A hangover without the bonus of getting drunk...

Four hours later found me snapping my eyes open and instantly coming to my senses in a loud, uncomfortable environment. Maker I hate that memory wipe failsafe. Especially because it knocks us out. I don't like being completely vulnerable like that, it goes against my training.

I woke up with a small headache - not that it really bothered me, I just took the second to register that it was there - on the mesh seats of a cargo plane. I was sitting across from two burly men who were eying me, I twitched one eye gently and the electronics in my eyes switched over to an sort of X-ray vision. I took inventory of all their weapons and every other threat on the plane (There were eight of them). When I had satisfied my need to be sure I had an exit strategy I reached into the right thigh pocket of my black battle fatigues to pull out the chip The Director had given me. One of the burly men in front of me twitched when I moved so I noted that he had an itchy trigger finger and that if anyone would start a fight on this C-130 it would be him.

I resisted the urge to smirk at him -long story short I have a few weird personality quirks like that, I'm sure it's not a side effect of having my brain partial replaced with a computer- and slot the chip in the small datapad that's built into my wrist. The datapad automatically decrypted the chip and sent the flow of information directly to the computer in my brain. I let my concious brain fall into the data strean to absorb what I needed to know all the while keeping my subconcious brain alert for danger. (It's a learned skill aided by a computer for a brain, don't try at home)

Turns out I was working for Dictator of the month in what was formerly known as the United States. Evans, Phillip...thirty-five...kind of ugly (you know that kind of ugly that ends up plastered on T-shirts later). Anyways, apparently I was needed to run a series of guerilla recon missions in what used to be France with a team of total new recruits. Fun, every SINs dream job, of course. Who am I to complain though, this is the kind of shit I was built for.

I felt the nose cargo plane raise slightly. We were coming in for a landing. I made once last subtle check for the standard issue weapons SINs are given...the ones that hide in places no one would ever think to look and could therefore never take from us...and settled back in my seat for the last few minutes of the flight.