Free Web NovelChapter 43: Ch 42: Lemurian Star Hijack II
While the mercenaries spent the next few minutes unconscious, the two terrorists had a little private heart-to-heart to restructure their operation.
Three ground rules were firmly established:
First, the control of the hostages and all direct negotiations with S.H.I.E.L.D. would be handled exclusively by the Jester.
Second, Veritas would take a clean 35% of the ransom.
Internally, Luke couldn’t care less about his cut. Even if S.H.I.E.L.D. miraculously conceded and wired them the money, it was practically useless.
Digital funds could be traced in a microsecond by S.H.I.E.L.D. algorithms, and as for physical cash... They undoubtedly had a way to track the serial numbers on every single bill down to the specific vending machine it ended up in.
But Luke still had to demand his share. After all, what kind of self-respecting international terrorist does a job pro-bono? If he didn’t act greedy, Batroc might start questioning his true motives.
Last but not least, Batroc’s men would obey Veritas’s orders without hesitation or question, unless there was a direct, conflicting counter-order from Batroc himself.
The last condition came with a chilling warning... If another gun was pointed at Veritas again... then it won’t be a cute miniature explosion that just knocked them unconscious. It’ll be a very bloody firework show.
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With the new chain of command crystal clear, the group moved out. They piled into a fleet of tinted SUVs, leaving the shabby garage behind.
By 4:00 PM, with the afternoon sun slowly moving lower in the sky, they boarded two fast tactical boats. The engines started, and the boats sped across the ocean waves toward the Lemurian Star’s coordinates.
At exactly 7:13 PM, the Lemurian Star appeared on the horizon.
She was massive. A mobile satellite launch platform that looked more like a floating fortress than any kind of commercial vessel. Steel and lights and radio towers stretching up into the darkened sky.
However, it only looked intimidating. In reality, the ship didn’t have many defenses set up. And right now, she was criminally under-guarded, too.
Batroc’s men moved first. Grappling hooks flew through the air, catching the lower railings with soft metallic clicks. One by one, they scaled the hull.
The infiltration had begun.
7:34 PM.
It was almost too easy.
The ship’s crew—mostly technicians and engineers with just a dozen soldiers—were rounded up in less than half an hour. The soldiers tried to put up a fight in the lower corridors, but they were outnumbered and outmatched.
Batroc’s crew had them disarmed and bound before they could even reach for their radios. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
They had yet to announce the hijack and demand the ransom from S.H.I.E.L.D. But Shield, of course, wasn’t unaware of this hijack, and they had already mobilized the response team.
On the other side of the globe, in America, a team of STRIKE commandos was already assembled and prepared, waiting for the final personnel assigned to the rescue mission to arrive.
Meanwhile, up in the ship’s main command deck, Veritas stood casually by the massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows, looking out at the dark, rolling ocean with his arms crossed. Hovering in the air just a few feet behind him was his smartphone... its lenses panned lazily around the room.
Luke had already started the stream for the patrons. However, the Quest timer hadn’t been activated yet. The hostages weren’t aware of Veritas’s presence right now after all.
But he couldn’t go to them right now... There was one last preparation step that he was waiting for. This stream was going to be a bit more special than usual.
More emotional and brutal than any of his previous streams.
Behind the Jester, Georges Batroc was all business. He turned to his right-hand mercenary.
"Contact Dorand," Batroc ordered, "Tell him to kill the ship’s engines."
The mercenary nodded sharply, reaching for his radio. "Oui, Bartoc."
Just then, the heavy door to the command deck swung open. Two mercenaries came through, dragging a third man between them.
The man was bald, wore glasses, and was dressed in a rumpled gray suit with a blue shirt underneath. His wrists were bound with metal restraints behind his back.
"Veritas," one of the mercs announced. "Brought the man you asked for."
The man on the floor was S.H.I.E.L.D. officer Jasper Sitwell.
Up until this exact second, all Sitwell knew was that some heavily armed French-speaking pirates had hijacked the ship. A dire situation, sure, but not a terrifying one.
But the moment he heard that name...Veritas... his eyes widened in absolute horror.
"Thank you, guys," Veritas said as he walked toward the captive. "But really, you didn’t have to drag the poor man all the way up here like a sack of potatoes. Ah..." His voice turned sad, concerned, almost empathetic, "You bound his hands, too?"
