Operation CoJacks
Viopathartic
A/N: Thanks to my beta SkyHighFan for looking over this chapter
Jan had only wanted to get his folder. It was nearly 11 at the Prime Minister's office, and everyone had gone home save for a few of his co-workers and janitorial employees.
The lights had already begun to shut down. Only the desk lights remained on in areas where people continued to work. Jan waved to one of his friends, but did not stop for chit-chat. His wife was waiting for him in bed, probably worrying for him if he knew her well enough. Fatigue began to take him even as he walked.
He whistled a tune from the radio as he reached for his keys. The door opened; Jan stepped into his office. He groaned once he saw the mess he left on his desk. Papers covered all corners of his working area and today's lunch had fallen off with spaghetti and meatballs staining the floor. He bent down, picking the pieces of food off the ground, and threw them in the wastebasket.
Outside his office, two men snuck through the largest window and painstakingly landed on the ground without a sound.
"Where is it?" mumbled the worker to himself, spreading his sheets apart and creating a larger mess. The color of his manila folder came into sight and he triumphantly reached for it. Checking that all of the basic necessities were in there, he closed it and walked out of the office. Jan was surprised to hear that all sounds of keyboards and telephones ringing had stopped. This caused him to look up.
The folder fell, papers scattered across.
Jan backed up against the wall, fingers shaking as they felt for the light switch.
"Stop if you want to live." A deep voice commanded.
Fingers froze, hovering above the circular device. Jan slowly rotated his head, his eyes (as much as he resisted) fell on the sight before him.
His friends, John, Carol, Aaron, and everyone he had greeted at least once in his life, were kneeling with their backs against the wall. Blindfolds were worn around their eyes, and white cloths were stuffed inside their mouths. He saw his friends struggling to scream, but to no avail. Two men, Jan could see, were standing in front, dressed in plain black. They wore ski masks to hide their identities and each had some sort of weapons in their hands. The one on the right was aiming a rifle at Jan.
Unable to stop himself, his hand continued to edge towards the switch.
Bang.
Jan's hand flinched away as he realized a bullet was released, hitting the switch with dead accuracy.
"Next time we won't miss,' said the voice again, its sound perilously near. Meaning him. Jan threw himself against the wall once he saw the shorter man, Blue Eyes, was only 5 feet away, a hand resting on the flat surface of a desk. His partner, Gray Eyes, continued to aim his weapon on the man.
"Please," Jan pleaded as he moved himself along the wall, "please, I never saw you. I d-didn't even--n-no--"
Blue Eyes put a finger against his lips, silencing the inferior man. He came closer which made Jan even more frightened. He shook his head when Blue Eyes put his hands on his shoulders. "No--"
Jan fell the floor, his arms around his stomach where the man had kicked him. He spluttered, trying to catch his breath.
"Get up."
He cried, tears leaking from his eyes, as he continued to lie on his side. He wanted them to go way...wanted to time to rewind so that he was at home again, eating salmon dinner with his wife and son...
Hands grabbed him by his throat, gagging Jan as he was forced onto his feet.
"Oh god no, no please..." whimpered Jan as the man pulled his head back by the hair and held the knife in his right hand. Jan felt the cold, unforgiving steel that cut into his throat and waited. Waited for his death. When nothing came, he collapsed to his knees, the hand releasing him. With overwhelming relief, he laughed. Not the kind of laughter filled with mirth or not of nervousness.
Laughed for himself, for this man who had spared his life. "Oh god...thank you, thank you," Jan said, reaching for the offered hand without thought. "I promise, I won't--"
A blade smoothly slit across Jan's neck, severing the spine, the trachea, and the esophagus in one, clean swipe. Blood splattered on the wall and on Blue Eye's face, but he did not react. His eyes remained on his partner who stood behind the pitiful body without a head. Blood continued to spray from an open artery, quickly leaking on the floor until a small puddle formed.
"Watch where the blood goes," Blue Eyes said, his voice deadpanned. He turned, kicking the head and tending to the next victim.
His partner did not retort. He swiped his katana with a bloodied rag, ridding his blade of the red substance.
