Logan MacGregor

Logan sat down at the glass-topped conference table and looked across at Karen Anders, his mission director. George Holtzclaw sat next to him, grinning excitedly.

"So I thought", Karen continued, "this being your last mission with us, you'd appreciate a fourth tier outing. To pad out your retirement fund, and all." Her soft southern accent was gently teasing, and Logan smiled appreciatively.

He had plenty to appreciate, even if the thought of what he was about to do sickened him inside. He was going to walk away from NextWorld, free and clear if Sir Alfred was to be believed. The CEO had called Logan into his office this morning, to thank him for his years of service and assure him that this really was the last job he'd be asked to do.

Sir Alfred had a reputation for meaning what he said, so while Logan was forced to admit that he had been having his doubts about the company's sincerity, the meeting had improved his mood considerably. It had been quite comforting to realize that while he hadn't maintained the act of angry acceptance he'd started out with, noone held it against him. Noone that mattered, anyway.

Which still didn't help him deal with the assignment. He looked down at the color photo on the table, hiding the fact that his artificial pleasure was growing harder to maintain. The woman had a pleasant face, though the pale skin and sharp hairstyle detracted a fair bit.

"It's very thoughtful", he said slowly, "but these sorts of jobs usually take a fair bit of prep work and planning. I wasn't expecting me last day to be the start of an extended..."

karen waved her hand dismissively. "That's the best part." She beamed. "We know exactly where she's going to be tonight. The target is a spy of some sort, and she'll be meeting her contacts tonight at 9:30 at an old drive in theater.

"All you have to do is pop in with George, take her out, and pop out. One shot, and you each net a hefty sum."

George parked his Expedition in front of a well-kept light blue ranch house at the end of a cul-de-sac. "The theater's just over the way", he told Logan as he shut off the engine.

Logan glanced at the clock on the dash, which read 9:03. "Let's hope she wasn't early", he muttered.

"Don't ever say that. Whenever someone says that, it's never easy money", Logan grumbled from the backseat.

"Sheesh, you're really taking this forced retirement thing hard, aren't you?", George asked as he quickly stepped out of the car and back in the rear hatch.

"Yeah", Logan responded sullenly. "Makes me just want to get this over with and nay look back."

"I don't know why you're leaving. You know they'd keep you on if you asked, and with that stirke team they're assembling that we're not supposed to know about..."

"Bullshit", the wisp replied as he stretched out on the rearmost bench. "What's the real reason?"

The sniper looked over at his partner and smiled sadly. "I want tae find the bastard what killed me brother. How's that?"

Logan shook his head. "Nay, I really do think I'm ready to spend some of the money I've been after making." Ye wouldn't understand the real reasons.

"Well, I'll miss you, bud", George said with a grin. "You're a good moneymaker for me. I know I'm hitting six figures just for being your driver."

Logan smirked. It was hard to argue with the quarter million he was going to pull in for this job. That sort of cash would make hunting Ako down much easier. "Well, let's get this job done before we say our final goodbyes. I'll buy ye a pint afters."

A minute later, the two skimmers' projections stood outside the SUV, though only Logan manifested to the physical plane. He carried an M82 sniper rifle underneath his coat and slowly walked in between two of the houses and into the wooded area beyond. He created a simple illusion of himself walking the other way up the street, figuring that would be sufficient to deflect any suspicion long enough for them to do the job.

The two men walked deeper into the forest - at least, as close to a forest as anything could come in a city like Atlanta. He looked around to get his bearings quickly and assure himself that there were no threats inside.

The tattered screen of the abandoned drive-in was just visible to the north, over the top of the trees. Logan brought the scope of the rifle up, triggered the nightvision, and quickly scanned the parking lot. There was a van just visible behind the old concession stand, but no sign of any people in the theater area proper.

He turned his attention to the trees ringing the area, switching the scope over to a thermal scan. It wouldn't do any good if the target were a spook, but he hoped Karen would have said something if that were the case.

He was beginning to wonder if something had in fact been left out of the briefing when several shapes burst into colored relief in his vision. Looked like two people and...a dog? Logan shrugged. It was none of his concern, and he switched the scope into normal magnification now that he had their location.

There were several trees in the way, but so long as the group didn't move about too much, he should have a clear shot. The two people came into focus. One of them was a woman, but not the one he was interested in. He scanned the rest of the area, noting that the dog was a black labrador. There was also a spook hanging out nearby.

Logan narrowed his eyes. "A spook of some sort. Be ready to get us out of here, just in case. I can ditch the rifle if I have to. And keep an eye out for others."

Several minutes passed, and the group gradually made their way around the perimeter of the parking lot, keeping to the trees. Logan growled as they began to move out of optimal position. With a flicker of concentration, he tapped bedlam to produce the illusion of a group of ravens bursting from the trees on the far side of his vantage point.

As he'd hoped, his target's presumed contacts stopped their movement, focusing on the sudden disturbance. The birds alighted along the top of the screen, and he allowed them to slip into the back of his concentration.

He had practiced such distractions often enough to be able to maintain the illusion with the barest of effort. Although he knew the birds would fly the same pattern back and forth between the tress and screen every few minutes, he hoped he wouldn't have to be around long enough for them to catch on.

His hopes proved well founded, as a movement off to the corner of his vision caught his attention. A woman was slowly picking her way through the trees, and a single glance was enough to confirm that she matched the photograph of his target perfectly.

She was hurrying through trees too thickly placed for him to risk a shot, but she beelined for the others, who had remained in a reasonably open clearing. He needed her to stop for just a moment, and the job would be done.

The other woman, the one waiting, spotted his target first amongst the group and hurried over to meet her. "Perfect", Logan murmured as both women stopped within his sights. He slotted the target's chest, gave the trigger a gentle squeeze, and nodded in satisfaction at the soft crack and hiss of the silencer and recoil supressor, respectively.

He kept the woman in view just long enough to confirm the blossom of red spreading across her chest before jumping to his feet. "We're gone", he said, already at a run.

"The dog's chasing us, want me to wend us out?" George was pacing him effortlessly.

"Nay, when I say three, ye go", Logan replied. "I don't want to lose this rifle unless I have to, so I'll make it look like I went with ye. I should be able to throw off a convincing enough illusion."

"One, two...three!", Logan hissed. A purple tendril wrapped around George's form, and the sniper quickly faded out an image of himself in time with the wisp's disappearance, while he himself made a ninety degree turn. A quick scent mask completed the illusion, and he noted that the barks stopped moving as the dog burst into view of the fading flickers of light.

He didn't stick around to congratulate himself on his success, and instead hurriedly made his way back to George's Expedition where the wisp was waiting for him, body back on and engine running.

Logan hopped in through the side door, muttered "go", and dropped the rifle on the back seat with one hand while slamming the door closed with the other. Once that was done he merged back into his own flesh and sat up with a stretch.

<--PREVIOUS

DON'T LOOK BACK

NEXT-->

Last Updated: January 28, 2004 by Blake Sorensen

One Last Job

1 December, 2003