Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2) (48 page)

“Now General,” The President started.

He scooted forward and rested at the edge of his seat in a hope to convey the importance of what he was about to say.

“We tried that once, remember? Our goal isn't to turn your country into America 2.0. We're trying to create stability through harmonization. Our country takes on a heavy burden to fight some of the great injustices of our world. We can't be wasting our time, efforts, and resources just to come back to your backyard in ten years and give you another spanking.”

A fire began to grow within the bowls of the General's soul. He may be one of the most powerful men on earth but no one speaks to one of the greatest generals that has ever served the People's Army. His hands clenched against the armrest. One more insult and he might start ruining furniture.

“General, if I may,” President Park interrupted.

She could see the tension in the air and knew it was the perfect time to step in and help smooth things over.

“We want the same thing. We want our people to be happy, healthy, and well nourished. We want to have the freedom to travel to wherever our hearts desire. But most importantly, we want to tear down the wall that separates us and unite us as a whole once more. We have ancestors and history on both sides. It is not only unfair to keep us separated this far, it is unjust.”

Her arm slowly extended and placed a soft hand over the General's.

“Let us end the foolish strife and do what's best for our people. America is not here to take over or change us. They're here to assist us and make sure all of our needs are met. When it's all said and done, you and I will be running our country.”

“You,” the General began feeling much calmer after hearing those soothing words. “And I?”

“That's right General Suh,” the President said sliding back into the comfortable part of his chair. “It's all right there in black and white. As of today, you will no longer be the general of the People's Army. You will be the first President of the North Republic of Korea.”

The General's throat went instantly dry. He had served this country for years as one of their finest warriors and was soon promoted to one of their most prominent tacticians. His entire life and career were designed to serve the one true Leader. He never once thought of serving the people directly as a figurehead and politician. The thought of being in such power never crossed his mind, mostly because any thoughts like that would put you first in line to the execution block.

“I,” the General stammered.

The weight of this information was just too much for him at this moment.

“I do not think I will capable of this task. I have no experience leading our people.”

“You will not be alone General Suh,” smiled President Park. “We will be working with you, guiding you along the correct path. We will help establish your government, create a new voting system, and most importantly, help you inspire the people to have faith in your nation once more.”

There was a moment of reflection. The General paused and took a deep breath. He looked within himself and remembered why he served. His intentions were always to become a great servant of their Leader but the Leader's duty was to serve the people so by proxy, he too was a servant of the people. He spent years establishing an army and preparing his men for wars to defend the home of his people. Now, with no one left to fight, he can shift his efforts to serving the people where they need it the most.

This was a good deal and what was right for their people. Kim Jong-un's and his son’s reign was not the rose colored memory he had thought. In actuality, it was terrible. People starved, lived in fear, and bent to the will of just one man who was elected by birth, not by choice. This was the reason why the General defected in the first place. His loyalty to the army was strong but aided by both duty and fear. The time was right to build a new legacy for his people and the General was more than happy to lead the charge.

General Suh took a long look at President Park and President Marshall. For the first time since he's entered this country, his lips pursed up and formed a small smile as he said the historic words that will forever change the world.

“Where do I sign?”

March 27th, 2013 3:57PM

1286 4th St SE

Washington, D.C.

Bullets ripped through the delicate molecules of the surrounding air. They crackled and snapped as they mangled through the sound barrier. The soldiers pressed their weapons and locked them against their shoulders as they drilled hundreds of rounds of ammunition at their targets.

Michael stayed close behind and slightly crouched near the Paladin just as instructed with continuous hot slabs of lead constantly whizzing around their position. The firing had gone one for nearly six seconds and not a single shot has penetrated or even nicked their flesh. Something was definitely amiss.

              The firing stopped for a brief moment while a few of soldiers began changing magazines. Within seconds, the barrage continued at full force. Michael stood up and looked towards their aggressors. They were well within the lethal range of those weapons and with thirty rounds in the magazine, more than one should have hit. This was not possible.

They approached and were well within a thirty food radius of their attackers. Michael continued to follow as his Paladin escort walked through the hail of bullets completely unscathed. At this range, it was unfathomable that they weren't being hit. Michael stared down the sights of several AK-47s as they popped off rounds in rapid succession and yet, each bullet seemed to whiz past or disappear out of thin air as if they were firing blanks.

Davis looked no worse for wear. Fear did not embrace his expression. It didn't even seem to be invited to this bold endeavor when it should have had a front row seat. Michael had no idea how the Paladin was pulling this off but he wasn't about to question it. Not with the advantage well in their favor.

“Keep firing!” The Colonel shouted.

His men had already been through three magazines a piece and yet they had nothing to show for it. Desperation soon set in. He could see trepidation engulfing his units’ morale.

Lee roared as he kicked open the door, locked the holy man between the metal linings of his sights, and popped off several rounds. He should have watched the bullets tear through their clothes, skin, and organs. They should have collapsed on the ground in writhing agony begging for what remains of their life as blood poured out of their wounds like a broken fire hydrant. Their deaths would be quick and just; yet, the only thing he saw were his carefully aimed shots curve past the targets and decorate the walls of the abandoned building across the street.

This was a lie. It had to be. Lee took a breath, focused his aim and fired once more. The results were the same. Bullets that should have traveled straight through decimate his intended target fled elsewhere. Lee continued to fire. Each shot carefully aimed and still continued to miss. His desperation grew stronger as he began to pant with each pull of the trigger. A full magazine's worth of ammunition had been expended and not a single bullet had struck the target.

