Stalker

[Silhouette]

Raglan was taking some much needed time off. He was still recovering from various injuries sustained in the last few years, and for now, the Triumvirate did not need his protection. It was the dead of night, but a full moon was illuminating the vast desert landscape, bathing everything in a ghostly white light. As a change in pace, Raglan was using his hunting bow, a matt black compound bow with a 75lb draw. Using his rifle against animals was unsporting, although, when he was involved, it was unsporting to use it against people as well. He spotted his prey. In this case, a dingo, a wild dog, which was doing some hunting of it's own. It still hadn't noticed him however. While most men wouldn't consider being out in the dead of night covered in mud a relaxing experience, for Raglan, it was true freedom.

Slowly, and without making a breath of sound, he rose to a firing stance. As he drew back on the bowstring, he felt the weight on his arm as the tension increased, and then felt it disappear in a heartbeat as the cams rolled over. He spent a few valuable seconds lining up the shot, then eased his fingers away from the string. The bow didn't make a sound. In fact, the loudest part of the action was the arrow whistling through the still night air. Travelling at nearly 350 feet per second, the arrow covered the gap in a half second, slaming into the flank of the animal, puncturing the heart and lungs, and instantly ending it's life, with the minimum of pain and, surprisingly, very little blood, as long as the arrow remained in the carcass.

As he marched over to claim his prize, he thought he heard yet another noise in the silence. It took him a few moments to realise what it was, and, at the same moment as a searchlight swept over the nearest dune, Raglan had hit the dirt and rolled under a patch of scrub. The helicopter buzzed over his head, and there was no doubt in Raglan's mind that they were looking for him, whoever they were.

OOC: There are possiblities for 3rd party participation. PM for entry.

Edited June 18, 2009 by Silhouette

[Silhouette]

In the skies above, Jack Gannon was maning the searchlight. As he swept the beam over the landscape, he paused over the dead animal, and, with the realisation that his own prey was close by, commed the pilot and told him to tighten the sweeps. Why they were looking for the Colonel he was unsure, but their orders were to bring him in alive, as long as the risk of doing so remained low. The helicopter and it's crew were part of one of many paramilitary organisations, and, while the training and equipment were sub-standard, they were still and a distinct advantage. They had another half an hour of time over target before they had to return to base to refuel. They probably would not capture their quarry on this night, but there would be other times and places.

On the ground, Raglan daren't so much as breath until the ligth left his position, and even then, he didn't move from his cover. When the helicopter finally left, he was frozen. The desert got cold at night, and he had spent the last half hour on the hard ground, not moving. He crawled in an uncertain direction, and, somehow, found what appeared to be a professionally built foxhole. Scrub covered the crater, which was at least 4 feet deep and 8 feet across, and had a layer of grasses and leaves over the floor. More importantly however, Raglan found when he crawled inside, it already had an occupant.

OOC: There's your opening Subtle.

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: Thank you...

IC: The current occupant wasn't much to look at. The person was skin and bones, as if they hadn't had a proper meal in months.

The living skeleton barely stirrred when Raglan dropped in, but he was already facing the Colonel anyway, and he couldn't muster the energy to move.

"If you've come to kill me," he rasped, "please do it quickly." This labored speech was followed by a hollow, rattling cough, and a faint motion toward a half-empty canteen of water that lay six inches away from the man's face, a motion that failed due to lack of energy.

OOC: No, he's not really a living skeleton...that's just a comparison to show you how weak he really is.

[Silhouette]

Raglan looked the man up and down, and it took him a while to realise who he was. Richard Anderson. He had been missing for some time, and had certainly seen better days. "Good lord man, look at the state of you." Raglan rushed to Anderson's side, pouring an energy mixture into his own canteen, and passing it to Anderson with a look that went beyond pity.

"Take this my good man, we need to get you back on your feet. I'm being followed, so I can't call in our location. We are going to have to walk out." He dropped the small survival pack off his shoulders and rumaged around for a few seconds. When he emerged, he was holding a tim of beans and a small stove. "Good high energy food, mate." In less than five minutes Raglan had prepared an edible, if not very tasty meal. It took him back a few years, back to the Colstream incident, when he did this every day. He as silent for a while, before finally asking the question.

"Why are you here?"

[Subtleknifewielder]

Gratefully, Anderson took the drink Raglan offered; though probably about as much spilled onto the ground as went into his mouth, he still swallowed what he could.

In the few minutes that the Colonel took to finish their meal, he managed to prop himself up, with great effort, against the wall of their little 'cave.'

He coughed again before answering the man's question. "Why? I don't know. Someone wanted information, but I wasn't going to..." he broke into another fit of coughing, speaking again once he recovered. "...I wasn't going to give it to them."

Raglan may have known who Anderson was, but Anderson couldn't say the same of his companion. He wasn't yet sure how far he could trust his rescuer. For all he knew, this was simply another ploy to get the information from him.

[Silhouette]

OOC: Sorry bout the delay.

