A Series of Unfortunate Events Part 18

[...The gangster collapses flat convulsing on the ground. Nic turns and waves to his neighbor who nods in approval then gets into the car behind his mother and pats the seat signaling her to drive away.]

2010

Daniels is awe stricken by his finds of who his enemy was or wasn't for that matter. He finds that there is no time to waste if he was going to accomplish his mission. His job was to track and eliminate a guerrilla official who was carrying data on a new strike plan against the US that was using a new "secret weapon". He is then to bring that information back for analysis. Daniels picks up the M-16, collected all the remaining ammo, a silenced Beretta 92F and a fragmentation grenade off the dead guerilla's body as he proceeds with his mission. He pulls out a half burned area map and illuminates it with the tactical light on the assault rifle. He notes his position and the target location in relation to it. It's not far but with his leg in the condition that its in, it is going to take him a bit longer than anticipated. He places the map back into his pocket and moves along down the dark Cuban streets.

The war had left the place as a ghost town. Judging by his map, intel has placed his target in a building 4 blocks away on the right corner across the street from a building gutted from bombing. Continuing down the street it has come to his attention that he has not had to limp to avoid being in pain. Also, he no longer could feel extreme pain in his leg when he touched it. Only a dull pain remained. His head did not hurt as much either. Pausing momentarily he questioned what was occurring but quickly returned his thoughts to his mission objectives. There's no time to waste questioning this change. The only thing that matters is that he can move faster towards completing what he was set out to do. Time is far too limited especially as all his communication gear was destroyed in the blast and he no longer has any communication with the extraction party. He must complete the mission and return to the drop-zone in what was now less than three hours.

The small outpost the guerrillas were using was an old bank building. Dilapidated and ravaged by gunfire and explosions. The building could barely be identified as a bank short of the scorched ATM machine threatening to fall out of the wall and the bullet-proof glass that remains standing next to the crumbling bricks that surround the entryway.

It was a rather lightly guarded facility with a very well lit entrance. Entry should be fairly easy. There are four men outside smoking cigarettes, talking and patrolling the entrance. Their meaningless conversations are no true precursor to what awaits them tonight.