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OMICRON REPORT
Location Unknown.
Pure white bored in through his eyelids, forcing him to open his eyes, though he didn't want to. As he opened his eyes pain greeted through out his entire body. Masque remembered the gunshot wounds without a pleasant thought to go along with them. After his last session, they'd come back in and asked a few more questions. They ended it with a quick session of Electro-shock-torture. Then he passed out again. Now he was strapped down in a heavy wooden chair in the center of a twenty by twenty-foot room of unknown construction. The walls, roof, and floor were smooth are bare except for the color they carried. It was medical green. Presumably so blood won't show. Great. The banks of white fluorescent lights overhead gave off a dull glow. Directly in front of him was a tough looking stainless steel door with a sliding viewplate in its center about head high.
He sat there in silence contemplating his situation. I don't know where I am, how long I've been here, what drugs they've given me, or my medical condition. He smiled at the last one. At least I'm not dead. Then the steel door opened and he raised his head to view his interrogator. A tall, powerfully built gentleman of the universal military type stood looking down at him. He had short-cropped hair, but not a buzz cut and the lean hardened face of a soldier. His mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes, but his suit coat didn't hide the billy club he carried or the tazer from Masque's sight. "Tell me who you are?" asked the interrogator.
"I don't exist. I'm nobody," Masque said defiantly.
"Who do you work for?"
"Who do YOU work for? If you tell me I won't kill you." Masque stared him down and assumed he'd won when the man turned to the door and raped on the glass once. The big man before him stood glaring down at him for about thirty seconds before the door opened again. In walked two of the biggest apes Masque had ever seen. Both were towers of muscle and probably not brains judging from the dull expression on their faces. Each walked to either side of Masque and took a standing position behind him on either side. "What're those? Big gibbous monkeys?"
The interrogator leaned over and pressed his thumb into the bandage at Masque's rib cage on the lower left. It jabbed into the wound track and sent tidal waves of searing hot pain through Masque's entire body. He shook and almost jerked but didn't yell out like any normal man would have. He just glared into the Interrogators eyes.
"I see you like your gibbous monkeys," he said with a smile. Then one of the big men behind him hit him square on the forearm with a heavy rubber coated baton. Masque felt the radius in his arm break. At least it didn't puncture through the skin, he thought trying to look on the bright side of a darkening situation. He just had to last until the other came to get him or take his secrets to the grave. That means I have to get them mad enough to kill me before they go to powerful psycho-somatic drugs.
The Interrogator looked him square in the face, grasping Masque's jaw with his powerful hand. He brought his face an inch away from Masque's, "Tell me what you were doing with that worthless piece of wire in Mr. Kirk's office."
"No."
"What were you looking for at Ares?"
"You had better tell me who YOU work for and what YOU'RE doing. My associates are very powerful, and while they don't care if I live or die they will extract a heavy toll. YOU can save yourself and your company a great deal of financial loss by just letting me go and telling me everything you know."
"Don't be ridiculous. There is no hope for you."
"You're right about that. If I talk, you kill me later. If I don't talk, you kill me sooner. No dice. I'm not talking."
"You will force me to get very nasty if you don't start talking."
"A long time ago, in a zoo far far away. There were two big f*#@ing gibbous monkeys. Gibbous monkeys are the smartest of all monkeys, but still just little hairy monkeys. But these monkeys were different--" SLAP. The Interrogator slapped him so hard across the face he felt his teeth loosen and blood instantly fill his mouth.
"Ok, Mr. Nobody, we're Burger King. Have it your way." With that he turned and waved at the two "Gibbous Monkeys." They ruthlessly beat Masque for so long he lost track of time. He smiled through all of it and chided them. "Common!! Don't hit me like a girl. Put your back into you stupid monkeys!!" Then he faded into unconsciousness.
Location unknown.
Slowly he came to. Masque was still strapped into the chair at the wrists and legs. Damn them. Using rubber hoses only hurt bad. It wouldn't kill me. Neither of his eyes were even swollen shut nor was he bleeding anywhere, it just hurt like hell. In apparently, the same empty room he sat for some time. Then the Interrogator walked in.
"Some of my superiors don't think you will talk and that I should just kill you. But I'd rather break you like a cheap toy. This is your last chance."
"These are the last words out of my mouth." The defiant nature in Masques bearing and tone told the Interrogator he would never talk again. The Academy included an extended course on Interrogation and counter-interrogation. Intel ops were perhaps the most difficult (some say impossible) to break in the Company - right beside Security Ops.
