| "Struck Down But Not Destroyed" | |||
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Red Cell Warehouse North of Toronto 0110 hours, 24th of May, 2008 West Side Dennis & Jordan paused for just a moment, resting, if possible, sitting back in their harnesses with feet braced against the wall in front of them, knees somewhat bent, while the gunfire continued inside. Suddenly the sound came much nearer as Eric fired through the skylight, and the two on the wall shoved away hard. Dennis brought the running line up from the break position, letting it slide through his gloved fingers, just enough, as he swung back at the level of the center of the window just above the catwalk inside the warehouse. He kicked through it, GPMG held across his chest, nomex mask and goggles protecting his face, and landed in a crouch inside. A tango turned, just ahead of him, toward the sound, but was not afforded a chance to react as Dennis continued his forward momentum, slamming into the somewhat smaller man, gun first, shoving him over the railing. East Side Cindy & Timothy followed Safara's lead, rapelling each through their own skylight down to the catwalk, and began firing where they thought the heaviest enemy fire on the wounded was coming from. It seemed they hit some tangos, as sounds of gunfire were replaced by groans and screams. Then others began firing on them. They rapelled quickly to the floor, one after the other while the one with feet on the ground or catwalk covered the one on the rope, and dodged in among the crates that waited there. Center Eric wasn't happy with his position. He needed to either move to the second position, toward the south central portion of the warehouse and rondevous with the others there, or toward the wounded on the east side. The latter was his inclination, but he was alone for the moment, doing his best to kill those that threatened the wounded. He had a fairly good angle on them from where he was, when they put their heads up to fire, but he was also vulnerable from several other angles and had no one to watch his back. No one had given any orders, and this kind of undirected shooting just wouldn't do for long. He spoke, his voice activating the open comm. frequency to all operatives. 'All . . .' He wasn't in command of them all, and it was not yet time to assume command. He could tell from the sounds of gunfire that at least two operatives were on the floor and returning fire at the enemy, which would be Safara and one of Alpha team. As long as they were able, he could not assume command over the rest of Alpha team ". . . Beta units rondevous on GT, Sector Nine. Menace to me, sector 7 north East." West Side Dennis stopped shooting to listen a moment to Eric, and the moment he quit talking, it seemed, He heard the shouted command, present to his left, not in his comm., "GET DOWN!" He responded according to his training, throwing himself to the deck as bullets whizzed through where his head had been a moment before. A body fell, to his right, and he rolled to his back, ready to fire. No imidiat threats right here, and Jordan appeared well, her weapon smoking. He nodded his appreciation, and rolled back to a crouch, approaching her. She moved to the outside, he to the inside, and they fired past each other, taking out the rest of the guards on the catwalk. He then turned to her. East Side Cindy & Timothy moved well through the boxes, much as Eric had taught them. Cindy led, MP5 held snug into her shoulder, aimed down the alley between boxes. Timothy followed, his left hand on her shoulder, walking somewhat sideways, somewhat backward, watching her back with his weapon aimed back the way they'd come. They moved along the left side of the alley, and she slowed as they approached the corner. She blew into her mic three times, and on three, cut the pie, rotating around the corner her weapon leading. At the same moment, Timothy stepped up beside her , firing at the tango that came down the right alleyway toward them. That hallway clear for the moment, He dashed across, again to the left side, while she continued covering is back trail. He then waited to feel her left hand on his shoulder, and their roles reversed, they moved south toward the wounded "Candy and Tiny entering Sector nine. Please don't shoot us." West Side "Menace. Pleased to meet you. Shall we?" She didn't look happy about it, taking orders from Eric, and she and Dennis were of equal rank in their teams. He couldn't really make her come with him, but he was heading for Eric in any case. She nodded, re-took her hold on the running line of the rope still attached to the railing on the roof and through her harness. They waited, crouched low, for the pause in enemy fire as the bad guys reloaded, then he stood, propped the long muzzle on the railing, and sprayed sectors two through six while Jordan descended. He was well into this load, and she to the floor, and he stopped firing, crouching again to position himself for his descent. She began to fire, short bursts here, there, and everywhere that the enemy was likely to appear from among the crates, while vaulted the railing and fast roped to the floor, breaking at the last moment. He fired a burst while she reloaded, and then checked his ammo. Before starting off. She and he moved along opposite sides of the isle they were in, heading east across the warehouse, leapfrogging each other as necessary. Center Some time passed, too long it seemed, and Safara's voice came over the comm., taking command and moving things along. "Beta 2 & 3, prepare to move to second position, Sector 5 South." 