Episode 10 - Revenge is a Dish Best Served

Regaining his composure, his eyes staring straight ahead, Z said: "Kaitlyn, what did that diagnostic on the turbo cannon show?"

"That it was relatively safe," she replied. "But it still needs a lot of test-"

"Where is it?" Z cut her off.

Silently Meernik led them down into the basement. Walking up to an oddly out of place painting on the wall and swung it aside, revealing a small safe. After scanning her handprint and both retinas, Meernik quickly punched in a code on a keypad. With a burst of steam and an electronic unlocking sound, she pulled the the safe open. It was more like a drawer, at least six feet in length.

Inside lay a Series 5000 Turbo Canon.

Z quickly picked it up and turned to leave.

"But Z, it's not safe," Meernik protested. "The deatomizers are still unstable and the neutron feeds could explode."

"I don't care," Z replied, mounting the steps.

"She's right," Nup said. "I can't let you take the turbo cannon."

Z stopped halfway up the stairs and turned around. Looking down at the other agents, he said, "You don't understand, Deuce is dead. It's not about the fieldhouse anymore. They made it personal."

"We've got to take it to them. Now who's with me?"

"But almost everyone here is injured," Meernik said. "The Golden Eagles barely felt a thing, they've got battle wagons and they'll be ready. Plus I know I can't come, I've got to study."

There were murmurs of agreement amongst the agents, most coming from females.

"It's true, they do have all that," Z said. "But I'll tell you one thing, the Golden Eagles don't care about studying."

"Plus you've got one thing they don't got."

"What's that?" Nup asked.

"Me."

Episode 9 — The Long 'No'

The knife didn't move another millimeter before there was a bullet between the commander's eyes. Across the room, Z was holding his smoking pistol, still pointed at the commander.

"Checkmate," he said.

Agent Sandstorm's mouth was hanging wide open. She stood in stunned silence as Z holstered his pistol and crossed the room toward Nup.

"You OK?" he asked.

"I'll live," Nup growled in reply, his right arm bent across his chest.

"What the hell happened here?" Sandstorm asked as smoke rose from random places and wires sparked.

"They came out of nowhere," Meernik piped up. "We were running the diagnostics on the new turbo cannon when the first battle wagon slammed Mayfield. It was all over after that. We're lucky to be alive."

"Guys...." Sandstorm ventured.

"This couldn't have been a random attack," Z said. "The Golden Eagles would never be that foolish, even if they had the element of surprise. What were they after?"

"Uh, guys..." Sandstorm again.

"They must have known we had accelerated the plans for the new fieldhouse," Nup said. "They must have someone on the inside."

"GUYS!!!" Everyone turned to look at Sandstorm. "If they have someone on the inside, then they probably know about Deuce, has anyone heard from him in a while?"

Z quickly held up his video watch, punching in Deuce's frequency.

"Deuce, come in," he said. "Deuce, do you read me?"

Nothing but static greeted Z for several minutes as the rest of the survivors gathered around the tiny screen. Finally, a slight break in the static and Deuce's face partially materialized.

"Z..........ssssssssssssss

ssssssss...................too man....," Deuce said, his face looked strained and bloody. "I..............held th........long as I.........ssssssssssssss.............sorry....sssssss."

Then a blinding flash, then nothing. The screen was black.

"Deuce?" Z said, his voice becoming more frantic. "Deuce, come in Deuce."

Then, sinking to his knees, Z let out the worst howl any of the agents would ever hear: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Episode 8 - Don't mess with the U.P.

Pulling himself together, Z walked past Sandstorm and up the stairs toward the master control room. The shouting became clearer.

“...you have any idea...cost?!” a voice came from the room. “...think you can kill a Yooper?!”

The two agents stepped carefully into the master control room to see NUP, their superior, engaged in a vicious wrestling match with three Eagles commanders. Z was relieved to see him alive and noticed several other agents and colleagues were alive, though many sustaining injuries.

Meernik, a lab-coated researcher, whispered to the agents, “They stormed in here and nearly killed us all but when they shot the master flat screen, NUP lost it and dominated almost the whole squad. He needs you now though!”

Z nodded in agreement and the two agents approached the scuffle. NUP appeared to be holding his own but got caught in a headlock and the Eagle commander pulled out a knife. Z reacted swiftly and disposed of two commanders with with bullet in each chest. The third commander still had NUP locked and held the blade up to his neck.