Sitwell’s heart pounded furiously against his ribs. He wasn’t going to be fooled by this madman’s fake empathy. He knew exactly who Veritas was.
This was the anomaly who had murdered Patrick Sein, a top-tier Hydra operative. This was the same guy who had leaked Senator Stern’s darkest secrets to the internet, ending his political career and guaranteeing him a life imprisonment or worse death sentence.
Two Hydra men cut down in a single day... Was that a coincidence or intentional Sitwell didn’t know.
And now, he had hijacked a ship with Sitwell on it.
Sitwell watched with wide, fearful eyes as the Jester approached.
This wasn’t a pirate... This wasn’t some random mercenary looking for a payday.
This was a threat. A real one.
"Jasper Sitwell," Veritas said, "What a pleasure. I’ve heard so much about you. All good things, I promise. Well... mostly good."
Veritas stepped around him. Sitwell stiffened as the masked man moved behind his back.
Sitwell felt a bit of heat around his wrists. It didn’t hurt. It was just warm. A moment later, the metallic restraints around his wrists suddenly fell apart.
Veritas had burned them off with nothing but his fingers.
Before he could process further, Veritas leaned in close. The mask’s white surface was inches from Sitwell’s ear.
And then Veritas whispered.
Just two words. Spoken so quietly that not even Batroc, standing only a few feet away, could hear them.
"Hail... Hydra."
Sitwell froze. For a split second, absolute confusion washed over his face.
Then came a sudden, massive wave of realization in his Hydra mind. His thoughts raced, connecting the dots, followed quickly by an immense sense of relief and happiness.
’Of course,’ Sitwell thought with a relieved smile... he was very mistaken.
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Washington D.C., USA
It was a bright, beautiful morning in the nation’s capital. The early breeze was crisp and pleasant on the lungs. Like any other peaceful morning, the early birds and runners were out in full force, taking their usual jogging routes around the National Mall and the Tidal Basin.
Sam Wilson panted heavily as he ran. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his legs felt like they were slowly turning to lead.
Then he heard it, behind him, the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Fast... way too fast.
Sam shook his head in mild annoyance, a tired but amused smile tugging at his lips. "Don’t say it. Don’t you say it!" he repeated, trying to push his aching muscles to go just a little bit faster.
"On your left," said a handsome, ridiculously fit blond man as he breezed past him without breaking a sweat.
"Come ooooon!" Sam groaned, putting on a sudden burst of speed to catch up. It lasted for about three seconds before his lungs begged for mercy.
A while later...
Sam was slumped against a tree near the Lincoln Memorial, one hand clutching his chest, the other waving weakly at the air. His breathing sounded like a vacuum cleaner trying to inhale a sock.
"Need a medic?" Steve Rogers appeared beside him, barely sweating at all. He had completed another lap. Of course, he had.
"I need a new set of lungs," Sam replied between gasps and laughs. "Dude. You just ran, like, thirteen miles in thirty minutes."
Steve put his hands on his hips, smiling that annoyingly sincere smile. "I guess I got a late start."
Sam laughed despite himself. "Really? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another la—"
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Sam’s sentence was suddenly cut short by a violent vibration and alert sound in his pocket. At the exact same second, Steve’s phone was screaming in his pocket, too.
Sam pulled his phone out. He noticed that completely unprompted, a video player had forced itself open, locking out all other functions.
A giant, bold countdown was ticking down in the center of the screen: 6... 5... 4...
Steve frowned, pulling his own phone from his pocket to see the exact same thing.
Steve quickly looked around the park. The morning runners who had just been jogging past them had all slowed down to a halt. Cyclists were pulling over to the side of the path and people walking their dogs were frozen, staring down at their devices.
Everyone in the park shared the exact same confused, slightly alarmed expression. Every single screen in the area had been hijacked at the exact same moment.
3... 2... 1... 0.
The countdown vanished.
The screen flickered with a brief burst of static.
And then, what greeted the people of Washington D.C. - no, what greeted the entirety of America - was a very well-known and infamous figure.
A crisp white shirt. A perfectly tailored black suit. And that haunting, ever-grinning white Jester mask with dried tear marks running below the eyes.
VERITAS.
"Greetings, America."
(Image)
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Also a few things I’d like to clarify, Lemurian Star really didn’t have many guards in the canon as well. And Sitwell’s full thoughts will be explained in the next Chapter!
A super long Chapter is on the way, 5K+ words (ch 45)
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