While those at the finish line took Jill from him and wondered what to do, Hunter stepped into the fog and made a gateway to Verron Pharmaceutical and his Aunt Marie’s office, saying, “I need antipoison now. Marie walked across her office and opened a glass cabinet and handed him a few of the units she planned to sell on Earth. He said thanks, and disappeared. When he returned, the paramedics were about to load Jill onto a small John Deere Gator Utility Vehicle; without hesitation he raced to her side and stuck her with the antipoison syringe in the same spot she had been bitten. With a loud scream of pain, she almost chocked the medic holding her up. Hunter then told the medics to wait a moment. They were so shocked by his actions they couldn’t react, so they stood a moment looking back and forth between Jill and Hunter. Jill was first to respond, saying, “What did you just do to me?” She pushed the medics away and stood on her feet. In minutes the pain and dizziness was gone and she felt perfectly normal. Hunter smiled and held up the empty syringe, saying, “Verron Antipoison, guaranteed to cure what ails you.” He looked at the medics and said, “If you like I can get you guys some of your own in case this ever happens again, for now, take these, handing them the five he held in his hand, it also works well with cyanide, just in case you accidentally swallow one of those suicide pills they say you CIA types carry with you.” No one asked where he got it, but as the others came in from their run it was pretty obvious Hunter had made at least one good friend at Camp.
The medics checked Jill over one more time and realized she didn’t even have any inflammation were the fangs went in. She was a little tender from the small punctures, but was not about to take the suggested day off and miss the afternoon Urban Warfare Firing Range Test. Even though he didn’t intend to have the fastest time for the day, Hunter did end up running a time of 23 minutes, carrying a 120 pound woman the last quarter mile. One of the instructors considered disqualifying Jill’s number two position since she didn’t cross the finish line under her own strength. He realized that he was about to insight a riot of CIA trainees and instead gave them a couple of hours to change out of their sweats and into their commando gear to prepare for the MOUT course. When Hunter exited his room dressed in his dark-gray commando gear with his red dragon cap, wearing the rank of full-bird Colonel, the others in the day room preparing to leave for the firing range stared silently. Randall Avery came over and made a point to personally thank Hunter for saving his wife. She probably wouldn’t have died, but she would have been recycled to a later training class. Martinez and Bentley had run past the dead snake shortly after he killed it and asked, “What did you use to kill that thing. It looked like the head exploded?” Hunter smiled and answered, “Man, it happened so fast, I really don’t remember. I think I used a big stick lying on the trail.” Jill gave him a sly grin and knew he was telling a complete lie. Everyone now knew he could make the grade on the physical fitness portion of the training, but wondered how he was going to do on the Urban Assault Course.
Ever since 9/11 there has been an entire industry built around preparing men for fighting in a variety of combat situations, ranging from city streets, to inside buildings, even tropical jungles and desert areas, Asymmetric Warfare Collective Training Complex is the newest trend in high tech weapons training. With eleven mock villages, city streets and apartment buildings, along with computer controlled simulators and accuracy measuring sensors, the scores can now be accurately recorded for every round fired. On this day they were scheduled to qualify on the 50 yard Bullseye Course, run the PPC (Police Pistol Combat) Course, and with a partner run one of the eleven urban assault courses, doing a simulation of clearing a building while seeking a suspect. The building had both friendlies and targets and one teammate carried a handgun while the other carried a Colt M4 Carbine. The 20 cadets were escorted to the armory and issued weapons for the first round of Bullseye Competition. They actually allowed the cadets a choice between a Glock 9mm and a Glock .40. Hunter chose the .40. The first series was to be a rapid fire exercise. Firing from fifty yards, they would first fire a full clip into the silhouette target, change clips and do the second round into the silhouette next to it. The shooter was evaluated by how tight his or her shot grouping was and if they had in fact hit the vital portions of the silhouette. They fired five shooters at a time; Hunter was in the last five.
When it came to shooting, Hunter’s ego would not allow him to do anything but his best. He had spent so much time shooting with Chase, Daniel, King Verron, Vlad and his Dad, that nothing but absolute perfection was allowed. Hunter felt no guilt using his target acquisition system. He was after all simply doing his best. There were some pretty fine shooters at the CIA school. Several of the men were ex-Seal’s and Special Forces, some were previously snipers. When it was his turn to fire, no one had failed to qualify and almost half had tight groupings of sixteen rounds each in both targets, dead center where the heart and lungs would be. Hunter stepped up to the line and fired only using one hand instead of two like everyone else. When he fired his first clip it was so fast that it sounded like an automatic. He changed the clip and repeated the exercise into the second silhouette. As the targets were brought back in on the cable line, Major Bentley had his rounds dead center of the chest area on both targets in a shot group not much bigger than a silver dollar. He was smiling with pride as others admired his handy work. Then Hunter presented his targets. Hunter’s rounds were in a space the size of a quarter, right in the middle of both targets forehead. Major Bentley suddenly lost his smile and looked in wonder at the perfectly round holes in both silhouettes. He and Martinez both said, “No way. Nobody shoots like that, not in rapid fire.” Hunter shrugged and replied, “Then call me nobody.”
