Friday, December 12, 2008

Taske Force: Chapter 1

~Chapter 1~

~June 16th, 2014
Lexy Gold sat in her bedroom in front of her mirror. She had just finished taking off her makeup, and now sat staring at her reflection, daydreaming about her birthday party the next day.
A beautiful girl, Lexy had light-brown, shoulder-length hair with blonde highlights. Her eyes were a deep aqua-blue, and she had inherited her mother’s small nose and mouth. She was normally seen to be quiet and reserved. After all, how else was a President’s daughter supposed to behave in public?
She now wore a pink “I Love NY” T-shirt and black sweatpants. When out with her father she normally was seen smartly dressed in a skirt and dress-jacket, but she preferred her current attire.
Her father almost spoiled his daughter. He had acquired a fair bit of money during his short time as governor of Washington.
Only elected just last year, Matt Gold had already done great things for the nation’s security and had funded many successful medical endeavors.
Like a few of his earlier predecessors, President Gold and his family lived in a small mansion a few miles from the actual White House. The Gold family lived in the mansion, and gathered at the White House for lunch everyday. Matt Gold, however, spent most of his day in the Oval Office surrounded politicians, advisers, and Secret Service. Lexy hated Secret Service.
A knock sounded on the bedroom door. Still staring at her mirror, Lexy half turned towards the door.
“Come in.”
President Matt Gold entered the room. Lexy sprang to her feet and flung her arms around his neck.
“Daddy!”
Matt hugged his daughter, “Hey, how is my favorite little girl?”
Her eyes sparkling, Lexy looked into his face.
“Oh Daddy, I’m turning twenty years old, I’m not so little anymore.”
“You are still my little girl. And isn’t about time you moved out and found a nice boy to settle down with?”
Lexy stuck her tongue out and made a face, “Daddy, you know I’m not going to leave you alone, even if I did find a boy who I liked.”
Matt sat on the bed, and Lexy sat back down on her chair. The President looked proudly at his daughter.
“And I wouldn’t turn you out for the world. But I do need to talk to you about your birthday party tomorrow. I’m assigning you a bodyguard.”
Lexy’s eyes narrowed and her face darkened.
“Daddy, I’ve told you I don’t want…”
Matt interrupted her, “Lexy, I know you don’t like the Secret Service, FBI, or any other black-suited security agent hanging around. But the man I’ve selected is as trustworthy as they come, and he is far from any agent I’ve assigned to you. You might even like him.”
Lexy pouted slightly, upset but accepting.
“Fine. But who is he, and how come you trust him so much?”
Matt sat back against the wall and crossed his legs.
“His name is Joshua Taske. We served together in the Marine Corps, even survived Boot Camp together. He has saved my life many times, even taken a few bullets for me. But what always struck me was how he would take a bullet for anyone.
He comes from a dangerous family. In fact, his family owns over half of the United States Criminal Underworld, and is even direct relatives of the family that owns England’s Underworld. And coming from a dangerous family, he is dangerous himself. And that makes him good at his job.
Listen; just let him do his job for a week or two. And if you really don’t like him, then I can reassign you Agent Rosas. I know you like him.”
Lexy smiled slightly, she did kind of like Agent Rosas. But this Joshua Taske sounded interesting.
“Ok Daddy, but only for a few weeks.”
Matt grinned and stood up.
“Thank you, dear. You will meet him before your party.”
Lexy rose and hugged her father.
“Thank you, Daddy. I know you just want the best for me.”
“Yes, I do. Good night, dear.”
Matt kissed Lexy on the forehead and opened the door, leaving.
Lexy sat on her chair and turned to face her mirror again.
“Good night, Daddy!”
She stared again at her reflection, thinking of this Joshua Taske, the Criminal Underworld, and her birthday the next day.



