Prolouge

"Your husband is dead. He was found mutliated in the deep jungle with his comrades, I am sorry Ms. Ratcheson. His assignment had required miminal resistance according to our intellegence but his squad had been ambushed and with little gear the men perished quickly. The only way we were able to identify the men's bodies were by their dog tags which had been left there purposley as though it were a boast from the enemy saying "look what we did. ""

Ms. Ratcheson mmm, she would have to get used to the label of a lonely widow she thought to herself as she wept on the porch of her now empty home. The commanding officer came over to console her and put his arm around her. The sun hung high in the sky that day and sounds of pleasure and enjoyment echoed from the crashing waves of the ocean.

"Do you know if he felt any pain?" she asked with a tear soaked face. "Ms. Ratcheson, I must regret to inform you that from the autospy report, your husband was alive twelve hours after his inital capture and was put through the majority of that time span to an unholy torture."

Ms. Ratcheson began to sob uncontrollably and Henry Mcallister knew his obligation would be entering extra hours tonight but then here was the now widow of a dear friend that he must be strong for whilst battling his own grief. He had only spoken with him a few hours prior to his squad's departure into the jungle, and now with his body found, there would be no hope of ever laughing with his old friend again. He had hoped that in some twist of fate, his friend had mangaed to free himself and his men and make a heroic escape. Without noticing,Henry had began to weep and as the tears flowed down his cheek his consience became increasingly worse, how was he ever going to pull himself through the entire squad's tragic deaths if he couldn't tell one widow her husband had been killed? Ms. Ratcheson was looking up at him now and he had only just realized it and looked back at her.

"Ms. Ratcheson, forgive me. I should not have upset you." As Henry said this, she burst into more hysterics.
"Its not fair Henry! ITS NOT FAIR! WHY DID HE HAVE TO DIE!! WHY!"

"Ms. Ratcheson, we all must meet our fate, and I..I..miss..him..too..oh" Henry began to weep and he and Ms. Ratcheson hugged each other and wept for the latter part of the day. Late afternoon was coming to a close and Henry and Ms. Ratcheson had calmed down considerably. Henry made certain that she would be okay by herself and she wrote him off every time exclaming that her old scottish terrier would keep her company and her tears away. Henry walked down the now lit path of Ms. Ratcheson's front walkway, he waved cheerily to her and let her know he would check on her in a few days if she needed it. She only smiled and told him that would be fine and bid him a good evening.

"Yes, a good evening, for tomorrow brings yet another terrible story I must recount five more times."

Henry muttered to himself and he opened the driver's side door to his little sports car. For being such a small thing, the car's interior was well crafted. Leather seats, side airbags, gps enabled tracking system, and his own little help in the glove compartment, a magnum. Henry hadn't ever had the need for such a powerful weapon and he wished every day that the call for it would never arise.

The sun was begginning to set as Henry pulled into his driveway and as he stood in his walkway he couldn't help but feel as though he was being watched. He shrugged off the feeling and went inside to his lounge where he resided to think. Bookcases lined the room which contained several topics of interest, most of all though was the subject of political dominance and war strategy. A window stood tall and elegant at the base of the room where Henry could watch the beach in the tranquility of his own home though nothing would ever compare to laying on the beach again. To the left of his favorite sitting chair a leather armchair stood a table with some brandy and scotch. Pouring himself some scotch, Henry sat in his chair and began to pour over the events of his morning. He could hardly believe that no more than twelve hours ago he had been told his friend had been mutilated and it was then his duty to inform all immediate family of the fallen. He took a drink of his scotch and laid it on the table beside him and then he jolted up from his chair and broke the glass as he had knocked the table over.

He was certain of it this time, he was being watched and the intruder was in the room. He was unarmed, emotionally and phyiscally tired, he wouldn't put up much of a fight if his attacker showed some force. His phone lay not but five feet away, Henry eyed it up.

"Show yourself! I've discovered you!" Henry yelled at the shadows yet his voice still contained some calm about it.

A bright light and then a terrifiying explosion ripped to the left of Henry and it only took him a few seconds to realize he had been struck by a flash grenade, he was blinded and so he began to thrash around the room, taking out whatever he could while screaming at his attacker! There was a heavy thump behind Henry and he turned and met his attacker's fist with his right palm. His attempt to push this foe backwards failed and he stumbled forward and screamed in pain as his left calf was torn into with a sharp object. Henry could feel his blood spilling perfously onto the hardwood floor, he screamed and attempted to blindly lunge but he only worsened his leg and fell to his side in agonizing pain. His vision was starting to return, now he would meet his attacker face to face and take the son of a bitch with him if he had to. He looked up only to see darkness sweeping over his eyes once more and then the rope around his neck was tightened and he tried to stand and was forced down. He could not understand the dialect of what this mysterious assasian was speaking but he felt blackness come over him and he was passing out, he screamed for help as much as he could and it was met with a hit to his side each time and then Henry let go....


The morning dew still sat fresh on the blades of grass when Ms. Ratcheson greeted the morning. Her scottish terrier, patches, always the sweet dog bounced happily with her down the path as the two sauntered off on their morning walk. The ocean sprayed its scent into the air and Ms. Ratcheson took in a deep breath while she walked down the sandy road to the beach.

Patches played merriely in the surf while she stared out into the distance, her thoughts clouded by the unfolding events in front of her. Compeltely caught off guard by her recent news, she began to ponder the situation. Why had her husband been out in the jungle, he was in long distance recon so the call should have never came for him. Tears began to well in her eys, she attempted to hold her sadness back as long as she could bear, but her grief took the best of her as she put her head in her knees and wept once more. Patches had given up mastering the water for the time being and ran up to Ms. Ratcheson and whimpered from seeing her head down, sensing her master's sadness Patches layed his head on her knee and barked at her. Ms. Ratcheson lifted her head and through tear soaked eyes saw her only companion left in the world.