The cadets re-loaded and were given enough rounds for a 100 round firing range drill. Silhouettes would pop-up at various distances, often simultaneously at two different distances. It required a great deal of skill and the farthest targets were beyond the 50 yard range at varying distances between 50 and 75 yards. A perfect score was 100 out of 100. There were exactly 100 rounds issued and that same number of targets presented. For this group, anything under 80 was a fail. Almost everyone fired between 80 and 95, with Martinez and Bentley both shooting a 99. Hunter was last up and the two soldiers were harassing him as much as possible before he stepped up. Fresh silhouettes were used for each shooter to determine whether each shot was a kill shot or a simply a hit. All of Martinez and Bentley’s were kill shots to the chest. Martinez even managed four head shots on the closer targets, Bentley had two. Hunter stepped to the line and made a point of being certain that everyone noticed that he was now going to use his left hand instead of his right. Those close by smirked, saying things like, “No F___ way!” Get outta here!” and “Show off!” The round began and Hunter fired all 100 rounds with precision. It was obvious he had scored a 100, but the real insult to everyone’s shooting skills came when they retrieved the targets to find that every round was dead center of the forehead. The range supervisor closely inspected each target. He looked at Hunter and commented, “I think we have a ringer here. You shoot like a trick-shot artist. Who taught you to shoot like this?” Hunter proudly told everyone that his Dad was a member of Delta Force and started teaching him and his sister how to shoot a gun, shoot a bow and throw a knife when they were five. He added, “We’ve been practicing a lot the past five years.”
They broke for an early dinner and to get a short break before heading to the Urban Assault Course. Based on the current time and drive time to Harvey Point, this was going to be a night exercise. Martinez was beginning to feel much better about being teamed up with this young sharpshooter. His only concern was how he was going to act in a simulated combat situation. Each shooter would be wearing a laser tag receiver. As they worked their way through the building, they could be tagged and eliminated from the exercise. Then, the remaining partner would have to continue alone. They would be firing live rounds at the pop-up targets and hidden targets as they swept the building, hopefully
without killing any women and children or other innocents. Bentley and Martinez were eating with Hunter as the others came by congratulating the three on their exemplary shooting. Bentley asked, “I know your old man would have plenty of experience being in Delta and all and I would never question King Verron after I saw him at work in Iraq, but, have you ever face someone shooting back?” Hunter paused a moment and answered, “I would never consider myself as brave as either of you or anyone else that has been in combat here on Earth. Verron body armor is so good I have never faced an enemy and been afraid of anything they fired at me. But I have been faced with an enemy out to kill me in Russia, Armenia, Algeria, Molnar and Darsai.” Martinez asked, “Molnar - Darsai?”
Hunter told them, “On Darsai I commanded an army of 5000 men against 200,000 men determined to kill anyone in their path. I followed King Verron’s battle theology. While everyone else held the fortress against the advancing army, I concentrated on the leaders. I killed their King with a 1500 yard head shot. In the end, I had to face six of their best warriors alone. But the scariest battle I’ve ever been in was the battle to defend one of our allies, Molnar. The Jhxunka had an army of several billion motivated giant insectoids; we fought them with a force of a few hundred thousand. They were wearing us down. Finally King Verron and those of us in the Dragon Guard infiltrated their ships and destroyed their leaders. He has made it official Verron policy; if we go to war, the leaders die first.” Bentley smiled, saying, “I actually believed the whole thing until you got to the insectoid thing. I’d like to hear you tell a fishing story about the one that got away.” Hunter pulled out his portable com unit and retrieved the file on the Battle for Molnar. Set it to run and handed it to Martinez, saying, “This is classified, but if CIA can’t see it, I don’t know who should.” He left the unit with them and went back for another helping of food, then made a quick trip to the bathroom. When he got back, eight people were gathered around the com unit. He knew he would probably spend the evening telling them all about it. Bentley handed the com unit back to Hunter as they headed for the Urban Assault Course, asking, “Tell me about the Dragon Guard.”
The trainees loaded into a couple of small buses and headed for Harvey Point in Hertford, NC. Hunter spent the entire 1 hour and 45 minute drive giving them a play-by-play of the Molnar battle and an introduction to who the Dragon Guard was. He pulled his com unit again and showed the same picture taken of the Guard that Amber had shown Andre. Looking at the picture made Hunter homesick for his friends and family. The com unit picture got passed around to be viewed in wonder at this strange world that Hunter called home. Jill was the one who questioned, “This has got to be a sci-fi festival. How did Jenifer Aniston end up in the picture?” Hunter smiled and began to explain about Camil. They were pulling into the gate of Harvey Point about the time he finished telling them about Shapeshifters and the special clandestine unit formed on Verron, and how a KGB Colonel was now the General over their intelligence operation and had been his personal mentor for almost five years. Those in his van now realized that he was in fact the real deal and not just a pretty little prince playing spy.
