Break
Prologue
DATE: DECEMBER 24, 2011
TIME: 1829 Hours
LOCATION: WATSON WAREHOUSE, RED APPLE STREET, DALLAS, TEXAS
MISSION: LOCATE AND EXTRACT MAJOR -----“BREAK”-----
TEAM BEING SENT: CAPTAIN-----“SHADOW”-----, CAPTAIN-----“ACE”-----, SECOND LIEUTENANT-----“DECODER”-----
“Why do they call you Break?” Came a voice from somewhere in the dark room.
The suspect was silent. He sat in the steel chair in the dark room. There was a rope that was tied around each of his wrists to hold his arms behind the chair. His legs were also tied around the legs of the chair to keep him from trying to escape. The suspect was in pain from the ropes rubbing against him for the past three hours. He held down the urge to groan from the pain, mostly so the interrogator didn’t get any torture ideas involving ropes. This guy really didn’t like ropes.
“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me!” The interrogator shouted in the suspect’s face. “Now answer me. Why do they call you Break?!” The interrogator was now very angry.
“Because...” The suspect known as Break started to say.
“Because of what?!” The interrogator now shouted louder in the captured man’s face. The man accidentally spit some of his saliva onto “Break’s” face. Break rubbed his face on his shoulder to rub the spit off.
They both could suddenly hear a loud sound. The interrogator was confused about what he was, but Break instantly recognized the noise. That sound was as familiar to him as his own reflection. Break smiled from hearing this sound. The interrogator looked at Break with a look of worry.
“Because of this.” Break answered.
A second later, the wall burst open. Bricks and cement flew all over the room. Break’s chair fell forward and he landed on his face. The interrogator landed with his back on the floor and dust covering his face. The interrogator coughed and a dust cloud puffed out of his mouth. He looked around in the dust but couldn’t see anything except for two lights shining through the dust. He reached to the wall and grabbed the AK-74 that was hanging on the wall. He held it with one hand as he used the other to clear his face of the dust.
He looked through his dust covered eyes to see three men jumping out of a Dodge Ram 3500 Dually with about a twelve inch lift. The truck itself was huge. The men all held guns, two were assault rifles and one was an M14. One of them was green like jungle camouflage, one was black with some blue and the other was dark grey, almost black. The soldiers wore black outfits with bulletproof vests over the outfits and masks to cover their faces. The soldier with the green M4A1 let his rifle hang by the strap that was around him. He pulled out a knife with a blade that was about six inches long. The blade was silver and had a green leather handle. The soldier brought it down and quickly cut through the rope. He picked up the chair and threw it across the room where it hit the other wall. He holstered his knife and picked up Break. He threw Break over his right shoulder and carried him that way.
Break was covered with dust, but he was recovering better than the interrogator. The crash had been to Break’s back, causing nearly no dust or debris to hit his face. He could see fine and he felt fine, too. Break looked back to where the interrogator was. He was standing still with an AK-74 in his hands. Dust covered his body and there were only splotches of where the debris hadn’t hit during when the wall had been demolished. The rifle was aimed directly at Ace, the soldier with the green rifle that was carrying Break. His AK-74 was shaking in his hands, as if he was scared. Break knew that wasn’t the problem, though. That man was terrified of Break’s “friends”.
Ace slowly lifted his left arm. In his hand was what looked like the car keys to the truck. Break knew that wasn’t it, though. Ace pressed the top button of the “key”. The room exploded in a hail of fire and debris. Ace hauled Break into the bed of the truck as the other two soldiers jumped in the front and drove the truck away from the warehouse in which Break was being kept. The whole building was now destroyed and most of it was on fire. Ace looked at Break. All Break could see of Ace were his eyes that had mud around them to “camouflage himself more” as he would say. Break would always joke with Ace and say that you can’t camouflage a man of his size, and he was probably right.
“I have something to show you.” Ace said in an excited tone. “Watch this.”
He pressed another switch on the remote. Five projectiles flew up from the warehouse. A smoke trail followed each of them. After they reached a certain height, they all exploded into huge balls of light. Break couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Only someone like Ace would think of this.
“Fireworks...” Break mumbled. “You put fireworks in with explosives. What would you have done if they hadn’t worked?”
“But they did work, and they were awesome!” Ace said happily as he pulled a playing card out of his pocket. It was an Ace of Spades. “I had this with me, so of course it worked.” Ace always believed that an Ace of Spades was his lucky charm.
