A Real Life Action Movie... Sorta (time warp)

[Erika Young]

Stuttgart, Germany
19 August 2007


The US ambassador is paying a visit to a Stuttgart US military base today, despite numerous threats on his life from various terrorist organizations. Despite the ambassador's assurance that these are no more than idle threats, both the US and German military presence in the area, and the ambassador has added several trained security agents from the private sector..."

"Did you guys hear that? Guess that one they hired is really good."

"And 'several people'," came a voice over the radio. It was followed by a couple of laughs and two annoyed sighs. Erika was paying the barest amount of attention to her earwig. She was in plain clothes, wearing sunglasses and looking like she was asleep, a few blocks away from the base. She wasn't used to dealing with people that were this chatty when there was an operation like this going on, but it was nervous chatter. That, she was familiar with. When she was working with rookies, anyway.

Not that these were all new, but they guarded an ambassador and a military base in the middle of Germany. High action jobs in some places, but this was hardly the highest risk place in the world. Within the next hour, there could be explosions going off, sniper fire, attack teams, whatever. Despite not happening as often as they did in bad action movies, they did happen from time to time. Although her life for the last few years seemed like the plot to a bad action movie. Maybe if her life story became a movie they'd change her name to Eric and Denzel Washington or that guy from Diehard could play her. Anyway, these soldiers weren't straight from the front lines. Aside from drills, threats, etc., most of the soldiers out there hadn't seen much combat. Hopefully, this would just be an empty threat, or some untrained extremists.

Several minutes later, something real came over the earwig. "Obstruction on the main route. Six car crash, downed power lines."

"Backup route 3 barred, some kind of street fair or something."

"Backup route 1 blocked off, fire in one of the shops, route blocked by emergency vehicles."

"Damnit, I don't like this. We should turn back... but sir... fine. Rose, how's backup 2?"

"They look fine, but I don't like potatoes," Erika mumbled, a mild French accent to her voice, and she sounded like she was sleep-talking. The area was residential; small streets, too many windows, too many alleys, and they had spread themselves thin. She was the only one watching the street.

"No choice. Units 4 and 9, get over there."

There was no such thing as an easy job. Even the "do nothings" usually had their own problems, and they were some of the most frustrating. They usually involved snobby, paranoid, diva, and/or obsessive protectees. The less she had to do with those, the better. At least when it came to her day job.

Ten minutes later, one of the units entered the alley behind her, but she couldn't hear them check in over the radio. She moved slightly and listened, hearing them speaking in German. She swore in her head. There were nine units and herself. Units 1-3 were at the base. Units 5 and 6 were German army and guarding the main route and backup route one. Seven was American and guarding backup three. Eight was embassy security and guarding the ambassador. Nine was set to be able to be sent where needed. Unit 4 was the same, but Erika had put forward the idea to confuse a possible ambush. Americans in German uniform.

Apparently it'd been a fair idea. Pretending to be woken up suddenly, she casually picked out the earwig and tossed it in the street. She picked a burner phone out of her pocket, and sent a text to the leader of unit 9. She had given burner phones to each of the leaders in case lines of communication were cut.

"Team 4 possibly down. Earwig gone to avoid detect. Will shadow. Be careful if asked for meetup."

[Malcom Black]

((I do not know if that makes sense, but I will hope!))


Malcom disliked the idea of private security companies. It wasn’t that he didn’t view that they had some definite advantages for them. When it came to private or professional environments, for example, he thought that security companies were a grand idea. Or for mob bosses--urban environments where the army shouldn’t be involved, but where warfare was best when they were working together in partners, perhaps, but generally in small groups where it wasn’t necessary for large armies, and where it detracted. Now it was an urban environment, sure, but they weren’t working for mob bosses and they weren’t working for companies. They were working for an American diplomat in Germany, where everything should’ve been safe, but instead they’d hired some private security company and he was beginning to feel edgy. There shouldn’t have been this worry. It shouldn’t have been an issue. But instead it was, and he was going to have to manage the best that he could.

After all, this was going to be his last year within the service. He could handle one mission. He doubted it would be easy because nothing, especially something that involved diplomats, could be easy. But he could hope that things would work out for once.

He knew that was wrong immediately. From his experiences on Afghanistan, he knew intimately that no route was simply barred. There was always going to be a reason for it.

“Backup number two it is,” he said over the comms, wishing, for once, that he had a higher rank so he could’ve been doing the ordering. After nearly ten years of service, he would’ve thought that he deserved that right. But no. Still, he’d live. “Be there soon.”

He arrived promptly, gun in holster, hand on it, and checking his bulletproof vest just in case. Last thing he needed was that to be faulty. Unit 4 was there too, and he murmured to him quietly in German, which he knew just the basics of—enough to get assigned here, he supposed. He could see the woman from the private security firm ahead, apparently observing the environment much more intently than the others were. Smart of her.

And then—then she was off at random, earbud on the ground, and his phone vibrated as he received a text. He picked it up to look at it, then shook his head and sent a text back.

Will follow as backup. His unit, however, would stay behind, as was told by his quick orders. She was scouting? Fine. He’d make sure an American military man was there as well. He tugged on a jacket to hide the vest and his military shirt, and then followed in her footsteps.

“What exactly is it you’re concerned about?” he asked quietly.