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Manors Maketh Man: Part 1
Date: 5 December 2003, 2:35 PM
Manors Maketh Man
"It's Naval Intelligence. Classified information. You're not even supposed to know I'm here, I wasn't supposed to make contact with you. It was just blind luck. I'm in trouble, you're not."
- Lieutenant Bradley Manors, Office of Naval Intelligence
Section 3
Nighttime. Many say it is the best time to attack. Many believe that the enemy will be weary, tired, maybe even exhausted. This could not be further from the truth. Nighttime is when the enemy are at their most vigilant, their most aware. But, if there is no other option but to attack at night, all advantages must be taken to ensure it must be done right.
And that was why the dark figure atop one of the Planetary Government buildings in New Washington was perfectly hidden, blending in with the black sea around him. The suit that he wore gave off no light, nor did the rifle slung across his back, or the pistols at his side. He just sat there, perched upon high like an eagle. Waiting for its prey. Knowing that he was unseen by anyone or anything.
Yet he was seen. Somebody knew he was there. In fact, there were two separate somebody's that knew he was there. There were the ones that wanted him to be there. And then there were the ones that didn't want him to be there.
Alarms had been going off inside the government building for a while, and it wasn't until now that a threat was nearing the dark shadow. It was not a loud alarm, just enough for a select few people, those that didn't want him to be there, to hear. If they did not speak of the alarm, nobody except them would be in the knowledge of it, and that was how they wanted it kept. If another select few people found out why the shadow was on the roof, the first select few people would be in a tight situation, as would the people who wanted him to be there.
So it was imperative that those that did not know, would never know. And those that knew did their best to keep it that way.
To say that the dark figure sensed the guards coming up the stairwell to the lift would be liked saying that he was not of human species. It would be more appropriate to say that, from intensive training and solid briefing he knew what was coming.
A door twenty metres away creaked open, suddenly filling the rooftop with a streak of light. Four men passed through the door, weapons drawn and flashlights probing the darkness. The door closed behind them, plunging the roof back into darkness, except for those areas traced by the flashlights.
It took a few sweeps over the dark figure before they realised he was actually there, but the moment they cast their lights back to that spot, he was gone. A few curses were emitted and they went back to searching.
Again they found him, but lost him. And then a third time, but it wasn't until the fourth time that he didn't move. He simply stood there. And it was at that moment that the guards noticed there were only three of them now. In puzzlement, they turned to each other, once again losing sight of the figure.
This time the flashlights searched for a second person; their downed comrade, as well as trying to find the dark figure. But when they found the unconscious body of their partner, they then realised that there were now only two of them casting light across the dark rooftop.
Waking the downed guard proved futile, and the two men continued to cast their lights across the large area. At one point, one of the guards thought he caught a glimpse of movement, but before he could react to it, he was on the ground in a state of deep unconsciousness.
The last guard, desperately trying to find a way out of this predicament, didn't notice a dark shadow drop behind him. He didn't notice the arm twist round from his back, silently. And he didn't notice the sharp twist of his neck, snapping it cleanly and killing him instantly, until it was too late.
And before the body had hit the ground, the dark figure had made it through the door and into the building, heading exactly where those that knew about him either wanted or didn't want him to go. He melted into the shadows of the stairwell, waiting for any sign of reinforcements. None came, and he made his way down silently, avoiding surveillance cameras as he went. After several flights of stairs, a green light winked on in his mask's HUD, and a "ping" echoed around his ears, heard only by him. He had reached the floor he needed.
Manors Maketh Man: Part 2
Date: 2 January 2004, 4:12 AM
"When you push the limits of Slip space in those little Prowlers, you risk all kinds of radiation damage."
- Colonel James Ackerson UNSC Security Committee,
Special Weapons Development
Agents of Naval Intelligence, Section 3 never reveal their identity unless it is absolutely necessary. That way, nobody knows if they are dead or alive. This particular agent had to be listed as "dead", KIA to convince his younger brother, who also served in the Corps, and parents that he was in fact dead. It was standard procedure; one that he didn't agree on but had no choice.
On this mission he could reveal his identity if he chose. His target, a Government official who had bent a few too many rules for Congresses liking, would be dead once he learnt who is assassin was.
The dark figure seemed to slither down the long corridor, moving from shadow to shadow. It was clear except for a lone guard standing at the end, trying to contact his four comrades who had disappeared up on the roof a few minutes ago. The agent raised his rifle, pulling it in tight. He levelled the barrel at the guard's head, pressed his eye to the scope and relaxed his body. It was necessary to take out any people who were opposing him, as they too were a threat like the official.
He breathed in, and with that breath he took in all the guilt that would come from killing this man, taking his life. And then he breathed it all out, ridding himself of any emotion that may interfere with his work. He depressed the trigger and a cough echoed down the corridor, followed by a thud as the guards life-less body fell to the floor.
He slung the rifle over his back and darted off down the corridor, quickly checking the guard was dead. He made his way towards a door. It was one of many down the long corridor, but although they all looked the same, this particular one was the one he was after. He glanced to his left, then to his right, checking that there were no others present. He pulled out a small electrical tool and placed it over the door lock. With the flick of a button, the door clicked, giving the figure a sign that it was unlocked now.
He flicked a switch on his helmet and his vision turned to a mix of blues, reds, yellows and whites. The heat scan distinctly marked several armed men standing with their backs to the wall, waiting for the door to open. Across the other side of the room stood three more men, two with weapons. The third man, seeming rather portly from the scan, crouched down behind a small heat source. He was trying to cover up his signature; a move that proved futile with the hi-tech gear the agent sported.
He rested the Shadow rifle down against the doorframe and pulled the duel pistols from his side. Cocking them, he raised them level with his head and gave the door a quick, sharp kick. The metallic door was hurled backwards on its hinges, catching one of the armed guards square in the face. The dark figure stepped into the room, bringing his pistols up. He fired off a shot from each, and the two men on the opposite side of the room dropped to the floor, a neat whole in the middle of their foreheads.
He quickly took in the room in a glance. Directly in front of him was a couch, beyond that was a wood-panel desk, and beyond that was a window looking out onto the city. To his left was a kitchen area, with a small dining table and a breakfast bar, and to his right was a large four-poster bed. And quickly surrounding him was a host of armed guards.
Sprinting forwards, the figure rolled over the comfy-looking sofa, coming up into a crouch. His pistols came up and fired off four shots in succession, dropping a man with each bullet. He then back flipped over the desk as the remaining men opened fire, their silenced weapons shattering chairs and splintering the wood on the smooth surface of the table. As he landed back on his feet, his pistols put down the last guards. Before their bodies hit the floor, he vaulted back over the desk, grabbed the Government official's arm, twisted and broken it, and had him pinned on the floor.
He put his pistol into the back of the man's head. "You know why I'm here." He said into the man's ear, his voice masked by the speakers in his helmet. The fat man nodded, his breath ragged and his face was flushed red. "You've been doing things you shouldn't have. Politics isn't your playground."
He reached up and removed his helmet with his free hand, then stood up and kicked the man over onto his back. The official exhaled sharply.
"Manors?" he muttered. Bradley Manors? It can't be, your dead. Your father told me you were dead, killed by the Covenant."
"And that's what he believes." Bradley replied, his voice ice cold. "You now know the truth. But still, it won't help you." He raised his pistol to the man's head and fired. The last thing the official saw was Bradley's emotionless face.
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