This draft at this point is mainly to get the story its self hammered out.

The Genre would have to be a conspiracy based thriller.

I have the plot basically worked out and it has a few twists, the first of which comes shortly after where i stopped. I wanted to get a little feedback before I continued it in the direction im thinking of.

A STRANGE CONTRACT

“Alright people, we definitely got a strange one here, this one seems to come from pretty high up and I guess its worth the big bucks, we're looking at around a million for a simple pick up.” with almost cinematic precision the overhead projector buzzed to life illuminating the small briefing room with crisp blue light. The image which now shown on the wall was a single picture of a paranoid looking man and a map of Boston with several sections color coded in either red or blue. “The man in this picture is the pick up, all we really know about him is he is not dangerous and apparently his life is in grave danger, or so the employer says, though he might not know it I guess, whatever that means.” The man who had the floor laughed off the last part as if it did not matter. That did not matter anymore though, the next slide was up and it was back to business. This slide showed only the map of Boston this time. “ Alright the area of operation is the metropolitan area of Boston, which makes this a state side operation which the local authorities will see as questionable.” This time the whole room seemed to grunt with amusement.

The speaker picked up a ruler and poked at the section of Boston which was coded in red. “This area of the city is the Boston Commons, you all know it I'm sure. This is the area of operations for the ground element, code named parker. The target, a one Jason Mcnaught sticks to a strict daily routine which involves walking back to his apartment through the commons. You have all been given packages which go into further detail on the subject. Every man and women here will be familiar with everything in the file on him.” The listeners immediately opened the bundle of documents which lay before them and began to skim through its contents. “Because of the routine and behavior of this man we know there is a high chance that he will be available for pick up at this location, from there it should be easy to pick him up and make some cash.”

“Surveillance teams will be positioned eminently through out the area, more than usual because again this is going to be in an American metropolitan area, so again no fuck ups people.”

The ruler in the mans hand slid across the wall onto the blue region of the map projection. “Now for the aerial unit, code named Lennon. We have attained sufficient cover for you to operate unimpeded in the blue or Bravo boundary. Channel 6 news is supposed to have 1 or more birds in the area at the op time so you will be flying in civilian aircraft that is being retrofitted for surveillance. Again do not cross the Bravo boundary and keep in mind for you guys this is strictly a surveillance operation.

The man who was the center of attention in the briefing room wore a similar tactical garb to every other man in the room which implied some sort of military operation was soon to take place. The name on his flack vest read Peltza or Sargent Peltza as he was affectionately known as around the office. The other tag on the opposite side of his flack vest read Kampzer. Kampzer private securities. Otherwise popularly known as Mercenaries.

Sense Kampzer Private Securities opened as a small but effective high level private security firm in the early Year 2000 it had grown from an organization of around 30 men to over 500 highly trained highly qualified men and women, all with military special forces or Aviation backgrounds. When a client bought their services, they were paying for what they got, soldiers clear and simple. Many of Kampzer's employees often saw the irony in their current position. The companies biggest client was in fact the US government. It would seem that Kampzer and many other companies like it were buying US and foreign special forces, only to sell them back to the governments at a premium. In a sense US foreign military involvement or in more simple terms, war, had become an asset to these companies.

One of Kampzer securities newest employees, Jason Floyd sat idly in the back of an unmarked white van with 3 others in a back alley near the Boston Commons park. His training as a United States Navy S.E.A.L had secured him this job as well as a hefty salary to go along with it. As Floyd observed the anomalous men sitting in the back of the van with him he began to wonder why he had been separated from his unit and placed in the backup team. Everyone around him was busy studying the packets they were given on the target. If this operation was to supposedly protect this man he wondered why they had been given guns. It seemed odd to him that they would even need more than a team in plain clothes to do this job. But he knew of the power and allure that cold hard cash could have on men and a million dollars to take a man from one place to another must have made Kampzer Corporates mouths water to great extent.

But why separate him from his unit, why make a whole new unit all together were the questions that were repeating constantly in his mind. The names across from him were foreign to him as well, none of them were even veterans of other units at the Boston firm. In fact 2 of the people sitting across from him, he knew for a fact, were no more a veteran than he was in Kampzer. It just did not make sense, building a unit from rookies.

Floyd had found him self paying extra attention to a man named Rivera, perhaps because he knew of the mans reputation or perhaps his training told him a man showing no emotion was a man trying to hide something.

The man who he knew as Old Man Rivera was some what of a Legend through out the S.E.A.L community, having once been a Master Chief seal, Rivera was scorned for deciding to leave the navy for the private sector which at the time was frowned upon. The other thing he knew of the man was he had been put in charge of the back up unit for this operation. That was the only comforting information Floyd could find in his present situation. A fellow seal was heading his team, which was good enough for him.

Soon Floyd's contemplation was broken when the Kampzer Private Operational radio channel came to life, the operation was officially in motion. “Lennon here, we believe we have visual contact of the subject traveling east down Tremont St. ETA to check point two, 12 minutes. Request visual verification on the ground.”

