Author's Note: I have decided to start Facade over, as I have realized that the story was far too complicated and had digressed from the direction I had intended it to be. The first few chapters will remain the same (with some minor edits), and I will continue to upload every other Sunday, unless stated otherwise. I apologize to those who had liked the way the story was headed, but, I feel that in order to keep my heroine sane - it needed to be rewritten. Thank you all for your support! Enjoy! Remember to Read and Review (I would love you for it!).

Nothing is what it seems...





"The dumber people think you are, the more surprised they're going to be when you kill them."

- William Clayton


Wednesday, October 23, 1983, 3:47 a.m.

Somewhere in the Soviet Union

It was the middle of the night and the temperature hovered around 30° Fahrenheit, a mere high in the area. A man in a sodden white camouflage uniform lay in wait amongst the snow and trees, on a cliff over looking the main road. His breath, slow and steady, could be seen only briefly. He inhaled sharply as the cold night air brushed against him. The man cursed silently into the night. He hated the cold but relished the chase that was soon to be underway. His hand clasped tightly to a government issued sniper rifle, as dangerous and accurate as the shooter that possessed it. His assignment was clear: eliminate the target and retrieve the disc.

He had been with the Agency for nearly 14 years and he had loved every minute with it; the training, the excitement, and the adventure. He couldn't think of a better way to serve Uncle Sam and be apart of the fight for freedom and liberty.

Julius Creed adjusted himself against the snow as he stared coldly down the east side of the road, where a small Soviet jeep stopped below him. A cargo truck, coming from the opposing direction had appeared and stopped several feet away from the jeep.

A man of tall stature and medium build exited the jeep, in his hand he held a small briefcase, and he waited beside his car as he watched a stout man climb down from the truck and approach him.

With his sniper's scope, Julius watched the interaction between the two men below him. The tall one was a Sergeant of the Soviet Army, a man who, at this moment, had possession of a disc that contained military specs of newly developed weaponry with the capability to render any country to its knees, particularly the United States. The buyer, Julius assumed, was of Asian origins, Chinese perhaps. He rotated the knob of the rifle to zoom in on the briefcase.

"Hurry up," responded the Soviet in a harsh Russian accent, "if the Americans found out about this meet-."

"No one knows of our meeting, especially not the dense Americans!" the Asian man cut off.

Sweating, the Soviet glanced around in the dark, half expecting him to be wrong.

"To business." The Asian man, annoyed with the nervous glances, put his gloved right hand into his inner left coat pocket and presented an oddly fat average size vanilla envelope. "Here is the down payment as we discussed." He tosses the envelope to the Soviet who catches it. "The plans." The Asian man demanded.

A small click followed by another was heard as the Soviet opened the briefcase. With careful movement, he picked up the disc and handed it to the buyer.

The Soviet nodded. "A deal is a deal, as the Americans would say."

The Asian smiled a toothless smile. "If our plan works, The Americans won't have much to say anymore."

The two men chuckled softly into the darkness.

"Come my friend," the Soviet expressed with great joy, his tenseness now gone, "the cold is numbing my face. I wish to return to a warm fire." He rubbed his hands together.

Anxiety began to build in Creed, as it always had when Death stood nearby. He had to obtain that disc, before something disastrous happens. He had positive confirmation that the disc was in the "open"; now for the fun part. Julius steadied his rifle and aimed at the Soviet's head.

"There's gonna be plenty of fire where you're headed," he squeezed the trigger tightly.

The Asian man had just enough time to react as the Soviet's chest had exploded in front of him and blood splattered onto his face and chest. He ran toward the truck for cover and pulled out a 9mm handgun. He grunted in anger as he stuffed the disc into the same coat pocket he had put his hand in earlier. He shouted orders in Chinese and as he finished the last syllable, two dozen armed Chinese soldiers emerged from the back of the cargo truck.

Surprised, Julius's eyes widened. He was told that it would be the two men alone!

"Damn!" he dove for cover as shots zipped past him.

His position was now compromised, he had to get out! He had to get out now! He dropped the sniper rifle and rotated the AK-47 that was slung across his back to his front and began to run across the cliff, dodging bullets as he did. He heard the shouting of his pursuers behind, hope filled him, he could make it! Just pass those trees ahead and he'll make it!

