Page 9 of Trigger Happy Ending

Both men have American accents.

“You might feel some tingling.”

It starts as a tremor in the young soldier’s body. Then a violent seizure takes hold, painful whole-body contortions wreak havoc on him. It’s distressing to watch. His eyes flutter, muscles tensing, and veins bulging, before he pulls against restraints that don’t hold for long. He tears free like the straps were nothing but tissue.

What sort of science fiction bullshit is this?

The scene cuts to black before loading again.

Untitled_Test_2_Subject_2_PARM-17.

The same soldier now stands in what seems to be a prison yard. He faces two opponents, one rushing towards him. He puts him down with a single shot to the solar plexus, before a knee to the face. It’s a death blow. The second man charges, but the super soldier kicks him across the yard, the man’s body flying like a ragdoll through the air.

My heart thumps at the sight of the serum’s power.

The screen fades to black.

The whole scene was twenty seconds, total.

O clears his throat. “Two men dead in less than ten seconds. Strength is multiplied, aggression is tenfold. Obviously, there’s major concern if this falls into the wrong hands. Depending on the subject’s genetics, some can turn them into rabid, bloodthirsty animals, where the only urge they have is to kill. Sometimes even themselves.”

“Jesus Christ,” Soren says. “Is this shit contagious?”

“No,” O confirms. “It’s not a zombie movie. But it’s a massive fucking problem that needs taking care of. Imagine this falling into the wrong hands. Terrorists, mercenaries, rogue states. It’ll give our enemies ultimate power.”

Of course this is about power. It couldn’t possibly be about keeping humanity safe. I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“What happened to the people who couldn’t handle it? The ones that turned … rabid?”

“We neutralized them.”

My lips part involuntarily. O moves on with ease.

“The other big fucking problem is if our enemies get their hands on PARM-17 and successfully reverse engineer it. If they replicate it, formulate more, increase supply … You see where I’m going with this. We can’t allow that to happen.”

That’s an understatement. Whoever has it could build their own private superhuman—or superpsychotic—army. And that’s putting it mildly.

Chapter 4

Raine

It takes Agent O twenty minutes to lay out the clusterfuck that is our assignment. According to Agency intel, there are ten vials of PARM-17 in existence, and they’re about to hit the black market, with the highest bidder taking all. O has instructed that we, acting on the Agency’s behalf, must be the highest bidder, by whatever means necessary.

And this is where my new co-worker and I come in.

“Like I said earlier, there are three phases to this assignment. Phase one is an elimination of the first target,” O says, opening the file and sliding a surveillance photo across the desk towards Soren and me. “This is Lukas Klein, a German-American arms broker.”

I glance at the image of a man with a lean build, everyday face. Nothing special about him. Then again, these black market assholes always look like your friendly neighborhood mailman.

“He’s a major player in weapons deals across the US and Eastern Europe and is extraordinarily private. Underneath it all, he’s a piece of shit. And he’s in orbit with this man.”

Another photo slides across the desk. A middle-aged man in an expensive suit, mid-laugh, whiskey in hand, stares up at me.

“Carson Oden,” O confirms. “Officially? He’s a high-flying hospitality kingpin. Unofficially? Still a businessman, but with a hard-on for the underworld. Arms-dealing enabler, he’s money motivated, driven by greed and power.”

The photos sit side by side on the desk.

“They’re partners, and have been for the last year, but never met face-to-face,” O remarks, holding his index finger in the air. “But for the first time, they are set to meet to discuss an upcoming weapons deal. That’s our advantage. You’ll eliminate Lukas before he has a chance to meet Carson. Then, Soren? You’ll become Lukas. We’ll rebuild his digital profile: passport, biometrics … Everything down to his fuckin’ Instagram profile, so if Carson looks into you—which he will—everything tracks. Phase one clear?”