With blood a blood stained uniform and sweat dripping down his forehead, he sputtered out,“Your move, Z."

Episode 7 - Careening Toward Destruction

"You're Jeep's too bulky, hop on my bike." 

"Wha? I don't have a-"

"There's no time! Get on!" Sandstorm impatiently shouted.

Wasting no time, Z and Sandstorm hopped on the Ninja. Its engine gave a high pitch roar and they sped away. 

The motorcycle weaved narrowly between vehicles as it swiftly approached Mayfield. Beyond the honking of horns and squealing of tires, the distant clicking sound of automatic weapons became clearer. Though the wind was whipping his eyes, Z could only feel his gut sink. He feared the worst. He wondered who could be injured or killed at the base. This whole sequence of events seemed so unusual to him. 

“How did Nefarious learn so much and organize so quickly?” he pondered. 

He tore himself away from those thoughts and refocused himself on his mission. The motorcycle had slowed as they approached the Mayfield compound. The gunshots were louder but less frequent. Close enough to walk, they parked the bike next to a dumpster, behind a business office. Sandstorm removed her helmet and exposed her radiant hair again to Z. Wanting to avoid distraction, he peered around the building's corner.

“Five battlewagons and a few sentry cars. I would've expected more.” He spoke to himself. “ I suggest entering the basement first to assess their strength.” 

Sandstorm nodded in agreement. The two approached the burning Mayfield surreptitiously but with appropriate haste. They could hear shouting from inside. Z's stomach turned again. Sandstorm edged close to the basement door. Presuming it would be locked, she kicked it in and Z followed. A surprised Eagle guard turned to shoot but was struck dead by a swift pistolwhip to the temple provided by Sandstorm. The two agents treaded through the carnage. Walls were riddled with bullets, smoke was pouring out of the machinery, and there were bodies sprawled throughout the building. Z became nauseous. He had never lost his composure before but this was almost too much to bear. 

Noticing Z's pale face, Sandstorm encouraged him. “I'm a little sick myself but we've got to continue. Come on, Z.”

Agent Sandstorm

Episode 6 - Enter Sandstorm

Weaving his way through traffic, Z could only focus on one thing: "How could they find out about Mayfield?" he asked himself over and over. "Someone must have talked."

He became so obsessed with the question that he almost didn't notice the red blip representing an incoming enemy missile on his radar until it was too late. He ripped the wheel to the left and sprayed his countermeasures, but they were of no use. The missile was too close: It was too late.

Z gripped the wheel and braced himself for impact, but then, with the missile nano-seconds away from his bumper, it exploded in midair. Just then a red Kawasaki Ninja roared past the left side of Z's Jeep. Before Z could even postulate who the mysterious rider was, he saw where it was going.

A Golden Eagle battlewagon was looming down on his position and he was wholly unprepared to defend himself. The battlewagon dwarfed the motorcycle as the sped toward one another in some cruel game of chicken.

But there was something else in the bike's path: a conveniently placed flat bed truck with the bed down, kissing the pavement. The bike's driver gave it another little burst of speed as it hit the truck bed, jamming all their weight against the handlebars as the bike left the ground. The nose of the bike slowly rotated downward as it arched through the air, reaching a point where it was pointed straight at the top of the battlewagon, the Golden Eagle vehicle's only weak spot.

So many rockets poured out of the front of the motorcycle that Z wondered how many a vehicle so small could fit. Deuce must have done his homework, he thought.

The flames from the exploding battlewagon came up and kissed the bottom of the flying motorcycle, the red in both embracing in a twisted dance of death.

The motorcycle completed its flip, landing something on the road. The driver deftly hit the the brakes, swinging the vehicle around and planting a foot to come to a stop. Only then could Z tell that the driver was a woman.

His eyes ran up the high heeled leather boots and the jet black jumpsuit as the driver removed her helmet to reveal shoulder length, sandy-blond hair.

"Who are you?" Z said out his Jeep's open window.

"Call me Sandstorm. Agent Sandstorm," the motorcyclist replied. "I was sent by -" but she was cut off by a loud explosion.

Both Z and Sandstorm turned to see a large plume of smoke coming from the direction of Mayfield.

"Let's go," said Z.

