'Bang and clear' the squad leader motioned with slight hand signals to Dan.
He gave a thumbs up, pulled out a flash grenade, and approached the door
with the molding green paint. The floor groaned slightly from his presense
and his shotgun nearly hummed in anticipation. He could feel the sweat mat
through his gloves and body armor and face mask. His heart felt like he had
run a mile and then swam another in a pool of sweat. With a deep breath, he
leaned against the side of the door away from the hinges, and motioned to
Jackson for an open, holding the flashbang ready. Jackson approached the
door carefully, attempting to remain silent. Which was an impossibility
with this piece of shit apartment complex. Everywhere were rusted nails and
molding greenish yellow sickly paint and creaking floors. Who could live in
a dump like this? Dan wondered. Their target, obviously.
The thought snapped Dan back to the present, his squad mate's brow sweat drenched eyes, staring at him through his ski mask. He had picked the lock and was waiting for the ready signal. With a small shake, Dan nodded to him, and gripped the grenade tightly. The next happened in an instant. A breath intake, or a small flicker of an eyelash. Training for this was nothing like the real thing. Dan pulled the pin out of the flashbang and it whirled threw the air. Jackson flung the door open inwardly, and Dan chucked the bang in there with a small underhang throw. The pin clattered against the creaky floorboards, then the grenade bounced into the room, disrupting aging dust. Dan turned back outside the room, and flattened himself against the wall, looking away. Another clatter of the grenade skittering inside, then silence. A silence that was less than an instant, but more than an hour. A silence that passed so fast, you almost missed it. Then, there was-not a bang, which accompanied so many grenades-but a ringing, as if your ears were trying to pop open, but couldn't. And the ringing muted everything else out.
Dan turned and rushed into the room, shotgun up at eye level with the tactical light on. The room was a dusty mess, thanks to the flashbang. A small television lay on the corner, in front of a window with the shades drawn. Magazines and newspapers littered the area, but other then that, no one. "Clear." Dan announced to his squadmates, who were rushing in behind him, filling the other rooms. Dan and Jackson went left, toward the extra room. Dan was sure anyone within a mile could hear his pulse racing. He could hear shouts of 'Clear!' from his squadmates in the other rooms. The other 4 members came up behind Dan and Jackson after they cleared the rest of the apartment, their standard issue MP5's held up.
"Red, go. Blue, cover." The squad leader hissed the orders. Dan kept his shotgun pointed at the door as he heard the shuffle of boots. "Ready."
"Go go go!" Dan kicked the door in, and rushed in, followed by his squad mates. There was a dirty old matress on a springy bed in the center of the room, and a window that had grey mist of the overcast sky comming through, accompanied by the sound of city life and the dreary pant of raindrops. An old record player was sitting on the bed, long since finished playing the record twirling around it, eminating a methodical skip every few seconds out of the raindrops and city noise. Seeing nothing else in the room, Dan turned to the closet to the left of the door, and burst it open, keeping the shotgun ready.
"Aw, shit. Lead, look at this." Dan said, looking in the closet. His squad leader came up behind him, and cursed. In the closet were a stack of 6 small TVs, each covering an angle of the apartment, and one at the entrance to the building. "The guys' long gone from here, man." The leader turned to the wall, and pulled up his radio that was attached to his body armor. "Ok, our guy is gone. Notify the police, he's still somewhere in the area." With a sigh, Dan pulled his ski mask off, the sweat pouring out with it. He felt the adrenaline flowing through him, and a shine of disappointment along with relief. His first job, and nothing happened.
Dan turned away from the closet, and surveyed the area. His leader was arguing with the dispatch on the radio, and the rest of his squad mates were over in the other rooms, looking around the area. Then a creak of the cieling, and suddenly a man fell onto the floor behind the leader without making a sound. Dan fumbled for his shotgun, and suddenly the man held his leader in a necklock with a semi-auto pointed at his head, and used his body as a shield from Dan. Finally gripping his shotgun, he pulled up the sights, holding it on the small image of part of the mans' head hidden behind his leaders' face. "Drop the weapon, now!" Dan heard himself shout. Blood pumped through him, his hands would not keep the shotgun steady no matter how hard he tried. He heard shouts form the other room, and the scuffle of boots on the floorboards. Shouts erupted in a fit of chaos.
