a holster on his belt, and that was just something he'd always done even before his job deemed it necessary. He nestled his Sig Saur P226 into its holster and threw his coat on over it, grabbed his waffles and headed out the door. Chris had a date today and he wouldn't be late.

Chris had met Sarah Klein at USC and they had always flirted and talked about different things, but never taken it to the next level. When he had joined the Army, she had moved to Indianapolis to be a social worker. They had maintained contact for a couple years until he joined up with Delta. When he got out he had decided to live in Indiana, it was close to his home, but still far enough away from everything he didn't like about it. He really didn't even have a reason to stay close to home, he had been an only child and both his parents had died during his time in the service, but home was home, and for some reason he wanted to stay close. Once Chris had settled in he called up Sarah and they started talking again. She had been married but, the marriage didn't last more than a few years, Chris had apologized though honestly he was happy, and she just brushed it off. They had agreed to meet today and had planned on getting coffee at one of the cities numerous starbux. 

He pulled his car into a parking garage across from the starbux, and turned it off. He unbuckled and stepped out of the car, he brushed his coat back and slid back the slide of his gun to ensure there wasn't a round in the chamber. He shut the door and locked the car with his remote before walking down the stairs.

The air outside was chilly, but not yet cold, Chris guessed it would be another few weeks before winter took over, and the temperature would drop to a frigid level. He walked across the street and entered the starbux, he looked at his watch and realized he was about 15 minutes early. Chris sat at a table watching the door, and wondered how he would act when he saw Sarah again. He wondered if she would look the same, he wondered if he looked the same. Before he could overflow his mind with doubts one of his questions was answered as Sarah walked through the door. She was every bit as beautiful as she had been in college. Her brown hair flowed down over her shoulders, and her brown eyes matched her hair perfectly. She had stayed in shape as well, he body looking every bit as hot as it had 10 years ago. She must have noticed him staring at her because she laughed.

"Chris Bradford it has been way too long." She said in a sing song voice.

"It has been, how are you?" Chris asked as she greeted him with a hug.

"I'm good" She said as she felt his gun under his coat. "Still carrying that thing around? I thought you'd be over that by now." She said with a grin.

"Ehh bad habits... you know." He replied. " Wow you still look amazing." He said motioning her to sit at the table.

"Oh thank you, you do to. The Army must have kept you in very good shape." She said squeezing his arm under his coat. Chris just grinned. "So what are you up to now?" She asked.

"Just taking some time off for now, still getting used to being a civilian again." Chris said.

"Well I'm glad you called, its been forever since we talked. I tried calling your house but no one answered, than I heard about your parents, and after a while I guess I just thought... well. You're here now anyway that's all the matters." Sarah let her face betray the fear she had lived with until his call.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay in touch, but after a few years I started doing things that prevented me from talking to many people from my life before the Army." Chris said as the coffee arrived at their table.

"You remembered my drink" Sarah said blushing. "You still drinking it black?" She asked.

"I add a cream now." He said dumping a packet of creamer into his cup.

"Ohh very risky." Sarah said laughing. "So I'm guessing you can't tell me what you did, otherwise you'd have to kill me." She said laughing again.

"Its true, very hush hush." Chris was laughing now. "No but I was still in the Army, it was just a very special force of the Army I was in."

"Ah I see." Sarah said while still not entirely understanding what he did.

"How's the social work gig?" Chris asked.

"Its good, I'm with child services, working with orphans, some days it's a sad job, but other days its one of the best I could ever ask for." She said smiling. " Hey I got some shopping to do today you wanna walk to the mall and tell me what looks good what doesn't. It'll be just like the old days."

"Sure sounds fun." He said as they got up he left money on the table for both the drinks, and waved her off as she offered to pay for hers. They walked out the door, and headed towards the mall which was a couple blocks away. Chris pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, offering her one.

"No thanks I quit, you should to ya know, those things are bad for ya." She said.

"So I've been told." He said as he put the pack back into his pocket. "Good for you though, quitting and all."

"Ya well you were really the only one I smoked around and I guess without some one to bum off of I just stopped." She said as she stuffed her hands in her coat pockets to keep them warm.

They kept talking until the made it to the mall, where he held the door open for her. She led him around to different shops trying on clothes, but buying very little. Chris never understood how women could shop for hours but buy only a few items.

"So I'm guessing you never got married?" Sarah asked him.

"No never really had a lot of time to date. There were a few women here and there, but with me traveling all over, all the time they never lasted very long." Chris said looking away.

"Hmm I'm sensing a lot of one night stands, bad boy Chris." She slapped him playfully on the arm and Chris just smiled and denied it. "Well I didn't do much better. The guy I married turned out to be an asshole, not abusive or anything, just couldn't keep it in his pants."

"Well he sounds like an idiot." Chris said looking down at her.

"That's what I said, but oh well. It is what it is." Sarah looked back at Chris as he started laughing. "Well I'm glad I could make you laugh." She said feigning hurt feelings.

"No its just, it is what it is. You have no idea how many times I said that." Chris said.

"What do you mean?" She asked interested.

"Just when ever things were bad, you know in those places I cant tell you about." Chris laughed. "That's just what I said. It is what it is, and every time I thought of you. Saying that whenever something bad happened to you. Its good to see some things don't change." Chris said. The two of them looked at each other like they had never lost touch with each other.

"You know Chris I'm really glad you called." Sarah said reaching for his hand.

Before he could respond or take her hand with his several loud pops filled the air followed by screams. Chris looked in the direction of the sound and saw people running towards them. Chris grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her into the nearest store. He looked at the man standing behind the counter.

