Whereabouts...

Sriklan Islands were swamped with helicopters, sea planes, and search boats. A literal army, a swarm of military personnel had flooded the restricted island territories.

"These Islands are strictly off limits, no official maps even contain their presence... The President of the United States isn't even permitted to know of the location of these islands Jim... So tell me how two of my best operatives simply disappeared! ...I don't want excuses I want answers! Call me when you actually know something!" General Davison nearly broke the com phone as he slammed it into it's receiver in his quarters aboard the USS Silence. "The CIA is worthless...", he muttered to himself.

(*Interesting Research on War Psychology)

General Davison looked down at his watch. 2313. It had been just over 12 hours since they had each disappeared from their pick up points, at the same time. Both had reported in and both were MIA (Missing In Action) upon extraction. What was most disturbing was the total lack of any other presence having come or gone. No signs of struggle; no blood or missing items; it's as though they'd simply vanished. The worst possibility was that they are defected, but he knew these two, like his own kids, it wasn't possible. The other, nearly as bad possibility was that they had been taken, which was possible. The preferred possibility is that they were playing some massive practical joke on him, which would warrant a severe reprimand and was totally contrary to their character. Option 2 had the most merit, and that is what it was shaping up to look like.

....






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Darkness

Silent darkness greeted Eta when she aroused from a drug induced stupor. At least, that's what she assumed as she was coming to, based on the physical affects to her mind and body... she must have relapsed again, and blacked out... "I wonder what bedroom I've wondered into this time..." she thought to herself. Eta's muscles were sore and she felt the hard surface underneath her, it must have been a kitchen floor, maybe hard wood? It was warm, maybe stuffy even. It all felt very familiar. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, afraid of what situation she'd find herself in, what chain of events that she didn't remember had brought her to this hard floor.

As she squinted, she saw simply low purplish light... black light. It must have been one of "those" parties... But as the fog cleared she found the resolve to sit up and find her bearings and look around. Something didn't set right. As her mind focused; her attention became keenly aware that nothing was right. This was no frat house, and she wasn't in college anymore. That girl has been dead for many decades, and forgotten, nearly. She is "Lt Col Nadine Etaine Romanakov, USAF". She was known simply as "Eta" to her friends and close colleagues. Pronounced "Eh'-tuh", she'd had to be deliberate in her pronunciation with a recent newbie. He was probably trying to get to her because of her odd accent, but it had worked.

You don't get into the military as a female, into a special, top secret, co-ed combat and undercover unit none the less, without being a bit fiesty. Of course the Irish and Romanian heritage didn't hurt either. First generation US born American in either family line. Born to two parents fleeing persecution in their respective homelands. It's not easy having an Irish/Romanian/Texan accent either. Both her parents accents had rubbed off on her as she'd been home schooled for the first part of her life never staying in one spot under federal/international witness protection, and when that was over they had to move her to a state where she'd stick out like a sore thumb. When she did enter school in the ninth grade she got into more than her fair share of fights. She was about as tough as they come, her parents made sure of it.

Drawing her attention back to the situation at hand her training kicked in and she began to assess. There were a large series of ultra violet LED lights above, like deep purple stars. The ceiling was high, too high to reach, and they provided very little light, but it was enough to make out the room, it wasn't very big, square, maybe twenty feet. She realized that her clothes had been changed and she was wearing something akin to a leotard or bicycle suit. She couldn't be sure in this lighting, but it appeared to be black with white trim, which in this light glowed off her arms, legs, and body. She felt like Tron for a moment.

Eta scanned the room, no doors, windows, no escape. Only flat walls, she now realized were metal, painted matte black as far as she could tell. In the center of the room was a black table and one box. The white tape glowed around the black cardboard and drew her attention as the only other thing in the room besides her that was giving off any glow. She approached carefully and opened the box, assuming this must be the next step in whatever weird situation she'd found herself. They said training would involve untried methods. Maybe this was a training center and this was her next assignment. "Escape the box with no escape"... well, maybe she wasn't as good at catchy mission names as she was with a weapon in combat.

When Eta opened the box all she found were two plastic bags. Inside one was a black iPhone, the other ear buds. She turned it on.

It booted silently...



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White Noise

Bright blinding white permeated the room. A white cardboard box sat on a thin enameled snow white plastic table in a room covered in white painted steel walls. Only the black table legs gave any accent to the hyper real characteristics of this LED lit room. How he got here and why he didn’t know. Looking down he noticed the white form fitting uniform he was wearing. His deep tan the only other contrast in this other clinically pure room. A soft hiss was coming from the ceiling, but he couldn’t look up because the ceiling was lit from end to end to end with LED’s, turned on high, air conditioner maybe. He could barely see around him without squinting. Disorientation started to settle down after the first few moments awake and he found his bearings. Training kicked in.

His thoughts moved to business, take stock. “Name/Rank: Captain Therun Ashmun, USAF.”, he said out loud, more to himself than anyone else. No response. Taking inventory of his body, every part was accounted for, legs, arms, toes, fingers, the scar on his neck under his right ear. No pains, other than the usual. He sat down on his knees monk style and closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

Capt Therun “Ash” Ashmun tried to recall his last memory before finding himself in this room void of any obvious doors, windows, or openings of any kind, not even a seem was apparent as he circled the room with his eyes. The thoughts came like rapid fire. He didn’t bother feeling about because he was obviously handled before arriving here and obviously must be under surveillance this very moment. No way to defend against attack without knowing where the openings are, but there would be no use because if he were going to be killed he would be in some danky prison cell not this white washed room in some overly tailored biking suit. Still, better to be defensive and keep himself against a wall ready to react.

“Bring it in Ash, bring yourself together… all this white is a bit disorienting. What was the last thing you recall?” He had been on Sriklan Island a survival training facility. He had just dropped in from 15,000 feet in air-camo nearly a new suit-shoot being developed, nearly invisible from the ground and air. He landed without a hitch, taking out three guards, high tech motion sensored mannequins, from the air. Working through the forest to the hacienda he had retaken the residence and recovered the “stolen” technology and send it back up on a UAV that had landed after he signaled. Routine training mission. Next time they’d use people and fake bullets but this time real bullets and fake people provided real time use of the weapon. The fake bullets never quite felt right. One man recovery missions were a great way to have peace. He swam off island to a nearby island and was waiting for his evac. He was perched in a tall tree, hidden by branches on the tallest point of the island. There was a flash of light around him and He… that’s it, there was no other memory. He woke up here.

The box on the table was the only thing in the room with him, besides the table itself, which seems to be built into the floor. He approached the table cautiously. Eyes had adjusted some to the light, but there was still not much to see. The legs and table appeared to be built of high strength alloy. No hopes of breaking it. He pushed at the box, but it too appeared to be a part of the table. It didn’t budge. Other than being attached it seemed like any other white shipping box, sealed in white duct tape end to end.
The table was cool to the touch, not cold, but cool, like everything else in this room, floor, walls, etc. Ash pealed at the tape slowly, ready to react to it’s contents. This box was obviously here for him, it was the only thing in the room, and no-one had reacted to his being awake. Laying the tape aside he opened the lid and found a pair of ear buds and an iPhone, each neatly wrapped in their own plastic bag. He opened the first bag and turned on the phone. 

It booted silently…





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Hi! My name is Darrell G. Wolfe. I am a wealth of random information and I make complicated things simple at DarrellWolfe.com.

I have a knack for absorbing information, breaking it down to its root elements, and teaching it to others.

Most importantly, I help purpose-driven people to understand their place in His-Story and provide them the tools they need to fulfill their unique position of opportunity and influence in this world (their Topos).

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