"You give me no alternative." He stood and raped on the window glass twice. Before the sound had quit echoing though the small room the wall to Masque's right slid back into the wall behind him. Slowly he looked over, not wanting to show too much interest. As he caught up with his peripheral vision he saw what almost would terrify him more than anything else would. Melissa. Bound to a table at the waist and with her arms over her head, and her legs hanging off the end of the table at about mid-thigh, there was little doubt their intent.
Above the Mayfield Lake/River. May 26, 1500
The Black Helo Mk. I Scout hovered above the river gracefully and in total silence. Its Sterling ultra quiet engines were shut off and it was running on electrical power. The whole trip from Seattle to their current location had taken less than 20 minutes. Beggay was riding shotgun with Blue Duck piloting the helo. They were in their final descent to the tug that was pushing three huge barges of dirt down the river. They had decloaked short after getting over the tug at 5000 feet and released three of Beggay's little Spike robot helicopter drones. Using the robots sensors and the cutting edge sensors on the Helo they had found the barges, and where it looked like they were going to. A large mansion belonging to one member of the Washington State Legislature. Outside were parked about a dozen cars and three vans. Since it was on the river it had a dock, and parked at the dock were five boats. Using the telephoto lenses on the Spike they ran the license plate numbers and found that the vans and two of the sedans belonged to the CDC field office in Portland. The other plates came up as 'unregistered.'
Inside the Helo everyone was in low spirits. Doctor Payne, Taki, Dodger, Ian, and Petyr were stretching out. Before Kham and Otter had been dropped in the river ahead of the barges everyone was cramped into the small cabin of the helo, which was meant only for four. Now they donned their black gortex field fatigues and web gear and armor. Ian brought along extra explosives and stuff, while Dodger had to part with his Cyberdeck. For this mission because they were down two members he would have to pick up a SMG and do some shooting. Everyone was applying black oil paint to their faces and double checking their ammo and gear when Beggay came over the radio, "About thirty seconds till we hit the boat. Stack up." Everyone lined up at the door to the helo without a word. Crouching with their knees bent to take up the Helos motion as it swooped and swerved over the winding river between the trees on either side. It was only thirty feet off the rain pelted river. Outside thunder cracked as they got closer, Ian picked up the coiled Fast-Rope attached to the roof and double checked it's anchor to the roof. It would be a short mission if we all jumped and it wasn't attached, he thought. Dodger patted his back to let him know that everyone had patted HIS back and they were all ready.
In the cold river Kham and Otter treaded water with about fifty pounds of gear on as the barges approached. Kham was furious she didn't get to charge into Ares and KILL EVERYONE. But now she focused on the job at hand. Otter was still in considerable pain because of the wound in his shoulder, and it burned fiercely once the river water got to it. But he had refused to sit back and ride shotgun in the helo. First, he didn't think that Beggay could do his job, and second he had to hurt something to get back at the world for Melissa and Masque. As the barge neared he counted the three guards on his side of the barges. The three barges were being pushed in front of the tug. Each barge had two guards, one on each side. They carried Uzi's or some other western SMG, it really didn't matter to him. The tug had two on the bridge, with two aft, port and starboard, and three up on the front of the tug; one of which was manning a pintle mounted M-60 GPMG.
They couldn't even see the helo approach. It wasn't until a rope fall from the sky then four people jumped out that they were able to focus on where it was in the wind and the rain. It's chameleon LCD skin matched and molted almost perfectly with the gray background. They didn't take long to appreciate this because they had people to kill. Both pulled themselves out of the water using one arm while they kept their weapons in the other arm. The Helo lifted off and disappeared as the fourth person dropped out. The Fast-Rope fell onto the deck of the boat, but any warning it might have given would come too late. Ian was the first down and jumped off the bridge roof to the catwalk that led up from the deck. He moved laterally to get out of the way of the door and fired off a long suppressed burst of full auto fire into each mans chest on the port side. The ten 9mm EECS rounds from each burst riddled the targets chest with wound cavities and the trauma damage was enough to kill both instantly.
Dodger was next out, one second behind Ian. He hit the roof and jumped onto the starboard catwalk and moved laterally to avoid the door to the bridge also. Copying Ian to a tee, he let loose with a long stream of lead from his 9mm Rattler. The HP rounds hit the first man in the head and he died not knowing what had killed him. His partner on the starboard side just heard a mild thump as his buddy hit the floor in the rain and dropped his STEN SMG. Dodgers second burst of ten rounds filled his abdomen with lead, and he cried out. But only for a second, then a single well placed shot blew open his throat and he fell to the deck silent.
Taki was the third one down on the roof, just two seconds after Ian. He leapt all the way from the top of the bridge house to the deck below and landed between the two men on the aft. Both received a swipe across the throat from his ninjato. They had barely hit the ground as he dove invisibly into the bowels of the ship to clear it out of all other crewmembers.