Gray Eyes stared below at the head which landed by his feet. He bent down, staring at it with disinterest. He had heard somewhere that the head could still see for 10 seconds, even after decapitation. He wanted his image to be the last the man will ever see.
With a large hand, Gray Eyes picked up the head and throwing it like a basketball, it fell into a nearby basket with a nauseating thud. Not far away, he heard a woman scream.
The smell of blood hovered in the air and under his mask, he smiled.
Harry stood in front of the door, checking if he had followed Cricket's directions correctly. The corridor he was currently in was deserted. He felt as if he just found a secret passage, underground or in some distant room.
The door of the shooting range was bare and showed no indication that it was anything but a janitorial closet. His hand grabbed the knob and twisted it, letting the door open itself. He couldn't see at first as he poked his head inside.
Then lights as strong as the rays of the sun nearly blinded him. Harry raised an arm to block his eyes, waving an arm out to find something he could find support from. His hand found a wall, and he blinked rapidly to rid his eyes of the discomfort.
"Hello."
Wiping tears away from his eyes, Harry saw Slit standing with his arms across his chest, and if he didn't act like a damn robot, he'd be smirking.
To his surprise, his Ballistics professor, Titi stood besides Slit.
"Welcome to Combination class," Titi said, a small smirk forming on her face.
"That's not on my schedule," Harry responded thickly, still trying to comprehend what will take place. Two classes at once?
"We're adding it. Slit and I decided that you are…competent enough to skip some classes, and so, here we are." Titi moved away, gesturing Harry with a small wave of the arm. Hesitantly, he walked between his two professors and gazed at the unfamiliar surrounding.
The "shooting range" was a bit similar to the Room of Requirements in Hogwarts. The size of it was close to the dimensions of the Great Hall, but nothing-no desks, chairs, boards--was in it. The walls were also white-a color that Operation CoJacks quarters seem to be fond of. The floors were not hard as they appeared. At first Harry suspected it was gymnastic mats, but when he kneeled down to test it, it had soft padding but only not as spongy as the regular ones.
"What exactly am I going to be doing in here?" asked Harry, gazing up at the bright, blank ceiling. "This isn't a shooting range." There were no lights attached to them which made him wonder where the light was coming from. Then he gazed down at his feet, realizing with sudden shock that the luminosity was coming from the floor. Harry jumped back a step, watching his old footprint as it faded away, and wondered while a number 5 replaced the footprint.
"But of course it is. It's a shooting range at a whole new level. As you may have suspected, we will work with gun control and body movements. These are necessarily when agents are out in the field," Slit approached his trainee until he was standing behind him. "The footprints you just saw disappear were caused by the system programmed for this room. Basically the floor is like a gigantic checkerboard, and you are the pawn."
"In here, teachers will designate every one of your movements," Titi continued, walking until she was standing in front of the both of them. "We command you to move to the left, you do as you are told. We tell you to drop and roll until you hit the Box 19 on your right; you're expected to fulfill your duty. The floor is divided into a total of 500 boxes. Right we'll be using only 100 squares. Starting from the center, the number of the box increases. You're currently positioned in Box 5. Move to Box 1."
He gazed back on the floor and observed that every box had a number. Harry moved to the center on Box 1.
"Good. Now remember the front roll we practiced last time? Front roll until you're on Box 5," said Slit, pointing towards the area. Harry landed softly on the box and looked back to see Slit standing with his feet slightly apart. Professor Titi had left the room.
"Too slow. In missions, when you're going up against the most notorious murderers, terrorists, and gang members, you have to move quickly. Bullets are flying at you from all angles and if you're late, those bullets could kill you. Do not stop every time you go into a somersault. Keep rolling. Last time was 10.38 seconds. I expect you to cut that time in half. Now move!"
Listening to Slit's advice, Harry nearly achieved the time (he made it in 6.23 seconds).But Slit appeared satisfied.
As Harry tried again one time after another, his time decreased and his agility increased. He later moved on to jumping boxes instead of somersaults. This time it was two boxes at a time. After they finished this exercise, Harry was nearly out of breath which Slit frowned upon, telling him that missions would be worse. The 25-year-old did not chastise Harry that much, but it still made the trainee feel somewhat embarrassed.
