Splinter Cell: Traitor

Chapter 9 SCT

Ames

THIRD ECHELON PRIVATE JET

                “Let me get this straight, we are now under the command of a wheelchair bound, injured Splinter Cell who shouldn’t be working in the field right now?” I asked.  This was utter bullshit.  I cannot believe Hansen was just stepping down so this bitch could tell us what to do.  I mean she had no clue how a team worked, plus it created an unforeseen complication.

                “Yes, also, new Rules of Engagement.  If you are shooting at Fisher, you had better be firing LTL ammunition.  Sticky Shockers, Cottonballs, AFR, tranquilizer darts.  I want Fisher alive.  You kill him, I kill you,” she said staring directly at me, “Also, any dirty secrets, out with them now.  I don’t take well to being lied to.”

                “Kimberly slept with Fisher,” I muttered.  Maya looked ready to strangle me.

                “I know,” she said.  Kimberly looked at her with eyes the size of saucers. “What about you Ames?  Anything you want to say?”

                There is no way she knows.  No fucking way she could know.

                “Nope,” I said shaking my head and she rolled her eyes.

                “You don’t have a problem with these new ROE?  Because you seemed very adamant about using live fire in the past,”

                “That’s because Fisher is a traitorous jackass who should be shot and killed on sight, personally I don’t see how you can enforce your bullshit ROE because you are restricted to a wheelchair right now and not even operating.” I scoffed at her.

                “Um, ma’am, if Fisher starts shooting live fire back at us,” Kimberly started asking hesitantly.

                “Shoot to injure, not to kill,” Abigail said.  These ROE were going to get us killed.

                “You are working with Fisher,” I said.  She looked at me with a surprised expression.

                “Excuse me?” she said.  Her face was a closed book, I couldn’t read her expression.

                “You are fucking working with him aren’t you?  Those two weeks at his mercy, him taking care of you, feeding you, giving you water, medication.  You like him, you trust his traitorous ass.  Now you will be tipping him off to our location and telling him to run before we can catch him.  You are going to get him to kill us off one by one and then run off into the sunset with him!”

                She stood up slowly and walked over to me.  Her left arm was in a sling, but she reached behind her with her right hand and a blade flashed.  I tried to block it and my arm was pinned to the arm rest, her knee resting on my crotch, and the cold titanium of the knife blade was to my throat.

                “Even in my current condition, I can kick your ass.  Sam Fisher is fifty-five years old and could kick every single one of our asses in hand to hand combat.  Fisher wrote the book on hand to hand combat.  I want his ass to pay for what he did, but killing him solves nothing.  I have a full operational load out with me.  As soon as I can walk without a limp, I am in the field.  If I can kick your ass with a fractured leg and arm, imagine how many ways I could kick it fully operational,”

Abigail

NORWAY

                When the plane landed, we walked off and there were two SUVs being pulled out of the cargo hold.  I climbed in with Hansen, Kimberly and Moreau.  Maya, Nathan, and Ames were in the other one.  I pulled my brand new OPSAT out.  It was loaded with all of my preprogrammed files, including the photos which I kept in a password protected file.  We drove to the hotel and I began using the satellite to go over the cache site.  It was buried below the ground in graveyard, below a headstone labeled Uncle Sam.  I thought it was fitting.  The grave hadn’t been disturbed yet, so Fisher hadn’t come yet.