Doctor Payne was the fourth on the roof and he took his time lowering himself onto the catwalk beside the bridge. He was out three seconds after Ian but his lowering took a second. Petyr meanwhile had been the last out of the helicopter, a full four seconds after Ian. He leveled a huge .50 cal EECS Morning Star pistol in each hand at the three men on the bow of the tug. Three powerful concussions later two were down as his slugs ended their lives. The fourth was spared because his gun had JAMMED!! Impossible, he thought. But it was happening. So he dropped both and in a fit of spontaneity he drew the gattling carbine slung across his back. One second and 120 rounds later the third man on deck was a big red splotch.
On the port side of the Barges Kham had lifted herself out of the water one handed and charged down the narrow walkway. She hit the first guy with a fifteen round burst from the sub-caliber submachine gun she cherished. Its suppressed barrel spit out white-hot little .177 caliber high velocity slugs. They penetrated the gunman's body and the shockwaves left a wound cavity that was terribly lethal. She hurdled him as he hit the ground and then jumped to the next barge. The other gunman was turning to see what the commotion was. In the rain and thunder, the last thing he saw was a psychotic female of Asian descent. Then his chest and head exploded as she walked the line of bullets DOWN his body. The third gunman on the last barge fell equally easy to Kham's deadly hand.
On the opposite side of the boat Otter took his time. He was still hurting from that shoulder wound. Popping out his rapier and using it in his opposite hand (because he good one was injured as we've mentioned) he slit the gunman's throat to the spine before he realized how easy it was. He walked briskly to the second barge and hopped the water to the next with a bit of flourish. The next guard was pierced three time with rapid sticks to the heart and lungs that sent him to the ground. Otter stepped on his neck and broke it as Petyr was opening fire with the gattling carbine. Oops, looks like the game is up. He quick drew the single shot derringer he favored and snapped off a shot at the third gunman on his side. Each of the twenty bullets was fired just as the one ahead of it left the barrel. The end effect was that they all hit the gunman twelve inches apart. This reduced him to a hollow shell of himself. Pun intended.
Doctor Payne by this time had calmly kicked in the cabin door with a twelve-gauge whipit shotgun in each hand. The two crewmembers steering the vessel and the two armed crewmembers were totally caught by surprise as the roof was illuminated by Petyr's muzzle blast and then a man kicking in the door wearing a balaclava and wielding shotguns like it was the Old West.
"Hands up and get down!!" BLAM BLAM. The two armed crewmembers were blasted to the floor as Payne's slugs turned their heart and lungs into putty. With their armed comrades put down, the two crewmembers decided to get down. "Ok, Dodger, get in here and restrain my captured foes!!"
Dodger opened the door on the other side of the cabin, pulled up his balaclava and let his long crazy blond hair hang down, "Would you like a big glass of 'shut-the-hell-up' to go with that your ass-holiness?" But after dishing out his jibe he pulled out a roll of restraint dispenser and bound them tightly. Doctor Payne was at the Helm and things looked like they were under control.
Unknown Location.
Both the huge thugs and the Interrogator walked into the room she had been in and stood around the table she was bound too. The interrogator stood at the end of the table by Melissa's legs. He took a step closer to her and got a powerful kick in the top of the thigh then stumbled back to the door. That'a girl, Masque thought.
"You stupid spy." The Interrogator stood up and pointed at one of the tanks. The thug brought up his rubber hose and brought it down swiftly on Melissa's midsection. Then again and again. About a minute later the Interrogator lowered his hand and the thug quit hitting her. Damn you, you sunglasses wearing monkey. Hold on Melissa or go unconscious.
"Have the tests been administered?" asked the Interrogator. Masque looked at Melissa and she shrugged just enough to let him see she didn't know what tests.
A voice from the ceiling answered, "Yes."
"Is she suitable material?" he asked again. -- Again, "Yes."
What the F&@$ does that mean? Masque thought, and from the look on Melissa's face, she didn't think it was good.
As the echo died from the speaker the Interrogator looked at his two colleagues each in turn and then held out his wrist. Masque could see a small green band that looked like a tennis bracelet, but was not made of gold or silver. It was a green material or just a green anodized aluminum bracelet. "Well, it looks like I'm the highest," said the Interrogator.