"Get everyone in the back room and close the gate." Chris said as he upholstered his pistol. The stunned young man just nodded his head but didn't move. "Now!" Chris barked. The young man snapped back into reality and ushered everyone into the back room, as Chris moved to leave.

"Chris what are you doing?" Sarah yelled at him.

"Stay here you'll be safe here. Ill be right back." Chris looked at her, tears welling in her eyes, and forced himself to turn around and head towards the sounds he knew to be gunfire.

He ducked under the closing gate and chambered a round as he brought the pistol up to his chest scanning the area. He moved forward just as he had done countless times before, this time was different though. This was a shopping mall in America, he should not be hearing automatic gunfire here. 

People were running in the opposite direction that he was moving, which told him eventually he would run into the cause of the commotion. Soon he came upon the first body. It was a teenage girl who had been shot in the stomach. She was still conscious and he knelt down to help her. He took off his coat and covered the wound and placed her hands over it.

"Keep pressure on this you'll be fine, it didn't hit anything vital." She nodded clearly phased that she had just been shot. "How many were there, where did they go?" He asked her, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Four maybe five, I don't know where they went ." She said starting to cry. "Please don't leave me." Chris told her again to maintain pressure on her stomach than left her laying there crying for help.

He had to shut her out, he had to shut out the others moaning on the ground, some dead some dying. He stood back up and broke into a job following the bodies that lay on the ground. The air around him smelled like blood, gunpowder, and urine. As Chris turned a corner he saw one of the masked gunmen walking around shooting bodies in the head with a pistol. Chris waited until his head was turned than snuck up on the man. The shooter must have heard something because he turned his head. When he brought it around however all the saw was Chris pointing a gun at his head, than he went black.

Chris pulled the trigger on his pistol once than twice, putting two small holes in the mans head, one just above the bridge of the nose, and the other through the mans ear as he spun around from the force of the first round. The shooter fell on top of another body. Chris stooped to check his pulse, and he grabbed the shooters rifle. He ejected the magazine and slid a fresh one into the weapon. It was an AK-47 which didn't surprise Chris. Everyone had access to them from powerful armies, to gang bangers, to bank robbers. 

Chris stood and looked at a map of the mall in front of him. The hall he was on now formed a tri-angle with another hall, and the one he had just come from where Sarah was. He turned and sprinted in the direction he had come from hoping to cut them off before they reached the store she was in. He turned one corner than another, and came face to face with another shooter. The shooters eyes went wide as he saw Chris standing there with a weapon.

Chris saw the shooter pause and used the opening to raise his rifle and spray the shooters chest with the 7.62 round the AK fired. The shooters chest burst open as five rounds connected from point blank range. The shooters body went limp and slumped against the wall behind him staining the wall with blood. The sound from Chris' rifle made the other three shooters turn in his direction and open fire. Chris ducked behind a concrete structure that house trees, and peeked around the corner. Bullets took chunks of the floor out and sprayed him in the face with debris.

"Fuck!" Chris yelled to himself as he popped up and sprayed a ten round burst towards the shooters, he might have hit one in the leg but he wasn't sure. At any rate accuracy wasn't his aim, he just needed some breathing room to move. He ran to an alcove that would provide cover, and poked his head back around. He saw one standing behind a rotating advertisement stall. It was only made of glass and plastic and wouldn't provide very good cover. He aimed and let loose two short bursts. He waited a second and watched a body slump down and a puddle of blood expand over the ground. 

One of the other two shooters was moving up and Chris saw the opportunity to take him out. He leaned out and aimed down the sights, switching the weapon to single shot. He lined up the shooters chest with the weapons sights, and pulled the trigger twice than once more. The first two shots hit the man in the chest bringing him to his knees. The shooter looked up at Chris as he shot his third round, which crashed into his skull sending his head backwards in a whiplash motion, causing the man to fall backwards on his knees. Leaving his body in a very odd position.

"Christ looked out and saw the last shooter was indeed shot in the leg, laying against the wall. Chris dropped the rifle and pulled his pistol and ran up to the man. The shooter had his ski mask removed and was looking at the sky moving his lips without sound. He was middle eastern, clean shaven, and young, the profile for a violent Arab. Chris envisioned himself putting his pistol to the mans head and pulling the trigger, watching the mans head come apart at the seams as the .45 round made its way tumbling through the mans brains. He thought about the exit wound there would be, as a large chunk of the back of his head would flap off like the top of a stove pipe. He thought about how the young man who was bleeding out most definitely would prefer that ending. No questions, no investigation, no justice. Chris took off his belt and wrapped it around the mans leg tightening it down, cutting off the blood flow in his leg, thus saving his life. Chris than took the pistol and hit the man in the side of the head knocking him out. He took his pistol and laid it on the ground, close enough to reach if needed, and got on his knees with his hands up. The police breached through the doors minutes later, and Chris was blinded by the flash bang grenades thrown before their entry. The next thing he knew he was knocked to the ground and being handcuffed.

Wetwork Ch. 02



Outside the mall Chris was sat in a squad car, while the SWAT captain was talking to the police chief. A detective was in the conversation and Chris saw the older man nod and walk away from the captain and the chief. He made his way to Chris and pulled out a set of keys and undid the cuffs.

"I'm Detective Sill I'm the one who'll be investigating this mess. Several witnesses said you were not the shooter, at least the shooter of the innocents. Your not under arrest but your still gunna have to come to the station and answer some questions." The man said. "Until then we're gunna keep your gun."

