Agent M: Project Mabus (The Agent M Series Book 1)

by L. M. Vila

  The tailing squad car approached the exit. All three vehicles drove end to end with little room in between. Speeding ahead, a small vehicle tried to snake their way in by approaching the back car. Both officers inside looked on disparagingly.

  “See that motorcycle speeding up?” Asked the officer sitting in the passenger seat.

  “Crazy kids.”

  “Want me to call it in to the others?”

  The driver waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Speeding forward, the motorcyclist pulled up to the last vehicle on the chain as they were just about to exit the highway. He matched speeds with the car and slowly turned his head to face them.

  “Hey are you seeing this?”

  Now annoyed, the driver started showing it in his tone. “I told you to leave him alone. Wave him off or something.”

  This was getting silly. The officer gave the kid a short wave. Responding to his pleasantness, the motorcyclist offered his own wave. A nice greeting. Which then turned sour as he morphed his open palm into a sole standing middle finger.

  “What balls on this kid.”

  They didn’t have time to deal with this. The car was shortly approaching a turn. “You want to scare him off. Roll down your window and flash your gun,” ordered the driver.

  He did as instructed. They couldn’t see it, but the motorcyclist smiled. From his right side a grenade launcher surfaced. It pointed inches away from their open window. He couldn’t tell, but he swore they said some kind of obscenity. Foul language was instantly silenced with one pull of the trigger.

  The interior of the vehicle erupted instantaneously. Windows shattered and fire bellowed from the inside out. Blood and flesh splashed outward using the newly opened passages as a means of exit. The car lost traction and missed the turn. It collided with the surrounding shrubbery and finally made a stop crashing into a small set of pine trees.

  “What the hell!” Yelled the driver of Michael’s vehicle. Meryl and Michael turned around and saw the wreckage unfold before them. Their eyes glossed over as a speeding motorbike passed them on the right side.

  “We’re being attacked!” Declared Meryl. She reached for her pistol and released the safety.

  “Tell them to blow the stop sign,” Michael ordered.

  “What?” The driver shouted back.

  “Do it!” His tone was sharp enough to cut diamonds.

  The officer shook off the nervousness he was feeling and picked up the radio. “Car nineteen, ignore the stop sign and keep moving at full speed.”

  “Roger that.” They must have heard the explosion. There was no way they could ignore it. It may have been too little too late. Both cars made the first turn with ease but approaching the second one was much more difficult. They didn’t have the freedom of a guided road. This was a straight ninety degree shift. Michael or Meryl couldn’t get a clear shot at this angle.

  The motorcycle sped ahead to the lead vehicle. His maneuvering was remarkable. Far too impressive for even a skilled rider. He didn’t wait for them to roll down their windows this time. The rider fired two shots under the police cruiser as it began to turn. Each round bounced underneath and enjoyed stability for a fraction of a second. Then they detonated.

  Flames shot in every direction. The sound caused by the blast could shatter ear drums. It lifted the vehicle almost ten feet into the air. Combined with the force of turning, the squad car went spinning down 3 Palms Road. Glass shattered coating the street with tiny bits of debris. It continued to slide down the road, scraping the asphalt in its path.

  The squad car finally came to a stop on its own. As the cyclist passed, he fired an extra shot into the freshly shattered windows. The last thing he heard before the final blast was the pathetic pleas of the already battered officers inside.

  Avoiding the fallen car was tricky, but luckily the driver was experienced. They drove past it on the left side, steering directly against oncoming traffic. Cars hastily approached. Their white lights reflected against the faces of the drivers and passengers. The officer veered right and felt the large chunk of steel that was the part of other vehicle pass by within inches of theirs.

  As they moved away from the wreckage, the motorcyclist appeared on their right. Exactly where Michael sat.

  Impulses knew best. Michael rolled down his window.

  “What are you doing?” Meryl pleaded.

  “Keep moving.” His words were lost with the wind cutting by so quickly.

  “What?!”

