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Foreign Service

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This story is No. 3 in the series "The Military Option". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Agent Summers DSS, on duty in Moscow.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Games > Other GenrebatzulgerFR181410,562612047,62916 Jun 1130 Jun 11Yes

Diplomatic Incident

I wasn't sure who looked more surprised, them or me, so I shouted out the first thing that came to mind, "Pomogite mne! Ja presledovalsja zdes' terroristami!

The guy in charge looked at me strangely and said, "Chased by terrorists?" in decent english.

"Uh yeah...? Did I pronounce it wrong or something? Hey, are you guys here to rescue me?"

"Rescue you? From what? Who are you?"

"Anne Winters. I'm a tourist. I was taking the train back from a friends when these psychos started killing everybody on the platform. I ran into the tunnel and through the first door I could find and wound up here in the middle of some kind of war. These guys in old style uniforms and some other guys all in black. There was a huge explosion somewhere in that direction so I ran and hid in here with all these..." I gestured at the machines, "things? Then the noises stopped, but I had no idea where I was. Then you came down here to rescue me. Thank you!" I ran over and hugged him.

My psychological assault seemed to work. They didn't see Fisher fade into the shadows. I knew the stunning effect of my babbleburst would dissipate quickly so I fell to the floor and started to sob to confuse the situation more. While I was down I slipped my pistol, holster, and ID under the corpse I was next to. The leader whistled a couple of his guys forward to help me off the floor. They quickly frisked me, missing the knife in my boot, and finding nothing, zip-tied my hands in front of me.

The leader spoke up, "Sorry about that, but we must be cautious in this kind of situation. My men will escort you to the entrance where ther is a doctor."

I mutely nodded to him and docilely allowed myself to be led out of the room. Once we were clear of the lab, I snapped the zip tie and dropped them both as quietly as possible. In a minute Fisher appeared.

"Here's your gear," he handed me my weapon and ID, "I already took care of the guards they left behind. Let's go."

"Not yet, we have to destroy everything in that room. We still have a quarter ton of TNT in there, right?"

"Okay, I'll set the charge Summers, you get the guards clear. Can't afford to leave any dead Russian bodies on this job."

"Got it."

We snuck back into the lab where I started pulling the three unconscious guards well clear of Sam's planned mayhem. Then I closed and sealed all the blast doors in. Bending the locking bars insured we wouldn't be interrupted.

"Ready Sam?"

"Kind of..." he had stacked all our remaining explosive around the Tirwilliger machine and the pillars. He was now scooping up all the papers and adding them to a small bonfire of mystical scrolls and tomes, "...How far can you run in ten seconds or so?"

"I don't think I'm going to like this am I?"

"No triggerline. This needs to be a pull pin and run."

"Well, I just hope I can run far enough."

"I'd do it, but I know I probably wouldn't make it."

"No Sam, It's okay. I got this. You can start clearing our way past the guards at the entrance."

"You sure?"

"Yup," I made sure to pop the 'p' extra hard.

"On my way then."

I waited ten minutes then scooped up the DsHK and slung it on my back. I stretched out my legs and hips and cracked my neck. Lining up on the still open last blast door I pulled the pin and ran.

Before when the charges had gone off I was well clear of the direct pressure front. In addition the lensing effect had reduced the blast wave at its edges. This time the charge went off as I was in the middle of shutting the blast door to the lab. Stupid old Soviet fuses.

It ripped the door off its hinges, as I hadn't had a chance to throw the locking bar, and carried it and me sailing down the hall. Fortunately I unbalanced it slightly so it went into a slow spin and I landed with the door between me and the concrete floor. After sliding another twenty feet or so I was tumbled off and while shaking my head to clear it, checked for missing body parts. All of Buffy seemed to be present so it was time to start running again.

As my hearing started to return, I could pick up echoing shouts in Russian on the order of "What the fuck was that?" and its ilk. Occasionally I would pass an unconscious soldier so I knew I was following Fisher's route out. When I got to the entrance of the lab complex I saw him standing over a couple of bodies so I whistled to let him know I was behind him.

He spun, saw it was me and the pair of us took off into the Moscow underground labyrinth.

A couple hours later we came out of a storm drain about a block from the US Embassy. We were both filthy, exhausted, hungry, and alive. I just wanted to get back to my apartment and shower and sleep. I was waving goodbye to Sam when he stopped me and pointed at the weapon on my back.

"And what were you planning to do with this?"

I felt embarrassed as I had actually forgotten I was carrying it.

"Um, I don't think I can just dump it in a trash can."

"Give it to me, I can get it back to the States for you."


"I think you earned it, plus it suits you, brings out your eyes."

I handed him the DsHK and as he hefted it gave him a big hug, "Thanks Sam, I owe you."

"No you don't. This is the most interesting mission I've run in Moscow ever. If you ever decide you need a new job, I'm pretty sure my boss can find a place for you. Just send a message to me and I'll set up a meet."

"I told General Schaefer no..."

"Hey, I had to make the offer. Don't worry, I won't talk about this. I know a lady has to keep her secrets. Take care Buffy!" and with that he disappeared into the darkness.

A month later I was reassigned back to Headquarters in DC. When I got to my new apartment there was a large wooden crate in the center of the floor with a big red bow tied around it. Inside was the DsHK and a folder full of ATF waivers and machinegun tax stamps.

On the outside of the folder was a post-it with, "You need better locks. Sam"

The End

You have reached the end of "Foreign Service". This story is complete.

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