Operation Time-00:25

“We have a problem, sir.”

“What is it?”

“It’s GENESIS, there’s been a malfunction.”

“My… God…”

“We can still solve this quickly, and discreetly, but only if you play your part.”

“What’s the extent of the damage?”

“The entire facility is lost; we’ve quarantined the area.”

“How did this happen?”

“It was an inside job; we know that much.”

“Ok, I’ll make some calls. You’ve got 48 hours to solve this mess or I pull the plug.”

“Yes, sir, I won’t fail you…”

Earlier that morning

“The place is owned by Bluegene, so don’t screw around too much. They apparently lost control of something called GENESIS. We don’t know much and that’s why you’re here, Stenson,” Jonathan informed him, reading off a clipboard.

“Hey, you listening?” he yelled, hitting Stenson lightly.

“Yea, I’m listening…” Stenson replied, still doodling on a notepad in his swivel chair. Stenson’s cubicle was bare, beside a computer and various other office equipment: notepads, some pens, and a small PDA. The only thing that stood out was the HK USP pistol on his desk next to a cup of coffee.

“Sending the newbie into the field sounds dangerous to me, Jon,” Colonel Miguel Vesque criticized standing up from the adjacent cubicle wall. At first glance, everybody could see that Vesque was a muscular man. However, rumors among the agents have it that he's practically "bulletproof".

“Scared that the small guy can take you down?” Jonathan replied; looking up from his clipboard after marking down some notes.

“How’s that bruise from yesterday healing up, Vesque?” asked Jamie Lin mockingly. As a civilian, Jamie technically wasn’t supposed to be with ACID. However, being the best hacker that could be found (and paid for services) she did well. The skinny asian woman was short and wore thin glasses for matching eyes.

“I suggest you leave now. The brass is getting pissed off at the administration and that means they’re getting pissed off at me! So get off your lazy ass and go do something.”

Stenson walked off into the lobby. The marble floor had the word “ACID” imprinted on it and the smaller text “All-purpose Combat Intelligence Department” below it. This is where Stenson worked, the top secret organization hidden in the shadows of the government that cleans up anything the government truly messes up. Stenson remembered what Jamie had told him about the job when he was offered a position. It reminded him of “The Matrix”, some mysterious hacker messages you about a shadowy employment job. Stenson hated that movie, just like he hated his job, and more importantly he wanted to take back his decision, but it was too late now.

I didn’t want this job… I didn’t apply; I was chosen, and forced to deal with this shit.

With that final thought, he drove away in the department issued black civic that all the agents got.

Lt. Jake Johnson looked down the pitch black hallway with the flashlight on his modified FN P90 illuminating wherever it was pointed. The circle of light slowly moved from one side of the wall to the other.

“Man, underground secret research facilities, Bluegene freak black-ops bio projects, a sudden loss of communication? What the fuck is this shit?” The lieutenant said, keeping his concentration on monitoring the hall. 1st Class Sergeant Alfonse Cato gave Johnson a stern look.

“You make it sound like something ripped out of a horror movie. I don’t like a horror movie, that’s why I got my buddy here,” Cato said, rubbing the side of his HK SL-9 assault/sniper rifle.
“You don’t pick monsters off with a sniper. It’s very anticlimactic,” 2nd Class Sergeant Alex F. Mellish stated as-a-matter-of-factly, tapping at the electronic touch screen interface to the triple interlock blast doors that had cut off the hall.

“More hacking, less chatting,” Captain George Allen ordered, looking down on Mellish who was tediously pushing at the screen.

“So, what was that about anticlimactic Mellish?” Johnson started, glancing back for a second.

“I was saying that you never see monsters and ext get killed by snipers in movies,” Mellish restated.

“So, what makes it anticlimactic?” Johnson asked again enthusiastically.

“I agree with Johnson, 35mm ACP rounds seem very climactic to me,” Cato stated coldly.

“What I mean is that monsters don’t die in one shot,” Mellish continued, “You don’t have a pinpoint shot just blow the brain matter out of a monster and the movie’s over.”

“I can fix you know,” Cato said, pointing at his rifle.

“And who says it has to be a shot?” Johnson said, “Morrison over there can cut the crap out of him,” Lt. Brian J. Morrison stood in the corner opposite of the captain, spinning a knife with two fingers.

“Shut up; or it’ll be you who I’ll be cutting the crap out of. So don’t push me boy, and I won’t push you,” Morrison replied threateningly.

“You got a shitload of talk in you soldier, lets see what that can do for you in the next firefight,” Allen stated as an insult, looking behind him at Johnson. “Can you hurry up on this Mellish, we don’t got all day.”

“First off, yes we do have all day, with these doors shut nothing is getting out anytime soon,” Mellish replied smartly.

“We ain’t getting paid by the hour soldier,” Allen stated putting his gloved hand on Mellish’s shoulder.

“Right, no hourly pay, hacking right, ok, let’s sees,” Mellish stammered, “May I just point out—“

“How about no, get working or the next thing you point out will be the extra holes in your ass I’m going to put into you if you don’t finish this,” Allen threatened.

“What I was about so say—“

“Get to soldier!”

“Is that we’re locked out!”

“What?”

“The binary pass codes are irresponsive, the breaker patterns have been switched, the manual override doesn’t do anything, and the pass key is just about as useful as Johnson.”

“Hey, you wanna make something out of this?” Johnson said.

“Alright, I want all of that, in English,” Allen stated.

“We can’t get in through here, and there’s nothing I can do about it,” Mellish finished.

“Good, that made sense,” Allen said, unstrapping the radio on his vest.

“So, we save the hacker from the FBI, recruit him into a top secret elite commando team, pay him a good six digit paycheck, and he can’t fucking open the goddamn door?” Johnson said angrily, “And he says I’m useless, fucking techies.”

“Can it Johnson. We got enough of your bullshit for a day,” Morrison said, putting the K-bar knife away, and clicking the safety off his P90.

“Trident lead here, request to speak with high-com actual,” Allen said formally through the radio.

“Request denied, tell me what you need soldier.”

Allen, looked at Mellish for a moment, sighing, before continuing, “We have a door locked down here.”

“Don’t forget to mention ‘triple blast door’,” Mellish reminded sarcastically.

Allen continued, “It’s a big door.”

Johnson took on the classic understatement look, “No, I’m sure this is just a small one. You can fit a goddamn tank through here.”

Allen kicked Johnson lightly, “Well, we can’t get it open.”

“Ok, well, protocol does say that under these circumstances your squad is given the option to use breaching explosives.”

Cato chuckled softly, “Cool…”

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