Agent Atlantis

Chapter 2-Mercenary Zero

A/N--An update to get me back on schedule. Enjoy!

~~~

Three years later

Central Artema

1200 hours

Luke's feet kicked up dirt as he ran deeper into the forest. He panted heavily, his steps quick and frantic, as though he was trying to outrun a dangerous pursuer.

Behind him, he heard the shouts of the infantry. They had caught onto his trail.

But why was a whole infantry unit—composed of fifty soldiers—chasing one lone person through uninhabited terrain? 

Believe it or not, this situation was pretty standard in the war-torn battlefield of Central Artema—where a stranger was an enemy. 

Even worse, Luke was carrying the bare essentials: camouflage gear, a half-empty bottle of water, a rifle, and two magazines—one of which was empty.

In other words, he couldn't fight the soldiers head-on. But that was never the plan.

A voice crackled over his radio. "Zero, this is Captain Goat.  What's the sitrep?"

"This is Zero. The infantry has caught wind of me. ETA is three minutes," Luke said calmly as he jumped over a root.

"Roger that. Oh, and when the time comes, it's best to duck." The radio went dead.

What is he going to do? Luke wondered. He was no longer in the position to ask for an explanation, though. That had been forfeited when he had left the Agency.

Luke began hearing rustling from his sides. Flashes of camo gear alerted him the infantry was beginning to catch up—and trap him in their net. He tried to speed up, but the soldiers matched his pace.

Within a moment, half of them dropped back. Then Luke heard the stomping of dozens of footsteps. They must've realized I'm acting alone.

Any average person would be terrified for their life; Luke wasn't expecting to receive noble treatment from the soldiers—and on top of that, he was carrying a gun. But Luke wasn't normal.

The scouts began to pull ahead of him. Anxiousness was pumped from his heart. If they managed to block him . . . well, he would die.  Luke pushed through the dense foliage, panting for breath—and found himself at the edge of a cliff at a thousand-foot drop. 

There was no warning; the trees and foliage grew all the way to the cliff's edge. Luke didn't know he was at the edge until it was too late. He windmilled his arms desperately, his face staring into the abyss of his death. For a moment, he hung there—and then a gust of wind knocked him off balance.

Astonished, Luke could only stare numbly at the sky as the wind wooshed past him. His eyes smarted, and his muscles locked up. He couldn't believe that this was how he would die . . .

A hand grabbed the collar of his shirt. The threads of his shirt began to tear as Luke began choking. In the blink of an eye, the mysterious person hoisted Luke back onto land.

At first, Luke fervently thanked whoever was above the clouds for saving his life; the chances of a stranger who would risk their safety to help another journeying in the woods right when Luke fell were slim to none. 

And that's when he realized the man was wearing a military uniform. 

Luke began cursing whoever was above the clouds. Do they want my death to be worse?!

"Calm down!" the scout admonished Luke as he attempted to slip out of the man's grip. "I'm not here to hurt you!"

Luke listened. Given that the man had muscles everywhere a human possibly could and his failed attempt to escape, it was clear that the scout had all the power in the situation. "I'm calm now. You can let me go now."