Since being forcibly removed from the experiment with only a few remaining doses for each man, his team had begun the process of trying to recover from the brain washing and alterations, but never knowing when or if one of them might crack had everyone on edge.
Reaper had thought the previous owner, Jack Mankel, was evil, but the general made Mankel look like a wind-up baby doll. General Rainier could not be allowed to continue Project Mayhem.
Reaper tucked the scope securely into his pocket and got to his feet in a flash, darting through the jungle on the balls of his feet, his movement too silent for human ears to detect. He was behind the first guard in seconds, slit his throat and lowered him to the ground the next moment.
He felt absolutely no remorse about killing anyone involved in this secret government project. Reaper didn’t care that he had volunteered for it—his mentor had actively misled him into believing he would be serving his country, saving lives.
Instead, he had sacrificed his men.
The three other guards would be a bit more of a problem. They stood within ten feet of each other, so they would sense the natural threat approaching. There was always the chance one of them could get a bullet in Reaper before he took them all out. Possible but unlikely.
He dropped to his elbows and crawled, the soft mossy floor of the jungle cushioning his torso as he snaked his way closer to the guards. The constant cries of animals and deadly insects never let up – he was one of them.
A creature created in this hell hole. He belonged with the night crawlers and predators. It was the only place he felt at home now.
He embraced the spiders crawling along the ground along-side him as he slowed to inches from the unsuspecting guard’s feet. The man’s death was a forgone conclusion – and Reaper didn’t feel a drop of remorse. Any person that was part of Project Mayhem deserved to die.
Reaper pulled his knife from between his teeth and rose like a scepter.
He put his hand over the guard’s mouth and slashed his throat, holding the now lifeless body in front of him as a shield and charged.
The next guard went down before he even had a chance to turn his head, but the third guard heard his friend’s gargled death cry and swung around. His too-long rifle was his undoing—Reaper grabbed the end, yanked the guard to him and buried his knife to the hilt in his jugular, slicing his vocal cords in the process.
He held the guard aloft with his knife, listening for any hint that the team below had been alerted to his presence. When he was sure they hadn’t, he slid his blade free and turned away, already moving on to his next objective: break into the lab, secure the serum and get Caroline.
He used the rope he’d secured to the cliff face to lower himself to the ground below.
Less than fifty feet away, the caravan remained where they had parked. There were five guards standing around the vehicles cradling their weapons, but they weren’t worried about an attack. No one knew about this location except Jack Mankel and the people trapped inside. But now Mankel was dead and Reaper was on the outside.
The guards should be worried.
If Reaper didn’t get the synthetic serum housed within the bunker back to his team within the next ten days, he and his team members would all die.
Cold determination flooded his veins like nitrous oxide. Reaper shrugged, rolling his neck as he allowed his body to take control. Despite all the negative side effects from the experiment, he was stronger and faster than a normal soldier, enough so that he could take out all five highly trained guards without a single bullet. His sense of hearing and sight were enhanced—not to the point of being superhuman, but close. With enough concentration, he could feel sound waves, focus on the particles of light. These advantages gave him the upper hand.
Reaper dropped to his stomach and belly crawled through the thick vegetation surrounding the bunker, using the jungle as his camouflage.
He tried to remember the time when he felt any hint of remorse for killing – but he couldn’t fathom that far back in his memory.
Besides, he didn’t have the luxury of worry or second-thoughts, his men didn’t have time for those kinds of weaknesses. Reaper would use every weapon at his disposal to save his team, even the synthetic ones Dr. Winters’ created and he despised.
“How much longer is the General going to be down there? This fucking place gives me the creeps.” The guard nearest to Reaper took a drag of his smoke and dropped the butt to the ground, using his heel to grind out the cigarette only a foot from Reaper’s black painted face.
“Just a few more days my man, and we’ll be on R&R. My bro’s got a hot little piece of ass waiting when we get to the border. She ain’t exactly willing yet, but she’s just seventeen so it won’t take her long to see things our way.” His buddy, a meat-faced bulldog looking guard snuck a dented flask from his buttoned shirt, took a swig and offered it to the other guard. The smell of stale cigarettes and liquor punched through the thick viscous air of the jungle. Sweat saturated their uniforms and the stench of body odor without benefit of deodorant was enough to make him gag.
The first guard gave a grunt of laughter and took a long drink, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. “She as fresh as the last piece your bro hooked us up with?”
Disgusted fury curled through Reapers gut. Fucking bastards were talking about using girls like toilet paper. Their death warrant had been sealed the moment they stepped out of that jeep – but now they’d have to suffer.
“I doubt it, but he had to lay low after the last one went missing from the village. Couldn’t take another one that young so soon.”
“No matter, ‘eh?” The first guard grabbed his crotch and shook his junk through his filthy pants. “I bet that ass will be fresh enough for me.”
The hot rage simmering in Reaper’s blood turned to ice and he grabbed a rock nearby. He couldn’t stand to listen to their filth another second. He chucked the rock through the trees. It hit the ground a hundred meters out and just as he’d predicted, the guards turned to seek out the source of the noise. In a fluid movement, Reaper rose and slapped his hand over the first guard’s mouth, arced his blade around and slicked the man’s femoral arteries.
He let out a gurgled scream and grabbed the insides of his thighs.
Reaper leaned in close. “You like to rape girls?” Reaper jabbed his blade in the man’s gut and yanked upward. “Guess you should have thought about what happens to men that like to hurt women.” He punctuated his words by twisting his knife.
