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In a remote village a few miles outside of Abuja, Nigeria, four men stood silently, waiting for a voice to come over a wireless speaker on a small table, the only piece of furniture in the cramped, windowless room. The low angle of the evening sun had tempered the stifling heat, making it possible to occupy the room with the door closed.

"Alejandro, kindly explain to me how a strike team knew the location of Lt. Greene and his coconspirators," a voice said calmly through the speaker. It was the same voice that had spoken to Othello as he hung above the hyenas.

"Sir, I followed every procedure and protocol in securing the location," Alejandro Hernandez desperately explained. "All of our ground units reported that the transfer of Lt. Greene and his team was successful and they were free of any tracking devices. In addition, we had secured a five-mile radius around the location with escort and snipers. Whoever this was knew our methods and response times. They moved quickly and surgically. I barely got out with my life."

"You see, Alejandro, that is exactly the problem," the voice continued. "You should have been more concerned with your mission than your life. Leadership starts from the top. Perhaps if you had stayed and fought, your team would have as well."

"But, sir," Alejandro began, starting to sweat profusely. "We are the only three survivors out of forty-five men." He nodded to the two men standing behind him. The fourth man, Victor Kinski, stood silent, watching the other three intently.

"Yes, Alejandro, you may have a point. It sounds like it was an extremely desperate situation. But unfortunately, I had the entire world's attention and lost it. Now everyone's on Twitter asking, 'Was it real? Was it fake? Did he die?' Frankly, Alejandro, it's an embarrassment. And I have to blame someone. Sadly, you are the one holding the bag," said the voice before breathing deeply and heavily into the speaker. "Huff . . . Huff . . . Huff . . . Huff . . ."

"Sir, are you ok?" Alejandro asked, confused.

"Oh, yes. I'm fine," he responded, with disappointment in his voice. "I attempted to use my Darth Vader breath to choke you to death. I haven't quite mastered that one yet. Victor, could you please?"

The fourth man pulled out his sidearm and shot Alejandro in the forehead. Blood, skull, and brain matter introduced themselves to the two men standing behind the now-collapsing body of their former commander, Alejandro Hernandez.

"You two get out of the country and await further orders." Victor ordered the two stunned individuals standing in front of him, covered in blood. They immediately departed, without saying a word. "Darth Vader breath?" he inquired of the voice on the speaker.

"Loosen up, Victor. Sometimes you must make light of the mundane," the voice replied. "It is a shame to lose a man like Alejandro, but it had to be done. He did everything he was supposed to do, so he must have been compromised and under surveillance. It looks like we have a new player."

"Apparently so," said Victor.

"Make it your priority to find out who it is. Right now I have to send America a message, that every action has a reaction."

"I'm already on it. And may the Force be with you," quipped Victor, in his heavy Russian accent.

The voice broke out in laughter before disconnecting the line. Victor placed an incendiary device in the room before leaving, ensuring no evidence of their presence would be found.

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