Unfamiliar voices began to fill the air waves as orders and responses were shot back and forth across a busy radio channel. “Roger that Lennon, we're routing a ground team for visual verification, keep on him.”

Old Man Rivera let out a long sigh as he was said to do every time he was about to do his job. He then turned around and fingered a button on a small TV screen attached to the roof of the van. A small but sharp image, clearly taken from an aerial view, most likely Lennon's video feed being transmitted directly to the teams on the ground. Floyd had worked with this type of technology before. Even from a thousand feet up Lennon's surveillance camera was able to produce a clear enough image to compare the mans face to the picture Rivera was now holding up to the monitor.

“alright guys, thats our boy, and it looks like he's heading for our intercept point. I think we are going to make the grab, if anyone sees police, we back off, we know where he lives we can get him there. Nothing happens tonight, this is my new command, so its also my performance review, hooya. Floyd was the only one who responded with the proper response.

“subject remaining on his current course, possible intercept, give me a second, around 8 minutes.”

The cabin went dark and Rivera threw open the rear doors, the dim moonlight flooded the cabin of the van as it had done many times in Floyd's past. Only this time, it was not in some far off country, it was in his own back yard, in the city of Boston.

“roger that” Rivera removed his thumb from the switch of his radio. “alright guys, you know how this goes quick and quiet, hes off the street in under 3 seconds, in the van in under 5. No one makes a sound, especially not this guy.

Floyd was on point for this one, he would be the first one in the street, he would be making the silencing move. Because of this he was given the full view of the street. Floyd prudently poked his head out from the alley way, knowing the man was described as paranoid he knew he had to be careful, especially sense the man he knew as Mcnaught was less than 100 feet from their current position. As the man slowly walked closer, time seemed to slow down, this always happened to him, adrenaline was heightening his senses as a result time seemed to slow down.

Most men would be breathing louder than a gun at this point but not these ones. An integral part of their training was controlling the volume of their breathing. Most of them were trained to do these types of things without a second though as to why they were doing it. And even if second thoughts occurred, they were trained to do it any way.

As the man neared the alley, Floyd took an athletes position, knees bent ready to pounce. As he waited he felt his heart pump and his blood rush. This was an all to familiar feeling which he was still not sure if he missed or not. He knew exactly how he was going to do this. A hand over the mans mouth and an arm to the back of the neck would silence him and restrict his movement. A quick thrust of the knee to his back would cause Mcnaught's knees to give out making it a matter of dragging the man into the van.

As Mcnaught passed the grab team Floyd meticulously analyzed the situation, looking for his perfect timing, now he had it. Floyd's strike was quick and effective. The mans form crumpled silently to the ground. Within 5 seconds, the man was in the van.

The scene inside the van was chaos as the small form of Jason Mcnaught flailed in a futile effort to break free. For a small man he had the ability to fight back. The other 2 members of the team were busy restraining the man, he was no problem for them, but Floyd had no doubt Mcnaught would have no trouble breaking free from the average mans grip.

Rivera's face was grim, he did not like something about their situation. The van was currently winding through the streets of Boston with a kidnapped man in the back and he was yet to understand the scale of this operation. Rivera turned to the only man he could relate to. “You two keep him under control, you” his finger pointed powerfully at Floyd “you, I need to talk to you for a second”

Floyd knew something did not add up to Rivera as well when he began speaking to him in hushed tones. “You did good, I don't think anyone even knew it happened" Floyd nodded in agreement. "What about this situation does not make sense Floyd. Something is fucked here, i know I'm missing something."

Floyd was relieved to hear similar concerns coming from the man as they held their clandestine conversation in the back of the moving van.

"you have been here longer than i have, what do you know about those two" He gestured with his eyes to the 2 men restraining the flailing man on the floor of the van.

"i don't know to tell the truth master chief, i never saw them before today, thats what was scaring me earlier. I don't like going into a gun fight with people i cant depend on."

Rivera released a drawn out sigh " don't call me chief kid." Floyd was sure he had hit a nerve by calling him by is old naval rate, he was sure Rivera was aware of some of the things that were said about him after his departure. "have you ever heard..........." Rivera's visage slowly shifted to utter dread as his gaze became fixed on the 2 men now restraining the man who had sense ceased his strugle and had now began trying to reason with his captors.

"Whats wrong man, you gonna shit your self?" Floyd knew something serious had happened or atleast was going to happen.

"What did you load into your magazines, rubber bullets right?" Rivera's voice became more urgent with every word.

"yeah why? Standard Rubber bullets."

"The tall one, Stanton i think his name is, is the only man in here with a side arm and extra mags for his primary. And that 9 mil has to be loaded with live ammunition, our armory only carries hollow points for that gun."

"Really? i did not notice that." Floyd turned around to make sure Rivera was correct. In doing so he was met by the herald of his fate, a loaded m9 Service pistol and the chill aspect of a murderer