IC: Raglan saw the bewildered look in Anderson's eyes, and held out a hand in greeting. "Colonel Gareth Raglan, New Cymru Civilian and Military Intelligence Service. You remember the attempt on Lady Tintagyl's life in New Cymru? I was the one who took the bullet, so I can assure you sir, you are in the best of hands. Right now, we need to get your strength up to get you back to my superiors. I am sure they would love to talk with you about the new government in your nation."

[Subtleknifewielder]

Finally, Anderson saw just the slightest gloimmer of hope. Now that the man reminded him....yes, the face was familiar.

he reached out a trembling hand to shake Raglan's. He actually smiled a little. "Yes, I'm sure they would. Well, if I'm going to be building up my strength," he said, his voice already containing less of a rasp due to the drink he'd been given, "I'll eat some of that food now."

He suited actions to words, and reached for the food. After he ate, he would try to get some true, restful sleep, so he would be in good enough shape to actually walk out with Raglan, even if he could not be much help in whatever situation the man had found himself in.

[Silhouette]

Raglan let the man sleep. He, however, would be awake all night, on the lookout for anything that may pose a risk.

---

At the crack of dawn, Raglan had breakfast cooking. Nutritious porridge with dried fruit. He ate his fill, and left the billy pot covered to keep the contents warm for Anderson when he awoke, and ventured out into the sun. It had barely been light for half an hour, and already it was blistering. He looked eastwards, towards civilisation, his vehicle, and the rising sun, and wondered how Anderson had managed to survive for so long.

[Subtleknifewielder]

When Anderson awoke, feeling refreshed for the first time in months, Raglan was not currently there. But he spotted the food, and immediately his stomach growled.

It had thoughtfully been left within reach, so he did not have to move to retrieve it. He dug in, having to force himself not to eat too quickly lest he throw it all up and thus waste it.

It seemed like forever, but he managed to polish off every last bite that the Colonel had left for him, and he leaned back with a contented sigh, waiting for his rescuer to return. If he judged right, it was daytime by now, and they probably wouldn't be traveling in the heat.

[Silhouette]

As Raglan returned, he knew he was doing something truly awful to Richard Anderson. Nonetheless, as he climbed down, he tore his pack open, pulling out a large tube of sunblock, a wide brimmed hat, and two full canteens of water. "My truck is three miles east of here. If we leave now, we can make it maybe half that distance before we have to stop. I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but we have no choice. If we stay any longer, we run out of food." He repacked his kit, and allowed another couple of minutes to prepare. Finally, he helped Anderson to his feet, and guided him into the sunlight, marching slowly eastwards.

[Subtleknifewielder]

He almost whimpered when he was told they had to go out into that blazing heat. But he didn't complain, applying the sunblock without a word of protest. If they were going out into that, there must be a good reason other than just the food...then he remembered that the Colonel had said earlier he was being followed. His followers probably wouldn't bet on him travelling during the day.

It seemed he was not the only one with problems, he thought, as Raglan helped him climb out of their little shelter.

It was like being hit with a wall, almost, the transition from the cool shelter to the scorching wilderness. Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth and followed his companion, repeating a single line of thought in his head. 'I can do this. I have to do this...'

[Silhouette]

They moved at a snail's pace in the heat, covering maybe a mile in an hour. By this point the sun was well and truly up, and, even in winter, the temperature had reached 90 Farenheit. They couldn't keep going for much longer. Raglan put his canteen to his lips, and was surprised to find it empty. He was nearly ready to concede defeat. He realised, however, that he had to make a choice. He pulled out a large piece of camo netting and laid it on the ground, along with all his gear, save for his hat, boots, and trousers. "Okay mate, you crawl under here. I'm going to run for the truck. Stay low and keep hydrated. When you hear the engine, hold up the red flag, so I can find you. Understand?"

Raglan waited for confirmation, then started running as if his life, or rather, someone elses life, depended on it.

[Subtleknifewielder]

Anderson thought only a moment before nodding, collapsing wearily to the ground underneath the fabric Raglan had laid out. "Yes," he said, just in case the nod hadn't been enough to confirm that he'd understood.

As he waited, he absently took a swallow of what water was left in his own canteen. he hoped he didn't have to wait long...

[Silhouette]

Having increased his pace fivefold, it took Raglan only a few minutes to finally reach the truck, and it's ample supply of water. He quenched his thirst, before finally driving back in the direction he had come from. He hoped that he had done the right thing. As he neared the sight, he started pressing down on the vehicle's horn. It took him a few seconds to notice the other vehicle, and the two men holding Anderson at gunpoint.

[Subtleknifewielder]

When he heard the vehicle begin approaching, he picked up the red flag and stuck it out from under the covering, waving it. He expected Raglan...but he got an unpleasant surprise when he heard not Raglan's voice, but two different men, one of whom dragged him out into the sun.

Blinking, he squinted at his captors, who were now holding him at gunpoint. he held his hands up to show he was unarmed. When they asked where the Colonel was, he honestly couldn't give them an answer, despite being asked several times. It looked like they were considering a spot of forceful interrogation, when they heard Raglan's horn. He didn't react, but he wished there was a way to warn his rescuer as his captors indicated he should turn to face the Colonel...