  Michael eyed the rider. He watched as he turned the grenade launcher towards his face. There was only one shot at this. The consequences of failure equaled death. A risk worth taking. Pulling himself through the opening, Michael dove through the window and caught the cyclist with both arms. The grenade launcher titled upward and fired a round into the air. Michael used the momentum and threw his knee into the rider’s chest as they fell. It was the only thing he could do to ensure his safety.

  The impact on the asphalt nearly removed Michael’s grip on the assassin. He could hear the rider's grunts through the helmet. They skidded along the road traveling rapidly. The rider must have been wearing some kind of heavy armor. Sparks flew under his body was they slid. Michael used every muscle available to hold on.

  “We’ve got to stop!” Meryl implored.

  Luckily the officer agreed with her sentiments. A gas station was nearby on the right. They headed towards it.

  A silver car shot out from the right. The officer panicked. He cranked the wheel to the left with enough force to rip it from its hinges. Tires skid against the road leaving a thick trail. The turn was too sharp. They were heading straight for a wall.

  “Get down!”

  It was the only plausible thing he could say. Meryl braced herself against the driver’s seat. The squad car collided with the white brick structure, sending pieces of the monument flying. Chunks of broken stone bounced off the hood and windshield. The car rolled to a stop in the middle of a vacant lot.

  Her brain was rattled. Meryl still had the wherewithal to move. Staying here wasn’t good in any degree. She opened the door and rolled out with her pistol still drawn. Time to check the driver. Meryl pulled the handle for his side. He seemed ok.

  “We’ve got to move. Now!” Her words were sharp and powerful. Enough to wake him from his dazed trance.

  Meryl grabbed him by the chest has he unbuckled his safety belt. He fell onto the ground slowly but forceful. The officer's mind was foggy and he could barely make sense of the situation. The previous events rendered his perception muddy.

  Chaos reigned heavily throughout the street, silencing Meryl's perception. The offbeat cries of locals as they inched towards the wreckage brought her back down to earth. Now they were just sitting ducks. Meryl stood up next to the squad car. Bullets immediately ricocheted off the top. She planted herself back to the ground. The other one was here. No doubt about it.

  Peering through the window, she saw a woman walking forward. Dressed in all black and walking past a distant silver vehicle. Meryl recognized it instantly. It was the same that caused their wall crashing experience.

  Hiding here would only end up to their disadvantage. Meryl rose from the back end of the vehicle and popped off three rounds. Her target leaped behind an adjacent wall thirty feet away. It was too solid to shoot through. Meryl dropped down and pushed her back against the tire. If she was having this much trouble, there was no telling how knee deep in shit her partner was in.

  Still riding on his back, Michael locked his grasp as they slid to a halt on the edge of a gas station. The rider used the leverage and launched his attacker over his head. His strength was immense. Michael saw the cement racing forward. He tucked his head down and threw his legs over. Rolling against the ground was more painful than he realized. It mercilessly resisted every muscle in his body and sent bolts of pain through all of his affected nerves.

  Spinning to his knees Michael drew his weapon. The rider was still on the ground.
He slowly started to pick himself up. Michael kept his pistol trained on his every move.

  As he stood, the target cracked the joints in his shoulders and neck. He then dusted the excess garbage off his body. The helmet was next. He removed it slowly revealing his short brown hair coupled with a hideous smile.

  The helmet dropped. It bounced off the ground lifelessly and fell only inches away from him. Michael pulled himself up from his knees. His pistol was still locked on the target’s frame. Civilians began to gather at the scene but thankfully were at least a hundred feet away. This could cause additional problems. Michael had to stay focused or else more people would be joining him in death.

  Cautiously, the driver took a step forward. He began unzipping his jacket. The armor was solid but too restrictive. It wouldn’t allow him the freedom of mobility he would need to rip this man apart. The jacket slid off his arms and slumped on the ground. He put his hands in his pockets as he continued forward.