Having just demonstrated his dominance, or whatever, the Interrogator stepped in closer again and this time was ready for Melissa's kick. He blocked it and got inside her kicking distance then chopped at each thigh, delivering a powerful charlie-horse, effectively crippling her legs. He's not going to... He began to reach for the waist of Melissa's pants as she tried to move out of his reach. Does he think this will make me talk?? Her squirming was of little effect and a second later he had her pants undone. Screw this. The interrogator unzipped his pants and performed one of the most inhuman and de-humanizing acts. He started to rape Melissa. She resisted but was not in a favorable position. From where he sat, and being a master of Psychology he could not see remorse or even feelings on the Interrogators face. This infuriated him. Masque had been gradually getting more and more furious until he was incensed like a rabid dog. The adrenaline and endorphins flowing in his veins were enough to remove the traces of pain and amplify his major muscle groups. Half a minute after it had started Masque stood with the strength of a dozen men, he shattered the oak chair he had been seated in. As the legs splintered the nylon-cordua warp holding his legs in place slipped off. Likewise, the arms of the chair were broken loose as he stood. He hung onto one of them.
The splintering sound of wood being rent apart and his enraged howl was enough to get everyone's attention. One thug was turning to see him, just as Masque jabbed the chair arm into his eye socket. As the giants brains were rearranged he died and collapsed to the floor. Masque pushed off him, and did a spin kick to knock the Interrogator to the floor in all his shame. Continuing his mad run around the table he got up to the next tower of muscle. Stepping in-between the giants legs he grabbed his belt behind his back, flipped him to the ground with a powerful jujitsu throw that snapped his neck, and disarmed him of his snap-out baton all at once. Turning around the face the Interrogator who was fumbling to get out his tazer gun, Masque looked him in the eye and said, "I told you I'd kill you." Masque rushed him and clobbered him in the head, collapsing his skull just as he got his palm onto the tazer. Masque then turned to Melissa and undid the bonds at her wrists and waist. She bounced up off the table holding her abdomen from the beating and pulled up her pants. Then with Masque, they slammed the steel table through the door without even exchanging words. They followed the table out into a small waiting area outside the cell. There were two hallways running away from it: left and right. Sounds of feet running and heavy boots came from the left. They went right.
They helped each other run down the hall into a network of passageways and apparently more cells until they found one door that looked different. With just a baton between them, they stood for a second and looked at the door. Why not, thought Masque. She must have echoed his thought because they both reached for the handle. She went through first to shield any bullets from the one of them carrying the weapon and Masque followed her. Both knew their rolls for a breakout and accepted them from their company training. Whatever lay beyond the door they would face it together. There were not many times that one Op NEEDED another Op, but this was one of them.
Outside there was just an empty parking garage. One hundred yards distant, at the far end there was a ramp leading up. No cars, no cover, no concealment. But, they could smell rain in the air and hear feet pounding and running after them from back in the holding area.
Above the Mayfield Lake/River. May 26, 1545
A half-hour after taking control of the boat and turning it around, Ian was hard at work in the bowels of the ship. Doctor Payne was roused from his watch on the Bridge. Dodger walked it, "Michelle is on the horn, it's about your subjects."
"Thanks," he said picking up his cell phone. "Michelle what is it?"
Doctor Payne's blond vixen lab assistant spoke in a somewhat anxious sound to her voice. "The people you got from the pods at Zeus storage... They're dissolving. I don't know what to do."
"Crapen her frauline." The Doctor reverted to German when he was mad. "Do nothing. We will get more." And as if right on cue, Ian walked up on the bridge carrying what looked like a cross between a light saber and a blind man's cane.
"Ahhh!! I've dune it." He smiled like he was a ragin mad drunken lunatic.
"Please, tell me what you have done in more specific terms," asked the Doctor.
"I've puut an old Pentium 100 chip into this cane. Which has excellent resonant characteristics as it turns out. With a old LED from a Mr. Coffee from the galley, and patched in a old cyber-jack I had sitting around, and then fired in a few EPROMS, and WALLA!!" His thick Irish accent was almost impossible to hear through when he got excited.
A cold stare and an unamused look greeted Ian's exuberance. "And???"
"Ieee. Weell isn't it obvuious. Now we can find out what is under the piles of dirt in the barges."
"How will that! help us do that?" The Doctor genuinely looked perplexed.
"With this!!" Ian held it over his head like he was the Master of the Universe. "It's mye new Sonic Sensing Gadget."
"Grand." SWIPE. The Doctor swiped it out of his hands and walked out the door into the rain and back to the barges.
1800.
Ian's gadget proved very useful. Underneath tons and cubic yards of dirt there were three controlled environment trailers. One each in every barge. Inside were approximately one hundred pods each. These were the same pods that they found at Bayer and at Zeus storage. Treachery was afoot.
