Baby Panda Death Squad II

         The year is 1987 but it is not the 1987 you know; it is not the 1987 you remember.

         Something has changed...

         For reasons the author cannot be bothered to research there has been a subtle change in history; the resulting butterfly effect means that alterations have wrinkled the fabric of what we understand to be 1987. It has devastating effects...

         Welcome to 1987v2.0.

         The world’s population has jumped to almost 7 billion resulting in food and oil shortages leading to rioting and malcontent across many countries. Global tensions rise and the arms race intensifies meaning that the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty is not signed which is to prove catastrophic in years to come.

         Touchstone’s Three Men and a Baby is deemed grossly offensive to the public eye, as is Cher’s fuck-awful movie Moonstruck, resulting in death sentences for respective Directors Leonard Nimoy and Norman Jewison. Cher is jailed for 9 consecutive life sentences for her starring role as the appalling Loretta Castorini.

         Rick Astley is jailed under the Terrorism Act for his release of Never Gonna Give You Up; he is subsequently murdered in prison.

The Food and Drug administration fails to approve the anti-AIDS drug AZT amidst staggering discoveries by the World Health Organisation and MI5; a Saudi backed Terrorist Group from Andorra has isolated and weaponised the virus. A counter-terrorist squad is stood up to combat that threat.

         My name is Sergeant Carlo Spinelli, 22 Special Air Service, Alpha Squadron – I grew up on the rough streets of South London, I joined the Royal Marines at 17 and slotted my first terrorist at 19 in Northern Ireland. I underwent SAS selection in 1981 and fought in the Falkland Islands conflict in ’82. I am a black belt in Vale Tudo, highly proficient in a multitude of weapon systems and I am as hard as fucking nails. Oh and the lads call me Liza.  This is my story...

Mission Briefing: Hereford 1630 hours, 21st Nov 1987 v2.0

         “Gentlemen, for those who don’t know me I am Captain Jason Striker, Defence Intelligence Staff,” he cast his grey eyes around the room. “And yes, I realise how cool that name sounds...”

         “This mission critical briefing is classified Atomic. The key elements are on a NEED TO KNOW basis; suffice to say gentlemen,” his eyes narrowed. “These are the sorts of Black Ops that are made into video games...”

         I looked around the room, at the blokes assembled; all ghosts like me. Capt Striker waved a handful of files above his head; I could see my name on the first.

         “Troop Commander, Sergeant Carlo ‘Liza’ Spinelli – tactical weapons, expert in unarmed combat and fluent in Arabic, Italian, Spanish and German.

         2iC, Corporal James ‘Molly’ Ringwold – explosives and heavy weapons, expert in unarmed combat and fluent in Arabic, Chinese and Russian.

         Your Sniper Team consists, Corporal Staunton ‘Bink’ Binkley, Special Boat Squadron – fluent in Arabic and French. His spotter is Lance Corporal Hamish ‘Sarah’ Ferguson, also SBS – fluent in Arabic, Indecipherable Scot and Russian.

         That big bastard there is Lance Corporal Nicholas ‘Britney’ Spires, Australian SAS. He will be your troop Signaller, all radio transmissions will go through him, you will have a direct line to HQ from 8-5 Monday through Thursday, 8-1230 Fridays. The office is closed at weekends.”

         “And finally, sitting at the back of the room there in the red jersey is Ensign Ricky, US Navy... he’s a bit of an FNG but Combat Med Tech trained so he’s got your back out in the field. He’s recently married to his childhood sweetheart, they enjoy walks in the park and are expecting their first child in the spring, isn’t that nice...oh, don’t forget to sign that Will and life insurance policy before you go Rick, there’s a good chap.”

         Ensign Ricky waved. “I’m from Arizona,” he said. Nobody had asked.

         That was not a good sign...

         “And who’s that?” I said pointing to the swarthy looking suit, leaning casually against a table. He was smoking a cigarette and wearing shades indoors. Rude and unnecessary. I didn’t like him from the moment I saw him.

         Striker dropped the files on the table. “He is an observer and his identity is classified Sergeant Spinelli.”

         “The hell it is. If he’s involved he’s divulged.”

         The man unfolded his arms and slipped the cigarette from between his lips. He said nothing. His thin stick-on moustache twitched slightly. He acceded to Striker a faint nod.