Nathan Wolv leaned against his bike, once again in trouble.
Before him stood five other bikers, all dressed in leather and chains, and bearing Goth-style tattoos on their arms. They had parked their bikes across the front and back of the small side-alley Nathan had opted to take to avoid the New York traffic.
The tallest of the whannabe tough-guys, a large-stomached man with a bald head, stood directly in front of Nathan playing with a switch-blade.
“Hey-yah Buckeye, you can’t pass through Rebel territory without payin’ a fee.”
Wolv smiled charmingly, “What kind of ‘fee’, Baldy?”
The bald man frowned, “Turns out we are only taking payment in blood today. Mighty unlucky for you.”
Nathan’s eyes flicked over the rest of the gang. A girl who looked more like a wishful stripper than a biker, and three other men wearing jeans and leather shirts surrounded him and his bike. All sported knives, except for one large fellow who dangled a length of chain from his left hand.
Thinking of the MP7 across his back, and the .45 at his side, Nathan prayed the gang wouldn’t decide to pick a fight. They were only kids, and he didn’t really want to hurt them. But even more important to Nathan’s cause, they were wasting his time, and he couldn’t afford to waste bullets. In other words, if it came down to a fight then he would have to do it the old fashion way.
Wolv smiled and shook his right arm slightly, loosening the throwing-knife concealed in the slip-sheathe tied to his wrist.
“Sorry, buddy, I aint in the mood to draw blood today. At least, not my own blood.”
Baldy stepped up to Nathan, the other four gang members circled in closer to their intended victim.
“Buckeye, we are gonna have to do this the hard way, huh?”
Then he lashed out with a wicked left-hook.
But Nathan wasn’t there! He had ducked under the punch and hammered an even more wicked palm-punch into Baldy’s stomach. Then he spun around and the small throwing-knife seemed to magically appear in a gang member’s shoulder.
The girl, who Nathan mentally nicknamed “Stripper”, came at him with a vengeance. He had lost his throwing-knife in the other guy’s shoulder, and the girl was swishing a 2-foot combat knife in a haphazard manner.
Nathan could also hear Stocky’s chain humming behind him. And in his peripheral vision he could see the last gang member, nicknamed “Skinny”, approaching with a switch-blade from the left, and to the right Baldy was just rising from next to the Honda’s front tire where he had fallen.
Baldy was recovering, but slowly, so Nathan ignored him for the moment. Stripper was dangerous, just because of her inexperience with her knife, and of course Stocky had his buzzing chain.
Nathan sprang forward and caught Stripper’s wrist with a karate-chop, then took her down with a stunning knuckle-punch to her throat.
Hearing a whistle behind him, Nathan spun around only to find Stocky on the ground clutching a bleeding hand. Quickly deciding to ignore his sudden good luck, he turned just in time to catch Skinny’s arm as he tried to stab Nathan from the side.
Violently twisting Skinny’s wrist, Wolv was rewarded by a sharp crack and a cry of pain from the gang member.
Then, relying purely on instinct, Nathan lashed out behind him with a vicious kick, striking Baldy solidly in the stomach for a second time. Baldy wretched and went down again.
With Baldy spilling his lunch on the concrete, Stripper unconscious, and the other gang member and Skinny down nursing a wounded shoulder and broken wrist, Nathan could turn his attention to Stocky.
The gang member lay on his back, a small arrow embedded in the back of his shoulder, and another sticking through the hand that had held the chain.
Nathan, ignoring Stocky’s cry of pain, pulled the dart out of his hand and recognized it as a bolt from a wrist-mounted crossbow.
Nathan’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the bolt was fletched with strange bright red feathering. Then his eyes widened with recognition, and he looked quickly around at the buildings and shadows. His eyes carefully scanned the darkness, looking for a past memory that had come to life again.
“So, following me Red? Well, fine by me.”
Nathan looked down at Stocky, “Ok Punk. Let me tell you something, I faced some of those “Hell’s Angels” boys in Deadwood a few years back, and they were a workout. You and your buddies were just a warm-up. Now no more taking tolls from passer-bys, Comprende?”
Stocky nodded, tears streaming from his eyes.
“Comprende.”
Nathan walked over to the two bikes blocking his path. One was a Suzuki, and an inferior model at that. So he just shoved it to the side.
The other was a pretty purple and red Yamaha XVS650. This he respectfully wheeled to the side and leaned it against its kickstand. He had always liked Yamahas, and you had to respect someone who rode a bike colored with red and purple.
Climbing back onto his Honda, the black haired ex-soldier scanned his surroundings again. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he roared off into the night.
He had a date in Washington.