To hinder pursers, specifically those that were supposed to meet the barges at the Senators house, Beggay had sent a Spike equipped with a powerdrill and a hole saw in its little mechanical arms to drill holes in the bottom of the boats. Then Beggay and blue duck shot down a pair of Cessna's that took off from the local airstrip and began a search pattern up the river. Using special Sabot rounds their bullets and their ballistics would look like Soviet 14.5mm HMG bullets and not TL8 15mm chaingun bullets. To make their getaway faster, Ian rewired the ships powerplant. Supercharged it now sped along at a blazing five knots instead of the previous three.
2340.
Everyone was aboard the barges assisting the Heavy Lift Black Helo Mk. III's sling the trailers. Ian was rigging the barges to blow, using a special carbon-filter air lung the size of a roll of paper towels, to swim under and affix the keels with about fifty pounds of C4.
Dodger walked up to Petyr with a smile on his face. "The phone beeth for thee, oh Master of Glass."
Petyr ignored the comment and snapped open his phone. "Hkello?"
"Damnit, what took this call so long to get to you. I told Dodger it was urgent." Deacon's voice was full of tension, while thought of manslaughter ran through Petyr's. "We've got a lot of activity here at Ares, they might be breaking out. Get here ten minutes ago."
"Roger." Petyr spoke, but the line was already dead, then he continued into his Implant communicator. "Bluew Duck get down here, ve're going beck to Ares. Beggay havf some of your vehicles meet us at de nort corner of de park. Everyvone grab all you've got, ve're gone." Petyr then walked over to Dodger and clamped down his powerful hand on the back of Dodger's scwranny little neck. The little Tech Ops squirmed beneath his grip, "Do not ever delay another message to me again." Then he walked away and hopped into the hovering Scout Helo, right ahead of Dodger. Blue Duck was holding it in a perfect hover, despite the storm, the rain, the thunder and being a foot off the roof of the Bridgehouse. When people said he was the best, they were right.
Petyr gave one last order, "Doctor Payne, be sure to tell the Cargo Helo's where to take the bodies."
Doctor Payne nodded, "Black Panther, come in."
"chhhk. Here over."
"Lead the three Cargo Helos back to the Zoo and have the bodies there delivered to Verner. Take no chances, you are now personally responsible for the condition of the cargo."
"Chhhk. Roger that. chhhk."
Goddamn pilots, Dr. Payne thought.
Ared Building. 2348.
Masque and Melissa stood outside the door and traded glances for a second. Run, their eyes said to each other. Then Masque said it first, "Run, go up and get a car. Do it now."
She hesitated for a second and then sprinted as fast as her wounded legs would carry her, without reopening her gunshot wounds too much. Masque then hammered the hinges to the door three times to bend the one hinge-pin. Now it would be harder to open. Then he jammed the baton through handle, since it was a open handle type, to keep the door from opening inwards. Then he dashed off after Melissa.
Coming down from his self-induced high he began to wonder if he would make it. She was already up the vehicle ramp and he was only half way there. The six plus gunshot wounds he had were getting worse with each jarring step. The broken arm and bruised internal organs began to stab red hot blasts of pain through his chest and shoulder. Each step became increasingly painful until he realized he was up the ramp. He spun around to look for Melissa because his vision was narrowing to a black and white tunnel. His brain was able to accept less and less of the visual input that his cyber eyes gave him. Then he heard engines start and a tremendous bang. The first he hoped was Melissa, the second he knew were the guard below blowing the ruined door off the hinges. Too bad for me one of them had a small breaching charge. He heard squealing tires and looked frantically for her, his narrow vision was almost inducing a state of panic. But he remained cool. She drove up in a common looking Ford Escort. He grabbed the door handle as he could hear feat at the bottom of the ramp. He dropped into the seat and yelled, "Floor it, they're at the base of the ramp!"
She floored it and he was thrown back in his seat. She took the first left into the next aisle over as they opened as fire. Six suppressed MP-5s simultaneously dumped ten rounds a second into the back of the Escort. Masque and Melissa ducked. Melissa bucked and lost control for a second. The car careened off a parked Lincoln and then regained forwards motion as she let out a long GRRRR!! through grit teeth. Masque looked down and realized he was soaked in blood, Oh, shit. This is bad. They don't feel like new wounds... But he knew in his condition the brain could block out all manner of pain. Then he looked over at her; she was sitting in a pool of her own blood, she looked horrible. I wish I had a gun. He thought as he searched for a way out and saw another ramp at the opposite end. "There!! At the far end," he yelled. "Another up ramp."
"Ok, I see it," Melissa yelled. She was getting very worried about her wounds. Masque was shouting directions, because she could hardly see through the pain. Chaos reigned. But they made it to the ramp and got up to the next level. There the smell of rain was strongest through their shattered windows.
Outside Ares Security. North OP. 2350.
