Chp. 1 - Enter Stage Left: Ghost

The crumpled remains of a blue Dodge Ram lay upside down at the bottom of the hill, halfway wrapped around a tree. The road at the top was empty save a jet black Audi parked just at the edge, it's driver eyeing his handiwork. He was admiring the total devastation done to the vehicle, the steel body wrenched and twisted like it was aluminum foil. No one else was around for miles, so no one was aware of the showdown through the countryside that had just taken place. As the driver replayed the events in his head, he smirked to himself. He had been told his target would be dangerous, highly skilled, and easily the most difficult kill he would ever have to accomplish. Thinking back to how easy it had been, he couldn’t help but feel like he had cheated his clients out of their money. And here I thought this infamous ghost would be harder to kill. But they only wanted him dead, not a show, he thought smugly. It's not my fault they had more trouble than I did, but that's why I am a professional. This was by far the easiest 5 million he had ever made, so he wouldn't bring this up to his employers. As he pondered this, he remembered he needed to grab proof of his targets demise. He began to ponder why they wanted something so trivial as his ring, and checked to make sure no one else was around. It was 10:43 p.m. in the middle of nowhere, so of course, no one was.

An hour ago, he had been following his target, at first unnoticed. He had been watching him for a few days, gathering intelligence, learning his habits, and where he goes; learning the best place to kill him without anyone knowing the better. Tonight, his target broke habit and appeared to be leaving town, so he followed. The man took back roads, avoiding all main highways, and this late at night, no one else would be driving down these roads.  Perfect, he had thought to himself. As they came to a part of the road that turned into switch backs, the man he was following floored it. S**t, he made me. Mentally chastising himself, the assassin shifted gears, easily covering the gap between his car and the beater truck. He swung out to the right, gaining, and the target swerved in an attempt to knock his follower off the right side of the road and down the hill. Unfortunately for him, the killer saw this coming, and slowed down just enough to perform a pit maneuver on the truck, catching his front end on the rear axle and making the blue Dodge lose traction. Upon losing control, the truck fish tailed wildly, getting closer to the side of the road before finally flipping down the hillside, landing on its roof, and caught by a tree on the left side on the bed causing it to bend into a U shape with considerable ease.

The killer grinned. He was quite pleased with his work. He looked away, reaching for his phone and dialed a number. A gruff voice answered, "Is he taken care of?" 

The assassin replied, "Yes, he's gotten himself a little twisted up around a tree. Where should I meet you?"

  "The same place as before, we will call you to set the time tomorrow. That should give you plenty of time to drive across the country." 

"Consider it done."

 The assassin hung up, and reached into his brief case for his gloves. Can't be leaving any finger prints now, can we? He climbed out of his car. He was a tall, slender but healthy man, around 6'0" and 180 lbs. He had an air of cold-hearted smugness. He was the kind of man who would kill his own grandmother if the price was high enough (although in that case, it wouldn't have to be a very high price). He wore a  matte black jacket and dark jeans, with a charcoal gray t-shirt underneath. His hair was black, and if his eyes were any darker brown they might as well have been black too. He carefully traversed the steep incline to the demolished vehicle at the bottom. He wrenched open the door, or what was left of it, and he froze in horror at what he was seeing. Where the hell did he go!?! He looked around in panic, looking for some sign of him. How is that possible, he should be a smear on his dashboard. 

There was a loud bang.

The driver of the truck stepped from the shadows to the left of the truck, gun in hand, staring down at his handiwork. 

"Getting rusty in your old age," the young man chuckled to himself. He was only slightly shorter than the assassin at 5'11" but considerably more built and muscular at 220 lbs. His hair was black, mostly swept back and to the left, save a few strays, and freckles scattered his face. He had a short, scruffy beard that was normally kept neat but lately had been getting unkempt. His eyes were hazel, usually changing between golden brown and green; and they were heavy with exhaustion. 

He didn't bother going to a hospital. His injuries were mild at the worst, and the only thing he would have to worry about is a few scars. Of course, he didn't mind having scars. He always saw them as evidence of an active life. A man without scars is a man without a story, he always thought to himself. He climbed to the top of the hill, hopped into the assassin's car (after quietly whispering to it "Damn, you are beautiful") and then drove off into the night. After an hour on the road, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and made a call. "Hey, Chris, it's Tyler," he spoke calmly, "I've been compromised, they sent a hired gun to kill me." 

There was a moment of silence before his friend responded, "S**t man…..you alright?" 

"Yea, just a few scraps and bruises. The guy they sent forced me off the highway and the truck is destroyed. But I managed to claim his ride after I got rid of him", there was a hint of pride in his voice as he spoke of his accomplishment. "You make sure the police can't track it back to you?" His friend asked with concern. 

"Yea, despite the conflict being on the coasts, the cops are seriously understaffed in small towns, a lot of them decided to go help out with the invasion. Besides, I managed to acquire a pistol that doesn't have any serial numbers, so they couldn't trace it to anyone if they wanted, but listen: it won't be long before his clients find out he failed. Colorado isn't safe anymore." There was a brief pause.

"Is it time to get the gang back together?" Chris tried to hide the excitement in his voice

"Yea. I still have one more group to connect with in Kansas City, but I jacked the would-be killer's Audi so it'll probably be a little over a day before I get there."

"S**t dog, an Audi? Hell yea, I'll start making the calls and let everyone know. You be safe out there man."

"Will do man."

Tyler hung up the phone and slid it into the cup holder. The drive was quiet, save the growl of the engine and the occasional slap of the gear shift. He had been away from home for close to three months now, and the situation had continued to grow worse. China had managed to get a foothold from Seattle to upper California and was slowly moving south, while Iran and Russia were gaining more land in the south east. The military was doing all they could, but after expending so many resources fighting a civil war, the enemy had the upper hand. Several factions of the rebellion started aiding the military, but the damage was severe. Tyler had been one of the leaders, but his unit was smaller, focused more on gathering intel for the military and leading rescue missions of civilians that the military wouldn't do.  Along with the occasional assassination of a general or two.

He reminisced on all he had gone through. The war zones, the riots, and countless innocent people caught in the crossfire. It wasn't even a year ago he was just a college student trying to figure out what he was going to eat for lunch. Now he has to find out how to keep himself and others alive. He had spent this temporary hiatus trying to make connections with other splinter groups in an effort to unify the rebellion effort. He thought back to his friends and family, hoping they had all managed to avoid trouble. Stay safe guys,  I'm coming home.

Reviews

[Mika Franolich]

This was a well written story. The characters are intriguing [the way you described the hired assassin sent chills up my spine, he's definitely a villain people can get behind (for as long as he was alive)] and I'm very interested in what significance the man's ring has and how he became such an important figure in the war effort. However, for a story such as this, research is crucial to the plot. An assassin would never be happy that their target is taking deserted roads because it would quickly become apparent to their prey that they were being stalked. More realistic scenarios would either be that the assassin continued on, unhappy with the situation but left with no other option, or they would try again another time.
Also, the people who hired the assassin will realize that something happened to him. Tyler should know that, and if he did his first priority would be to dump the assassin's car. Aside from those minute details, I was really engrossed with this story and definitely plan on reading more when I have the time ^.^

[Elias Kovats]

Thank you for that insight! I will definitely take that to heart, I want his attitude to be realistic so I will make that change soon. I hope with following chapters to answer some of the intrigue with the ring and other open ends, and you have a point about the car that I didn't even realize, I will try to address that as well. Thank you for the advice!