Operation Blackbird Novels & Stories

A young man got in a bowed before making his statement. "I'm pleased to inform you that yesterday's operation went well. Two men of Stone were murdered and the bag is in our possession." "That's great news. What about the Black moon?" He asked with interest. "He was nowhere to be found and that was to our advantage," he said the last part lowly. "I see, seems Black moon's becoming busy lately. What can he do? He's human too." Matteo added very excitedly. The man dropped a glass of wine before him and scurried out of the room, happy for being alive.

Xareth’s voice cracked through the room like lightning splitting a tree. In one swift motion, he seized her by the throat and lifted her clean off the ground. Her legs flailed mid-air, her fingers clawing desperately at his hand. “I warned you,” he growled, low and lethal. “If you dare meddle in my affairs again, or defy my rule, I’ll send you back to the Black Abyss.” The Black Abyss? Even through the pain clouding my thoughts, that phrase echoed in my mind. People say cruel things when they're angry, but that didn’t sound like a metaphor. That sounded like a place.

A second later, it gave out its black smoke. Ibekwe dropped the pot on the ground and rubbed his eyes. Everywhere was quiet now. The children had stopped singing and dancing and the birds seemed to have gotten what they desired from their ruthless efforts on top of the tree. The light of the moon was still bright and Ibekwe knew he shouldn't be alone.

Their group has 20 people now there’s only 15 left after just half a day of traveling. Now they rest in the forest to catch their breath because one of them got heavily injured by a strange-looking blackbird. That bird was so small, it’s just the size of a small swallow, in fact, it looked exactly the same as a swallow other than their deep black feathers and red eyes.

Thеrе’ѕ one good thіng аbоut thе ореrаtіоn. Thеу hаvе рlеntу оf vіdео footage. Blаkе іѕ nоt gеttіng away wіth any оf thіѕ, аnd the FBI team іѕ ѕtіll іn Nеw Jersey watching the асtіоn.

​ANG PAGLITAW NG MGA OPORTUNISTA ​Habang sinusubukan nina Liam na i-stabilize si Xander, isang hindi inaasahang tunog ang umalingawngaw: ang tunog ng mga helicopter. Hindi ito mga alien ships. Sila ay mga NEA Black-Ops, ang mga unit na hindi tapat kay Vane o sa pamilya Black, kundi sa mga korporasyong nagnanais makuha ang teknolohiya ng Centurion.

“Another aircraft. Smaller. Faster. No transponder.” Ethan leaned forward. “Syndicate?” “Could be Crane’s. Could be worse.” The radio crackled with static, then a voice: “Blackwood. Stand down and surrender the asset.” Aria felt every word like a cold blade. “They’re talking about me.” Ethan reached for the comm switch. “This is Ethan Blackwood. She’s not an asset. She’s a person.” The voice replied, calm and sure, “Then die protecting her.” Mireya jerked the stick. The helicopter dove low over the waves, spray hammering the windshield. The pursuing craft fired a warning burst; tracer light streaked past them and vanished into the sea.

Because Blackwood had established extensive networks, the ruins of his empire had to be destroyed. Although Isabella was aware of the threat, it didn't feel overwhelming for the first time in years. They had a strategy; Xander, Selene, and their few reliable partners had already begun to act, dismantling the last traces of Blackwood's operation, obtaining intelligence, and collaborating with law enforcement to guarantee that the criminal organization's influence was permanently eliminated.

Just another reminder that the world rose above me in ways I had never been able to reach. But then the faint scent of beeswax and roses slipped under the door, soft as a whispered promise, and memory flooded back. The Blood Opera House. The stage. The masked man in the shadows. 'She is mine.' My hand flew to the choker. The roses were black metal, cool and smooth against my fingertips. The stone at the center—deep crimson like a droplet of wine—had cooled overnight. Yet when I pressed it, my pulse raced against it like a trapped bird.

Zabrina asked, absently flipping through a fashion magazine. Giovani turned his attention from the clouds outside the window and took another sip of his Chardonnay before replying, “I contacted some of our brothers and sisters in the area, and they recommended I get in touch with an ex-Black Op by the name of Frank Howard. They said if anyone can arrange to extract Gibbon from a high security hospital, he’s our guy. So… we’ve been chatting, and he’s going to meet us as soon as we arrive. He has a few compadres who will likely also be on board.” Zabrina raised an eyebrow. “If he’s a Black Op, why doesn’t he just go ahead and get Gibbon now? Why wait?”