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December 7th, 3512
Washington D.C., American People's Republic
Sector 87912, Milky Way Galaxy; "Earth 2"
07:03:54 PM

Everything about this job feels off. I should've realized that the moment I received a letter with coded instructions & a promise of 10 million Units from a known domestic terror cell. I should've known it when I found out two heavily armed strike teams would be the main combat unit, that I was to act in an assisting capacity, that we'd be striking in such a heavily populated area as D.C. Money's money, though, & I was willing to trade lives for a better chance of finding my son.
"Watchman, Watchman, this is Alpha One. You copy, over?" a throaty voice asks over my radio. "Loud & clear, Alpha." I reply, my voice slightly muffled by the thick balaclava masking my face. "Send it." "My team & Bravo team are both in position at the end of the street." the officer continues. "Intel reports the target about 10 miles from the city. ETA, 20 minutes." "Wilco." I say. "Keep me posted. Out."
15 long minutes drag by with no activity until a new voice, deeper & slightly ominous, crackles to life over the airways: "All teams, sound off." "Alpha team in position, standing by." "Bravo in position, standing by." "Watchman in position, standing by." I answer. "All right, good luck, boys. Operation Bring Down Olympus is a go."
I pause for a moment. Olympus used to be the codename for the White House, until the Earth was destroyed & the military overthrew the new half-ass government. If they're using a codename with such a high level of importance, than just who the hell is this target? I stride quickly to the nearest corner of the rooftop & snatch up an enormous sniper rifle, levelling its scope with my eye. Guess I'll just have to find out.

"Watchman, this is Command. Be advised, targets are fast approaching by armored vehicle." "Roger." I growl. "Distance from my position?" "About half a click to the southwest." the operator replies. "Hold on. We'll bring 'em to ya." Seconds after the transmission cuts short, a massive tremor rocks the ground, accompanied by a blinding flash & thunderous boom. I swivel my rifle towards the site & examine the scene. Near several sewer entrances, hordes of civilians lay dead or dying, clouds of noxious black smoke rising from the depths beneath the shattered concrete.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of another explosion. And another. And another still. What the hell are they doing? I turn my scope in the direction of the new blasts & study the roads, then the rooftops. While the underground explosions seem to have stopped, the rooftops are lined with masked men chucking grenades at a line of armored cars. The targets, I realize. The screams of people dying in the street begin to reach my ears. They're doing all this...Just to get to whoever's in those vehicles?

The cars dodge one last barrage of grenades & start down the street where I & the two strike teams lie in wait. "Take the shot, Watchman." the radio instructs. I follow the command without hesitation, putting a bullet through the front tires of each vehicle as it comes into view. At this point, I don't care who's inside. Better them than any more innocents. The cars swerve wildly as the exposed metal of the tire grinds against the concrete & finally screech to a stop about a quarter of the way down the street. I keep tense, finger looped in the trigger's catch, ready to shoot anyone who thinks about emerging from their iron graves.

As one of the doors of the 4th car swing open, two teenagers, a girl & a boy, tumble out onto the street in addition to several aging men in sharp suits.
I stand frozen in place, watching as the occupants of the other vehicles either scramble to get to cover or into defensive positions to return fire. I've seen some of their faces before-leaders of Earth 2 provinces, rulers from other worlds-but the 2 that I focus on belong to the boy & the girl. They're so young...Why would they be travelling with such an esteemed group? Are they siblings, children of one of the officials now clumsily fighting back against the emerging strike teams? I watch as the boy, no older than my own son, draws a pistol of his own & starts firing at the terrorists, placing each shot with flawless accuracy. The girl is tucked away in an alleyway, away from the battle & treating the wounds of several bleeding men.
I shake away the thoughts & level my sights at the boy's chest. No, they can't be just kids. Their movements are too precise, too meticulate & calculating. They're most likely IAF, bodyguards sent undercover in a most unlikely form. But yet...I still can't bring myself to gun them down. The boy reminds me too much of Matthew, & the girl...Well, she's a healer. I have no need to kill her.
The boy yells as a bullet rips into his bicep & falls back, clutching the wound as it spurts blood onto the dark gray concrete. The girl spots her comrade & rushes over, attempting to drag him into the alley, but a pair of terrorists reach them & pull them apart once again. I start to feel a cold sweat on my palms. Should I help them? It's my mission to kill them, after all. They're in the way. They're expendable.
The girl screams something inaudible as the terrorists start to drag the boy away. The young man kicks & struggles against his captors, but is unable to escape in his weakened state. I start to panic, my mind flooded with a million thoughts all at once. I can't help them get away...Think of the money, think of Matthew...If I don't do this, I may never see him again...
The men stand the boy up against a wall & hold him there, preparing for something. The girl is still pleading with one of them, but he swings his rifle around in his hands & brings the butt down on her head, hard. The man's 2 comrades prop the boy up on his knees & yank his head up by his hair to face the heavens. The third terrorist draws his pistol & grinds it into the boy's cheek, finger on the trigger...
Without thinking, I pull the trigger, splattering chunks of the third terrorist's skull & brain on the wall to his left. His comrades move to react, but I'm faster, placing a shot between their eyes before they can even lift their rifles. My mind screams at my body to stop, to think of the job, think of Matthew, but I just keep firing, pumping rounds into the strike teams as the confused terrorists start to fall back inside the buildings. Before long, the last terrorist collapses, dead, & I sit back & sigh dejectedly. 10 million Notes...10 million...And I threw it all away to save 2 kids I've never met before in my entire life.
As I calmly stride out onto the carnage-covered street that was a battleground just minutes before, rifle slung over my back, I search through the wreckage & makeshift cover for survivors. Most of those who fought back lay bleeding profusely, their hoarse, desperate cries for help ringing in my ears like something out of a nightmare. I spot the boy & the girl by the building where I gunned down the first three terrorists. The girl is wrapping a bandage around her comrade's arm, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood gushing from his wound. "That's gonna hurt for a while." I remark in an attempt to break the silence. The boy meets my eyes in a hateful gaze, then winces as the girl cinches the bandage tight.
I sigh & growl, "Look, I don't care if you trust me or not. I'm not here to be your friend. I'm merely offering help." The pair look at each other, then back at me. "I know you probably don't want to risk going to a public hospital because it would blow your cover, correct?" I continue. "I have a few places-" "You mean hideouts." the boy interrupts, pure venom dripping from his voice. "If you feel the need to call them so, then yes." I snap back. "Now then...The closest one is on Tayona, which is less than a day's journey by ship from Earth 2. You can stay there until your wounds have healed...And then you can be on your way." I extend my hand out to the girl. "Sound good?" I ask.

The duo share another uncertain look, then the girl's eyes soften & she takes my hand. "You can't seriously be thinking about going with this guy!" the boy shouts. "He was just trying to kill us! He's the enemy!" "He saved us, Trent." his partner responds. "Does that sound like an enemy to you?" Trent starts to argue, but doesn't find the words & stays silent. "...We should probably get him up before the authorities arrive." I interject. The girl nods & yanks Trent to his feet, loads him into a nearby jeep & climbed into the opposite side. "Thank you for helping us." she whispers. "I'm Abigail." "...Shaun." I reply. "Shaun Hayes."