Harry promised himself that'd he get better. For an hour, Professor Titi was absent from the room, and when Harry thought the whole class was over, his teacher returned with the same black suitcase from yesterday in her left hand and her right hand grasping the handle of a white suitcase.
Slit let his colleague take over, standing on the sidelines with his arms by his side. Harry looked back in time to see Titi assembling the gun again. Not even acknowledging his presence, she turned and signaled to Slit. He held a device in his hands and pressed at her signal.
Box 1 and 2 slowly slid apart and large red target emerged from the ground. Once the machine was set, Titi raised her gun and fired.
Harry immediately covered his ears, spinning around to see where the bullet had landed. Amazingly, the bullet had embedded itself in center of the target. He looked back at his professor, but she was already on her feet, limply holding the gun in her hands. Slit was watching for Harry's reaction.
"I can see you're a bit hesitant which is why you'll use this as a substitute weapon. A harmless game of laser tag." Titi gave him a raygun in the size of a pistol. She then pointed towards the target, indicating for the practice to begin.
It was a bit frightening how Harry didn't hesitate to take the weapon. And how his hand automatically curled around the grip, his index finger above the trigger.
The gun was like a wand, Harry mused to himself. The wand chooses you, but you can also choose the wand. It was the medium of your power, your magic and it can never be taken. Of course the wand can be taken away or snapped (in fact Harry's wand was almost apprehended when he used the Patronus Charm in fifth year), but it doesn't steal your magic. Just like a gun. A gun is also a medium for power and can be taken away, but that still does not take away your ability to shoot a gun.
All the years in Quidditch and catching the golden snitch paid off in this exercise. It was quick and easy for him. His eyes would spot the target, crouch, and he'd press. The target would then lower itself to the ground, the boxes opening to close around it. Harry would immediately start on the next newly emerged object, making sure to shoot it right in the middle.
After 15 minutes and covering all 100 boxes, Harry managed to shoot 89 bull's eye, 3 misses, and 8 shots below or above the center.
Light applause was heard as he stared at his doing. He turned, walking over to his mentors.
"I must say that was quite impressive. Good hand eye-coordination, awareness of surroundings, and adequate agility," commended Titi with a slight smile. Slit nodded at him, a sign of approval Harry suspected.
"Next time," he said briskly, "We'll split the time in half again. You'll be working with me on moves and then your professor on gun control. Towards the end of ever lesson, Professor Titi and I will ask for you to combine all you learned in that lesson and use it while on the boxing exercise.
The three of them were packing up to leave when Slit, amidst turning off the lights, looked down at his hand. Harry questioned him with a look.
The 25-year-old agent quickly finished his original task and exited the room.
"Professor? What's up with Slit?"
"The chip in his hand notified him that he was needed by the leaders in Operation CoJacks. Usually when it's not as important, someone would be sent to notify you. When it's serious, the chip heats up but doesn't really hurt the person; it just acts an alarm."
"Does it happen often?"
"No," she paused, "But it does to Slit. He's one of the best."
"Any indication of the perpetrator in this crime?" asked the man from the computer room. His most dedicated, hand-chosen team of agents was seated in separate computer stations. Each had some sort of map or information sheet pulled up on their screen. Their leader walked around the room, his eyes alert. Dark bags under his eyes revealed his lack of sleep, but that did not affect how he commanded his men.
"Perpetrator entered from a side window. Our team of investigators observed that a laser had cut into the glass," a female agent stated matter-of-factly.
"But it may be more than one," said another agent from across the room. The leader turned to face him instead.
"And why is that?"
"One would not have control over 8 people at the same time. There would have to be at least two. One would threaten and the other would actually commit the crime."
The leader suppressed a groan. His best men weren't even able to figure it out.
"Tell me about the crime again."
"Yes sir." Elaine said, standing up from her seat. She held a small notebook pad in her hands and flipped through the pages.
