Free Protocol 1337 by D. Henbane

Antone Haus SPC. SPC standing for specialist. Your area of specialization may sound important, but you are gonna be a glorified body guard. If anyone asks, you qualified for Special Operation Thunder Clap after boot camp and have spent the last 10 years there. You are not allowed to disclose any information about your service, including where you went to boot camp. If anyone presses for more information direct, them to contact their superior about Thunder Clap.” Reese explains.
    I reach out to feel my almost bald head. At least Rednek left me a tiny bit of fuzz up top. I am not very excited about my new assignment but I have to make do with what cards are dealt me. It is far too late to reconsider my options. The only thing that troubles me is Eve. Will I ever see her again? The only good thing I can make of this is that I am a naturally good liar. Reese wants me to bullshit my way through a top secret army installment. That’s a pretty tall order even for the most gifted bullshitter. At least he gave me a fall back with the Thunder Clap bit. I can work with that, and just maybe pull this off.
    I strip down and get on my army drab gear. Once I place the hat upon my nearly bare skull, I actually feel like I am a soldier. I stand before Reese and Rednek. “You looks like a killa. A mean mofo, gonna do good I tinks.” Rednek says.
    “Not exactly soldier of the year, but it should pass for now. Haus I cant emphasize this enough. Under no circumstances are you to screw this up. I am already going out on a limb, and I am cashing in favors left and right. For your sakes boy, you better be right. If this explodes in my face, rest assured I will have your ass hanging from a Saguaro cactus. If your lucky the coyotes will eat your balls before the vultures do.” Reese threatens.
    I think I have heard enough pep talks today. Reese informs me that my chopper ride is already in flight. I don’t have time to gather any personal affects, and he considers any delay a direct violation of order. He throws me an army duffel bag, already packed, I just hope it has enough toilet paper to make me through. I scramble to the elevator, and hit the Ground one button.
    I can hear the chopper ascending down as I exit the elevator door. I am still 300 yards from the exit of the hanger, let alone another 75 yards to the helipad. So I heave my massive duffel bag over my shoulder, and start out in dead sprint for the helipad. Once I reach the helicopter, the pilot is not amused by my tardiness. He screams at me...”Get in the damn bird! We gotta go!” I throw my bag inside, and I jump inside the chopper. Not a moment too soon, because the pilot is already lifting off from the helipad.
    Once in the air, I watch as my former fortress shrinks underneath my feet. This heavenly bird is lifting me up like an angel ascending to heaven. Soon the ground beneath me becomes alien. Up and away we journey, and I look out with child like excitement. The life I used to know is gone now, only my future remains. The whir of the choppers blades is like a sweet symphony serenading me to sleep. I give in, and I succumb to sleep.

 
    CHAPTER SIX
    Double Delta
    Once we touch down, I am jolted awake and ready for action. I see a young man motioning to me. I grab my gear and exit the chopper. I hold my head down out of instinct. I follow him to a hangar, about 30 yards out from the landing zone.
    “Welcome to the Homestake Mine, head into the main hanger for further instructions.” He directs. I walk into what I think is an aircraft hangar, but am quickly confronted with a series of offices. An attractive young lady, dressed in a blue skirt, informs me that I am to see General Carl Stratton. She walks me over to his office, and I notice there is a gone fishing sign hung on his door. She opens the door and lets me inside. I walk inside and see the walls are decorated with fish mounts. Each is of a different species with a wide variety of sizes. On his desk rests a very