Isolation & Fear (Damned of the 2/19th Book Seven)

Vanished

Grafenwöhr
US Army Training Area
Training Site 22
2/19th Company Area
West Germany
11 November, 1987
1300 Hours

LTC Harmon stared at the creepy uncle looking Timmons, his weak chin trembling slightly as the Senior Agent slowly turned to face him, his hands balling up into fists.

"You did what?" Timmons asked slowly, drawing out each word slightly and biting the ends off of them. I could see the tenseness in his back and the back of his neck by the way he stood. He was wearing a down jacket, a Dallas Cowboy's jersey, ugly insulated "moon boots", and parachute pants. He'd topped it off with an "I <3 GERMANY!" baseball hat.

He looked like a complete fool.

"I ordered Lieutenant Christensen out to FSTS-317 along with Staff Sergeant Quinten to take over operations for the site," He said. He was obviously confused as to the reason for the rage I could feel pouring off of the CIA Agent.

"And you cleared this with Chief Warrant Officer Three Henley?" He asked mildly.

"I'm not in the habit of clearing my orders with my subordinates," Harmon scoffed.

"Did I, or did I not, give specific instructions not to reassign any leader to any of the sites without clearing it with Chief Warrant Officer Three Henley and myself?" He asked slowly.

CSM Halloway looked outraged that Timmons would dare remind them of the fact that in all reality, he was running 2/19th, not the Rat Fuck Trio.

"Now see here, Timmons," Halloway shouted.

Timmons spun on Halloway, stepping forward into the larger and beefier man's face. "Don't you raise your voice at me. Not now, not ever," his voice was low, soft, and as deadly as a razor wrapped in silk. "Don't you think for a moment I won't personally leave you on your back with rain bouncing on your open eyes if you for one second endanger my operation."

The Command Sergeant Major stepped back, his face paling, and Timmons stepped with him.

"Every. Single. Thing. I do," he hissed. The creepy uncle act was gone now and I watched with interest as the Senior Special Agent slipped out from under the mask, "Is carefully calculated. I will not have you meddling about in plans that reach further than you can possibly comprehend. I will not have you expend lives needlessly in order to bolster your pathetic and childish desire to be in charge of something you are not intellectually capable of comprehending, nor will I allow you to cause any delay or disruption to my operation," The light glittered on the straight razor that had appeared in his fingers, unfolded, and Halloway gulped loudly. "I will erase you. from. fucking. existence. Do you understand?"

Halloway nodded and Timmons took two steps back, the straight razor vanishing as the tent flaps opened and Sergeant First Class Oddermeyer pushed his way in. He stopped, looking at everyone in the tent with curiosity, and I noticed his grip tightening on his M16 as his body subconsciously reacted to the tension that made the air shimmer.

"What?" Harmon snapped at the other man, and the only thing that prevented Oddermeyer's flush of anger from easily being seen was the darkness of his skin.

"We've got casualties," SFC Oddermeyer said, his voice bleak.

"Where?" Harmon asked.

"Atlas," Oddermeyer, Timmons, and I said all at the same time.

Oddermeyer just nodded. Harmon frowned at me like I had somehow done it myself.

"Who's dead?" Timmons asked.

"Who the fuck is this guy?" Oddermeyer asked.

"Senior Analyst Timmons, CIA," Timmons snapped. Oddermeyer nodded.