Sharp pain pierced his right leg, and Julius tumbled to the ground.

"Aghh!," he yelled in agony. "Get up! Get up you idiot!" he yelled at himself. He heard footsteps drawing nearer. He pulled himself up with a branch that was just above him. They were close. His breathing had become intense and painful.

"I am not going down like this. Not like this!" Creed turned around. "NOT LIKE THIS!" he screamed as he fired his AK-47.

Minutes passed when Julius was finally out of ammo. He was surrounded by dead and alive bodies alike. The soldiers had cease fire, believing that he was no longer dangerous they approached him cautiously, forming a tight circle around him.

Creed grinned. Good. Come closer. When he felt that an opportune moment had presented itself, he swiftly pulled out his most prized weapon: the Raptor claws.

The Raptor Claws were actually called Torashukos, fierce weaponry of that of the art of Ninjutsu. Julius created and manipulated the Torashukos he wore, which were intended to slip on like a glove, but only through the fingers. Three blades extended from each of the gloves, each as deadly as the other.

With lightening speed, Julius had slipped his fingers into the corresponding holes and was now prepared for the worst. He now stood in a fighting position, the one of many attack stances of Jujitsu, which he also studied besides Ninjutsu. One by one, he quickly and efficiently attacked the soldiers, with a speed that was never seen among the men. They faltered in confusion and fear; they began to fire in random positions.

The Asian buyer had run up the cliff to follow his men and the shooter. He knew who the person was and knew that he had seen the exchange between him and the Sergeant. He had known from the moment he exited the truck that he was being watched by the notorious Raptor. He heard shots being fired ahead and then he heard complete silence. They must have gotten him! He quickened his pace. The Raptor's head would be a priceless trophy!

Julius breathed heavily in the cold air. Sweat dripped off his face, blood smeared all over his white tactical uniform, and pain ran from his leg and all over his body. He grimaced as he began to walk over the dead bodies. He was amazed that he was able to survive against so many men. He would thank God after he returned home, but until then he still needed to escape. He headed towards the deeper part of the foliage, glancing ever so often behind him. There were more soldiers coming, he could hear them shouting in Chinese. Julius collapsed multiple times and each time it was that much more difficult to pull himself back up.

Finally he was force to stop.

He had reached the end of the cliff, and below him was the river.

Creed gasped for air. He was exhausted from overuse and loss of blood. His blood had left a trail on the pure white snow and could be easily seen, now that Dawn had risen from her sleep.

"The Famous Raptor!" yelled a voice behind Julius. He wheeled around and the Asian man stood before him along with men with guns…automatic guns.

"It is truly an honor that we finally meet," the Asian man said gleefully as he stared at Julius. "It is too bad that you must die."

Creed peered down at the river below. He contemplated his choice: If he jumped he may be able to swim to shore, but he may die; the water temperature alone was below zero.

"Jumping is not a good idea. Uh- How you say? It is foolish?" The Asian man continued to smile, knowing that he had cornered his enemy. "It is a shame that your superiors want you dead. You would have been a great asset to our plans."

"My superiors?" Julius echoed, finally breaking his silence. "What do they have to do with this?"

"Poor naive boy, if only you knew. You are only a pawn in a complex and dangerous chess game, a fly that must be swatted and eliminated." The Asian man signaled his men to prepare to fire. "Goodbye Agent Creed."

Julius's eyes twitched. He knew his name; no one was to know his real name! The Agency had kept his true identity classified. Creed quickly deduced one thing: The Agency had betrayed him. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, his breathing grew heavier, and he became dizzy. How could they do this to him? Hate filled within him. His eyes blazed at the men in front of him. He would get his revenge, he had to. He stepped backward toward the edge.

The Asian man held his right hand up.

"Kill Him!" His arm sharply snapped down to his side.

Immediately shots rang through the air.

For a moment Time had slowed and Julius could see the bullets come towards him. He took one final breath, closed his eyes, and in that precise moment Julius Creed existed no more.

His body fell into the glacial waters below and was forgotten.