         Striker gave a slight exhalation. “Gentlemen... this is Mohammad Sidique Hussein, our contact in MI6. He’s recently cross-polled from Yemeni Secret Intelligence after transferring from Iran; he will be co-ordinating efforts from London, codenamed ‘Obvious Traitor’.”

         Despite Striker’s glowing reference of Obvious Traitor, there was something about him I didn’t trust.

         “Erm... has anyone actually heard of the Axis of Evil?” It was ‘Bink’ Binkley speaking now, his Liverpudlian tones shrill and edgy. It was clear that he felt the same.

         Striker’s eyes became flinty. “I don’t know, have you ever heard of ethnic stereotyping, racism and Equality and Diversity, Corporal?”

Bink shrugged and we exchanged glances. “Okay well, he’s a fuckin’ rag head and I don’t trust him; am I allowed to say that?”

         “Believe it or not Corporal, you can’t, at least not without reasonable grounds. Any grievances should be highlighted to your Line Manager upon your return... any other questions?”

         “Who’s my Line Manger?”

         Striker smiled. “I am Corporal and I say man the fuck up and crack on.”

         I leaned forward in my chair, resting my murderous hands on the desk in front of me. “So this is it? This is the team?”

         Striker shuffled the files a little and picked them back up again. “You were meant to get a big angry black guy and a comedy sidekick but we were fresh out.”

         “What’s the mission?”

         He pushed a grainy black and white photograph across the desk at me. “Gentlemen, this is Lung Lung she is a giant Panda recently presented to London Zoo by the Chinese Government and this...” he spun another photo toward me with his fingers. “This is her cub... Foo Foo.”

         There was a collective awwwwww.

         “Aww maybe but this little bastard would kill you and everybody you know given half the chance.  Your mission is to gain access to the highly guarded Panda enclosure at London Zoo and take out Foo Foo and his mother.”

         We exchanged glances. “What next, a plot to murder Princess Diana?” Molly Ringwold said crossing his arms.

         There was a general muttering.

         Consternation among the men.

         I picked up the photos and looked them over. Foo Foo was a cute little fella that was for sure but there was something... something in his beady little eyes I didn’t quite trust. “I take it there’s a good reason for this...”

         Striker straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. “Of course. MI6 doesn’t order hits on marsupials for no good reason.”

“It’s a mammal isn’t it?” Bink said.

“Not a bear?” Sarah Ferguson said. “I thought Pandas were bears.”

“A bear and a mammal can be the same thing... can’t they?” Bink replied.

“I thought mammals breast fed.”

“I thought we were mammals.”                              

“Do Pandas breast feed?”

“No you’re thinking of whales.”                              

“Pandas have tits?”

“What’s a Koala? Isn’t that a marsupial?”

“Yeah but it’s not a real bear,” Britney Spires, the hulking Aussie replied.                              

“Is it not?”

“No.”

“What’s a Sloth?”                              

“Yeah, what the fuck is that? Is it some sort of cake?”                              

“What lays eggs then?"

“Chicken?”                              

“No, no it’s like a Sloth but lives in the wate- oh wait, isn’t it a Duck Billed Platypus?”                              

“Gentlemen please...”

         We fell silent.

         Striker shook his head.

         “We believe that Lung Lung and her cub were intercepted in transit to the UK by a wealthy Saudi backed terror group. Intel shows that the same terror group have isolated and developed the AIDS virus. They have adapted it to become airborne and then weaponised it. We believe that Lung Lung and Foo Foo have been used as transport mediums to transfer the virus here... to the UK. One sneeze from that baby Panda could infect thousands...”

         “My God...” Ensign Ricky whispered. “Who would have sex with a Panda?”

         “The delivery method was most likely via intravenous infusion.”

         “Oh... right... of course.” Ricky looked a little sheepish and then said. “Wait... how do they hold the syringes...?”



Drop Zone: 51°32′08″N 00°09′21″W 15,000 feet above sea level. 0017hrs 22nd Nov 1987 v2.0

Accelerated Freefall Insertion – 6pax.



         The Lockheed C-130 Hercules rumbled, shook and jolted as we flew over the Oxfordshire countryside, dipping down towards Greater London. The lads went through their final weapon checks and ensured that all their kit was fully squared away. Molly as my 2iC would jump first, Britney would follow to ensure that the DZ was secure. Bink and Sarah would follow with Ensign Ricky and me taking up the rear.