“Whatever man.” Break laughed. “That’s just a suspicion of yours.”
“And it’s that suspicion that works.” Ace said.
Break looked at Ace. Ace no longer had his face mask on. He had light green eyes and dark, thick eyebrows. His hair was black and cut in a thick, flat Mohawk. There was a tattoo of an Ace card on the right side of his neck. It was obvious from his new facial hair that he hadn’t shaved in a few days. His left ear looked odd because a bullet had once caught him on the edge of it and he lost part of his ear because of it. He was very muscular and very tall. Ace was over six foot and five inches tall. Ace’s assault rifle was by his side, loaded with a full magazine. The gun was a light green and had Ace written in cursive above the handle. He was a great shot with that gun. Ace wasn’t the kind of guy you would want to pick a fight with.
“If that’s what it takes to get you as good as you are, I guess I won’t bug you about it anymore.” Break told him.

Five minutes hadn’t even passed when the first choppers showed up. They were black Apache choppers that fired from turrets and rockets on the side and from gunners that were hanging out the window. There were three of them, which wasn’t a challenge for the small team that has faced more than three at a time. They didn’t do like most fights though. Usually in most firefights, all of the enemy retreats, or none of them do. Instead, one of the choppers flew away and retreated while two of them stayed back and fired at the truck holding the four American soldiers. The driver, Decoder, was driving at over 75 miles per hour in the truck. He was at the perfect speed for them to be able to fire at the chopper and not fall off from going too fast or to be shot from going too slow. The soldier in the passenger seat of the truck, Shadow, shot out of the window with his custom black and blue, short barrel M4A1.
Everyone except for Decoder was firing at the choppers. The three men all shot at the helicopter to the left. It took almost one minute for the left chopper to erupt in a ball of smoke and then for the engine to catch fire. The pilot attempted to bring the chopper down and land, so he didn’t explode when the chopper did which it certainly would. Break didn’t allow that to happen, though. He pulled back the trigger once and sent out the perfect shot. The bullet flew out of the barrel and at the chopper. The bullet hit the glass window in the front of the chopper’s pilot. There wasn’t even enough time for the glass to shatter before the pilot was dead from the bullet. He slumped over in his seat, his body pushing down on the controls and causing the chopper to crash hard against the road. There was an explosion as the chopper crashed. One of the propellers flew out from the force and the explosion and crashed beside the truck. The propeller was partially on fire when it hit the grass. There had been pine-straw on ground when it hit and it was instantly ignited. The pine-straw carried the fire to the nearby trees and they caught fire fast. The truck was surrounded by danger, whether it was from fire or bullets being shot from the chopper overhead.
The chopper turned so the side of it was facing the truck carrying the soldiers. A sniper was leaning out the window with his rifle aimed at the truck. The soldiers didn’t think much of him but if they knew his experience, they would. He had been a top military sniper for five years before he was out-ranked by a newer, younger soldier. The sniper, Striker, was outraged and rebelled. He joined a high-ranked gang known as Legion. Legion was the most feared gang in all of the United States. They had men in every state, and all of them were armed with great weapons and experience. The headquarters of Legion was in Texas. They had the greatest vehicles any non-government group could get. That was where the choppers came in.
Striker fired once at the truck. The bullet hit an inch beside Break’s face. He hadn’t accidentally missed. That’s where he had aimed. That was his warning shot. Now was when he showed off his skill. Striker was aiming his scope for Break’s face, when the truck turned. Decoder leaned out the window as Striker was and he held his M14 in his hands. Decoder aimed the scope at Striker and fired. The bullet hit Striker directly in the chest, where his heart was.
Decoder put down the rifle and drove again. What he had just done may have saved his life and all of his teammate’s lives. He drove faster this time and got away from the chopper. They found a tunnel along the road where they pulled over to hide. Everyone was fine and accounted for. None of them had been injured at all. The best part was that the threat was neutralized. Or so they thought...
What they didn’t know was that Striker had survived the shot. Decoder may have hit him in the chest but Striker had been wearing a thick bulletproof vest that absorbed the shot. The only damage Decoder’s shot did was leave a nasty bruise on Striker’s chest. Another thing he left Striker with was the need for revenge. Not the want for revenge. He needed revenge.