She loaded the magazine in her submachine gun that was just small enough to conceal in her leather jacket. The subtle engine of the ’64 Aston Martin breezed down the busy highway. To her left was the Communists controlled East Berlin and to the right was the great wall that separated them from West Berlin. The concrete barrier was over eleven feet high with barb wire nestled at the top. Graffiti decorated it from head to toe most of it done by angry Germans who wished to escape to the west. There was a guard tower at every intersection of the wall manned by Soviet soldiers, spotlights, and hungry sentry dogs.
Sneaking onto the Soviet-controlled side of the city was no easy task. Prometheus was allegedly meeting at a numbers station to transmit a final broadcast. This would be their only opportunity until Prometheus goes dark again. Accompanying her was another agent, a British born African man known only as Frost in the driver’s seat. Banshee was the name of the woman that sat behind her in the Aston’s fine leather seats. All Lyn knew was that the blonde-haired, blue-eyed buxom was once a famous ballerina turned KGB spy. Lastly, there was Grinch. A quiet and modest American that spoke fluent German and French. He wore an eyepatch over his right eye.
Lyn did a final check of her person. She had her weapon, the small knife stored at the tips of her boots that could retract with a simple stomp of the heel. Her cyanide pill was carefully hidden in a carton of cigarettes. Ooh, I almost forgot...
She took out a small metal tube that was the weapon’s suppressor and attached it. Hopefully, this mission would be as quiet as possible. Kill Prometheus, disable the station, and decrypt the numbers. Lyn acted on her own accord, the other agents accompanying her owed her a “favor.”
The car came to a sudden halt that jerked Lyn forward. She looked over to Frost who focused intensely on a small building off to the side of the street. It resembled a regular radio station with a large antenna protruding out of it. Thick stone walls lined the exterior that strangely lacked in windows as well. A single set of metal double doors were the only entrance. Parked out front by the curb was a silver DMC Delorean.
“Park about a block down from the target building,” Lyn directed.
Frost nodded as he meandered down the street parking along the curb of a drug store. Lyn donned her aviator sunglasses as she exited the car. Frost trailed behind her along with the others all wearing casual street clothes of denim jeans, leather jackets, or t-shirts. Pedestrians eyed Lyn peculiarly as they trotted down the sidewalk most likely of her green hair. It was a gloomy day with high clouds that yielded no rain letting tubes of sunlight peak through. Perhaps, the weather reflected the mood of the citizens.
“Probably should have dyed your hair this time,” Frost remarked as he walked ahead of her.
“At least I have hair,” Lyn countered coldly.
Frost rubbed his shiny hairless dome. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Touche’.”
Banshee and Grinch split off crossing the sidewalk with another group of people walking adjacent from Lyn and Frost on the other side of the street. “You remember the cover story right?” Lyn asked.
“Two married liberal arts teachers that just won the lottery on sabbatical,” he replied.
“Don’t fuck this up Frost,” Lyn warned.
Lyn glanced over at Banshee and Grinch sitting outside at a cafe that was just across the radio station. Banshee subtly brushed her long, blonde hair behind her head. Grinch knelt as if to tie his shoes, flashing five fingers at Lyn.
“Soviet patrol twelve o’clock...” Lyn whispered.
Approaching them was a group of five soldiers clad in olive green army fatigues with machine guns and green flight caps embedded with a bright red star. Leading them was a single officer. The group of soldiers selected random citizens to inspect for proper documents. No doubt the group would soon run into them. Lyn wrapped an arm around Frost’s waist as the group approached them. “Pretend you laughed at something I said and then kiss me,” Lyn muttered.
“Just do it...”
Frost faked a laugh before pulling Lyn towards him and locking his lips with hers. He leaned her up against a nearby tree planted in the sidewalk as the group of soldiers passed by. The officer scoffed at what he thought was just another couple, young, dumb, and in love as they say. When the coast was clear, Frost released her. Lyn wiped her lips on her sleeve. Frost had a smirk. “We make a good couple.”
Lyn made a face. Yeah right...
They stopped in front of the radio station Lyn inspected the entrance. No guards or cameras. There didn’t appear to be any intrusion detection systems either. She looked around the surrounding streets for signs of spies. It was common for them to leave some kind of marking usually in chalk on things like phone booths and sidewalks. “Coast is clear,” Grinch uttered over the radio.
Lyn adjusted the collar on her jacket to hide the small transmitter. She nodded to Frost standing guard while she approached the door. She tapped the double doors with a series of three knocks. Shortly after a small slot in the door opened revealing a curious pair of wrinkled eyes. “How do you hope to change the world?” the stranger asked.
Lyn gulped. “All it takes to change the world is one good lie and river of blood...”
The slot closed followed by the sounds of metal locks and gears squealing before the door finally opened. Behind the door was a stocky man with slicked-back blonde hair in a white dress shirt and black trousers with suspenders. He tilted his head in confusion just before Lyn shot him. The life in his eyes soon extinguished and he fell forward as Lyn caught him and hurried back into the building. She gently set his body on the ground before speaking into her transmitter. “Come in through the front one at a time. Wait five minutes in between. Make sure you’re not followed.”