Episode 5 — They Call Him Nefarious

It was unusual for Z to be surprised. For a moment, he thought perhaps he had carelessly forgotten an important detail. The thought quickly left, however, as he assured himself he never misstepped and was always right.

"Put down your gun, Robertz. You think I couldn't see you? You think I don't know what you're planning to do? All this time I had thought you were more perceptive than that. It seems you're just as clumsy as those fools you're trying to protect," uttered Nefarious D. Scott as he grabbed the gun from Z and tossed it across the room.

"Scott, I'm not going to discuss this with you. Shut down your operations before I do and destroy you in the process," replied Z.

"Well, let's see if your body is a strong as your self-confidence. Take care of him boys. I've got fieldhouses to blow up." Scott cackled as he slipped out of the building. Several white and blue uniformed henchman rushed from doors with knives and baseball bats.

Preparing for a melee with the henchman, Z spotted his Desert Eagle across the room. Running and sliding across the well waxed floor, he grabbed his gun and unloaded his clip at the oncoming men. They fell helplessly before reaching him.

"Looks like it's going to be another easy year at conference," Z spoke to himself.

Without further hesitation, Z ran out the door and across the compound's yard. He could see Scott in the distance. He could tell Nefarious was only a few hundred meters ahead. The blood rushed to his veins. His fist clenched as began his running toward him in an all out sprint. The whoosh of passing trees was deafening like the sound of spinning helicopter blades. As Z closed in, he received a text message from headquarters reading: GOLDEN EAGLES CLOSING IN ON MAYFIELD. GET TO LOCATION IMMEDIATELY. SCOTT IS TRAP. DO NOT ENGAGE. DO NOT ENGAGE.

Frustrated by his orders, Z grumbled and raced back to his vehicle and sprayed gravel as he sped off toward Mayfield.

Episode 4 - In the Belly of the (Golden) Eagle

Starting at the source was always Z's style, so he decided to get right at the heart of the matter and head to the Golden Eagle's lair on the East Beltline.

Despite their grandiose entranceway and clocktower that looked eerily similar to one on another college campus in the Grand Rapids area, the Golden Eagle compound was particularly difficult to infiltrate. Robertz jammed the accelerator and the Jeep roared passed the inviting entrance and around the corner.

The compound was just in sight up the street when Z parked the car. He casually walked up the street and the skirted along the chain link fence, waiting for the opportune moment. Finally in the split second that spotlights were not illuminating the ground on the other side of the fence, Z deftly jumped up, grabbed the top of the fence and nimbly navigated himself over the barbed wire.

As soon as his feet touched the ground he was sprinting toward the nearest building, his finely toned legs pumping evenly with tiring. He flattened himself against the wall of the building. The entire maneuver had taken less than 10 seconds.

Not even breathing hard, Z slid along the wall to the nearest door and quickly picked the lock, wondering with a grin when the GE's were going to get a better security system. He slowly swung the door open and pointed the Desert Eagle into the darkness inside.

Stepping through the door, suddenly he felt the unmistakeable sensation of cold steel on the back of his neck.

"Guten abend, Herr Robertz," a voice said from behind him.

Deuce

Episode 3 - Lock & Load Mother F@#&%$

As Z drove to the nearby weapons cache, he pondered the implications of his new mission. He knew this one would be the most challenging he'd ever attempted. The Golden Eagles and their tyrannical leader, Nefarius D. Scott, had been recruiting foot soldiers globally. Some, as intelligence reported, had traveled from the far reaches of Africa to assist in this latest plot. Rarely did he doubt his own ability to complete a mission but he knew that if for some reason he should slip on this one, not only would he be released from the agency, it would cost the lives of many saintly people, quite possibly his own.

He shook these thoughts from his mind as he pulled up to the clandestine weapons cache. Concealed from the public, the building was surrounded by towering pines and could only be identified by a faded sign out front reading "Dominican." He swiped his ID card at the door and entered without hesitation.

"What's up, brotha?" greeted a black man from a well lit room inside."Deuce," replied Z, "I need some new firepower. The PP7 locked up on me when I was in Tubingen. I can't risk it this time."

"Aight. Well, the best I have to offer is this fine-lookin' Desert Eagle," Deuce said, as he pointed to a lustrous silver pistol on a table covered in with an assortment of weapons.

Deuce watched idly as Z picked the gun up, pointed it at the wall, and examined the barrel carefully. After a few moments of studying it, with a note of satisfaction in his voice, Z said,"Perfect. I'll need the usual side order as well."

