Christopher WunderLee - Moore's Mythopoeia

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As per their instructions, the Black-Ops team, led by none other than Commander Samstag Derby, a roinous legend in the ingravescent bureau (his reputation stemming most appropriately from an operation four years prior in which the commander flogged a recently initiated soldier during a retrieval, both successfully carried out, and was further inflated by his tendency to remove a subject’s clothing [symbolic of their rebirth, or so he justifies] and overly restraining them with a variety of questionable fetters), had taken up positions around Morgan’s Distribution, a warehouse where, allegedly, members of an underground resistance were headquartered, and, according to the most recent sit-reps, currently holding a meeting.

Intelligence reported that all major ‘players’ were present and that the operation was a ‘go’ as soon as Commander Derby decided to give the order (retaliation for a recent venture perpetrated by the resistance upon government property, and purportedly, quite subversive), of which, as he surveyed the situation, ensured all agents were in place, listened to the ‘bugs’ placed inside the warehouse, and notified his superiors, he immediately gave, in the form of the universal military salutation and inspirational utterance: “whooaahhh”.

At which point, like the barking head of a mythical hydra tormenting a fabled city of sinners, the strike force went into full operation, while the gas snipers lobbed canisters of noxious chemicals in through windows, jumpers repelled down the side of the building, guns blazing as they swung like superheroes in comic books from the days of yore into glass, a helicopter launched a barrage of missiles into the façade, and back-up teams surged forward behind the initial strike force, who’s voices Commander Derby could hear crying “clear… clear… clear” and “don’t move mother fucka” and “freeze or I’ll shoot you dead as a damn deer’s carcass on D-Day” and “retreat, retREAT, RETREAT”, along with the rat-tat-tat of gunfire, shock grenades, zap sticks, screams, hollers, agonized howls (angel-headed hipsters that they were), and the general peal of a raid in progress. He patiently waited for the first reports to come in…

The exchange of firepower threw the old commander for a loop, it being the first time anyone had actually fought back and he was stunned for quite a long time, perhaps too long, until he regained his composure and began his strategy, which he was able to piece together from intelligence reports and field information, what he called the Thor Maneuver, in which a heavily armored, highly trained task force of commandos would act like battle axe amidst the tumult of combat and push forward, deep into enemy lines, followed directly by the shock troops and the infantry, hot with hi-tech gear and a green desire to see action. However, Commander Derby’s plan was unsuccessful and several of his highly trained task force of commandos were taken prisoner or unreported (dead was not an option, not for Commander Samstag Derby), so he was forced to repel the opposing forces with superior fire power, calling in the Car, a heavily armored rhino of an automobile with a twelve centimeter cannon, ballistic missiles arrays, and the quickest machine gun of rubber bullets the department had in its arsenal. It rammed its way through a service entrance, entered the skirmish from the flank of the enemy, was able to disable their main contingent, sending them in retreat, of which it gave chase. Just as Commander Derby was about to send in his Janitors (i.e. specifically trained agents who specialized in ‘mopping up’ operations), he received notification from an observation post that the Car had been trapped, led towards the back of the warehouse, where it fell two stories down a cargo hold and was currently burning uncontrollably, exploding rockets everywhere, bullets melting, the cannon still blasting away (probably on automatic) but aimed towards the roof, which was now quite damaged and potentially going to fall down. The rebels had escaped into the back of the warehouse. He had fallen into a trap, lost the Car, possibly one third of his men. Commander Derby ordered a full siege, meaning every available man was to push forward, himself included, and to show his leadership, he leapt from his post and ran headlong towards the front of the building, only to be mowed down by a pig-man on the other side who’d taken up a position in the third story window and was currently strafing the troops located outside. His lieutenant was able to get to him before he died, to hear his last words, which were: “one more pillow please” and dragged him back to command.

The entire operation was in disarray, no one was giving orders and men were going down like dresses on prom night. Officials listening in were shocked, tried to contact any officer they could but were met only with radio silence. Finally, a young captain named Hartfield took up the cause and regrouped what was left of the shock troopers and the few infantrymen not injured or dead. He organized a special attack maneuver quickly dubbed the V-Offensive (based on the arrangement of soldiers), and struck the resistance with all of his might, alarmingly it was met with little opposition, strangely, even occurring to Captain Hartfield, but later understood: the mass of the opposing troops had long since escaped out of special caverns built underneath of the warehouse and connected to the sewer systems.

The Janitors were called in just as the last few remnants of the resistance were overpowered and the only success they could report was that fires intended to destroy evidence were put out before they burned all of the information. The team was able to recover several documents: roll call lists, membership dues paid by certain people, codebooks, cookbooks, a rolodex, and a list of possible future targets. Captain Hartfield brought the information immediately to the department head, who set a devoted deputation upon it, just as the agents playing possum (as per the rules of engagement) were told that the operation was over and allowed to return to the land of the living.

The retrieval of named persons began directly afterwards, Section 9 agents breaking down doors, chasing expected participants, the man-hunt was on… first and foremost, Section 9 was after Arthur Dodger, a.k.a. Father Nicholas, and intelligence reported sightings of the wanted man as he moved away from the city. Other persons were also on the ‘most-wanted’ list, including Carl Reagan, Noah Petrov, Oxford Carlyle, Michael Rand, Gregor Heely, and Joseph Moore. Agents fanned out to search for the key players, and the resistance was decimated, making the operation seemingly a success. However, indications from retrieved intelligence showed several independent cells still fully functional, along with particular members on individual missions that no longer had sustained contact with the leaders. One of which suggested that the newly appointed director, Graham Greene, was in danger, that the resistance had assigned an agent to kidnap him and his new wife. The department immediately sent out a team to protect him, who found him in the city, and convinced him to move out to the country estate until the man could be captured. The Greene’s cooperated completely and Captain Vincent’s team went out to protect the new couple.

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Meanwhile on the first convex of the lesser spheres of eternity, Joseph ambled along atop the debris of chaos on his way through the dark, waste, and wild of the starless desert, whose sky threatened to erupt in inclement out-pourings and fateful screams of a conduction zone between the tempest and the heavens. The boulders of nothingness soon gave way to the open plains with Himalayan vultures perched on titan carcasses, feasting on the divine spleen, only to grow tired of holy organs and seek out Tartan yeanlings and bah-bah lambs amongst the deltas and the great isthmus of the Ganges or Hydaspes which bled into the great Gobi desert of Sericana, where he found a ferry across the windy seas of land, alone, without company or life for he was treading on the border of creation. Where the convicts of vanity, sloth, greed and violence search for their rewards like lunar colonists terra forming a new world.