"Fine where's the other people I came here with a woman, her name's Sarah." The detective cut him off.

"She's at the mobile command post, she said she came here with you so we asked her some questions. Ill take you there before we head to the station." Chris nodded as Sill led him to the trailer with IMPD SWAT painted on the side.

When Sarah saw him she ran and almost tackled him to the ground.

"Thank god your alright," she stepped back and stared at his shirt. Chris hadn't realized it but his clothes were soaked in blood.

"Its not mine." was all Chris could get out before she started talking again.

"Why did you run off Chris this isn't your job anymore." Sarah was starting to cry and Chris felt bad for leaving her.

"I'm sorry I left you, but I couldn't let them keep shooting, they might have got to you if I didn't stop them." Chris pulled Sarah into him and held her as she shuddered into his chest.

Detective Sill walked away and gave them a minute, but made sure Chris knew he would have to make it quick with her. Chris just nodded.

"Look I'm gunna have to answer some questions with the cops, are you ok to go home?" Chris felt bad again for being so cold with her, but he was still running off adrenaline, and wasn't the same person she had been joking with over coffee not 15 minutes ago. Sarah looked up at him and nodded. "Ill call you when I'm done if you want."

"You better," she said as she gave his hand a squeeze. "Shit Chris it was good to see you again." She said trying to smile.

"Hey, it is what it is right?" He smiled at her and she managed to smile back. Chris didn't know why but he bent down and kissed her softly on the forehead, and he thought he could feel her smile through his lips.

"Call me." She said as she turned to walk away.

Chris walked over to Sill and waited for him to finish with the SWAT officers. Sill turned and motioned for him to follow him.

"Ill drive you to the station," he said. Chris got the feeling it wasn't really an option.

"Anyway you could swing me by my place for a shower, and a change of clothes. I'm covered in blood from six different people." Chris asked.

"Ya that shouldn't be a problem, you'll just have to make it quick, you're a popular guy Mr. Bradford. I've got calls from the FBI, CIA, and the NSA all saying they're gunna want to interview you. I figure we'll just knock it all out at once." Chris nodded appreciating Sills desire to take up as little of his time as possible. 

The drive to Chris' apartment was a silent ride, neither man saying much to each other. When they arrived Chris invited Sill inside more to ease his qualms about letting him out of his sight, than a move of hospitality. Sill accepted. When Chris got out of the shower he turned on his TV in his room and saw what happened playing out on the news.

17 people dead 22 wounded, word of an armed civilian taking out the shooters, already being heralded a hero. Something was shown next that made Chris' stomach turn over. The same scene was being played out in other cities. The Minneapolis mall, Soldier stadium in Chicago, OSU, and a rally in Detroit. The press was dubbing it an attack on the heartland of America. The attack in the Indianapolis mall had been the smallest. In all the total of casualties reached 268 dead, and at least double wounded. It wasn't the costliest attack America had suffered in terms of numbers, but icons of America had been attacked. Shopping malls, a football game, a college, and a demonstration of the 1st amendment. 

Chris heard a knock on the door as Sill asked if he was almost ready. Chris realized he was standing in front of his TV still naked, and hurried to put on his clothes. He threw his bloodied clothes in the trash, and threw his coat on over his shirt and opened the door. Sill got up from the kitchen table and followed Chris out the door, for an equally silent ride to the station.

There were five men sitting in the conference room at the Indianapolis Metro police station. Chris Bradford, Detective Sill, Agent Harris from the FBI, Agent Linder from the CIA, and Agent Franks from the NSA. Detective Sill hit a button on the tape recorder sitting in the middle of the table.

"I am detective Sill, with Agents Harris, Linder, and Franks. They represent the FBI, CIA, and NSA respectively. We are interviewing Mr. Chris Bradford, on the events of September 30 2011." Sill paused before asking the first question. "Mr. Bradford, in your words what happened today?"

Chris held up a cigarette, and Sill nodded approval. Chris lit up the cigarette and inhaled deeply and exhaled and started in.

"Today at about 1145 I heard what I knew to be small arms fire coming from down the hall. After telling the man working at the shop my friend and I were in to lock it down, I drew my personal weapon and proceeded to follow the sound of gunfire." Chris was drawing on his experience of being debriefed, and was making life as easy for the agents, and himself as possible. "I encountered a young woman and treated her, then followed the bodies until I ran across a lone gunman executing wounded. I shot him twice in the head, and took his weapon. I than backtracked to cut them off, and shot another man several times in the chest." Chris paused to ash his cigarette and took another long drag on it. " The three remaining men opened fire. I returned to suppress them, and ran to cover. I shot one through an advertisement stand. The other I shot in the chest and the head as he ran to cover. The last gunman had been shot in the leg from my initial suppressing burst and I ran to him and applied a quick tourniquet, than knocked him out with my pistol. I than placed my weapon on the ground and waited for the police to come in." Chris finished talking and exhaled the last of his smoke before putting the cigarette out. He looked at the agents sitting around the table taking notes and waited for their questions. Sill spoke first.

"Mr. Bradford, why were you at the mall today and why were you armed?"

"I was meeting with an old friend of mine, and I always carry a weapon with me." Chris answered wondering if all the questions were going to be this easy. Agent Harris asked the next question.

"How did you know the sounds were automatic gunfire?"

"I spent over 10 years in the military." Chris said, Harris immediately asked another question.

"What did you do in the military?" 

"I cant really disclose that information." Chris said knowing this would piss them off.

