Chapter Eleven: Riley Everett

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I'm starting to hate this job more and more. It's not necessarily complicated, I have already managed to collect enough information to form a relatively basic plan of how to dismantle the whole thing.

A few leaks, a few explosions and well, a little bit of a cull, the entire thing will come crashing to the ground. There is one confusing part though, the militia is already on the turn-down meaning that they're losing money and territory so I'm astounded that MI6 would get involved in it. Going off the info, I would say it's another six months, maybe a year, before it disbands on its own.

They may have run out of money and supplies but they haven't run out of psychopaths that would string me up from my fucking ears if they found out what I was doing. So, what I don't understand is why they would send me out here to a country I've never been to with no help, besides Chief and Johnson who remain in England.

"Johnson, is Chief with you?" I'm currently on the phone in my shitty flat with a beer in hand. I know I've still got stalkers, there's four people lingering outside - one from each mafia and then one Rider, currently it's Runner - watching through the window. I've also left the bugs in my flat because I sincerely don't give a shit what they know and what they don't.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"This whole thing is messed up, boss. Why am I really here?"

"What do you mean, Riley?" Chief sounds concerned, he's basically my father and obviously he's going to be worried that I'm on enemy territory with back up over ten hours away.

"The French are weak, they're losing power, money, territory. What made them send me out here now? It's been years since Vicca, they could've used me long before this."

"What are you thinking?" He sounds just as sceptical as I am.

"I'm not entirely sure, I'm playing with a lot of theories right now. You and Johnson need to be careful, try and stay out of the limelight and don't tell anyone everything. Give them snippets of info to keep them quiet, for now, we only trust each other."

"What are you planning?"

"Looks like phase one is happening tonight." I take a gulp of beer as Chief starts going off about safety and no back up which I just listen to silently. "I'll call when it's done, stay safe." I toss my phone and head into my room to grab everything I need.

I change into black jeans with a black short-sleeved shirt and strap my Kevlar to my chest. I holster two pistols to my thighs and a knife at the base of my back before twisting a suppressor onto my assault rifle that I throw over my shoulder soon after.

I slip smaller knives into my combat boots before grabbing my mask and heading out to my car. I first head over to the group of people waiting on me, my gun making them take theirs out. "Relax, I'm not gonna shoot you. I have something to get done tonight, don't follow me or you will be killed."

"Are you threatening us?" The Italian growls and I roll my eyes.

"I didn't say I'd be the one killing you, dipshit. Look, you guys come and you'll ruin the whole thing, probably get us all killed. I will explain shit after, just fuck off."

I turn around, satisfied with their simple nods, and slip into my car. Now the plan is to take out Monsieur Pontiac and all of his little minions that live in his big mansion up the road. He is a point of contact and I think that killing the messenger sends a decent enough message.

I'm hoping to find more information about whoever the French are using outside of their little club. More specifically, I need to find out if there are any of the high ranked people are British or have strong ties with the UK. I don't trust the real reason I'm here, especially not now and the doubt I have right now is probably gonna get me killed but I don't have any other choice.

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