Mission 2
Mission Brief: Operation WINTER GHOST
TOP SECRET//SI/TK//NOFORN
JOINT TASKFORCE: CIA SPECIAL ACTIVITIES CENTER / MI6 SECTION Q (BLACK OPS)
DATE: 26 DECEMBER 2010
LOCATION: SAFE HOUSE, VIENNA, AUSTRIA
The room was windowless, smelling of old cigar smoke and stale coffee. Seated at a simple metal table, Alen faced two senior officers: a stern, grey-haired man from the CIA and a sharp, well-dressed woman from MI6.
"Welcome, Mr. Richard," the CIA officer began, sliding a file across the table. "Or should we say, Foma Kiniaev? Your file makes for interesting reading. A ghost with a talent for survival in contaminated areas. That's why you're here."
The MI6 officer spoke next, her voice cool and precise. "The Eastern Slav Republic. A former Soviet state currently tearing itself apart in a civil war. Our concern is not politics, but intelligence suggesting one or both sides are using Bio-Organic Weapons (B.O.W.s) in violation of international treaties."
MISSION PARAMETERS:
· Primary Objective: Infiltrate the suspected B.O.W. research facility beneath the village of Dveri. Confirm the existence and nature of the program.
· Secondary Objective: Retrieve all data on the research and secure a physical sample of the agent.
· Tertiary Objective: Eliminate high-value targets only if they directly threaten mission success or your extraction. This is a covert intelligence mission; your existence is deniable.
· Extraction: Rendezvous with a partisan contact at LZ Alpha on December 28th, 23:00 hours. No second chance.
"The U.S. and Russian governments are preparing a potential joint intervention," the CIA officer added. "Your evidence will be the trigger. Get in, get proof, get out. You'll be a ghost. Your only contact will be Ingrid Hunnigan. She's the best in the business. You'll be in good hands."
Asset Handoff: Meeting Hunnigan
DATE: 26 DECEMBER 2010
LOCATION: DIGITAL BRIEFING ROOM (ENCRYPTED LINK)
A monitor flickered to life, revealing Ingrid Hunnigan. Her expression was professional, but her eyes showed a flicker of surprise at the unknown agent.
"Agent Kiniaev, I am Ingrid Hunnigan. I will be your eyes and ears for this operation," she said calmly. "Your unique physiology makes you ideal for this high-risk mission."
Alen gave a slight nod. "Understood."
Hunnigan continued. "The village of Dveri is marked abandoned on maps. Satellite scans show underground heat signatures and movement on the surface. Be cautious. We don't know what's down there."
"I don't expect a welcoming committee," Alen replied, calm.
A faint smile appeared. "No, I suppose not. Your cover is a freelance journalist from Minsk, documenting the conflict. Your equipment is on the way. Stealth is your primary tool. Engage only if necessary. Good luck, Foma."
Mission 2: The Horror in Dveri
DATE: 27 DECEMBER 2010
LOCATION: DVERSI, EASTERN SLAV REPUBLIC
The train ride into Eastern Slav was a journey through a frozen, war-torn landscape. Using his forged passport, Alen, now Foma Kiniaev, passed military checkpoints with a journalist's weary disinterest. Dveri was exactly as described: snow-covered ruins, silent except for the wind.
His communicator buzzed. Hunnigan's voice whispered in his ear. "Foma, satellite is intermittent. You're on your own. Proceed to the lab coordinates."
The first sign of horror came not from sight, but smell—the tang of blood and decay. A figure shambled out, jerky and unnatural, a grotesque parasite pulsing from its neck. It was a Ganado, infected with Las Plagas.
Alen dispatched it silently with his knife. But the kill made noise. More Ganados appeared, vacant eyes, weapons in hand. What should have been a stealth mission became a fight for survival. Alen fought through the village square, using suppressed shots and brutal close combat, a ghost forced into the open.
"Foma, your vitals are spiking. Report," Hunnigan's voice crackled.
"Compromised," Alen grunted, ducking to reload. "Heavy hostiles. They're not just infected… they're organized."
Finally, he reached the lab entrance—a disguised elevator behind a false wall in the church. Inside, the sterile air contrasted with chaos above. The lab was a nightmare: breached containment cells, blood-stained tables, and logs detailing experiments with a new aggressive Plagas strain.
A massive blast door slammed behind him. A distorted voice echoed. "An uninvited guest. Let's see how you handle our newest product."
A hulking Tyrant emerged—a prototype with stitched skin and a crude mechanical claw. Its power was real.
The fight was brutal. Alen used every weapon—rifle, shotgun, explosives. It shrugged off attacks, throwing him across the lab. Pain surged, ribs cracked, arm snapped. The Tyrant raised its claw for the kill.
Then a fire ignited inside him. The Progenitor virus within awakened.
His eyes glowed vibrant blue. Pain faded, replaced by strength. His broken arm snapped back into place.
"Foma?! Your vitals—" Hunnigan's voice was distant and frantic.
With a roar, Alen attacked. For nine minutes, he moved faster than humanly possible, using walls, pipes, and fists against the Tyrant. One final blow tore the mechanical claw from its socket and drove it through the Tyrant's skull. It collapsed.
Exhausted and bleeding from minor wounds, Alen keyed his comms. "Hunnigan… target neutralized."
"My God… your vitals… stabilized," she said, awe in her voice.
"No time. Proceeding with objective."
Deeper in the lab, the main data core had been wiped. Scientists were dead from precise gunshots, not B.O.W.s. A security feed showed elite operatives with the insignia of the Eastern Slav Republican Army.
"Hunnigan, that's President Belikova's personal guard," she said grimly.
Alen salvaged a few data drives and a single Plagas sample before extraction, evading patrols. Injured, exhausted, but alive.
After-Action: A Lingering Concern
DATE: 29 DECEMBER 2010
LOCATION: SAFE HOUSE, BUCHAREST, ROMANIA
Hunnigan's voice was softer now, concerned.
"The data is invaluable. It confirms Belikova's involvement in bioweapons. You did good work, Foma… Alen."
"Just the mission," he replied.
"Don't you 'just the mission' me. I monitored your vitals. What happened in there? That wasn't in your file."
"It's handled."
"No. I need to know what I'm dealing with to keep you alive. You scared me."
For the first time, Alen let his guard down slightly. "It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't," she said warmly. "Rest. Your next assignment waits. And Alen… I'm glad you made it out."
The line went dead. The mission was over—but Alen's own nature, and the bond with the voice on the radio, had only just begun.
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