"And why not?" Linder asked.

"Because of the nature of my work, I can say that I was a Lieutenant with the 82nd airborne in Afghanistan. After that my record and my memory goes fuzzy." Chris let a smirk across his face as he finished.

"Before you shot the first gunman did you identify yourself or give him a chance to surrender?" Franks asked this question.

"No. There were still other men shooting Aks at civilians so I just put him down so I could move on to the other threats." Chris leaned back in his chair wondering if this was somehow going to be an incriminating interview.

"How did you know to back track to the other shooters." Sill asked.

"I looked at the map of the mall and saw it was basically a circle and they had either gone around the bend or left the mall, since I could still hear shooting I knew they hadn't left the mall." Chris answered.

"So all this shooting going on and you look at a map?" Harris asked annoyed that Chris had shut him down on his previous questions.

"My fuzzy past includes fuzzy training which taught me to keep emotionally detached from situations like this." Chris said hoping to have further annoyed Harris.

"Do you think the presence of your friend Miss Klein affected your judgment? Harris asked pressing harder.

"Well since I don't work for any agency or the military anymore my judgment shouldn't be a factor, did I want to protect her? Yes I did, but I could have done that by leaving the mall with her, instead I did your job for you and took out some terrorists on American soil." Chris saw that the NSA man, Franks, paid attention to that last bit.

"How do you know they were terrorists?" Franks asked.

"Well the last man had his mask off and he was middle eastern, young, clean shaved, and when I approached him he was praying silently. That's something they do right before they die from their jihad." Chris said.

"And why did you let the last man live?" Linder asked.

"What? And take all the fun from you guys. I know yall got him locked away right now with clamps hooked up to his nipples, or pouring a bucket of water over his toweled face." Chris said smiling.

"Is that something you did in your fuzzy past?" Harris asked.

"Boy wouldn't you like to know?" Chris asked. "Look are we done here or would you like to ask more about what I used to do?" Chris asked not trying to hide his annoyance. 

"That should be all for now." Sill said as he turned off the tape recorder.

Chris got up and opened the door. When he stepped out of the police station there was a crowd of reporters flashing their cameras in his face.

"How does it feel to be a hero?" asked one.

"Do you work for the government?" asked another.

"Did you really kill all five of them by yourself?" asked a third.

The last question made Chris pause, he had only killed four of them. He smiled as he realized the police were saying all five were dead so the agencies could interrogate the fifth in their own way. As he realized his car was several miles away a black Buick pulled up. In the drivers seat was Agent Franks from the NSA. He waved Chris over and flashed Chris his own gun. Chris bolted for the door and shut it behind him drowning out all the reporters. Agent Franks handed Chris his Sig back and started driving towards the parking garage. 

"The other agencies might not have a high enough clearance to know what you used to do, but we certainly do. When we heard about some fucking stooge taking out a Syrian hit team, by himself, shooting guys with machine like precision we had to look you up." Franks pulled out his military jacket. "Some of the info is still redacted so you must have done some crazy shit, but we know you were a Delta operator."

"So what?" Chris asked. "Other than fucking with Agent Harris back there what's it matter what I used to do."

"Well it doesn't, but we just wanted to show what kind of information we can get at the NSA." Franks paused. "Look I'm sure you've seen the news and know this happened all over the mid west. We don't know what's going on, and if we can dig this up on you, than these guys should be no problem." Franks said

"But they are." Chris said waiting for the hook.

"Yup. What are you doing job wise Chris?" Franks asked.

"Trying not to kill people." Chris said with a laugh.

"Well your doing a shitty job at it." Franks handed him a card as he pulled up to Chris' car. "In case you want to finish what you started today give us a call. We'd love to hear from you." Chris got out of Franks' car and slid into his own car, and opened the center console. He grabbed a box of ammo and reloaded the two rounds he had fired and the one the cops had dropped when they cleared his weapon. He holstered the gun and drove back to his apartment.

On his way back to his place he called Sarah, but she didn't answer. She was probably asleep, he remembered his first firefight back in Afghanistan. When he got back to his base and his adrenaline fell off he slept for hours, and he had expected to get shot at. She would probably be out until the next morning. Come to think of it he was feeling pretty tired. He looked at his watch and saw it was only seven at night. It had been a while since he had last been shot at. Over a year now, and his body wasn't used to the adrenaline rush. When he got home he walked to his room, turned on the news, and kicked off his shoes. He was asleep within a few minutes.



Wetwork Ch. 03



Chris woke up at around 11 and was surprised when he saw the time. He hadn't slept that late since... well he couldn't remember. He checked his phone and was again surprised by the number of messages left on his voicemail. He checked his missed calls list didn't recognize most of the numbers. Most of the messages were news outlets begging for an interview to tell his story. One was from his buddy Mike Williams, an younger ex Delta guy he had helped bring up and train. Mike had seen him on the news and called him to congratulate him on not getting his old ass shot up. Mike was only about five years younger than him, but once he had turned 30 he never let him forget it. Another message was from Agent Harris telling Chris he may have follow up questions. The last message was from a very clearly distressed Sarah. She sounded tired, and weary, she wanted Chris to call her back as soon as he could, Chris decided now was as good a time as any. He went to his living room and turned on the news. He watched for a moment watching the different aftermaths of the different locations from the previous day. The shooting in Chicago had been the worst, just 5 guys shooting at a football game, which honestly had pretty laxed security for the always sold out 65000 seats in the stadium. An amateur's cell phone video from the Mall of America was shown next. The video showed people running in one direction, and a glimpse of a gunman walking after them shooting into the crowd. Who ever had taken the video had probably made thousands of dollars for having the presence of mind to video tape the shooting. Chris muted the television and picked up his cell phone and picked out Sarah's name with a flick of his thumb he was calling her. The phone rang three times before she picked it up.

