PROLOGUE
Cagle opened his eyes, only to gleam into a sea of utter darkness. Panicking, biologist expert Richard Cagle instinctively recoiled, retreating to the safe recesses at the small back of his mind, allowing his other self, Jason Rapp to emerge out. Rapp's thoughts surfaced, empowering Cagle's brain. Trying to quell Cagle's trepidation that was fluttering madly in his broad chest, Rapp closed and opened his eyes, blinking reverently, as so to dilate his pupils and adjust his eyes to the darkness. Finally, after a few seconds, he found himself staring at the fine interlinked meshes of the interior of a hood pulled down upon his head. The sight that Richard Cagle looked upon was bizarre and downright out of a nightmare, but the sight that ran parallel to it, through Jason Rapp's eyes, was coldly normal.
In the blink of an eye, Richard Cagle evaporated, pulled away from his own body. In his place, was Jason Rapp. A trained cold-blooded killing machine which the notorius CIA had helped created, shaped, and moulded. The only people who knew about the dual personas of Jason Rapp and Richard Cagle were either dead or sworn to secrecy by the mother of all clandestine service, the CIA. Even the file on Operation Herakles in which Rapp was "born" had been sanitized. Jason Rapp was a faux identity, he simply did not exist. Cagle had borrowed it as an alias on that operation and had stuck to it, like a charm, for luck. Now the name had become somewhat of a legend in the shadowy depths within the assassins' world. Rapp had had the reputation of being the most accomplished and efficient killer ever in the world. If the right price was named, the target would be taken care off, no matter the situation. No mission was ever too difficult for Jason Rapp. Many could not, and would not believe the possibility of having the daring-do, the technical expertise, the sheer animal cunning attributed just to the name of Jason Rapp, the Jackal.