  Despite all of this eccentricity, Michael’s pulse didn’t increase. His mind settled. Experience took over. Michael knew what he was capable of. This target wouldn’t be of any direct threat. Not in this position. The rider screwed up big time. He didn’t expect Michael to get the drop on him like this. Then he heard him speak.

  “Greetings Agent Madison,” the rider greeted. His grin grew increasingly dreadful. “I’m here on behalf the collection agency. Your life is six hours overdue... And it’s mine.”

  “After the first two cars are disabled, I’ll attack the last one, drawing the target out.”

  Seika made a mental note. She drew a pattern on the newly printed satellite map of the cars and their target locations. The grenade launcher had more firepower than required but anything extra wouldn’t be detrimental. However, there were still a few kinks to work out.

  “What happens if you fail to take them all down?”

  Her tone was generic but it was enough to get under Kurtis’ skin. “If that should happen, you’ll come out from the gas station over here.” His finger rested on top of the area and moved it northbound. “Drive out this way. Send them into the parking lot.”

  “And if we get separated?”

  Nothing to worry about. If everything played out the way he hoped, then there was room for a little sparring match with the target. “Keep the survivors pinned down as needed to over there,” he said while pointing to the lot. “I’ll drag the target out by force and finish him off across the street.”

  Seika agreed. That could work.

  “One more thing,” Kurtis didn’t like what he was about to say. Orders were orders. Even if he didn’t agree. “Don’t kill that other woman if she’s there.”

  “Why not?”

  She seemed disturbed at that statement. It took more skill to disable someone without killing them. Not that she didn’t lack the ability, but adding another contingency could jeopardize their mission.

  “Orders from the General. She’s not to be touched. It’ll be bad for business.”

  This wasn’t the first time Seika’s faced this kind of situation. It wouldn’t be an issue. So long as they weren’t careless with their own lives.

  The strategy was sound. Almost all of the loose ends were tied. Timing had to be flawless. “We’ll only have a window of three to four minutes before police arrive. Plan extraction at one-hundred and fifty seconds.”

  “Plenty of time,” Kurtis sneered.

  “Are you taking any additional firearms?”

  Silly question. Kurtis reached into his pocket and pulled up a pair of half-inch ball bearings. “This will be plenty.”

  Surely he was joking. Seika pressed her last question.

  “If we don’t make our timed exit, what is the next option?”

  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll make it just fine.” Kurt tapped the grenade launcher hanging off his shoulder. “They'll be too busy watching the fireworks.”

  Bullets exited Meryl’s pistol with a fevering velocity. She only had time to pop three shots before more came her way. It was impossible to see the target move in this light. Pair that with her black outfit and that’s an instant recipe perfect stealth.

  Meryl stayed down. More shots bounced off the car. The speed of each was quick, but still spaced. It couldn’t be an automatic weapon. She must be using two pistols at the same time. Meryl hoped that was the case. If that was the target’s normal rate of fire then she may be in over her head.

  Wincing on the ground, the officer tried to gain his composure. His mind was still flustered. The accident took a big chunk of his sense and diced it up. Putting them back in order would be a laborious task.

  “Stay down!”

  Her orders were the only thing resonating with the officer at this point. Everything else seemed jumbled and hazy. Like trying to put a puzzle together while blindfolded.

  “Can you radio for back up?”

  Desperation crept in. Meryl stood up and fired a pair of shots only to be brought down immediately with the retaliation from the other. Getting into firefights was something Meryl thought she left back at the L.A.P.D. Not a great feeling for the first day on the job.

  The officer shook his head. He reached for his radio and tapped the button hard. Words poured from his lips, scattered but strong.

  “This is car six-eight-four. We are taking fire on the corner of 3 Palms and Hacienda. Need assistance!”

  The radio responded immediately. “Roger that car six-eight-four. Friendlies will be notified immediately.”

  Help in any form would be highly appreciated. A bit of good luck to top off all the bad. The only thing they needed to do is wait. And survive.