Across the country on LA's notoriously busy 405 Karim Barraick was dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and orange traffic vest. He stood behind a jackhammer breaking away pieces of concrete until a mid sized hole was dug out. He walked to his white van and lifted a metal tube out of the back and laid it carefully into the hole. He covered the hole with the rubble, got into the van and pulled away into the early morning traffic. By noon the roads would be jammed, by 12:30 several Americans would be dead.

Chris walked up the stairs to Sarah's apartment and knocked on the door. He waited a moment before the door was opened by Sarah who was wearing a bath robe. She motioned him to come in and he thought he could smell fruit in her hair as he walked by. She had sounded nervous on the phone, but now that he was here she seemed almost calm. He turned around to speak.

"Sarah-" he was cut off though by her lips pressing against his. They stayed like this for what seemed like forever. He took in her scent and wrapped his arms around her waist to bring her closer to him. She backed away from his and slowly undid her robe. 

Chris took in the sight of her bare body and responded by moving again to kiss her. She pulled off his shirt and he could feel the heat from her body. Sarah could feel his reaction pressing against her leg and led him to the bedroom, where they stayed for the next couple of hours.

James Sturgis was sitting in his car listening to the traffic report telling him that the jam he was stuck in was the worst the 405 had seen in a while. He silently cursed himself for getting on instead of just taking the back roads he could have used. He looked back at his seven year old son who was looking at him in the mirror. At this rate they were never going to make to the game. He smiled at his son wearing they kid sized Kobe Bryant jersey. He looked back up to see the car in front of him pull forward and slightly to the right to avoid the rubble in the middle of the road. James looked to his right and saw he had no room so he just started to drive over the rubble. He never even saw the blast.

James' car was engulfed in the blast and went flying into the sky. The fireball expanded quickly covering 20 yards easily curling upwards as it collapsed back in on itself. Several other cars were thrown from the freeway sending them crashing down to the road below it. The worst part of the bomb was the shrapnel. Nails, glass, and shards of metal were sent flying over 50 yards away. In one car the hubcap of another car cut the neck of the driver badly and he bled out within minutes. Within seven yards of the blast any car was set ablaze people sat screaming stuck in their seats. On the ground people were using their arms to crawl on the ground when they realized their legs were missing. A mixture of gasoline, oil, and blood soon covered the ground. 

Karim looked at the carnage threw his binoculars and smiled Allah uh Akbar he said to himself. His god was indeed great and the scene playing before him and the knowledge that across the country the same thing was happening was just proof of his greatness. Karim got back into his van and drove away towards the airport his job was done and he was heading home.

Chris and Sarah lay in bed together both going over what had just happened in their heads. It was some of the most passionate sex Chris had ever had in his life. The way he held her as she moved under his power, the way she spurred him on with whispers from her lips, the way her fingers dug into his back as he had pushed even further into her. He looked at her and smiled as she looked at him with a blank face.

"So when do you go back to work?" Sarah asked him with a voice riddled concern.

"What do you mean?" Not sure he knew what she was talking about.

"That Franks guy you told me about. He offered you a job. I know you want to accept it. And with what happened yesterday its only a matter of time." He knew she was right as she spoke the words.

"I don't know, I was kind of enjoying retirement." He smiled to himself knowing it was a lie. Yesterday had reminded him how much he missed the excitement, but today had made him realize that he had also missed the connection that comes with having a relationship.

"Ya right" Sarah muttered.

"Get out of my head." Chris laughed as he kissed her on the forehead. "Even if I take the job I wont be gone as much as I was when I was in the Army, couple weeks at a time at the most."

"I can handle that." Sarah said.

Chris' phone rang on the nightstand beside her bed. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID.

"Speak of the devil." She said.

Chris took it and saw it was Franks calling. He answered and listened as Franks sputtered off than hung up. Chris put the phone down and picked up the TV remote switching on the TV.

"Oh my god." Sarah gasped as the fiery wreck on the 405 was shown on the TV.

Chris knew what had happened already. IED he thought. The carnage on the screen was unlike the ones he had experienced in Afghanistan though. Heavily armored humvees could take the blast a lot better than the compact cars of America. Several cars had been burned through, and even from the helicopters height and angle of the camera he could see what he knew were body parts laying on the ground. He turned off the TV and climbed out of bed.

"I guess Ill go talk to Franks about that job now." He said as he walked out of the room without another word. He was shut off now, in a mode that left no room for emotions. Chris thought about the message he had received from Mike Williams earlier that day. Maybe he'd have to give him a call later on depending on how the meeting with Franks went. Chris stepped outside and walked to his car. On his way he noticed a black Buick sitting across the street from him. The driver was a middle aged man who appeared uninterested in what Chris was doing. But when he saw the buick swing around and begin to follow him he knew that was not the case.