We had been told to expect stout resistance if we encountered it. Zookeepers armed with brooms, PETA activists and potentially terror agents who suspected that denial operations could take place. Of course, Captain Striker had said, should any of you be captured the Government will disavow any knowledge of you.

         But that was nothing new.

         I loved this shit.

         “You all right sunshine?” I said to Ricky as he sat hunched over on the small seat.

         He nodded. “Just a little air sick.”

         “Gay. This your first Op?”

         He nodded again and lowered his head to look more intently at something in his hands. A faint smile played across his lips. He eventually held it up for me to see. It was a picture of a young woman, perhaps a couple of years younger than he. Smiling, pretty, blonde and glowing.

         “That your Missus?”

         He nodded again, his eyes shining.

         “That’s her Doreen Lucy-May-Anne Anson, she’s back home in Tucson-”

         “Wait... what your last name is Anson?”

         “Yes.”

         “Ensign Anson?”

         “Yeah...” he gave a weak smile. “My brother’s called Jenson... he’s an Ensign too.”

         “Ensign Jensen Anson?”

         “Yeah...”

         “You’re fucking kidding me right?”

         He shook his head. “Ahh, I forgot to sign that important insurance paperwork,” he said with a nervous laugh and clapping a hand to his forehead. “If I don’t make it back, she’ll end up with nothing and will have to move out of our condo and everything. Best I keep my head on a swivel then Sarge, eh?”

         I reached across and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t call me ‘Sarge’.”

         There was little doubt in my mind that this kid would be dead before dawn.

         “In the door – GO!”

         Wind roared in my ears as Molly and then Britney bailed.  We shuffled forward, the red jump light blinking. Tethered to the interior, the jump master leaned out of the door, the rushing gale force pressing his face into shapes. He motioned the sniper team forward.

         “In the door.... GO!”

         Bink and Sarah disappeared into the gloom, the blackness whipping them away.

         I pushed Ensign Ricky ahead of me.

         He stumbled slightly.

         Nervous.

         His first Operational jump.

         “In the door...”

         The jumpmaster held up his hand, the fist clenched – the sign to wait.

         “Wait!”

         Ensign Ricky jumped.

         “WAIT!”

         Fuck no... I lurched forward, my fingertips grazing his suit as he spiralled out of the plane. Inexplicably his chute opened and suddenly filled the small space before snagging and fluttering wildly. Ricky was jerked sideways violently, his arms and legs flailing. I could hear his body banging of the side of the aircraft.

         I reached for my knife. “We’ve got to cut him loose!”

         The jumpmaster grabbed the knife from me. “You go; you’ll miss the DZ. GO! GO!”

         He began sawing frantically at the tethers. “GO!”

         I threw myself out of the plane, twisting just enough to see Ensign Ricky’s broken body cart-wheeling through the air, his arms and legs all bending the wrong way. More often than not this would have been fucking hilarious but I couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for Mrs Ensign Ricky. We have a saying in the SAS, that’s life in a green suit although I’m not convinced she’d find that much of a consolation.

         I deployed my chute and drifted slowly Earthward my keen eyes picking out the salient points in the darkened landscape. Moments later something whooshed past my ear, it was Ensign Ricky’s inert form plummeting downwards, he appeared to wave as he fell.

         There was a sickening crunch as his journey south came to an abrupt end.

         My team were assembled already and I dropped in amongst them, gathering my chute and stuffing it hastily into a bin.

         Keep Britain Tidy – fuckin’ A.

         “Told you,” Britney said holding out his hand. “Poor guy had KIA stamped on his ID card the moment he was signed up for this Op.”

         “Yeah but fuck me,” Sarah grumbled plunging his hand into his pocket, “I expected him to last longer than that. He didn’t even get out of the plane.” He grudgingly pressed £20 into the big Aussie’s hand.

         Bink shook his head. “Can’t believe he landed on a spiked fence... what are the chances of that?”

         I stared at Ensign Ricky, impaled along his side on metal railings. Even I had to admit that was bad luck.

         Suddenly his eyes rolled and he moaned.

         “Christ on a jet ski, he’s still alive!”

         “Aha!” Sarah said with a grin, snatching the £20 out of Britney’s hand.

         “Get him down off there,” I said, secretly impressed that he had survived a 15,000 feet fall... onto a fence.