'Candy and Tiny' Eric's mind automatically translated. It was according to the original profile, but it meant she wouldn't be having them assisting the wounded. Could the wounded, then, move on their own after all? He hoped she was keeping in mind the value of their lives while providing that only Dennis and Joshua would remain to guard and assist them. Clicks, and a shift in gunfire indicated that they had heard and complied. He would not contradict an equal's orders in battle, not when the only his ego was on the line. To do so would be foolishness. Movement on his left. Eric pivoted, dropping his weight, bringing the muzzle around, and holding his fire. It was Jordan, and then Dennis. She didn't appear to look to kindly on him, but neither would kill the other today. There were too many real enemies who would, if they didn't work together. Dennis nodded to him, fired on a position where a couple tangos had appeared, taking apart the corner of a box and eliminating a threat. A signal from Eric, and the two removed their weapons, sliding them across the isle between them. Enemy fire erupted toward the movement, and Jordan took advantage of the exposure of those firing, to even the odds a little more. More signals, and Dennis was off to assist in the evacuation of the wounded. Safara and Timothy, when able, would head to the second position, and from there Timothy and Jordan would take to the Data Center to get what they could, while Eric and Safara covered them and laid charges around the place. Cindy might also help in that if she was not required with the wounded. Eric, until the wounded were evacuated or he was required otherwise, would remain in a good position to cover the wounded, as little defensive fire came from their sector. The GPMG would be a better weapon for that purpose, and would get in Dennis' way as he helped to move the wounded. Their roles might have been reversed, but Eric needed to remain anyway, to watch for the Red Cardinal and to cover Timothy & Jordan in their retrieval of information from the data center. The fire from the two teams converged, as Eric gradually made his way south east, roughly toward the second position while laying down enough suppressive fire to allow Dennis relatively free movment to the wounded, and allowing the wounded some respit from incoming fire. He wanted to rendevous with Safara, though, find out what her big idea was, how she meant to deal with the unexpected numbers and intensity of the resistance. He found her, began to move in her direction, but noticed that heavy incoming fire was holding Cindy and Timothy, keeping them from continuing to the second position. He stopped, releasing a burst at the source of the fire. As he paused to position his next group of shells Safaranoticed him, and fired off the rest of her magazine, allowing him to move toward her while re-loading his own weapon. In the process her mag was emptied, and as she reloaded, the enemy moved in as well. Then She was loaded, he was into another good position, and the two of them turned and fired in consort. Timothy and Cindy joined in, and the enemy was swept back, their numbers and moral significantly reduced. "Thanks" She allowed him, and checked her palm for an update. "Situation?" he enquired. His weapon was too large to handle and fish out his palm at the same time. "Where is the . . . Joshua?" "He's injured," she stated calmly, "by the sound of his chest, he is bruised if not suffering from broken ribs." So he wouldn't be much of a player in the rest of the mission, hopefully not in the rest of their lives for the next few days, but you could only hope for so much. At least, He hoped, the alpha male could and would still kill bad guys till they were in the clear. After that, he could go to hell, literally, for all Eric cared. He waited on her, half watched her, half watched for heads to splatter, while she prepared and set another charge. When she finished he looked to her, expecting that she would have taken charge. For whatever reason, no one but the brood yet acknowledged his command, yet all, brood included, accepted her supperior experience. She HAD been longer in Section 1 than him, after all, had been level three to his provisionary 2. Whatever their relative capabilities for tactical or command, she had the esteem of the troops, and he would respect that until he had the opportunity to prove himself. He listened as she assumed what he allowed her. "We do what we set out to do," she stated matter-of-factly, emotions well under control for such a situation. "We have a mission to fulfil and wounded to retrieve. I suggest Jordan and Timothy start retrieving the data, and the rest of us set the charges and cover them, unless you have an alternative?" Having assessed the situation, her state, and his own mentally, he nodded. "The sooner we are done, the sooner we can leave." "How many charges have we got? I've got 2 left, Cindy has 1. We used the rest already." Safara enquired. "The brood has 4 left, burners not explosives." he turned to check that their way forward was clear, to provide suppresive fire for those who would head for the data center in the north of the building. The plan was good enough for him, as if there were any good options at such a time. It was basically kill everyone shooting at you, by any means necessary, before they killed you. If possible, keep your rear covered with someone else's fire, and head for the mission objective. It was Kiss simple, and given the alleged importance of the target, it was all there was TO do. Sporadic fire continued to descend upon the agents guarding those recording the data, some rounds making it into the data center, studiously ignored by Tiny & Jordan. The tangos had learned to hide from the Machine Gun, however, and it was proving of little use. Eric was better elswhere. He slunk off, disabling the weapon first, drawing his pistol and knife. He was the hunter, and would hunt the enemy where the enemy was. He would stalk him into his lair, and slay him quietly as he knew best to do, coming from behind and their flanks. While they concentrated on Safara and those in the data center, wondering where he had gone, he moved silently in the shadows, came upon them unexpectedly, and completed his quiet but gruesome work before they could send the alarm. Having, as he thought, finished the last of them with only minor threats to himself, he returned to the data center as Timothy and Jordan exited with their information. Safara waved them on toward the exit, while he and she placed the final charges under the center. Their mission completed, the tangos eliminated, they began to move toward the exit, not really thinking, when shots erupted beside them. They moved back among the crates, somewhat surprised they