Chris drove his car toward the downtown area he was supposed to meet Franks at a diner on the outskirts of the metro area. He looked back in his rear view mirror and noticed the Buick was tailing him not even at a three car distance but right behind him. Either this guy was terrible at his job or just didn't care that Chris could see him. Chris lit a cigarette and turned on the radio to check on the bombings across the country. In all nine bombs had gone off with a total 22 dead and 12 wounded. All of them reminded him of the IED that gave him that three inch scar on his right arm and extended onto the top of his hand. He blew out smoke as he looked at the scar and remembered how his driver had not been so lucky. PFC Guerra had lost his head from the blast and it had bounced around in the cab of the truck as it rolled over until it came to rest in the back seat. It was an image he would never be able to get out of his head. Once he had tried using alcohol to try and escape from the remained sound of the blast, the smell of the cordite and blood. The sight of a young man slumped over the wheel of the truck without a head. The liquor helped at first, but then it just added to the nightmares. One night he had dreamt of the incident he had looked in the back seat of the truck and Guerra's head started talking to him. Chris had stopped drinking heavily after that one and used his advanced training as a stress reliever, but he still drank sometimes and after this was done he would have to have a drink he told himself.

Chris pulled into the diner and shut the door glancing back to see the Buick parked across the street just watching him.

"Don't worry that's my guy." Chris turned to see Franks walking out of the diner extending his arm. Chris took it and shook it firmly.

"Don't trust me?" Chris flicked his cigarette onto the pavement below him, his fingers trembling slightly from the trip down memory lane just minutes prior.

"Just watchin your back. Your face has been plastered all over the news, and I'm sure whoever is behind all this isn't a big fan of yours right now. Hungry?" Franks asked as he motioned to the door.

The two men sat down at a table and looked at the menus in silence for a moment before ordering. Chris sat looking over Franks shoulder staring at the door, he had been on edge ever since the shooting the day prior.

"So how ya feelin?" asked Franks.

"I'm fine, Sarah's a bit shook up though." Chris noticed Franks eyebrow lift up. "The girl I was with yesterday."

"Well imagine her surprise when not only did people start shooting, but you ran after them and managed to kill all but one by yourself." Franks stopped talking as the waitress brought their burgers to them and waited until she left to start in again. "We were all impressed Chris even the Feds. I know Harris gave you the third degree, but the FBI is lookin pretty inept right now, along with homeland, the CIA and ourselves as well. We all got embarrassed yesterday."

"And you want me to do something about it?" Chris asked.

"Well not just you we have other people in the field right now; Iraq, Afghanistan, Dubai, and Saudi Arabia just to name a few. We drawin blanks though, who ever pulled this off is either very good at staying off our radar, or this is the first attack of a brand new group. 9/11 was one thing, a coordinated attack using international flights is one thing, but when you have attacks being carried out by people who have been here for what were assuming has been a while well that's unsettling." Franks stirred his coffee pausing a moment to let Chris absorb what he was hearing. "No we can do fine without you, but we'd rather have you with us. You are certainly a valuable asset to us, and we have the added benefit of being able to trust you completely."

"You think there's a mole?" Chris asked with arched eyebrows.

"I don't think so, but..." Franks looked disturbed by what he was about to say. "About a week ago one of our agents went incommunicado. We haven't been able to reach him, and his dead drops with his handler stopped completely." 

"Where was he?" 

"Chicago. He was posing as an extremist sympathizer at a large mosque we've been monitoring. About a year ago he was approached by a man who had noticed his rhetoric. The agent began going to prayer groups with him, and as time went on the meetings got more extreme. Up until a few months ago it was all talk, but then they started bringing in weapons, a lot of weapons. He was able to get us the serial numbers of these weapons. Chris the weapons used in all the shootings yesterday originated out of Chicago."

"Fuck Franks how long was he under?"

"Evidently too long, we told him to let the weapons go in hopes of him getting even further into the cell, but a week ago he went dark." Franks downed the last of his coffee.

"Do you think he flipped?" Chris asked hesitantly not wanting to insult Franks'' man.

"Hell no... he was a true Muslim. He hated the extremists, he always went on these rants about how they pervert the religion." 

"So you want me to find him or what?" Chris asked.

"In short yes, but once you've found him we want you to take out anyone responsible for these attacks."

"Taken out?" asked Chris.

"Dead. Quietly though we don't need martyrs." Franks said.

"Who would I work with." Chris asked.

"Your choice. Anybody doesn't have to be with an Agency, just someone you trust." Franks slid an brown envelope across the table. "There's cash in there, about 15 g's." Chris' eyes widened. "Not for smoke or drink though. Get your guy, get your gear, and get your ass to Chicago. Also there's bios on all the players our agent was working with, pictures, names, addresses the usual. When you get to Chicago we have a car and an apartment set up for you. The place your staying is only a couple blocks from the mosque, if we need to get in touch with you well put info in your mailbox. If you need us do the same, but mark it somehow doesn't matter how you do it, our guy will get it."

"What's your guy go by?" Chris asked.

"Salim, his codename is Infidel." Franks said as Chris smiled at the irony of the name. "He's not without his sense of humor... hopefully he still has it."

"Ill find him." Chris said as he stood up. "Call of your dog though, have him watch Sarah while I'm gone I don't need him watching my back."

Franks nodded as he stood up and shook Chris' hand. With that Chris walked out of the diner and lit another cigarette before reaching for his phone. He flipped through his contacts when he came to his former Delta partner Mike Williams. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

"Mike its Chris." He paused as Mike congratulated him again. "Thanks Mike, how would you like to get out of retirement?" Mike sounded excited as he answered. "Good get a plane ticket to O'Hare Ill be there later tonight." Chris hung up and got back in his car. He had to break the news to Sarah, and he wasn't sure how she would take it.