Outside Deacon and Patterson waited across the street from the Ares Parking Garage. Patterson looked over at Deacon when he heard the gunshots from the suppressed MP-5's. "I heard gunshots. Call 203," because Patterson had better hearing, Deacon took his word.
"Petyr, Over."
"Here. Speak."
"Get to the Ares garage now. Shots fired inside."
"Roger, we're at the park. Inbound in a Suburban. Out."
At the park the whole team had just rappelled down in the darkness to the street below. Blue Duck held a hover in the night storm as they disconnected and walked into the nighttime crowd. Petyr and Beggay were in the front of the Suburban while Ian and Doctor Payne rode in the middle seats. Kham and Otter were in the wayback. Everyone was still soaking wet, coated in dirt and mud from the barges, and they all tasted revenge. Petyr floored it.
Cutting through traffic at a mad rate they made the two blocks to the Ares garage street and were headed perpendicular to the front of the garage. Then a bullet hold riddled Ford Escort with its tires blown out shot into the street. The escorts tires had blown when they went out the in with the directional spikes in the cement. Petyr yelled, "Holdt On!!" as he cut the wheel. The Suburban went into a 180, thanks to Beggay's suspension modifications, and skidded to a stop between the Escort and the garage facing in the opposite direction it had come. "Get them Kham and Doctor."
Kham hopped out the back of the Suburban as Otter opened the doors to the back and used one as cover. He stood there defying anything to make a move with his pair of matching Cudgel .45 EECS pistols. Doctor Payne stepped out into the rain from the drivers side which was opposite to the garage and moved behind the Suburbans cover to the passenger side of the Escort. It was closest to him and he opened the door. He cold see Masque crumpled over forward in the seat and Melissa beside him. Kham was on the other side (She knew the Doctor would want to stay behind cover so she ran around,) and was getting Melissa out. She had her cradled in her arms like a baby. But Kham could bend steel bars. Doctor couldn't. He grabbed Masque by the right arm as he pulled him out of the car and crouched to lay Masque's body over his back. He then used his more powerful leg muscles to heft Masque up on his back as his left arm grabbed Masque's legs. Masque groaned and the Doctor felt his blood run down his back, Wow, Masque is hurt in a bad way, the Doctor thought.
Ian had gotten out of the passenger side of the suburban and was standing using the armored door of the truck as cover while he covered the entrance to the garage with a assault carbine. At the back of the truck Kham had Melissa in the back first with the Doctor just behind her; which was one of his favorite views of Kham anyway.
As they shut the doors in back, Otter ran around and got in Doctors seat while Ian was the last in. Then Petyr gunned it. Deacon's voice could be heard on the radio circuit because they had all gone to one frequency just before the short 'combat.' "Hold them off Solo." Everyone cringed at the mention of the Cyborgs name. Kham and Otter were changing seats as the Doctor began frantically but with the speed of an inhumanly skilled physician, to inject the two agents with hypercoagulant for each wound, some suspend to keep them from dying, and then a variety of anti-biotics because they were no doubt infected.
As Kham climbed over the seat simultaneously with Otter, Ian slapped her rump. "Ieee, nice piece there luv." She turned and glared at him. Her razor blade in her forearm flashed out, "Don't ever do that again." The ice in her voice was enough to make Beggay cringe and Otter was about to freak out. It was enough to freeze the blood of all but the most drunk of psychotic. Thankfully Ian was both. "Surry, babe." Then he rolled his eyes and went back to watching the park go by as Petyr sped away.
Then Blue Duck came over the tac frequency, "chkkk. You guys got company. Pursers in sedans coming from the other other side of Ares Building. chkkk." -- "Roger," Petyr said.
Ares Parking Garage.
Solo rarely let his emotions get ahold of him, and now was not one of those times. Personal honor or ego didn't have anything to do with this, he didn't have either. He only had one thing on his mind: killing all his foes before they killed him. And he was made for that purpose. He was literally made for that purpose. Standing six and a half feet tall and weighing over six hundred pounds he was more metal than man: approximately 2.78% man by weight. Only the thick stylish black leather riding jacket and pants hid his inhuman looking skin and muscles. Only total morons didn't suspect there was something wrong with him, and anybody that read science fiction would probably recognize him for what he was. The Yamaha ZMax bounced up the curb and over the tire-killing spikes. When he hit the ground he floored it and skid the bike to a stop inside the Ares parking garage. As long as they don't have anti-tank weapons, I'm fine. His cyber eyes scanned the basement; his laser ranger identified ranges to all targets. Down at the far end he saw five heavily armored sedans loading up with men. Their black exterior and tinted windows with lots of antennas poking up in back left no doubt what they were for. He could see them carrying SMG's and carbines and shotguns. This won't even be a challenge. Now I just got to not give too much away.