Frost followed in after her. He checked his watch. “We’ve got ten minutes before they broadcast the numbers...”
Lyn readied her weapon as they proceeded down the carpeted hallway. A man stepped out from one of the break rooms in the hall holding a cup of coffee. He seemed harmless enough with his big glasses and poindexter like appearance. The man had a dubious expression as they approached. Frost dispatched him with a single shot from his pistol catching the man before his body could fall. A puddle of blood mixed with black coffee tarnished the floor. A loud voice soon filled the building from the intercom. A woman spoke in Russian. “Shit did they start the broadcast early!” Frost inquired.
Lyn sprinted towards a single wooden door around the corner with a tinted window. She shot the hinges off the door before kicking it open. The room inside was dimly lit scattered with radios and other audio equipment. In the midst of it was a super 8 projector playing black and white footage onto a screen. The women’s voice on the broadcast continued yet there was no one in sight. “Lyn, there’s no one here,” Frost said while he searched the room. “It must have been pre-recorded...”
“Iliad. Seven, fifteen, one, two, nineteen, seven, twenty-five, six, thirteen, six, seven, fifteen, fourteen, zero,” the broadcast repeated.
The projector displayed old war footage dating back to Vietnam, then classified footage of Atomic bomb tests, the fall of the Reichstag in Nazi, Germany. Finally, the black and shrouded figures of werewolves she recognized all too well from the attack on the mansion in ’75. Lyn continued to blankly stare at the footage. “Iliad. Seven, fifteen, one, two, nineteen, seven, twenty-five, six, thirteen, six, seven, fifteen, fourteen, zero,” Lyn recited repeatedly.
Frost shook her shoulders. “Lyn, what are you saying-”
She raised her weapon and gunned down Frost in cold blood. His body shook the hollow floors as he fell. Visions filled Lyn’s hand, particularly of one woman. A beautiful woman in a white dress with Raven colored hair and crystal blue eyes. “Warith al shaytan,” the woman whispered to her.
Lyn grabbed her head and fell to her knees. The numbers continued to recite in her head along with the twisted smile of the Warden. Beads of sweat formed on her head and she began to sob. “Get out of my head! Get out of my head-!”
“What the hell did you do!” Grinch barked as he stormed into the room with Banshee.
Banshee rushed to Frost’s body. His body was lifeless. There was no pulse when she checked his wrist and his eyes didn’t flinch when she flicked them. She shook her head at Grinch. He lifted Lyn by the collar as he questioned her. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you!”
Lyn released the blade hidden in her boot, she jabbed Grinch with a single kick to the gut that collapsed him. She executed him with a single shot to the head with his weapon before turning to Banshee. Banshee dived behind a metal desk as Lyn released a hail of bullets from the machine gun. Stacks of paper flew into the air as the bullets ripped through the audio equipment making them cough out bright sparks. Lyn continued to fire until she ran out of bullets. Banshee used the opportunity to hurdle over the desk charging Lyn. She bellowed as Lyn attempted to slice her with her blade.
She caught a brutal gash to the thigh before dodging a kick that would have hit her throat. Banshee circled behind her grabbing her from behind and slamming her head on a nearby counter. Blood covered Lyn’s forehead as Banshee dragged her across the counter knocking everything off of it from old cassette tapes to pens and papers. Banshee wrapped her hands around Lyn’s neck, choking her as hard she could. There was a pen conveniently laying near Lyn’s hand, she reached for it and used it to stab Banshee’s arm. The tremendous pressure on her throat was released as Lyn gasped for air. Banshee stumbled back pulling the pen out of her arm.
“You bitch,” she growled, her golden hair in shambles and her face covered in blood.
They lunged at each other in a flurry of kicks and punches, dodging some while some blows landed. Lyn stunned her with a powerful haymaker before grabbing a fistful of her hair. Banshee wailed, her nose was broken now and her face was covered with tiny cuts much like Lyn’s. She reached for a pistol near Frost’s body despite Lyn holding her by the hair. Her hand was only inches away from it now. Lyn secured her in a rear-naked choke, her arm like a python around Banshee’s neck. She held on tight. Banshee violently kicked against the floor and attempted to pry off Lyn’s arms as she choked her.
Thirty-seconds maybe a minute had passed before Banshee’s body grew limp. Lyn held on a bit longer to confirm it. She rolled Banshee’s body off.
“Iliad. Seven, fifteen, one, two, nineteen, seven, twenty-five, six, thirteen, six, seven, fifteen, fourteen, zero.”
Lyn shook her head. She fell back against the desk exhausted and out of breath. The broadcast ceased and the film continued rolling yet it left only a blank white screen. She looked at Banshee’s body lying in front of her with open eyes. Frost’s body was off to the side by the projector. Grinch’s corpse sat against a counter with a single gunshot in his head. Lyn’s hands were wet with blood and shook like a leaf. She held them out in front of her face. “What have I done?” she whimpered.