The next morning Joshua Taske woke early and, after a shower and a quick bagel and cup of coffee, made his rounds of the Gold estate.
The estate wasn’t that big. The mansion had a perimeter garden that stretched over one hundred and fifty feet from the mansions outside wall to the decorate iron fence, except for the front of the mansion, where the yard stretched a good three hundred feet.
Josh trekked the length of the estate armed with a Heckler and Koch MP5K SMG, along with his normal Desert Eagles and Sai. As he walked, his eyes flicked across the yard, checking on the agents posted around the mansion’s fence, and the security cameras located on the corners of the building and at regular intervals around the fence.
His last stop on his patrol was the front gate, where Agents Lucy Vale and Ralph Rosas stood sentry. Normally assigned to the President, Vale and Rosas had been assigned to Josh’s security team during the President’s daughter’s party.
The agents stood on either side of the gate, both wearing Kevlar vests and with MP5A5 SMG’s over their shoulders. As Josh approached, the agents snapped to attention and Rosas cheekily addressed the ex-marine.
“You done walkin’ in circles, Captain? You gonna get dizzy, and then you won’t be shootin’ straight!”
Josh came to stand in the center of the gate and turned to look over the mansion.
Vale, her eye on Josh, shot a reply at Rosas.
“You better be careful, or you won’t be shootin’ straight!”
Rosas looked confused, “How so?”
Josh didn’t even glance in Rosas’ direction.
“Because I’ll shoot your eyes out.”
Rosas raised his eyebrows in mock shock.
“Miss Lucy, I do believe our dear Captain missed his coffee this morning. Or, in his blind rush to get on patrol, he got his decaf confused with his regular.”
Vale looked carefully and Josh, who was still scanning the grounds. She was also an ex-marine, and had served with Josh Taske her last few years in the Corps.
“Ralphy, our Captain didn’t miss his coffee, he is worried about security this afternoon.”
Rosas became serious, “That true, Cap? You thinking something is going to happen today? Why you think that?”
“Something always happens. An assassin attacks, a fanatic disrupts the activities, a news crew wants to take your picture and post lies in the paper about you sleeping with some married ambassador… It is always something.”
Rosas, who was a rookie compared to Taske or Vale, looked surprised.
“How do you deal with it all, Cap?”
Josh turned and flashed a feral grin.
“Well, assassins you can shoot, a fanatic you can jail. But a reporter? Might as well turn in your badge and shoot yourself in the head.”
With that, Josh marched military-style into the mansion.
Rosas looked at Vale, “Is he always that cheerful? Why he like that?”
Vale smiled sweetly, “Well, he shot a reporter once. It didn’t work out for either on of ‘em real well.”


Lexy stood in the center of her room, looking over herself in the mirror. She had combed her hair so it wasn’t so tangled, and wore a black form-fitting dress with a thin dark-purple sash. Excited about her party being only hours away, she nervously twisted a silver bracelet around her wrist.
“Lexy?”
Her father’s voice called to her from outside her door. Surprised, she rushed to the door and flung it open.
Matt Gold stood outside the door, behind him a black-clad figure wearing the telltale Kevlar vest and earwig of an S.S. Agent.
Embarrassed, Lexy pretended not to notice the other man, “Daddy, what a surprise!”
Matt hugged his daughter, “I told you I’d bring Agent Taske to meet you this morning.”
Lexy took a second look at the man behind her father, and stopped short. This Josh Taske was young, and handsome! He stood at attention, hands clasped behind his back, seemingly detached from all around him. But his piercing gray eyes looked her over with such scrutiny and attention to detail she blushed, and instantly wished her dress wasn’t so low-cut.
“Mr. … um, Mr. Taske, I, uh, understand you are assigned to me for the time being?”
Why did she have to stutter? And why did she have to say that, it sounds like she was trying to own him.
Josh Taske just smiled slightly, and with that small smile Lexy felt she could trust him with her life.
“Please, Miss Gold, call me Josh. And yes, I will be in charge of your security detail.”
Lexy just looked at him, she couldn’t think of anything to say to him.
She finally managed a lame, “Well, good”, and turned to her father.
“Daddy, what time are people arriving?”
Matt, hiding a grin, answered his daughter.
“They are supposed to start arriving at about four o-clock.”
Lexy smiled at Josh, “Will you be ready by then?”
Was she challenging him? Why was she challenging him?
Josh just smiled again, his eyes boring into her.
“Even if my team is not, I will be.”
“Ok… well good.”
There was that lame answer again. What was it about Josh Taske? Why was she being so stupid around him? He wasn’t even that cute… wasn’t he?
“I have to get some things ready, so if you will please excuse me.”
Another lousy excuse, but Josh and Matt left, so Lexy’s excuse worked.
That morning she had thought being the President’s daughter was difficult. Now she had an entirely new problem.