The MOUT training complex at Harvey Point was incredible. Military Operations on Urban Terrain (MOUT), was the trend in military assault training for several years since 9/11. It was now so sophisticated that it looked like 11 different and unique cities in the Advanced Warfare School facility at Harvey Point. For today’s test they were driven to a facility that could pass for any city in the Middle East. After visiting Armenia with his Grandfather, it looked suddenly familiar. In pairs, they had to negotiate a street full of hidden targets and make it to a four story building which then had to be cleared. They weren’t finished until they took out the primary target and returned to the starting point. Each team had 20 minutes to complete the mission. This was going to be the deciding factor for those that made the cut for mid-year evaluation. So far there had been no one who had not passed the other tests, however this one could cause both people to washout if their partner failed. Everyone else in the group had worked together with their partner on firing drills and mock infiltrations into buildings or in the Tire Shoot House located at The Farm. When Grearson got injured, Martinez tried to team up with Major Bentley, but he already had spent six months with someone he had grown into a team with and declined the offer. When Hunter showed up and Oswald named them partners, he felt as if his time at The Farm would end at this course. His confidence level in Hunter was much higher now than in the beginning, but they were the only two here today that had not negotiated a similar course together.
Martinez was so impressed with Hunter’s skill with a pistol that he was disappointed when weapons were issued for their team and he received a pistol and Hunter got an M4 Carbine. The entire staff knew that Martinez was a skilled sniper and were intentionally making the course as difficult as possible. Once again, the wait was on Martinez and Hunter. They would go last, no doubt the staff wanted them as tired and stressed as possible and for it to be as dark as possible when they made their assault. Three of the teams had failed the test. Unless Oswald reviewed their results in everything else and decided to give them another shot at the assault course, they would be headed home in a few days. Hunter was glad to see Jill and Randall Avery complete the course with a relieved smile on their face. The last team before Hunter and Martinez was working their way back to the starting point, when the rain storm moved in. It took a short time to reset the targets on the course and by that time, the wind was blowing the heavy rain sideways and visibility was almost zero. You could barely see the street or the buildings. Those watching wondered how Hunter and Martinez were going to see their targets. Hunter knew that once they got inside the building they could work together as a team, but out here in this weather, he was the only one who could do what needed to be done. Martinez was originally going to lead the assault. Hunter stepped forward in front of his partner and told him, “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.” Martinez knew he couldn’t see, so he had nothing to lose by allowing Hunter his moment to lead the team.
The signal was given for the two-man team to advance. They immediately headed for the right side of the street, since it offered the best cover, with the solid walls of the buildings behind and parked cars along the side of the street. Hunter activated his thermal imaging but quickly realized that none of the targets would be warm and instead activated the target acquisition mode. He could now identify anything with a weapon. According to the exercise, anyone bearing a weapon was a good kill. No one at the start finish line could see what was happening; only those scoring the exercise had access to the computer controls that scored every hit. Where every other team had been firing together as they cleared the path down the street to the building, it was obvious that the only weapon being fired was the .22 caliber M4 Carbine. As the other teams proceeded down the street, there were often four or five rounds used on each target, increasing the odds that one of the two members would neutralize the target. The range control officer was shocked to hear a single shot and a target indicator light flick on. Methodically, one by one, each target disappeared as Hunter and Martinez hurried down the rain drenched street. No one would take the time to examine the targets in the miserable weather, but in the morning when they prepared the range for the next group through the center, they would find one neatly placed head shot in each target. When they entered the building, it was like dead silence fell upon the two men. The rain had been pounding down on them so hard it took a moment to adjust to the lack of rain.
Floor by floor they searched for their intended target, carefully covering each other as they opened and entered each door. Both men were consistently hitting targets while inside out of the rain. Martinez was a killing machine and never used more than one shot per target, and always identified whether it was a friend or foe in a split second. On the third floor Martinez turned to leave a room with children and an older woman. He suddenly heard a shot ring out as the bullet flashed by his ear. He turne
d to see a dead kid who had pulled a gun. He nodded his approval at Hunter and they proceeded to the next floor. The second door was it. Four armed men were barricaded in the room and well-hidden as they fired at the approaching assault team. Hunter shifted his rifle to his left shoulder and began to fire around the corner, hitting one target at a time. It was suddenly silent and they headed for the stairs to leave. Suddenly, two gunmen dropped from the roof access door and began to fire. Martinez took out both before Hunter had a chance to turn around. Hunter had gotten so comfortable with his body armor and forcefield, that he was not as concerned as he should be. He realized just how easily good men got killed if they were careless. He also was even more determined to have every allied soldier in Verron Body Armor; it only took one mistake to wound or kill a man.
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