The CIA’s Top Secret Chimera Program or “C Cell” to Its Paramilitary Operatives

Chimera “Kī-ˈmare-rah”: An ancient symbol of power and mystical terror represents the blending of multiple entities into a single, fearsome form, transcending the capabilities of its composite parts.

Warning: The following is fiction but based on actual events and real paramilitary programs and operatives. 

The Special Activities Center is a United States Central Intelligence Agency (CIA or “The Agency”) division responsible for covert and paramilitary operations. 

The Special Operations Group under SAC  is responsible for operations that include clandestine or covert operations with which the US government does not want to be overtly associated. As such, unit members, called Paramilitary Operations Officers and Specialized Skills Officers, do not typically wear uniforms. 

The Latin motto of SAC is Tertia Optio, which means “Third Option,” as covert action represents an additional option within the realm of national security when diplomacy and military action are not feasible. Very little is known about the Ground branch, Political Action Group, and the Global Response Staff (GRS), made famous by the movie “13 Hours”.

In 2024, under top secret Executive Order 123444, another group was added to SAC. Few, even within the highest levels of the CIA, know about The Chimera Directive.

Its members (who call it C CELL) are comprised of the very best, mission-proven field operatives (…the Top Gun of clandestine operatives). 

They work exclusively in pairs (psychologically profiled and matched) and are recruited from within the US Government’s black programs within the CIA, National Security Agency (NSA), the Defense Clandestine Service (DCS), and the Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC). 

After completing advanced training (50% don’t make it) that supplements their existing hard skills, they are given new identities and physical enhancements and are forbidden from contacting anyone in their past lives that aren’t related to the program. 

They are contracted through an existing PMC (Private Military Company) that provides paramilitary contractors to the agency. This gives the program an extra layer of cover and deniability.  

They exist but don’t exist. 

Training includes language training, evading capture, disguise, cyber hacking, digital media manipulation, Artificial intelligence, medical and pharmacology training, advanced assassination techniques, Double Agent Operations (DAO), and more.

Our story begins…

(Photo: C Cell Unit patch) 

Cold Winds of Africa

Winter 2024 Benghazi, Libya

Omar (8) and Jamal (6) were as close as brothers can be. Omar always looked out for his younger brother. Their favorite game was hide and seek in their local neighborhood, Ras Abaydah. 

This time Jamal was too good for him, he couldn’t find him anywhere. A stench hit his nostrils as he rounded the corner. Omar had never smelled something so bad, maybe the dead goat that him and Jamal found rotting a year ago came close. The smell of decaying flesh was hard to forget. 

Where did he get to this time. 

“I give Jamal, you win. Jamal!” he cried out. 

Out came Jamal a few minutes later, laughing. 

“I win, Omar; you’ll never guess what I found! Let me show you!”

“No, Jamal, mother will kill us if we’re not back for dinner. Show me tomorrow.”

“But Omar, please, it’s the best hiding spot if you can stand the smell.”

“Jamal, come, we have to go.”, he firmly said, tugging his younger brother by the arm. 

“Ok, ok, enough, Omar.” 

The boys started running back towards their home, but Jamal struggled to keep up. 

“Omar, I can’t breathe.”

“Come on, Jamal, quit messing around.”Omar looked over his shoulder, and his little brother was collapsed on the dirt road.

“Jamal, please, stop joking.”

“Can’t breathe, my eyes hurt, Omar.” His brother softly gasped and grabbed his older brother’s hand, squeezed it weakly, and took his last breath. 

A few months earlier…

The wind blew cold on the back of Kent’s neck, which was unusual for this time of year in Libya. He couldn’t help the feeling of foreboding, then thoughts of his wife Rachel flashed in his head. She was over seven months pregnant. 

Rachel is going to kill me if the unit doesn’t have me home in time for the birth of our baby girl.

He pulled up his collar, took a sip from his hydration hose, and pushed the thoughts away. 

Pushing things out of his head was a way of life since he joined the unit.   

“You think you’re fucking cold now? Wait until ya fucks are in the field!” the Delta instructor whispered in his year all those years ago. 

Captain Kent Collier passed the hand signal up for the breacher to blow the door. 

Zzzzshhhp…whapp…Boom!

The plastic explosive blew the door inward. Without thinking, he instinctively passed the shoulder squeeze up the stack, signaling the deadly train was ready to enter. 

The deadly entry team started to snake their way into the two-story masonry building in Benghazi. The ground floor was cleared within seconds, then the second story. 

Nothing special here, looks like another half built lost dream but I guess that’s the point. Hiding in plain sight is often the best way. 

“All clear, boss. Those intel guys fucked us again; it looks like.”, Remmer passed over comms to Collier.

“Copy, resweep and check for anything unusual, the lab should be here, intel was solid on this one Gents. Let’s make sure we missed nothing.”

“Roger that boss.” 

“Hey Boss, think we got us a biggin here. Ya’ll need to check this out. In the kitchen past the main room to the right.”

“Copy Bama, on my way.”, Collier replied. 

Captain Kent Collier moved through the smoke filled building to the kitchen where four members of the assault team, including Bama, stood, weapons lights pointing to the floor illuminating a steel hatch that was hidden under a rolling table. 

“Team, on me in the kitchen.” he passed over the intersquad comms. 

Fourteen, fifteen, all here. 

“Listen up. Bama and Remmer, rear security. The rest of us are going down. Stack and go.”

They opened the hatch and tossed two flash bangs down the stairwell. 

CRACK BOOM! CRACK BOOM!

The assault team made their way down the large metal stairs and saw what they came for. 

The room was a massive underground laboratory that looked like the industrial meth lab in the series Breaking Bad. Glass tubes, industrial lighting, and clear lab rooms were stacked next to each other. 

Then they saw what they came for on the center table. There was a stack of tubes containing deadly sarin gas, but something was off. 

There was a small piece of paper on top.

Collier walked over to the table as his men stood guns at the ready, their lights illuminating the lab. 

The note read, جِهَاد. 

Kent had seen that Arabic phrase before; most had, and it sent another chill down his neck. He knew what this meant, and it was muy malo for his team. 

“Everyone out now! Now!” he yelled.

Those were his last words, it was too late. 

—

Note:  SOFREP is working with a well known Hollywood producer to turn this story into a feature film and there’s more to come. As a SOFREP reader you are in a unique situation to help us develop this by adding your comments. So please load your magazines and go hot on the firing line in the comments below. The series will continue weekly with your feedback.