Taske Force: Prologue

~Prologue~

~June 16th, 2014

The two men stared at each other across the large oak table. The one man wore a blazer and tie, a small American flag pinned to his collar. His silver-gray hair framed a thick nose and blue eyes. His suit and stance radiated political power.
The other man was younger, his hair was dark brown and his eyes a sharp gray. His muscular body was clothed in black canvas pants and black T-shirt. Twin Desert Eagle Magnums rested against his thighs and two Japanese Sais were sheathed behind the pistols. He also radiated power, but it was a submerged, lethal kind of power.
The first man stared at the second, sizing him up as if they hadn’t known each other for over nine years.
Breaking the heavy silence, the first man spoke.
“Please, sit.”
“No thank you, Sir.”
“Would you like a drink?”
“No sir.”
The one stared again at the other for along moment.
“Do you know why I’ve called you here?”
“I have ideas.”
The silver-haired man walked over to the drink-cabinet.
“You know about my attempts of acquiring a position of power in the criminal Underworld?”
The other shifted uncomfortably.
“You know what my position on that is, Sir. No matter my connections, I am here only for security reasons.”
Pouring himself a glass of whiskey, the silver-haired man turned and nodded.
“I know, and I respect your position. But that isn’t why I’ve called you. I fear repercussions from certain people aimed at my family. There is someone in particular I have in mind.”
The other man wrested his hand on the handle of his pistol, understanding dawning on him.
“Your daughter, Sir.”
“Yes, my daughter. With my endeavors into the Underworld I have acquired some… dangerous enemies. I want her protected, and I trust only you, Taske.”
“You want me to act as her personal bodyguard?”
“Yes, along with overseeing my other security details.”
The younger man nodded and, holding out his hand, sealed the deal.
“You have my word, your daughter will be safe, Mr. President.”
“I know she will be, Mr. Taske.”


~June 14th, 2014: Two Days Before

Far away, all the way across the US in Oregon, a sputtering Harley pulled up in front of a small-looking house.
The man on the motorcycle looked like he had been riding long and hard. His long black hair was wild and wind-swept and fell in jagged locks over his ice-blue eyes. A thin white scar ran across his left eye from brow to lower lip.
As he dismounted, his black leather jacket pulled back slightly to reveal the grip of a Colt .45 against his dirty white T-shirt.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a dark-blue Razor. Dialing a number, he waited for it to ring.
“Damn it, Josh, answer…”
But Josh didn’t answer, just his voice-mail. The black-haired man waited for the beep to sound, then left his message.
“Josh, this is Nathan. We are kinda in trouble, and I need to talk to you in person, so I’m trying to track you down. I’m at your Oregon safe house and I’m gonna let myself in before moving on. My bike is dying so I’m probably gonna borrow that Honda I like so much. See you when and if I do, Wolv out.”
Nathan wheeled the Harley behind the garage and entered the house through the back door.
Nathan first checked the fridge, finding tequila and cola and not much else. Josh wasn’t home often, so he only kept what would last a while.
Nathan selected a tequila and sat a while at the kitchen table looking over a stack of Josh’s mail. He left it all unopened except one letter bearing the Presidential seal on it.
Popping the blade open on his switchblade, Nathan opened the envelope and scanned the typed letter. What he read made his eyebrows shoot up.
“Wow, bodyguard to the President. We are moving up in the world.”
Nathan put the letter back in the envelope and, taking his tequila, went into the hallway and up the stairs.
He entered what looked like an office (though it was far too sparsely furnished), and removed a large picture of Crater Lake from the wall. Behind the picture was a metal panel with an electric-combination keypad.
Quickly punching in the 17-digit combination, Nathan slid the panel back to reveal a surprising arsenal of weapons.
Pistols, semi-automatics, a compound bow and arrows, wrist-launching crossbows and bolts, even an AK-47 and M-16 squad rifle.
The hidden cache of projectile weapons was impressive, but Nathan knew Josh had a cache of swords, knives, and bladed weapons behind the picture of Mt. Rushmore in the living room, and another of highly explosive weapons behind the rack of tools in the garage.
Nathan selected ammo for his .45, and a P.22 with boot-holster. After a moments thought, he also strapped a MP7 sub-machine gun with a silencer across his back under his coat.
He was careful, however, to not touch the four identical Desert Eagle Magnums. They were Josh’s personal weapons of choice.
Casting a longing glance over the M-16 and its laser-scope and grenade attachment, Nathan closed the weapon cache. Grabbing another tequila for the road, he headed out for the garage, being careful to lock the back door behind him.
In the garage Nathan hit the garage door opener and walked down the ramp into the large parking lot under the much smaller garage building.
Passing by a Mustang, Firebird, and even a PT Cruiser and BMW Bug, Nathan selected a Honda street-bike from the line of cycles and choppers along the back of the garage.
White with a blue fire design and chrome dual-exhaust, the bike was Nathan’s favorite. Favorite, that is, next to Josh’s black Ninja 3, but the Ninja’s space was empty.
Nathan loaded his extra ammo and tequila into the Honda’s travel pouches and started the engine. It purred to life and its energy, along with the alcohol in his blood, energized Nathan’s tired body.
Carefully closing and locking Josh’s garage, Nathan gunned the Honda and sped down the road.
He was going to see the President.