Chapter 3 - Officer Finley

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Officer Finley


"Sir, what's going on?" asked a young woman with brown short cropped hair underneath a black army helmet that was strapped uncomfortably under her slightly pointy chin.

The young woman had rushed out of an official looking building that had been left behind her, along with the feeling of safety, as she hurried to keep up with her superior. Although the sense of dread didn't stay behind, it was clearly following her and growing with every rushed step she took.

She dodged around her colleagues as they were marching towards a large black van that was parked on the road ahead, a few trees and bushes hiding it from the building behind.

She was dressed in what can only be described as an official black tactical uniform. The black trousers were being held up by a simple clip belt which also supported several holsters, one for her walky-talky to communicate with the rest of her team and others which possibly contained other interesting items needed for her mysterious missions. A hand gun was also strapped to the belt, it was always required to be on her person when on duty, whether on a mission or not. There were also several pockets, from the sleeves of her black jacket to the thighs on her trousers. Accompanying her tactical uniform, pockets, belt and helmet, she also held a large gun; a P90, held protectively tight to her chest, a customised infrared viewfinder installed on top of it, along with other necessary adjustments to deal with potential unordinary targets. She rolled her shoulders up slightly to adjust the weight of her jacket, which held a heavy bullet-proof vest hidden underneath. The tactical uniform looked odd on the young woman's small and skinny frame, which gave her a few annoying sexist comments from her male colleagues, but she knew she was just as capable as them.

Although she wouldn't admit it, not to her superiors; Captain Stroud, nor the Director General and most certainly not to her comrades, but she was extremely nervous. Especially since the Director General himself was leading this mission.

"What you are trained to do, agent," replied a tall, handsome and greying man, also in tactical uniform and another P90 held to his chest, the Director General, Duncan Ryan. There were no markings on his uniform to suggest he was the Director General, even Captain Stroud had no markings. It was a safety thing; the enemies they faced were generally extremely intelligent, so they weren't allowed any advantage. Sometimes, they even practiced pretending another member was the leader, just in case.

"Does this mean..." the woman started, but the man stopped his stride abruptly and turned around to look at her, giving her a stern look. The young Officer stopped herself and instantly fell quiet as her superior's eyes searched her own.

After a few seconds, he spoke, "I suggest you leave the questions to me, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." She nodded, suddenly holding her posture authoritatively.

"Good, you will all find out soon enough what is going on," the man said, and waved the woman and the rest of his team into the van, the door had been opened by Captain Stroud at the front of the group, who had a large black yet neatly trimmed beard to match his large dark sideburns underneath his own tactical helmet.

The woman climbed into the back of the van after the rest of her comrades, settling into a custom-made seat next to a man with bright red hair and a nervously worried face that could compete with her own. The Director General was the last to get in, shutting the van door behind him, plummeting the vehicle in eerie silent darkness and before her eyes were able to adjust to the sudden change, the van lurched forwards to take them to their destination.

The woman's eyes fell on the outline of the man right by the door, clearly seeing he held his posture authoritatively himself, as he stared out into space. The woman wondered if he, the Director General, was just as scared as the rest of them, because she had a horrible feeling this wasn't a drill.

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