"Scene was discovered by the prime minster himself. He found some of his workers, those who worked overtime at night, lying in limp form. Each of his workers, except for one, were shot and then dismembered. Our pathologist determined that they had been dead for at least 12 hours. The head of Jan Cyan was found in a basket, 13 feet away from his body. He lay separate from everyone else, leading us to believe that he had discovered the perpetrators and tried to escape. A bullet casing was found nearby and blood stained the walls, but no specific weapons were discovered."
The man nodded at Elaine and she sat back down.
"Alright. What other evidence was found?"
"A letter, sir, from the perpetrator. No fingerprints were found." Elaine answered again.
A letter. How nice of the people.
"Have the analyzing staff take over. This means the perpetrator is directly attacking the Prime Minister. Where is he now?"
"The Prime Minister is still in London. Quite stubborn, really. Refused to leave until we solve this case." A middle-age man answered, smirking. The man in charge took no notice of this.
"I'll send a set of agents to see to the Prime Minister. Slit-where's Slit?"
The other agents looked around for their youngest teammate but could not find him. Then the door opened, revealing Slit.
He bowed slightly, "Sorry, sir. I was in the training room with Beulah Titi and our new trainee, Harry Potter. We were practicing combinations."
"Harry Potter? The one you brought?" asked the leader.
Slit nodded and headed to his station.
"Slit, you will take two competent agents from this group and go to London. The details of this mission was already sent to you, but they will tell you the information."
Once all assignments were given, the meeting room cleared out. Slit was the last to leave, but his leader called for him as he stepped through the threshold.
"Tell me about this Harry Potter." Slit knew his boss would ask this. After all, practically bringing in a civilian to train was unheard of in Operation CoJacks. Slit wasn't one to recruit a trainee personally. This struck an odd note when the leader had heard of this. What was so special about a boy named Harry Potter?
"Well, sir, I believe he is competent to be one of us." Slit knew it wasn't enough.
"From what evidence?"
"I'm not sure I can say. But in his classes, the kid is showing exceptional abilities. I just came from his class and his gun control is equivalent to a 4 month trainee."
"Slit, you know it is dangerous to expose someone we have no idea about to our world." The man said, talking to him as if he was his son. He was in a way. The man had personally continued Slit's training, had given him counseling, and was one who Slit usually confided in.
"I know, sir. But I had this feeling." Slit answered. Now this was strange, thought the man. Slit had never acted on something on a feeling or instinct. Especially something as dangerous as this.
"What if Potter is an agent for our enemy? Think of what he may be exposing to other people who want to destroy us and our government!"
"Harry is not," Slit said, using the boy's first name out of reflex. "He was just a seventeen-year old-boy until now.
The man shook his head and said in annoyed tone, "Just like your father you are."
Slit made no comment to this, but was actually realizing the similarities. Before, Slit was just a regular eight-year-old boy. But then his father had decided to train him for something bigger. Harry was just a regular seventeen-year-old. And now Slit was the one training him.
"Very well then. Take Harry Potter with you on the mission since you think he is qualified." Slit reacted to this and asked for the man to repeat what he had said.
"You seem to think Harry is adequate in classes, even though it's only been two days," explained the leader in calm but all the while aggravating tone. "So bring him along. Teach him a few things."
The man was trying to prove that Slit was wrong in choosing Harry. But Slit would not let him win.
"Yes, sir." He and the man exchanged a long glare and then he left.
The leader felt like he should have taken back the command, knowing that he might put both Potter and Slit in danger. Then again, the trainee would go with Slit in the mission, and he knew how efficient Slit was on the field.
With a sigh, the man rubbed his eyes with his hands.
I really need some sleep.
I'm not sure if I should put my story under R or keep it in PG-13. There may be a lot of violence in future chapters, but when most people see the R-rated sign, they immediately assume it's just because of the sexual content in it. Seeing as I am a bit too young for such...er...provocative activities, I'm still unsure.
Oh and though I appreciate my friend, SkyHighFan, for editing my chapters, I'm still looking for a second beta. Call me paranoid, but my writing needs help.
Until next chapter,
Le (Viopathartic)