He stood on bike and cranked the accelerator and was at 60 mph in under 2.4 seconds. He released his hand off the gas and tipped it over as he slid into the side of the first car. It took him three seconds to slam into it, which was barely enough time for them to open fire. As he came up into a squat he fired a burst from his built in 4.5mm sub-caliber SMG in his left arm at the head of the driver. Before he died, Solo had a hold of the car's frame with his left arm and spun around to fire another burst at the engine of the second car. From squatting he locked his left arm and then stood up, throwing the car over on its back. It bounced just like he wanted, jamming the doors shut. To finish it off quickly he tossed a Thermite grenade on it with his now free left hand. His right arm was half-empty so he quick drew a .50 cal EECS Morning Star and opened fire at the third through fifth cars. He bolted. Then he was at the hood of the second car so fast no one could follow him. With his massive hands he grabbed the bumper and flipped it up on its end, but it was too short to flip all the way over. Solo knew this and it was what he wanted. The car stuck nearly vertically, as he wedged it between the floor and the ceiling. He fired the last of the magazine of the MS in his right hand then continued firing with the one he drew in his left.
Listening to the screams of the men inside saddened him. It's not my fault you're here. It's yours. Sometimes you win and sometimes you loose, he thought as the last bullet penetrated the floor board. I wonder when my day will come.
But back to vanquishing his foes like he said. He was then faced with the decision to go around the right or the left of the car that he was now standing behind as cover. He set a thermite grenade on the ground and kicked it (with the pin out) to the left and the right to throw off their flanking actions. Two seconds later his pistols were reloaded and he was ready for action. Always original, he did the unexpected. Four swipes from his mono-wire cyber claws later, he was jumping through the car. He landed on the hood of the third car and fired the guns in each forearm to sweep the pesky gunmen from the rows beside the armored limos. To keep any cars from getting away he hardball threw a thermite grenade through the window of the last sedan. It exploded and bathed the men around it in hot burning thermite.
He ran over the third car, denting the roof, and blasting away at its occupants with the MSs, killing all of them. By now, what was left of the fourth and fifth car were starting to run.
Run where??
Run anywhere.
But by seeing their backs, the already low impedance Solo felt at killing them dwindled to nothing. By not facing him they were somehow less human. Since the birth of warfare and conflict the majority of all deaths have resulted when one side turned and ran; exposing their vulnerable backside. It happens to animals and it happens to men. It would happen to these men. Now they were the prey and he was the hunter.
He drew the autoshotgun off his back and systematically emptied the fifty round magazine into them as they ran for cover. He pivoted in place with an unholy speed, delivering one shot for each man. Hitting with unerring marksmanship as they ran for their lives. As the last one fell, he tossed his last three grenades at the doors to the only entrance to the garage: the security tunnel. The 4000-degree flames would prevent any pursuit. Then he slung the shotgun, holstered the pistols and calmly reloaded everything. Then without a care in the world he walked over to his bike and righted it, got on and rolled out of the garage. Outside in the rain he hoped its waters would somehow cleanse him, though he knew they wouldn't.
Outside Ares Security. 2400.
Petyr was dodging through the late night traffic in the rain, working to push the vehicle to its limits, but not loose control. "Engage them," he shouted into the back.
"Will do," replied Otter. He grabbed the .700 Nitro from off the rear wheel well and popped in two HE rounds. Taking careful aim despite Petyr's maneuvers he fired twice and hit the first two car's engine blocks. Both exploded and spun out of control into cars parked on the side of the street. Otter shut the window and plopped down to reload. Ian high-fived him, "Aghhhh, kummon Kham, give the kid sum luv." She just glared at him as Petyr spun around a corner in a perfectly controlled skid. Then he punched the braked, got to the other side of the road and stopped the car.
"Aghhh! Great Scots!! Watcha duing Petyr?? Have yu lost yuour mind??"
"Negative. I'm am settingk a trep." Everyone just sat in silence. The doctor hit Masque with the defibrillators in the silence. THUMP. THUMP. Again the defibrillators. What is taking Ares so long? "Blue Duck. Where are they?"
"Chkkk. Four seconds. Just wait. chhhk."
Great. He stood on the gas with it out of gear. The sedan shot around the corner, followed by a second. He popped the clutch. Beggay's 'Smart Tires' deflated, grabbed the road, spun up, laid rubber and catapulted the team at the second car. Petyr smashed it off the road and then came up along side the Ares sedan on its passenger side. "Beggay, please be so kind as to take the vheel? No one else shoot them." he said as he climbed out the roof hatch. Beggay didn't answer, he knew it wasn't a questions. Petyr grabbed the hatch edge as he crouched on the top of the suburban. Then he leapt across to the Ares car. He landed with a thump and gripped through the windshield. He used his claws to cut the top of the car open like a sardine can. He ignored their gunshots and took the wheel. He knocked out the passenger and dropped in on his lap. He kicked the driver into the back seat and then got behind the wheel. He waved at Kham and Ian then radioed. "Kham take the wheel and pull into the next alleyway."
