Operation: Phoenix, A Visit to Montana, part 1  by CyberPyro

        "Now this is damn strange!" exclaimed the owner's husband.  A man
drove up to their store in the middle of a snow storm, climbed out of his
little sports car which didn't match his large frame, and wore nothing but a
pair of ripped, muddied, cut off bright blue pants.  He seemed immune to the 
snow as he walked, bare foot, across their icy parking lot, the wind and 
snow whipping around him.
        Once he'd closed the door behind him, he walked off down the aisles of
Army-Navy surplus.  The owner noticed all the dark blue, bloodied bandages on
his body.  His shoulder and right calf were the most heavily bandaged.  They
looked fresh as well.
        "I'd watch it with this guy," said the owner, fingering his shotgun
under the counter.
        The noise of shifting merchandise informed them of the stranger's
browsing.  Now that they listened closer, it sounded much more like a purpose-
ful search -- someone who knew what they were doing.
        "I'll take these," said their customer, flopping all of his select-
ions on the counter top.  The owner jumped, placed an involuntary smile on his
face, and wondered how this 6'3", 235 lb, muscular man had moved up to the
counter without being seen or making a sound.  His spouse retrieved several
items the man ordered from underneath the counter, added them to the total.
        "I'll see you gentlemen later," said the man after he settled his 
bill and carried his items away.

...

        "Alright, I someone get more patties out of the freezer," order the
Mc Donald's manager.  Someone had driven up to her store in a little Honda
CRX and ordered _20_ Double Big Macs, super sized fries, and Shakes -- to go.
        After they'd scrambled desperately trying to fill the order, he'd paid
with a Grimace Card[TM] -- all you can eat, courtesy of Grimace Himself.  He
drove off like a madman, doing 40 before he'd even gotten onto the road.

...

        "Was that such a great idea?" asked the owner's partner.
        "Darlene, I don't care.  That guy came in here, knew everything he
wanted, knew his guns & weapons, and paid cash," said Rhonda, the other part-
ner in the gun and ammo shop.
        "You don't care that you just sold someone enough guns to take over a
small country?  Or enough hand-to-hand weapons to equip 5 men?"
        "No ... this sale will pay all of our rent and such for a couple of
months until the hunting season opens again."

...

        I drove along the highway at 125 mph, headed for my secret lab in the
Montana Rockies.  The floor on the passenger's side was filled with crumpled
up bags of Mac Donald's wrappers and shake glasses -- I'd needed alot of food
for my body to regenerate completely from all of the wounds inflicted on me by
the X'hirjq.
        I pressed the petal completely down, topping the car out at 135mph.
There wasn't alot of time left; bullets clicked into clips as the landscape
slide by me.

...

        In Billings, Montana, a truck saleswoman couldn't believe her luck.
Some man had show up and bought a 4WD Toyota without comment beyond the
necessary.  Her initial uneasiness at dealing with him was quickly laid aside
once she considered the commission and what it would buy her family for the
not so far off holiday season.

...

        I pulled up to the back entrance to my laboratories -- the birth place
of SHIVA, my masterpiece of R&D for W.E.D.J.E.E.  The lab was located deep in
the Rocky Mountains of Montana, far from 'civilization' and outside inter-
ference.  The lab could only be accessed by one of two land paths, or by air,
and the land paths were 4WD only, easily missed cut offs.  Further, the entire
complex was underground, accessible only by hidden entrances.  My little hide
away was about as private as private could get.
        My heart sank a little as I stepped out of the truck, weapons con-
cealed in various place on my body, as infrared outlines of numerous life-
forms became clear.  The snow in the air didn't do them any good for cover.
        Humans.  Wyrm minions at worst.  At least they're not X'hirjq.  I 
strode forwards, pretending not to notice the obvious trap.  Two snipers in
the pines trees, partially hidden by branches, trained their rifles on me.  
Four inside of first door way; two in the second entrance behind them.
        Twenty feet from the entrance, the Wyrm Minions sprung their trap.
Two of the four charged, long knives in their hands.  My bowie knife hissed
through the air, the second half of its arc a streak of bright, steaming red.
The second minion stepped forward, avoiding the half-beheaded corpse of its
fellow as it toppled over, and attacked, its knife bluring.
        The minion's K-bar knife ripped through my coat, a small cloud of 
feathers erupting as the blade failed to draw blood.  The minion gulped and 
lifted off of its feet slightly, my bowie knife piercing its solar plexus and
puncturing a lung.  The faint noise of safeties popping off of rifles came to
my ears, and I grabbed the dying minion, pulling it close to me.
        The minion jerked violently, bullets from its comrades' pistols and 
rifles causing scarlet eruptions across its body.  The wyrm slaves paused,
shocked, as I shoved the dead weight aside, pulling my knife free with a wet
sliding noise.
        "..." started the servant for It of The One Tooth as I threw the bowie
knife.  Snow flew into the air the newest carcass on the battlefield made an
impromptu snow angel, a bowie knife neatly splitting its heart.
        "Freeze!" yelled the last Hell Wyrm servant as a ruby beam from its
laser scope made a bright red patch on my right cheek.  I turned, slowly,
counterclockwise, listening to its instructions not to make any sudden moves.
        "Hands up!" the Purple Pestilence acolyte ordered.  The silence of
the mountains shattered as bellets flew through the air.

End of part 1                                   CP 

Copyright, Pyrokinetic Productions, Inc. (1996)