"Come here patches." she said softly. The terrier complied as the two hugged on the beach Ms. Ratcheson began to feel a bit better and decided it was time to head back home before someone else saw her grieving. "Come on Patches." she said in a calmer tone as she ran up towards the path leading home, Patches barked happily and ran after her.

Ms. Ratcheson was sitting in her foyer at around ten a.m. when her phone rang. Tears sprang to her eyes again as she feared it may be a call of death for another loved one. "Hello." she replied quickly hiding her sadness once more.

"Yes, hello is this the Ratcheson household?"

"Well yes it is, may I ask who is calling"

"Oh, well I hope this is not a bad time as I wouldn't want to inconvience you in anyway Ms. Ratcheson."

Ms. Ratcheson became a little supsicous at this commet, it almost sounded insincere as well as personal. "Sir, just what is the purpose for your call."She exclaimed with a tougher tone.

"Excuse me sir, may I ask you a question?"

"But of course Ms. Ratcheson"

"May I have your name, you do not sound familiar to me, have we met? " Ms. Ratcheson remained stern with this man, something seemed off about him.

"Pardon my rudeness, you may call me Mr. Bolvodi. I knew your husband in the force a little, we went out on a few recon missions."

Ms. Ratcheson tensed up, her husband told her everyone that resided in his company as well as introducing her to his men, this name was foriegn and he was not a friend. How had he known she was a widow? Her husband's compnay was exclusive, no one, not even she was to know that him and his men existed. Ms. Ratcheson suddenly felt as though she were in terrible danger.

"Would you excuse me for a moment Mr. Bolvodi?" "Of course Ms. Ratcheson, I'll be right here waiting."

Ms. Ratcheson placed the phone gently on the table and made her way to the upstairs computer room. She rummaged through her main computer's files until she rested on a folder that she seen only once. Her husband had placed a password on it but she had figured it out only a month before his death. She double-clicked the folder marked "Cuba A-1", the name of a very old flight sim to throw off anyone that would come looking for his men. A password prompt came up and Ms. Ratcheson typed in the famous luxury liner's name, "Titanic" the computer flashed an access granted message.

A flowing chart of individual training stats and pictures flew up onto the screen. Ms. Ratcheson quickly scanned each of the pictures for a Mr. Bolvodi. After double checking the list she knew she was right, there was no Mr. Bolvodi therefore..

Ms. Ratcheson looked out of the second story window to see a black cadillac parked outside of her home. "Oh shit, she thought, someone was after her and she was all alone." She ran to the end table across the room and pulled out a celluar phone that she kept for emergencies. She rapidly pushed at the buttons to punch out Henry Mcallister's number and listened to the dial tone ring four..five..six times. "Dammit Henry! Where are you, I'm in trouble!" she whispered franctically outloud to herself. Picking up the regular phone on the table she gathered her courage to speak.

"Are you there Ms. Ratcheson?" Mr. Bolvodi's voice rang in to the reciever. She hadn't said anything, how did he know she picked up the phone?

"Who are you!" Ms. Ratcheson demeanded. "Ms. Ratcheson, I am shocked that you don't..." She cut him off.

"You listen and you listen well you bastard, you're going to tell me who you are and what a black cadillac is doing outside of my house."

"Ms. Ratcheson, I've sent some men over to check on you." "Yes well, I'm feeling just fine thank you!" she screamed at him.

"Ms. Ratcheson, please calm down, my men are here to help you with your grief." "You're lying! Who are you! What do you want with me! How do you know me!!!"

"Ms. Ratcheson..."

"Leave me alone!!!!" She screamed. She flung open the door and pounded down the stairs looking for anything to stop these men from entering her home. A fire poker met her eye, then her husband's work desk. She checked the drawer, there was a pistol in it. She grabbed the pistol and cocked it, her eyes felt like they were bouncing around her head as her breath became increasingly faster and louder. The men were exiting the car and approaching her door, she would be ready for them. A knock came, one..two..three...Ms. Ratcheson repeated to herself. One...two...three...,you can do this. The men knocked again, "here we go!" she thought to herself and grabbed the knob and turned.

Ms. Ratcheson grabbed the door and flung it open swinging at the nearest target she could reach. The first of the men reeled back in pain yelling as his nose and cheek bled. Not stopping for anyone, Ms. Ratcheson burst out of the threshold pushing the injured man aside and swinging for the next. Two men tackled her as she swung the poker, she reached for her gun, maybe she could take out a few of them with a quick shot. Ms. Ratcheson fired off two shots, only one landing a hit into a man's leg that had just exited the passenger side with a vial and seringe.

"No!! You leave me alone! Get away from me you bastards! Help! Help! Oh god, somebody help me!!!" Ms. Ratcheson screamed in vain, her house was at least a mile apart from her neighbors, no one would hear her helpless requests. The men surrouned her, two more held down her legs as she thrashed about on the lawn all the while screaming.

"Somebody gag her, we need not take the chance for a witness hearing her racket." Said the man who had been shot, he had limped over fairly quickly considering his leg wound, the other bullet had punctered the cadlliac. Ms. Ratcheson's eyes widened as a cloth was draped tightly over her mouth. She continued to scream even as the seringe burrowed into her arm. Her writhing lessened as her body slowly relaxed from the medicine. "Alright men, get her into the car! Now!" The four men complied and quickly carried Ms. Ratcheson's limp body over to the cadillac. As the car sped off into the early afternoon, beachgoers would find Patches, the crazed dog desperatly searching for his master.