Michiko pulled his cloak around him tightly, covering his body and his AK-47 conceled at his side. The brisk wind, blew his hair back in the hood, there seemed to be no escape from the cold in this country. Michiko pulled an british smoke out of his pocket and searched for a lighter, patting all of his pockets down. Communist handed a gold plated lighter to him, the wind blew hard enough to put out the flame, but after a few tries Michiko was calming his nerves.
"Thank you comrade" Michiko spoke as smoke rose from his nose.
The IRA had been planning this mission for years, millions of dollars invested, men's lives lost. The IRA couldn't afford any of those, so this had to go perfect. Personnaly Michiko was not here for the IRA, he was here for the money. Michiko had wondered from faction to faction, no one seemed to fit his political wants.
Michiko had been saving, for years, selling himself to the highest bidder. After this cut he would have enough. Finnaly.

What would he call them, something he had pondered on red wine for hours opon hours. Michiko had to concentrate on getting the money right now though.

 

 

Michiko sighed softly as he stared up from the boxis he had been knocked back into, he touched his chest lightly, and felt the imprints of bullets attempting to peirce his kevlar armor. Michiko saw his oppenets were not so lucky. The C.T's heads splattered on the far wall where Michiko had encountered them. So were a few IRA members. Michiko shook off his dizzyness and quickly scrambled to his feet, had he been the one to survive? Looking for his AK-47, a soft noise came from the doorway to the right. Michiko brought out his Desert Eagle and pointed it stright at the door, slowly clicking the saftey off. A stragulling Counter-Terroist unit limped through the door. Michiko took cover behind a set of boxis, the C.T did not notice his hiding spot. A brisk wind kicked up dirt and the C.T had to cover his eyes. He weakly held his colt to his side, covering a red wound in his side. Hunched his way to his objective, a small pile of C4 meant to "get ride of evidence" The C.T limped down in front of the bomb and pulled his defuse kit from his side. Michiko heard this comotion, and the beeping noise of the bomb stopped. Michiko softly walked out from his hiding spot, step by step he silently walked up behind the C.T. Michiko put the barrel on the back of his head and pull the hammer back, the C.T froze.

"Please, Please, don't! I have a family" The C.T whimpered.

"So do I." Michiko whisper, and pulled the trigger.

The C.T's body thumped to the floor. Michiko pulled out his cell phone given to him for the mission and called Communist's number. It rung for a long period and then an automated teller came on the line explaining that the user was away from the phone. Michiko let out a long side and knelt down, he had been knocked out from the blasts. What had happened to his comrade.

"Sorry my phone got broke when i landed on it."

Michiko looked.

"Communist you son of a bitch! Where have you been? O my... Is that all of the cash?"

Communist tossed a suitcase to Michiko, landing next to him. Michiko carefully opened the latchs and let the cold metal open. fifteen million dollors peered back at the men, neatly stacked and counted. Michiko closed the latch and slowly rose to his feet.

"Let me find my rifle, and we shall leave. We only have little time before the C4 goes off."

 

"Something to drink comrade?" Michiko pulled his pistol out of its holster and took the clip out, before setting it on the table.

Michiko filled himself a small cup of vodka, and grabbed four peices of ice to go with it.

"Revolutionary Tendancies" Communist blurted out.

Michiko looked up from his drink "Huh?"

"Thats what we should call us, Revolutionary Tendancies"

Michiko looked down into his drink and swirled it around a little, squinted and nodded.

"So be it."

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