[Silhouette]

At the same time as one of the men opened fire on the military off road vehicle that Raglan was driving, the second clubed Anderson on the head with his pistol. Anderson fell to the ground, but, foolishly, he never checked to see if he was still concious.

Raglan saw the first hostile raise his rifle. Thankfully, he had a few tricks up his sleeve. He aimed the truck at the opposite number, flicked up his bow to hold the wheel steady, and dove out the drivers door. He collected some minor grazes for his trouble, but as the truck slammed into the other, the attention of the first was distracted long enough for Raglan to draw his sidearm. He loosed three rounds into his target from 20 feet away, but even as the first crumpled to the ground, the second was changing his stance, bringing his wepaon to bear on Raglan's expansive torso...

[Subtleknifewielder]

If there was one benefit to his confinement and interrogation, it was that he had grown calloused to pain, and what would have blinded or even completely incapacitated many other men was simply, at worst, an annoyance to him.

As one of his would-be captors clubbed him on the back of the head, he collapsed, faking unconsciousness, as he waited for an opportunity. He had to say he was impressed with Raglan's resourcefulness, but even the best make mistakes, and as the second of his captors raised his gun to sight on Raglan, Anderson made his own move.

With no time for finesse, he simply grabbed the man's foot with both hands and yanked, hard.

[Silhouette]

The man toppled to the ground, landing in a heap in the dirt. Raglan wasted no time, leaping on him and placing him in a simple but brutal lock, with his face presses against the ground. "What do you want with me?" He didn't realise it, but he was screaming, which, in itself was odd for him, since keeping his cool was a prerequisite for his job.

"I don't know, damn it. You think they let me know why? I'm just a grunt." The gunman was clearly distressed, and with good reason.

"Well, my friend, I guess that is your bad luck. Raglan readied his weapon once more, then fired, point blank, at the man's head.

He wiped the gore from his face. "Get in the truck, Anderson. We are leaving." He pulled himself back into the driver's seat, wrenching the truck back into gear, letting the engine rev.

[Subtleknifewielder]

After what he'd already seen, Anderson didn't flinch when Ragaln killed the man, and managed to get to his feet. The adrenaline of the fight allowed him to stumble fairly quickly into the truck as the Colonel ordered, and alomst automatically, his hands reached for a seat belt. Some habits were never really broken.

[Silhouette]

Anderson would be sorely disappointed. This monster didn't have seatbelts. The drive was 20 miles across rough rocky desert, and by the end of it, the rumps of both men would be quite tender. Raglan didn't say a word, and soon enough, the were at the outskirts of Fort Sil. When his cellular had reception again, Raglan hit speed-dial 1 on the keypad, and was immediately connected to Gaunter, his immediate superior. As he informed Gaunter of the situation, a conference call with the other Triumvirs was being set up. Williams was in Brisbane, and Archer was en route to Burma to oversee the military phase of construction.

OOC: A reunion between your two characters perhaps Subtle?

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: Hmm...an intriguing idea. Perhaps so. I myself considered the two threads taking place at about the same time. Looks like great minds think alike.

IC: While sore from the ride, Anderson barely noticed. As with the bump on the back of his head, it was only minor next to what he'd already experienced. Being tortured tended to either break the subject's spirit--or toughen it, heightening their pain threshold. He was one of the latter.

In fact, despite the bumpiness, he actually managed to catch a few winks more of sleep, though he had a bit of a crick in his neck by the time they reached Fort Sil, so he was more awake then not when Raglan made the call.

[Silhouette]

Raglan turned sharply into the Air Force compound. Anderson should remember it. An historic agreement was signed here, and Williams took a bullet. The only change was the guards were no longer special forces. Grunts were less likely to have an agenda. He threw a slaute to the nearest guard, marching into the building. An elevator had been installed, and Raglan pushed open the grating, phone still held against his ear. He waited patiently for Anderson to catch up.

[Subtleknifewielder]

Wearily, the adrenaline having worn off long before, Anderson stumbled after Raglan. He almost tripped over his own feet as he entered the elevator, so worn out that he could barely muster the energy to move, much less in a coordinated manner.

[Silhouette]

Raglan slid the door closed, and pressed a small red button. This elevator only had one destination. 50 feet under the ground, it shuddered to a halt, and as Raglan slid the door open once more, they were greated by Gaunter himself, and two paramedics who rushed Anderson to the medic station just a few yards away. He would be sedated for a few hours, to give him some much needed rest, as well as an IV to replenish his system.

[Subtleknifewielder]

Even if he had been capable of resisting, Anderson knew these people were here only to help him. Due to his condition, the paramedics might be surprised at how quickly the sedatives worked. He was already near the point of complete and utter collapse in the first place, and when they injected the sedatives, he didn't just fall asleep, he passed out into a deep, dreemless sleep, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world.