         “What use is he now?” Bink said swinging the casing to his L-96A Sniper’s rifle over his shoulder. “He’s full of holes...”

         “Leave no man behind,” Sarah muttered. “That’s our motto.”

         “Isn’t that the US Marines motto? I thought ours was Who Dares Wins...” Britney said.

         “Is it really? I thought that was just from a movie,” Bink admitted. “Either way it makes little difference, look at him... he looks like a fuckin’ flute.”

         “Hey,” I barked. “I don’t give a fuck... just get him off there.”

         Molly ambled over with his map and leaned in, keeping his voice low. “We’re got a problem; we’re in the wrong place.”

         “What?”

         Molly ran a hand across his mouth. “I mean, they’ve dropped us on the wrong side of the Zoo. The Intel must have been wrong.”

         “How could the Intel have been wrong?”

         He fingered the map. Behind him Britney and Sarah were trying to prise Ensign Ricky off the fence.

         “See here,” Molly continued. “We’re meant to be over here by the Elephants and the Meerkats but they’ve dropped us over between the Penguins and the kiddie playground. We’re about 2km from our objective.”

         “Fuck...” If the drop zone co-ordinates were unreliable, what else was?

         “Okay, Mol’ figure us out a new route and check in with HQ.”

         I stalked over to give Britney and Sarah a hand. Together we lifted Ensign Ricky off the fence. “You okay sunshine?”

         “Sausage...” he groaned.

         “What?”

         He coughed up a little blood. “Stick a fork in me... I’m done...”

         “You’ll be fine,” I maintained. “I promise.”

Whizzz-crack!

         The front portion of Ricky’s skull exploded as a high velocity round entered the back of his head.

         “Okay... well maybe not now...”

Whiz-whiz... crack-crack!

         “Contact left! Contact left!”

         I let him crumple into a bloody heap on the ground as we took cover, pressing ourselves into the niches of the Zoo’s darkened perimeter.

         “It’s a fucking ambush!” Molly screamed bringing his weapon to bear. Bright muzzle flare left familiar white blooms in my vision.

         “AHA!” Britney said from his ensconced position as he snatched the £20 note back from Sarah.

         My team returned fire, lighting up the area between the Penguin Kingdom and Chilly Pingu’s Ice Cream and Milkshake Shack. “Give ‘em the good news fellas!”

         Rounds bit into the tarmac at our feet as we retreated behind the Mr Octopus Slide.

         “Give me some covering fire!” Sarah roared as he reached for his grenades. “Let’s light these bastards up.”

         Our weapons blazed; the sound deafening as we pinned the enemy down. Sarah sprung the pin and hurled the grenade towards the penguin enclosure. Seconds later there was a thunk-thunk-thunk... as the grenade was tossed casually back.

         “Cheeky bastards!” Sarah was up and running. “Down, down, down!” He flung himself towards the grenade, landing belly first on top of it.

         We shielded ourselves against the blast and waited.

One...

Two...

Three...

         From his position atop the grenade, Sarah slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes. He stared straight at me, a wicked smile cracking his bludgeoned features. “Bloody hell,” he said. “It’s a fuckin’ dud-”

Ka-boom!!

         As bits of Lance Corporal Hamish ‘Sarah’ Ferguson SBS (Victoria Cross pending) rained down upon us we attacked with renewed vigour.

         Britney responded with his underslung grenade launcher punching  several holes in the area around the penguin enclosure.

         Molly hunkered down beside me and screamed into the radio. “Obvious Traitor, this is Baby Feet, Obvious Traitor, this is Baby Feet – we have been compromised! We are requesting long range support, do you copy? Obvious Traitor this is Baby Feet do you copy!? I say again, we are mission compromised, we need long range support. We are in an ambush situation! Hello? Hello? Oh... for fucks sake...”

         He passed me the headset, his expression grim. “Check this out...”

-Thank you for contacting MI6 Mission Critical Support, our offices are currently closed, please try again later or leave a message after the beep. Alternatively, you can email us at [e-mail] and one of our representatives will contact you during normal working hours-

         Molly looked at me. “We’ve been stitched up.”

         It seems we had.

         The fire-fight lasted all of 15 minutes. Our aggressors had had the upper hand but had lacked the guile, training and sheer firepower of our insertion team. Bink and Britney trotted back over, their faces bland.

         “We okay?” Molly asked.