"Can do boss." Everyone almost jumped. These were some of the first words Kham had spoken when not cursing Ian or complementing the Doctor.
As she dropped into the front seat Ian said, "Agh it's guod to be alive," for obvious reasons. She just turned her head and looked back at him. Then she pulled over. Petyr dragged his two prisoners into the back seat. Ian and Petyr then waited for the next car Beggay drove by.
The team spent the next thirty minutes driving around the city ditching vehicles and switching. Being careful with Masque and Melissa added time, but they got it done. After several below ground parking lots and covered bus stations before they were home.
Team 203 Warehouse. 0100.
Doctor Payne stood nervously in the small medical area that he had set up in HIS corner of the warehouse waiting for Deacon. Michelle, his assistant, was seated with Melissa on one of the beds. While Masque lay unconscious on the bed beside them. Deacon entered and shut the steel pressure lock door behind himself. He was wearing the green doctor scrubs, and even looked like he could have been a respectable middle age ER doctor. "What's up Doc."
"I have an issue to discuss with you." As Deacon walked over as the Doctor said this, Melissa looked up from Michelle and made eye contact with him. That she didn't hold his gaze for a second got him very very worried.
"What?" Doctor Payne leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. "Oh, God. Are you serious." He didn't ask if he was sure. The Doctor was always sure.
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Doctor Payne would grind a circus to a halt with his icy cold, humorless manor right now.
"Ok, thank you for telling me. How is he?" Deacon asked pointing at Masque.
"He took more of a beating than all of year three put together."
Deacon's eyes got big for a second. "Wow," he said then walked out.
Out in the team waiting area, Patterson was about fifty feet from Solo, wearing two Morning Stars. Everyone else was seated around the group table near the kitchen. They were either eating, smoking, or drinking coffee. Ian had a beer. Solo stood up and said to Deacon very directly, "How are they?"
"They're fine," Deacon said going over to the coffee machine and getting a glass of steaming hot black coffee.
"Well??" Solo asked.
"I said they're fine," Deacon repeated, now pouring more coffee grounds into the cup and stirring it like they were sugar.
Solo was walking towards him, "How is SHE!?!"
Deacon turned and faced him. Looking him in the eye, "She was raped. End of story. You will not extract any additional vengeance. Period." Deacon delivered it with the straight faced, unsmiling, tacturian nature he was known for. He stood there with a glass of coffee like he wasn't facing down the deadliest man on earth.
Team 203 was just looking up to see what was going on, Gypsy was out in left field as usual and Dr. Payne was of course in the next room. They hardly even saw Solo rush Deacon. Deacon moved the glass of hot coffee off to the side without spilling a drop as Solo grabbed his neck and lifted him to the cement wall behind him. "What are you going to do to stop me?" His forearms were holding Deacon so that just one small mental command were all that kept his forearm claws from extending. Behind him Patterson stood up and Solo heard him unhoulster the two Morning Stars, he knew Patterson kept a round chambered. That meant Solo had 22 rounds of armor piercing facing him down.
"You haven't reloaded your forearm guns yet. That gives him three seconds that it will take you to get to him. It may be enough, it might not. He is the only that can face you. You may kill me, you might not. But either way, returning to Ares will accomplish nothing." Deacon's composure was still not shaken. He stared Solo in they eyes. Solo blinked.
Team 203 Warehouse. 0500.
Things had calmed down since everyone had gone to sleep and Team 202 left. Everyone except Dodger and Ian that is. Dodger was tapping away on his keys, in his recliner, listening to Haydn, and making pleasant conversation with Ian. Ian was getting really wasted on double scotch malted whiskey. Their conversation revolved around how close they'd both come today to death, and not even at the hands of Ares...
After finishing off half a bottle by 0500 Ian got around to doing the job Petyr had given him. Building a series of four interrogation rooms. An all black one, an all white one, a green one, and a fluorescent orange one. Petyr obviously had it in for the two guys he'd captured; and besides they still had all the jokers from Zeus storage to interrogate.
By the time everyone else was getting up at like 0900, Ian wasn't close to sober but he was finished with the four rooms and all that went with them. Even smashed he could put up square walls and wire electric circuits for cameras, environmental control, and lights. He dropped into a chair over by Dodger and tilted back a bottle of whiskey. "Arrgggggh!!"
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