Commander Dockery followed the group of Military Special Projects Officers into the target building. As an unwanted observer from the Internal Security Directorate, the I.S.D. the other officers had been courteous but also standoffish. The Commander understood; not many people ever felt comfortable around members of the I.S.D. especially one who wasn't invited. He knew there had been heavy infighting between the I.S.D. and military special branch hierarchy. Apparently, for now, the I.S.D. had won, and he was sent to observe the operation or should he say the end of it? He arrived late into an ongoing search and destroy mission, a nationwide investigation for terrorists.
Several weeks before a group of criminals had hacked into several government directorates. Most attacks were minor, but they did grow in severity. The attack into the Power and Light Directorate was the worst. Five hundred miles of Westfor’s eastern seaboard found their electrical power shut off one busy afternoon. The deaths, damage, and sheer confusion that swept the affected area were severe. The I.S.D. was originally tasked with the investigation, and within days they had narrowed down the people who were responsible. They had three cells under surveillance, when the military suddenly stepped in. Overnight, the I.S.D. was given the backseat to the operation and the military’s special projects branch was put in charge. Now, the Commander had been sent to observe the military’s operation first hand. Groups of military policemen now sealed the streets and access ways into the large building block. According to the surveillance teams, the terrorist cell was operating on the twelfth floor. Now after fifteen seconds after the military had given the covert strike team the go code, it was over. The strike team had responded that they had secured the target. As the group walked through the garbage-filled hallways, the Commander thought that somehow the strike had failed.
The Commander smirked; somehow the targets must have slipped surveillance and escaped. He could not wait to report how the military had screwed up the operation; his superiors would be so pleased. As the officers entered the smoke-filled twelfth floor hallway, the Commander noticed a dozen armed soldiers of the strike team at key points. The Commander was stunned to see how young the soldiers were, they were children. He stopped and looked at a boy
who must have been no older than twelve years old. The Commander stopped smiling when he saw the bodies of the dead terrorists being dragged out of the apartment and neatly lined up on the floor.
66 looked up at the tall I.S.D. Commander, the one who had been staring at him as if he knew. 66 turned away as the Officer walked past him and observed the clean team work. The young super soldier concealed his nervousness. He wondered if the Officer knew. He had to; he was an Officer. 66 felt both frightened and disappointed by his performance. The Gen-Eg strike team had been given the target building layouts and photos minutes before the go code. The team leader quickly organized the roles of the assault force. 66 was given the task as the lead assaulter, the first through the door. As the team closed in on the apartment, the front door was rigged with explosives. Once set, the assault was green lighted. 66 followed the breeching explosion and entered the apartment. His training took over, and the team moved as they had been taught. 66 moved quickly to his assigned area of responsibility, where he encountered the first surprised terrorist. He then froze. The woman was standing in the kitchen holding a box of cereal, with a shocked expression on her face. To 66 she looked a lot like Mrs. Corwin. The similarity caused 66 to freeze. It only lasted seconds until another assaulter bumped into him as he passed 66. Then 66 reacted as he had been trained. He fired his compacted submachine gun into the woman’s chest. She screamed as she dropped, blood splattering onto the wall around her. 66 stared at her as she died on the dirty kitchen floor. He then moved on to clear the apartment. 66 eventually entered the living room which had been converted into a workshop. Tons of jerry-rigged computers and electronic gear crammed every inch of the living room. From floor to ceiling were machines and equipment. The team cleared the apartment, killing all the occupants as ordered. The terrorist leadership was to be arrested as they shopped in a nearby supermarket while the assault was taking place. Once the apartment was secured 66 walked back into the kitchen and looked at the woman he had killed. She seemed even more lifeless, as the pool of blood widened around her. At twelve years old, a lifetime of training and suffering, 66 had finally killed an enemy of the State. Something for which he had been created.