         Britney winked. “They are jam.”

         “Right listen up,” I said smoothing the map on the back of a giant springy top hat wearing terrapin. “This is us. This is our objective. We have a short 2km tab across the Zoo to the Elephant and Meerkats and then the Panda compound. We can expect it to be highly fortified and well defended. They know we’re here and they are ready for us. As Molly says, we’ve been stitched up. We continue with the mission. We’ll clip those fuckin’ black eyed bastards and then fight our way out. We have a Helo extraction at 0500 but I don’t reckon that’s going to happen.”

         “What do we do then?” Bink said. I noticed he’d placed Lance Corporal Ferguson’s dog-tags around his neck.

         “Then we find out who fucked us over and then return the favour.”

         “You reckon it was Striker?” Britney said.

         “We’ll pluck that fish when it comes... first off,” I worked the action on my weapon in a manly fashion, “let’s get those Pandas.”

         We met with no resistance as we tabbed south-west to our objective. I suspected that they would have figured that the ambush would have accounted for us – they figured wrong.

         We were maybe two hundred and fifty metres from the Panda enclosure, hidden in the dense foliage of the plants that lined ‘Meerkat Manor’ when there was a faintly audible click.

         We froze. It was a sound we were all resolutely familiar with.

         This was going to hurt.

         A lot.

         “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me...” Britney muttered.

         He set his jaw and gave a rueful shake of his head. “Honestly... who the fuck mines a zoo?”

         Unshouldering his weapon, he handed it over to Molly and carefully unclipped his ordinance. “Don’t want to make a bigger bang than I’m going to...”

         I laid flat on my belly and pressed my face to the earth to inspect the sole of his boot.

         “How bad is it?” He asked, unmoving.

         I stared up at him.

         “Fuck it,” he muttered. He lifted his dog-tags from his neck and tossed them casually across to Bink. “Tell my girlfriend I love her...” He sighed. “Tell my wife too... oh, and her sister... but not all at once yeah?”

         “Give us 5 minutes,” I said to him.

         As we melted into the darkness, he winked at me.

         Good looking bastard.

         There were several well armed personnel patrolling the perimeter.

         “Looks like private security, ex-Special Forces judging by the dodgy haircuts,” Molly said scoping the area with his bino’s. “Christ... are they wearing black jumpsuits? Seriously?”

         “Yeah... with lemon piping...” Bink muttered. “Natty threads.”

         I checked my watch. “We’ve got 3 minutes before Britney takes his foot off the anti-personnel mine - that will create the diversion we need. Bink can you take down the 4 guards in the opposing watch towers? Molly and I will take out the rest on the ground... catch up with us when you’re done.”

         Bink unslung his sniper’s rifle. “Take out 4 highly trained, ex-Special Forces operatives 70 metres apart in quick succession from 200 metres, possibly under fire, following a large concussive explosion and without a Spotter?”

         “Can you do it?”

         He grinned and pressed the sight into his eye socket. “Piece of piss.”

Three...

Two...

One...

         The blast shook the ground, a thunderclap that you felt deep in your chest. I saw the 4 guards drop in quick succession; 2 head shots, one throat, one left chest. They were in disarray and we took full advantage. Molly and I advanced, short concentrated bursts of fire, the enemy dropping, doing the dance. Yeah, London Zoo wasn’t the place to be wearing black jumpsuits back in ’87.

         The fire-fight lasted a matter of seconds, there was good reason these pricks were ex-Special Forces.

         Now they were ex-ex-Special Forces.

         We gained the compound and Molly worked the wire fence with the snippy-things on his Leatherman® Wave Tactical Multi tool. He grinned at me, waved it in front of my eyes and poked the item away. “The ultimate tool; bet you wish you had one...”

         “Wasn’t that your nickname in training?”

         “Eat my dick...”

         “Later sweetheart. Right, listen up it should be pretty much plain sailing from hereon in. We’ve made enough noise to raise the ghost of Rick Astley so discounting any further ambushes we should be able to waltz straight in take out those bears and get the fuck out. Keep your eyes steely and drop anything with fur.”

         We skipped a fence and strode through the delightfully sculptured landscaped gardens. Molly shook out the map and traced his finger across it. “Okay,” he hissed. “We cut across the Marsupial Kingdom and we can drop straight into the Panda compound-”

         I seized his arm and pointed ahead silently.  There was faint movement on the ground at the foot of a Eucalyptus Tree. There was a faint rustling.