  Dirt slid away from his feet as Kurtis drew closer. “So you are the one that the General is so afraid of?” He laughed. “I am beginning to believe the old man is feeling, how do you American’s call it? Delusional?”

  The General? Michael’s mind blitzed through the names on the list. None of them were military personal. His Glock 23 remained firm in his hand. Its sights locked on the rider. He was getting closer now. Maybe thirty feet away.

  “Who are you?”

  Getting him to talk before the potential conflict starts would be useful. Michael wasn’t exactly sure who, or what for that matt, he was up against. The only thing he could say for certain was that the rider’s physical strength was unlike anything he’s ever gone up against.

  “Me?” Kurtis playfully responded. “I am a ghost. A demon. A monster. Born on your government’s soil and raised in the proud motherland of the people’s government.”

  Michael pinched his eyebrows. Such an odd introduction. He watched the target stop his movement about twenty feet away now. His hands exited the pockets. The right one was carrying a pair of small metal balls that he rolled between his fingers.

  “Now, that we have been properly introduced,” Kurtis balled his hands into a fist. “Time to test your mettle!”

  He moved. Michael fired. The target disappeared. Meryl was dead on about his speed. A ball shot out of the target’s hand, blitzing towards Michael’s head. Instinctually, he raised the pistol, deflecting the shot. The ping of metals snapped into his ears almost to a disorienting degree. Michael’s weapon vibrated violently in his hands. Not enough to release it.

  Staring up at him not even a second later, Kurtis appeared and slapped the gun out of Michael’s grip. His nerves screamed ferociously as they all lit up simultaneously. The weapon fell. Its metal skin kissed the surface of the ground and bounced to a halt.

  Kurtis began his attack. He launched his fist straight at Michael’s head, catching nothing but air. The next wave of strikes was given a similar greeting. His swings were wild, unfocussed. Michael folded that into memory. This one relied too much on power to worry about technique. Kurtis funneled a kick into the mix. It wasn’t as precise or elegant as Seika’s style but it would do the job. As soon as his leg lifted, Michael disappeared from view. If Kurtis blinked, he would have missed it. No one he’s ever encountered could move l
ike that.

  The kick slapped nothing more than empty space. His leg dropped back into an offensive stance. Kurtis turned to find the new position of the target. His body shifted. As soon as Kurtis’ eyes caught a glimpse of that black suit he moved to engage. And was promptly thrown to the ground. Pain registered on both shoulders. Kurtis tried to move his arms. They were locked into place, stuck together. Metal clinked behind him. His wrists were bound. He had let his guard down for just a moment and wound up being captured.

  This was almost surreal. There wasn’t anyone on this earth faster than Kurtis. His body was designed beyond human’s evolutionary principals. The evidence sat painfully in his stomach. Before he could even throw a kick, Agent Madison hand slipped behind him and cuffed him. Very clever for a government employee.

  Michael took a deep breath and glanced over his work. Keeping a pair of handcuffs didn't make sense for most FBI agents. Some habits just never die. Breaking through his opponent’s defense to exploit a weakness was difficult but attainable. This one's close quarters combat skills paled in comparison to Michael's.

  As he walked over to his gun, Michael could hear his adversary chuckling. Whether he was surprised he got caught or laughing at his own mistake it made no difference. Michael bent over and lifted his weapon from the ground. Upon initial inspection, it looked alright. When Michael looked down the sights, he noticed the barrel was dented. Bent actually. If it were capable of firing it would be about five degrees off to the right side. Michael’s assassin did an amazing amount of damage with a single ball bearing. A testament to his strength. Which suddenly made it clear as to why he was laughing so graciously.

  Kurtis pulled himself up off the ground using the street light as leverage. “You really thought you had me, didn’t you? Glupyĭ amerikanskih sobak.”

  The bonds that held Kurtis captive shattered as if it were made of tissues. Metal bits spread across the asphalt, shining under the artificial light. Kurtis sprinted forward bearing a revolting smile. Ripping his spine out was going to give him an immeasurable amount of pleasure now.