"Status report please."
Swinging down from one of the many beams installed in the room, Winston landed heavily onto the reinforced floor and headed towards the command post. A single podium, surrounded by banks of monitors and machinery, all fully staffed, all working overtime and all showing the same images. The only difference being the angles, and the news company reporting on said images.
"No changes on the situation so far; stand-offs, shots fired and hostages have been reported."
Winston grunted in acknowledgement.
"Police response is forthcoming, and the Over-Watch security team on-site have managed to evacuate most of the hostages. But the Bio-Web is under hostile control, with hostages present."
Winston would have killed for a jar of peanut butter right then.
"Winston! I got your message, what is happening?"
Winston turned towards the sound of the automatic doors, then knuckled over to the only man on this earth who was bigger than a bull gorilla. Simian paw gripped the sledgehammer of hand, before leading the walking mountain of muscle back to the command post.
"Talon operatives have just assaulted and taken, one of the Biological Research Labs of Axiom LLC. The situation is developing as we speak."
"Talon?" The man-mountain cursed. "Bloody terrorists. Do we have a response team ready to deploy?"
"Gearing up, but the situation is complicated, and I am reluctant to commit anything just yet."
"Should I get my hammer then?"
"No Reinhardt, between the on-site security, law enforcement, and the response team. There should be enough men on the ground to storm the facility. The problem is doing so without bloodshed, and I'll need your advice."
Reinhardt's arms folded themselves across his chest as he stared back at the gorilla, who was working four keyboards at once. Once for each limb.
"What is the problem?"
"Multi-faceted. Firstly; the Over-Watch teams will be playing this according to what the local authorities decide to do. Axiom may employ us, and thus allowed to act accordingly to defend the interests of our employers, but that is a grey area of the Petras Act. We're on shaky legal ground, and we can't go hard and fast in this situation as a result."
Reinhardt sighed as he considered Winston's words. The fabric of his shirt is stretching to accommodate his movements.
"Makes you miss the good old days huh? Back then, the police would have been begging us to handle the matter. But now, we play second fiddle to amateurs."
"And that's the second problem," Winston continued, all twenty digits working still. "This is the first major incident Over-Watch is dealing with since we reformed, and privatized, twelve months ago. I'm not sure if we're ready for something on this level of action."
"Bah! You worry too much Winston. We have worked hard this past year. We are ready for this; you must have faith in us and the effort that has been given to prepare for an event such as this."
Reinhardt stepped forward and clapped a warm hand onto Winston's shoulder, encased like the rest of his body, in gleaming white armour.
"This is our time to shine; we'll make this work out in the end."
Winston's limbs stopped.
"You're right Reinhardt. We are ready for this. Still, wouldn't hurt to have some inside information as to what is happening now."
"Sir! You need to hear this!"
Vaulting over the railings, Winston propelled himself over to the monitor currently occupied by a slender woman with straight dark hair. The symbol on her perfectly starched uniform indicating that she was a communications specialist.
The floor shuddered as Reinhardt caught up with Winston, who had the expert's headphones pressed against his ear. Reaching over the expert's shoulder, Winston flipped a switch and turned on the loudspeakers.
"Good afternoon. I am Over-Watch agent Leon Grand, serial operation code; MY-403N9-D as in Dragunov. Does anyone read me? Over."
Winston's mind ran off for a moment as he considered the voice which was coming through the headphones.
"I repeat; this is Over-Watch agent Leon Grand. OSC; MY-403N9-D. Does anyone read me? Over."
The voice was young, despite its strength. The words were clipped and to the point, the result of relentless drilling by stern instructors and superior officers.
Reinhardt replied Winston's glance with equal confusion.
"Seriously, though, if anyone doubts my identity, please pass this onto Communications Specialist Dhalia; YOU AND JAMESON SERIOUSLY NEED TO GET A ROOM - !"
The slender woman with straight dark hair jolted out her seat snatched the headphones out of Winston's hands and cut the speakers hard enough to make Reinhardt flinch. It had been decades since anyone had been able to lay claim to that achievement. That person had then passed away due to old age a week later.
Reclaiming her chair with a sheepish silence, Dhalia handed her headphones back to Winston before clarifying.
"That's Leon Grand sir, no doubt about it."
Winston nodded in reply. Placed the headphones to his ear, and flipped another switch.
"Agent Grand, this is Winston. We read you. Over."
"Finally. My current situation is 'haven't a clue'. I am sitting on the third-floor toilet, located in the west wing of the Bio-Web, next to an unconscious Talon operative. With two more dead outside. Waiting for further orders. Over."
Third-floor toilet? Winston wondered.
"What happened Agent Grand? Explain your situation."
Grand's voice was a mixture of embarrassment and slight apology as it came through the speakers.
"Interesting story that one …"
Elijah would have shot his squad if he could get away with it. There is a reason that he does not drink sodas, looking for the loo while clearing a hostile installation was the biggest one. So, of course, his buddy decides to fill his canteen with coke, instead of water, before a mission. His partner's idea for a joke, which was why as the door swung closed, Elijah zeroed in on the nearest urinal and unzipped his trousers.
He was well into the moment of relief when he remembered; He should have cleared the room first.
His heartbeat calmed a little when Elijah craned his head over his right shoulder and saw nothing there that would have proven to be a threat.
His heartbeat stopped when he saw the short, Asian man standing behind his left shoulder, leaning against the stalls. The man had his arms folded across solid torso with a slight paunch around his waist. He also had a look of sympathy on his face.
"Take your time."
Elijah started hopping on the spot, in a desperate attempt to hasten his emptying bladder.
"Seriously man, don't rush."
Elijah kept hopping.
And hopping.
Before whipping around with his sidearm drawn, fixed and ready to fire at his hip.
Elijah then crashed into something rigid, sharp, and hard. Off-balance, he was thrown backwards into the unflushed urinal. Ignoring the throbbing pain and sudden damp, Elijah bounced back onto his feet, frantically searching for something to shoot.
He doubled over when a foot got unloaded into his groin, another hand twisted his wrist and using his locked out arm as a lever. The man spun Elijah onto the ground and broke his nose.
Consciousness flickering behind his eyes, Elijah heard the two other members of his squad preparing to rush the toilet door over the throbbing of his skull. Feebly, his hands reached out and failed to prevent the man from ransacking his grenade pouch.
As the door crashed open, Elijah's last thoughts were simply;
Of course, it had to be a fragmentation grenade.
And he knew how to use it.
" … But other than a few splinters stuck in my hand. I'm fully operational, what are your orders, sir?"
Before Winston could reply, Reinhardt grabbed the microphone instead.
"Grand, you just sat through a grenade explosion at close-quarters. Covered or not, you are not 'operational' in any degree. Hold your position, or get out of there now."
"That explosion would not have gone unnoticed. Holding my position isn't feasible Instructor Reinhardt. Besides, I can provide intelligence on the situation, and possibly find entry points for the breach teams. I believe that operational or not, I more useful to you where I am now."
Winston grunted and gestured for Reinhardt to pass him the microphone.
"Understood. Agent Grand, I need you to head down to the main Biological Laboratory in sector 4; we need to know their numbers, weapons and who is leading this raid. You are to recon and report, do not engage. I repeat, do not engage. Is that clear?"
Rustling cloth and a second of exasperated mumbling had crackled over the speaker before Leon replied.
"Sir, yes sir. Moving out now. I also need a path mapped out to the third-floor storage office of sector 1. One which preferably avoids hostiles and is on the way to Sector 4."
"What for Agent Grand?"
"For starters? A First-Aid kit, sir."