         “Mother fucker...” Molly whispered reaching for his knife. “I didn’t even see it.”

         Bink pressed a finger to his lips and lowered his voice into a barely audible hush. “The knife will make too much noise. I’ve got this...”

         Running at full pelt, Bink put his foot straight into its back, lofting it a good 15 feet into the air. There’s a certain sense of satisfaction in watching a full grown man booting a Koala bear back up into a tree, then again perhaps I’ve just seen too much combat.

         “That’s for Britney, Sarah and Ensign Whatshisface, you little bastard!” He screamed.

         “Fuck!” Molly shouted bringing his weapon to bear. “We’ve got movement!”

         “Light ‘em up!”

         “Unhappy Mummy Koala, 2 o’clock!”

         The Marsupial Kingdom erupted in gunfire.

         “Watch your 6, we got Wallabies.”

         “Move, move!”

         Commensurate with our training we fired and manoeuvred, cutting a bloody fuzzy swathe across the battlefield and gained our objective with little resistance. 2 Koalas, a Wallaby and a fleeing baby Kangaroo were no match for our superior firepower.

         We rested our backs against a low white wall breathing hard while we topped up our ammunition. “There’s a three foot drop into the Panda pit. Don’t let the bastards get a drop on you and for fuck’s sake don’t let them sneeze in your face...”

         We dropped into the compound, sweeping the area quickly and efficiently.  Foo Foo came at us almost immediately rolling out of a small doorway like a puffy black and white ball of fluff. He landed with his little legs splayed out beneath him and his little hand paws resting on his knees. He looked up at us like some little furry Buddha; he blinked his little black eyes and tilted his head.

         “Watch out Liza, the fucker’s going to go for you!” Molly bellowed barrelling forward, thrusting me aside and hurling himself towards it.          A big clubbing right hook put the baby Panda on its back. Wrapping his big arms around Foo Foo’s neck, he gave a savage roar and twisted. There was a faint sound like someone sitting on a pair of chopsticks and Foo Foo’s leg twitched.

         “Now that’s a real black eye, you little fuck...” Molly stood and nursed his bruised knuckles.

         “Christ,” I said, “I think you killed him with one punch.”

         Molly shook his hand. “Had to make sure...”

         “He also peed on you a bit.”

         “Did he? Ew, dirty little cunt...”

         “Keep your eyes open, the Mummy Panda will be furious now that he cub is dead. Enraged, she’ll attempt to circle round and attack us from the rear, she’ll be waiting for us in the shadows,” I whispered.

         “Sneaky bitch...” Bink grunted.

         “Oh wait,” Molly said, straightening and pointing. “No she’s not; she’s over there, chewing on some plants...”

         “Oh, yeah, so she is.”

         Bink raised his weapon, “Hey Lung Lung... how’s this for eats, shoots and leaves, bitch?”

BLAM!

         “You’ve got some on your face...” I said to Bink as we left the compound and shouldered our weapons. The Liverpudlian smeared some of the Panda goop off his face and grunted, smacking his lips.

         “Tastes a bit like puppy...”

         Molly was listening into his earpiece as we walked. “Uhh, guys, you might want to hear this...” He flicked the radio onto speaker.

         “Baby Feet, this is Striker, disregard mission, I say again, disregard mission!”

         I grabbed the radio and activated the Push-to-Talk switch. “Striker, this is Baby Feet, what the fuck’s going on?”

         “Spinelli, we’ve been sold a bloody dummy. The Panda Intel is false.”

         “What?”

         “The Panda Intel... about them being weaponised with airborne AIDS, it’s all false, all of it. It was a bloody ruse! Do NOT go after the Pandas, I say again, do NOT go after the Pandas, they were a gift from the Chinese Government and there will be Hell to pay if they are harmed!”

         “Umm, yeah, about that...”

         “Don’t worry we have a good lead on who we think the bounder is behind this misinformation...”

         “Our Yemini friend from Iran by any chance?”

         “Oh... ah, yes okay good point, well now we have two leads...Anyway, the Helo’s are inbound.”

         I flicked off the comm’s and turned back to look at the crumbling, burning ruins of London Zoo.

         “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t have torched that...”

         We stalked through the darkness in slow motion and full of murderous intent; all we needed was a fucking soundtrack.