Wetwork Ch. 04-05



Chapter 4

Chris stood in Sarah's kitchen as she looked at him. She was taking the news fairly well seeing as how he had just told her he was going to Chicago for a while, and an NSA agent would be following her while he was gone. He also was leaving his pistol with her. For one he couldn't get it through the airport, and also he wanted her to have some form of protection. She had nodded through his whole explanation, not quite getting the whole story, but he was able to tell her the gist of it. She stood across the room from his smoking what was her first cigarette in years taking it all in. Before he left she told him to be careful and had given him a drawn out kiss as if tempting him to stay with her.

He took a cab to the airport boarded a plane and fell asleep shortly after take off.

Across the country Karim was headed to LAX to catch a plane to Ireland, from there he would board another plane which would take him back to Saudi Arabia where he would return both a hero and a wealthy man. He had succeeded in striking a great blow to the American people. The drive to the airport had gone by fairly quickly, the streets had since been emptied. Fear he thought was the most effective weapon in his arsenal, and it had been wielded expertly today. He pushed a button for short term parking and found a spot. He flashed his high beams twice and waited. After a minute a man opened the passenger door and sat down.

"You did good Karim." The man said handing him an envelope, here is everything you need.

Karim beamed as he opened the envelope expecting a plane ticket and a good amount of money. He found only a piece of paper with a prayer scrawled on it.

"What is this? It is only a prayer." Karim asked still looking at the paper.

"I will give you time to read it brother, but tonight you must become a martyr." The man said which brought Karim's eyes up only to see a pistol gripped in the man's hand. The pistol had a suppressor screwed onto the barrel.

"And the others, will they all die to?" Karim asked referring to the other bombers of earlier.

The man nodded. "You will meet them in paradise."

Karim gave a weak smile and folded his hands in his lap. He looked up at the ceiling of his car and silently said his final prayer. "Will you stay with me father? Until I go?" 

"I will." The man said as he reached across Karim's body and placed the barrel of the pistol above his heart and pulled the trigger.

Karim jumped in his seat as the round penetrated his chest and struck his heart. He took a breath and relaxed as he felt the life leave his body.

"Go in peace my child." The man said as he tilted Karim's head back to make it look like he was sleeping to anyone who passed by. He put the pistol on the floor of the car, and stepped out quickly making sure no one had witnessed what he had done. When he was satisfied he walked into the airport, and handed the man behind the ticket counter his Passport. The tickets Karim thought were his were actually this mans.

"How was your visit to LA?" asked the pimply faced man behind the desk.

"I'm afraid I had to bury my son." the man said.

"Oh I'm sorry, well uh have a good flight Mr. Barraick" the ticket man said as he handed him the boarding passes.

"Thank you." If only the ticket man had known how literal his words were. Although it brought him pain, Malik Barraick had to kill his youngest son. It brought him relief that he had died like a true Muslim. He had completed his task though, and in the war machine Karim was but a small cog. His son had been brave to his death and that's all he could have asked for. The similarities between the two didn't stop at their ideologies though. Karim had inherited his fathers features, and when Malik looked in the mirror he swore he could see his son. Yes he had a few extra pounds on his son and had started balding, and sure his skin was worn from his 52 years of jihad, but he could see his son in his own reflection.

Karim looked forward to returning to Saudi Arabia. His job here was done, but his war with America was not close to being done. The cell in Chicago still had one more job to do. One final blow to America's heartland that would be symbolic in more ways than one.

chapter 5

As the day was coming to a close in America, It was just beginning in Riyadh. Sheik Riahl Mohammad had just finished eating his breakfast and was seated at his desk in the office provided to him by the mosque he preached at. He was in his early 40s, but looked good for his age. While he had lived a life fighting the infidels he had never picked up a weapon in battle. His father had been the leader of the United Islamic Brigade. Rather than acknowledge the growing rift between Sunnis and Shiites, his father had understood that a united following that focused on the non believers would be more powerful than a group divided by differences of sects. His father had been right to, over the last 15 years he had grown the group into a world wide connection with different names, some less militant than others, but the same message. In France they were the United Islamic Front, in America the United Brotherhood, and in England they called themselves the Nation United. Each group though fed directly into the United Islamic Brigade.

It had been so successful in part because of the departmentalization of the operation. The Brigade never carried out any missions themselves. Instead the group in the host nation would carry out the attack. Also funding didn't come from the Brigade, but rather individual donors who rather than give to the Brigade gave to the three other groups as it was needed. Mohammad's father was a genius in creating an autonomous group like this, but Riahl felt like his picture wasn't quite large enough so he had taken action against him. One night while he was sleeping Riahl had walked into his room and injected his contact solution with a poison. It had taken several months to work, but that meant less attention would be drawn to him. His father after all was an old man at 72. When he had finally passed control of the Brigade had been passed down to Riahl. 

Once in power Riahl had wasted no time in scaling up the tactical operations of the Brigade. His efforts now played out over CNN's website which he browsed from the laptop sitting on top of his desk. Riahl ran his hands through his long beard and straightened his tie on his western style suit. As he leaned back in his chair to revel in his recent victory there was a knock on his door.

"Enter" Riahl said.