had missed one, but the firing had stopped even as Safara prepared to return fire. The sniper had moved. Not a good thing. Their only hope lay in outmanuvering him, and they began to run, zig zagging to make it more difficult for him to aquire a target, pausing at cover momentarily to glance around for their assailant. Safara had taken cover from several angles, was trying to determine where the assailant was. Eric searched the other angles with his eyes, caught a glint out of the corner of his eye, and knew the time was too short. He couldn't get his weapon around in time, and the pistol would not be accurate enough against such a small target as the skilled sniper would provide, at this range. Safara was clearly not positioned to act against him, or he was sure she would have done so by now. These thoughts registered in the split second it took him to Half holster his pistol and pivot toward Safara. He launched himself with a cry toward her. He was as the Cougar pouncing into his prey the deer, slamming into her shoulder to break it or her neck, taking her down. Only this time his prey was not a deer, and he did not intend to break anything, much less devour her after the fact, but intentions meant little. Even as he hit Safara, he felt the collision with himself, as if a mac truck had run into him doing sixty with a speer extending from its grill, it seemed. The impact took all his breath away, the seering pain burning up and down his side before his brain shut things down to the offended tissue, and his whole right side went numb. He fought the fire, fought the numbness, struggled for breath, and forced himself to move through it as he had been trained. The sniper was still out there, and he was more vulnerable than ever. He half crawled, half rolled, half drug himself across the isle to a place behind a crate, fighting off the grayness that encroached from the sides of his vision, struggling to grasp his weapon with fingers that refused to obey his command. "Can you stand?" It was Safara's voice, and he locked onto it, forcing all his concentration into making his body comply. Indeed, he could, though quite unstabilly, and he tottered toward the nearest crate for support, gritting his teeth against the renewed fire running up and down his side from the movement. She caught him, offered her left arm and shoulder for support, keeping her right hand and MP5 free. Smart. He'd have to commend her sometime, somehow. He made himself move his feet forward with hers, as they again attempted to change positions. "Have you got a flash?"? she whispered to Eric. He nodded, trying to reply normally, through the pain, "chest pocket." He gingerly moved his good hand from where it had held his side, somewhat slowing the flow of blood, to point toward it. She removed the items, set them efficiently while letting him keep his hold on her, now with his bloody good hand on her harness shoulder strap, and tossed them to the top of a crate beside them, while resuming her forward movment, weapon ready. five seconds and the light errupted, inevitably drawing the sniper's attention and fire. Safara was all over him, spraying the position with her sub-gun on full auto, emptying the magazine. A moment after the noise had ceased, it seemed, and something heavy fell. She had succeeded. While concentrating on getting the sniper she had let him go, and he slumped down against a crate. She helped him up, reminding him that the charges would blow within five minutes. They moved at an increased rate directly toward the exit, though it was all Eric could do to keep from crying out every few steps. The chopper was just ouside, the crew eagerly hauling him aboard and loadig him into a bucket seat across from the Alpha, the bodies of Baz and Paige lying between their feet. SIA_Taskforce Chopper He would pay for this, the Alpha, for killing them. For surelly they were dead, and he had been spared only to finish the alpha team and all that interfered with their lives from the Sections and Oversight. But not yet, not now. He was too weak, yet. But he could, just the same. Now he had time, and all the able bodied were busy with the wounded, no one would notice what he did. He could use his pistol almost as well with his left hand as his right, though it would be harder to draw, being on his right thigh. Just shoot up the cockpit, aim more or less for the pilot, and the machine would drop them to a fiery consumption two hundred feet below. It would end them all that quickly. No more pain, no more manipulation, no more lies, no more being used, no more killing. Yet he could not do it, even as his fingers closed around the handle of the weapon, he knew he could not kill them, her in particular, if there was yet any chance of her life. From the way they tended to her it appeared Safara and the Alpha held out hope for her of some sort even as her blood pooled and flowed on the chopper floor. Throughout the flight, kept conscious by the jolts from the weather and the attempt to follow the terrain, he thought of these things. The fiery pain faded into numbness, stirred up again when his body was thrown to the side by another sudden pitch change of the chopper. Why did he wait to attempt to kill Joshua? To kill Paige, release her from the pain he inflicted? Kill himself and simply be uninvolved? He could not because something told him there was something more, as much as he argued against it within himself. He would not, could not, just lay down and die, and neither could he let them, much less make them. What more there could be, how he could aquire that something more, he had no idea, but something, some desire drew him on, and he would wait and see what the spirits, or whatever there were that threw him into this crazy life and series of events, had for him. It was too much to come to any decision now, either way, and his mind swung back and forth, carrying on the argument with himself as they flew. Somehow he knew the time would come soon that he would come to a resolution of these problems of life and death and the reasons therefore. He could not continue much longer otherwise. Return |
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