“Hit them with the cannon!” Ordered the Colonel.

Sweat began to pour form his brow as their efforts continually proved to be futile.

Thunderous pops filled the halls of the warehouse as the heavy weapons team began to unload on the two men approaching their position. Hails of shells began to rain down on the floor littering their area with brass casing. The targets were nearly four times the size of their sights and yet none of their shots had come close. Mountains of asphalt shot up and caked the air in dust as their shots penetrated the open ground.

The Colonel switched his focused towards his squad and noticed the tremendous amount of stress they were enduring. This was not in their training. Guns fired rounds. Rounds penetrated targets. Targets died. If you take the second part out of the equation then you're stuck with an incomplete. The problem was, this isn't math. Those two should have been turned to shreds by now and the Colonel couldn't figure out why. Perhaps it was time to pull out their big gun.

“Fire the rocket!” The Colonel shouted.

His desperation was now clearly abundant.

Two soldiers ceased firing and ducked behind the sandbags. They procured a black case labeled RPG-7 and opened it to reveal a dirty green missile launcher and two extra rockets. This was another gift that came along for the ride back in their homeland. Their Russian allies were gracious hosts. The box featured the standard RPG-7 launcher and two rounds of PG-7V rockets. These were supposed to be used to deter and silence any large vehicles or vans from entering their perimeter but as of right now, nothing they had was working so by the Colonel's orders, they readied their last resort.

The firing continued as both soldiers returned to their post above the sandbags and aimed the rocket at the target. Their bullets may have missed but nothing could escape the blast of one of these grenades. The silver cross was locked dead center in his optical sight. His finger rose up from the handle and wrapped around the trigger. The soldier took a breath as he was trained and after a slow exhale, squeezed his finger as hard as he could.

Dust exploded in a tremendous cloud of flames as the RPG flew straight towards the Paladin. At this distance, death was certain. Michael's instincts began moving his body without any commands. Apparently Davis could sense this in his companion. He threw out his arm out just moments before the rocket arrived. This was his signal to the FBI agent that there was nothing to be worried about.

The grenade barreled towards the Paladin's chest and whizzed violently as it immediately shot upwards just inches away from striking his chest. It twisted and spun wildly in the air as if being strangled by some kind of supernatural force.

Firing ceased. The soldiers slowly lowered their guns and watched their ace in the whole dance in the air. All eyes were on the traveling projectile that laughed in the face of physics and logic altogether.

Seconds later, the deceased rocket came crashing to the ground. The shell bounced on the ground with a lifeless thud and slowly rolled towards the planted feet of the young Paladin. He looked down at the explosive device and smiled. Their souls revealed that surrendering was not an option. As much as Davis would like to present it to them, he would have to defer to another method of dealing with them.

“They're all yours Michael,” Davis stated. “Remember, these men can still be saved so please exercise some restraint.”

The FBI agent was still attempting to rationalize everything he has seen and experienced. By all intents and purposes, they should be dead. Testament was already mysterious enough as is but if they had access to special kinds of technology or even worse, something that science is not ready to explain. This display only fueled Michael's apprehension of current ally and made him wonder just what lengths they would go to fulfill their goals. This current display of power would prove to test Michael's enhanced abilities to their limits. If he didn't possess the power to take down one of them, dealing with their army would be out of the question. This is something to be discussed and analyzed at a later date. Right now, the mission took precedence.

Michael reached into his coat and snapped out two stun grenades. The pins barely hit the ground before they landed behind the sandbags with simultaneous tosses. Light exploded in a mountain of bright chaos. The soldiers screamed in agony as they desperately pleaded for the pain to end. This was the FBI agent's chance.  The effects would only last a few seconds which was more than enough time for the child of Project Mabus to take them down.

The FBI agent rocketed forward and dove into the fray. He unleashed a precise and devastating volley of attacks that took the air out of their lungs and consciousness from their minds. He ripped into them with his fists, crashing his knuckles into their soft flesh and sending them into levels of agony they never even dreamed of. Bone crushed bone but unlike his opponent's, Michael's skeleton had been genetically enhanced and has the tensile strength and density of solid steel.

Soldiers dropped almost simultaneously. They tried desperately to cling to a consciousness that was violently stolen from them. Ribs had been broken, heads were rattled, and bodies piled up one after another. It only took Michael four and a half seconds to dispatch most of the doctor's defense line save for one lone soldier that seemed to be regaining his bearings quicker than calculated.

The last soldier wailed a horrific battle cry as he swung his AK-47 towards the FBI agent and held down the trigger as if his life depended on it. Michael had anticipated this attack and caught the weapon by the barrel. Rounds continued to pour out of the steel tube as remained motionless in the FBI agent's vice like grip. Screams flowed through the burning lungs of the remaining soldier as he desperately tried to force the barrel to move but no matter how hard he tried it was futile.

The air soon became quiet after the entire magazine was exhausted of bullets. Michael could feel the heat from the barrel trying to burn his flesh. The pain didn't even register. He took that same hand and smashed it against the soldier's skull. Each finger dug into the soft tissue of his scalp and the heated palm of his hand burned into the soldier's forehead like a brand. His violent screams continued but switched from desperation into agony. Michael lifted the soldier up with one hand as his final target began flailing around desperately trying to silence the pain that had enveloped him.