A large man entered the room. He wore a prominent scar under his right eye that he had gained while fighting the Americans in Afghanistan. The mans name was Darrel Hawkins, and unlike almost all of the members of the Brigade he was white. He had been born in Dearborn, Michigan, and converted to Islam in high school. He had joined the Army and been deployed to Iraq where he said he 'witnessed first hand the war crimes perpetrated by the United States. When he had gone home on leave he went back to say good bye to his parents and flown to Saudi Arabia. It had been tough for an American soldier to gain acceptance into the brigade as they had been skeptical at first, and by Darren's own admission rightfully so. He had proven himself as a true Muslim through months of attendance at Riahl's mosque, and that's when Riahl had started to give him menial tasks. Then one night Darren had been taken to an old building down the road from the mosque. He had been strapped to a chair and tortured for hours by Riahl's men. They demanded to know who he worked for. At first he thought they actually believed he was a traitor but when they cut him loose he realized it was a test, or at least the first part of a test. When his blindfold was removed he saw another white man strapped to a chair. Riahl approached him and held out a pistol.

"Brother Darren this pistol holds one round. In that chair sits a British MI5 agent, he was caught snooping around my mosque. Your knowledge of your faith, and your innocence as a traitor has been proven, but your devotion has yet to be proven." With that Riahl stepped back from Darren. 

Darren walked confidently toward the man sitting in the chair. The man wore no blindfold and his eyes wore a determined look, but there was a hint of fear hiding behind the façade. Judging by the marks on the man's body he had been tortured as well, but Darren didn't know if he had broken and given them Intel. It wasn't his job to know though it was only to do what was expected of him. He brought the gun up to the mans forehead.

"Allah Akbar." Darren pulled the trigger and watched the mans head fly back than slump forward. His body slumped in the restraints. The slide from the gun locked back as the shell ejected from the chamber and hit the concrete ground with a soft ping.

Riahl remembered that day fondly. Since then Darren had proven to be a most loyal follower and Riahl entrusted him with the position of chief of security. 

"Sheik Mohammad all the handlers are on their way back, and we have ten more brothers who have martyred themselves for our cause." Darren said showing no emotion on his face. "Are we still going forward with the rest of our plans?" Riahl just nodded. "Very good the two cells in Chicago have gone into lockdown and are awaiting the president's arrival within the week."

Riahl smiled at the predictability of America's leaders. The weak emotions made his job easier. They had made sure the shooting at the football field had been the bloodiest. Riahl knew the president would no doubt make an appearance in the aftermath. He had taken a gamble hedging his bets on Chicago, but the presidents predictability would be his own undoing.

No one had successfully killed an American president since JFK, and this one would be monumental to their cause. President Farad was the first Muslim president elected in America, but he had downplayed his faith, and that was a great injustice. Riahl felt shamed that a fellow Muslim would continue the unjust wars in Islamic lands, but soon America would be sent a message. 

Riahl smiled and motioned toward Darrel that he could leave. "Thank you brother Hawkins."

Hawkins nodded and walked out of the room.

While Malik Barraick and Chris were flying towards their destinations, millions of television sets were showing the same image of President Farad making his way to the podium. Behind him hung the American flag. The president wore a black suit and tie with an American flag pin on his lapel. He was one of the first modern president to opt for eyeglasses instead of contacts. His brown skin was slightly wrinkled. And his hair was a fine color of white. He took a sip of water from the glass sitting on the podium and cleared his throat as he prepared to address the nation.

"Fellow Americans, over the last two days this great country has come under attack from a group of treacherous cowards. They refuse to meet our men in uniform on the battlefield, and instead opt to attack innocent civilians. They attacked Americans of all ages and races at a football game in Chicago. Innocent shoppers in Indianapolis and Minnesota lost their lives while doing nothing but shopping for Christmas gifts for their families. In Ohio college students were gunned down on their way to classes. The future leaders of this nation had their lives ended prematurely. In Detroit a rally of protesters exercising their first amendment right, which our enemies hate so much, were murdered in cold blood. Today 22 Americans were murdered on their way to work, schools, sporting events, or just driving home. In all 290 American lives were ended violently at the hands of men who hide in the shadows. Well the shadows will soon give way to light as we search for them wherever they may hide. As of right now all agencies are working round the clock to bring those responsible to justice. The military has been placed on high alert, and I will be sanctioning several special operations around the globe. To our friends, we ask for your support. To our enemies, stay out of our way or fall with those responsible." The president took a break for another drink of water, and adjusted his glasses.

"As a Muslim man I have had to defend my religion many times to many different people. It is because of men like these that I must have to defend it once more. Many Muslims despise acts like these, there are many Muslims who serve honorably in our armed forces, and many work in our intelligence agencies. To those looking for someone to blame I beg you do not blame your neighbors whose skin may be a darker shade than yours. If you blame anyone blame me. I have failed this country and allowed these acts to happen. I will not fail again though, and I will not allow them to go unpunished. As we mourn those who have died let us praise those whose heroic efforts put an end to this madness before it claimed more lives. From the police that ended the attacks, to the medical workers who saved many people, to the man in Indianapolis who single handedly put an end to the attack at the mall. They are all American heroes." Another sip from his glass.

"Finally America I ask that, regardless of your religion, you pray tonight. Ask your god look out for the 290 families that will never be the same. Pray for our men and women over seas who risk their lives so that we can be free. Pray for those who work in the deepest shadows of our enemies lairs. Risking their lives to gain intelligence and thwart future attacks. And pray to whatever god you pray to that he gives me guidance of these next few weeks, for I will surely need it. Good night and God bless America." The president stepped back from the podium to a smattering of flashes from cameras and questions from reporters.

An aide stepped to the podium to tell the news core that the president would not answer questions at this moment, and would be issuing a more in depth statement at a later time.

Riahl leaned back in his chair behind his desk, watching the press coverage on his computer. He smiled 'you will need more then a prayer Mr. President' he thought to himself. 'You will need a miracle.'