The War of N9500 | By: Nick Barcelona | | Category: Short Story - Action Bookmark and Share

The War of N9500


  Drenched in sweat, smothered with dirt and gravel, and stinging unbearably from a major sunburn, I lay there. Perfectly still, covered by a "bush". Surrounding me is grass, slightly overgrown, about 4 or 5 inches tall, with a small space that I can slide my barrel through. Squinting my right eye, I peer through the scope, watching, scanning the area.

 

  I look up for a second, to take a quick squirt of water from my canteen. But just then, just for a quick moment, I saw a vehicle pull up in front of a 10 story, modernized building. I quickly positioned my eye up to the scope, giving me excellent zoom to see if he was "the man of the hour". It was him...

 

  Fedor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky. The number one supplier of all Russian Territorial Countries. There would be no Russian/American War if it wasn't from him. Dostoevsky supplied hundreds of thousands of weapons to Russian Soldiers to invade Northeast Asia. My mission today, well, that should be pretty self explanitory.

 

  He exited the car and walked inside the car. The 7th floor, was completely glass windows surrounding the building. It was a conference room, a 150 foot table supplied by chairs stretched through the entire floor. There was already 10 gentlemen standing there. When Dostoevsky walked out of the elevator, they all sat down. He placed a suitcase on the table.

 

  The N9500 Nuclear Warhead. The final plan. He was going, or at least planning to, end the war 2 weeks from now. The Hearth?  Washington D.C. The blast ratio from this warhead would wipe out the entire East half of the United States.

 

  My objective today. No one was to leave that room, at least not with that warhead. Problem is, when a nuclear bomb, 500x more powerfull then the atom bomb is sitting in the room, there is NO margin for error.

 

  Of course I'm not the only one on the job. A Special Ops Squadron is sitting on the floor above them, ready to rappel in on my command. They are going to be grabbing Mr. N9500.

 

  The plan? Think of one drink that Russians can't live without. You guessed it, Vodka. Vodka is also a highly flamable drink. There is 6 bottles of the stuff, sitting on the table, every once and a while being poured into a glass. What I am going to do is, radio in the Spec Team to rapple in, grab the N9500, get the hell out, and then I will, "snipe" the vodka, causing a explosion Hopefully killing them all. Hopefully.....

 

 

 

 

              To Be continued...

 

 

 

 

 

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