"Ha, it's in the bag, man. Now go get those motherfuckers."

Episode 2 - Sinister Revelations

The high-pitched ring of the bell sounded predictably. Mr. Robertz closed his briefcase and pulled leather gloves over his hands while the students slowly filtered out of the classroom. With a confident stride he walked through the cacophony of the school hallway. He gave the necessary nods and greetings as he passed his colleagues but the distance in his eyes indicated his thoughts were elsewhere.

He stepped into his nondescript Jeep Grand Cherokee and drove to a small cafe a few miles away. Waiting in the shade of a table umbrella sat a man in a suit closely resembling Mr. Robertz's. This was not the first time they had met at this cafe and, presumably, it would not be the last.

"Good afternoon, Z." the suited man smugly greeted, "It appears you'll be putting in a bit of overtime this week."

A chiseled chin protruded from under the brim of the man's straw Bermuda hat. Strange attire for someone trying to blend in in Grand Rapids, Robertz thought. Small tufts of dark black poked out from under the hat and met the tops of the man's dark sunglasses. The only visible parts of his face were the ones below those glasses. Robertz imagined that was all the man could see of his face, as well. Good, he likes things this way.

"The Golden Eagles are at it again," the man said in a gravely voice, pushing a stack of files across the table. "This time they're going all the way to the top."

"Three targets," the man said as Robertz quickly flipped through the first file. "First they want to hit the construction site of Aquinas' new fieldhouse."

"It's taken us almost thirty years to get that fieldhouse under construction. Agent Wegert was a teenager when the plans were first drawn, for Christ's sake. I can't tell you how important it is that you protect that site."

"Next, they want to take down your headquarters. Our intelligence indicates that they haven't located your secret base of operations, codenamed Mayfield, but they're getting close. Protect it at all costs."

"And the last target," he said, taking the final file and flipping it open in front of Robertz, whose eyes grew large as he saw the photograph that was the first page. "Is Aquinas College President Balog himself."

The man lowered his glasses slightly as he peered at Agent Z. "I don't know how they got this information on the president," he said. "But they know more than you can imagine."

"The president is of utmost importance to Aquinas College," he said. "Without him, we're through. You must protect him at all costs."

Recovered from the initial shock, the man known as Z silently gathered up the files, tucked them into the recesses of his jacket and stood up.

"Weapons and supplies in the normal spot," the man said as Robertz turned to walk away. He replied with a slight nod over his shoulder.

After a few steps Z stopped, turned his head and asked: "What does NUP stand for, anyway?"

A slight smile curved upwards on the man's face.

"You'll never know," he replied. "And Z," he said after Robertz had taken another couple of steps. "Trust no one."

Episode 1

Saints Films presents....

A BealSchaner Production....

AGENT Z!!!!!!!

Episode 1 - A Warm Day in Hell

It was a cool, sunny afternoon in Grand Rapids. Already mid-July, the temperature had only eclipsed the 80 degree mark once. A small classroom on the rural outskirts of the city was filled with noisy, rambunctious teenagers who were eagerly awaiting the bell to signal the school day's end. The German II class they sat in was considered by student body consensus to be one of the most boring courses offered. They knew only eight minutes needed to pass before they could finish exploring the grammatical nuances of subjunctive form and begin their liberating weekend. Their buzz was growing steadily louder.

"SEIEN SIE JETZT RUHIG!" hounded Mr. Robertz. He had tendency to overreact towards his anxious students who became less productive near the end of class and although the students could not comprehend his angered, German shouts, he refused to ever communicate to his class in English as a matter of educational principle.

Mr. Robertz was known as a stern teacher who was prone to wearing dark suits and dark ties to school each day. Compared to the laid back khaki pants and unbuttoned top buttons of his colleagues, Robertz's wardrobe was downright formal. But his stiffly starched collars and firmly pressed shirts weren't nearly as curious to the students and teachers at Gerald R. Ford High as were the black leather gloves and dark sunglasses he had a tendency of wearing; many times even after he had entered the building.

He was a man of contradictions. Even though his tough outer shell exuded a take no shit attitude, deep down there was a place, however small, that let his students in. And, despite himself and his indecipherable German rantings, like his students he was anxiously awaiting the ticking of those last eight minutes off the clock.

He had some business to attend to.