"Drop the weapon!"
"Get down! Put your fucking hands up now!"
"Ill blow your head off! Put the gun down now!"
The lights from the tac-lights on the end of the guns shone on the squad leader. The man behind backed away from them all slowly, holding the man as a sheild from the guns. Dan could make out a blue bandana wrapped around his forehead. His eye stared directly at Dan, piercing him, unwavering, with no fear.
"Dan, shoot this fuck!" His leader muffled through the strangled grasp. "Shoot him!" Dan heard the clatter of a pin, and then pure white. A defeaning roar, a ringing in his ears. Screaming. His eyes were searing off of his forehead. "Mothe-" Through the ringing, he heard gunfire. "Where is- " "Aaaaarr-!"
Dan felt himself hit the floor. He couldn't stop blinking, and he could only see white, only feel burning. He was scremaing. The ringing had stopped, but he was screaming. He wasn't holding a shotgun anymore. He blinked more, and a blurry vision of the floor started to take shape among the whiteness. He moved his head slowly, it hurt horribly from the ringing. He could hear the beat of his pulse in his ears, a rhythm of continuousness. It would not stop, it made his head hurt more. His squadmates lay around the floor, unmoving. His leader lay off to his right, where the man was last, with a large hole, dripping of blood and brains through his ski mask.
With a shake, Dan stumbled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. A gust of wind hit him, along with drips of rain. The window. It was open. Dan blinked some more, his vision would not stop blurring. A man crouching in the windowframe, a bandana whipping around in the wind. The man turned to face him for a moment. He had a hard-looking face that was unshaven and rusty-looking. With that one glance, he turned, and jumped out the window. Dan groaned and stumbled clumsily forward, and nearly fell on the windowframe. His legs wouldn't stay straight. The man was running down the fire escape very quickly. Rain poured down the railing onto the noisy street below. People were shouting, cars honking, pollution, and rain. Dan nearly threw up right there from naseasusness. And then, the bandana man was nowhere to be seen. Gone with the trickling rain drops that splashed against the rain gutter and railing.
The thought snapped Dan back to the present, his squad mate's brow sweat drenched eyes, staring at him through his ski mask. He had picked the lock and was waiting for the ready signal. With a small shake, Dan nodded to him, and gripped the grenade tightly. The next happened in an instant. A breath intake, or a small flicker of an eyelash. Training for this was nothing like the real thing. Dan pulled the pin out of the flashbang and it whirled threw the air. Jackson flung the door open inwardly, and Dan chucked the bang in there with a small underhang throw. The pin clattered against the creaky floorboards, then the grenade bounced into the room, disrupting aging dust. Dan turned back outside the room, and flattened himself against the wall, looking away. Another clatter of the grenade skittering inside, then silence. A silence that was less than an instant, but more than an hour. A silence that passed so fast, you almost missed it. Then, there was-not a bang, which accompanied so many grenades-but a ringing, as if your ears were trying to pop open, but couldn't. And the ringing muted everything else out.
Dan turned and rushed into the room, shotgun up at eye level with the tactical light on. The room was a dusty mess, thanks to the flashbang. A small television lay on the corner, in front of a window with the shades drawn. Magazines and newspapers littered the area, but other then that, no one. "Clear." Dan announced to his squadmates, who were rushing in behind him, filling the other rooms. Dan and Jackson went left, toward the extra room. Dan was sure anyone within a mile could hear his pulse racing. He could hear shouts of 'Clear!' from his squadmates in the other rooms. The other 4 members came up behind Dan and Jackson after they cleared the rest of the apartment, their standard issue MP5's held up.
"Red, go. Blue, cover." The squad leader hissed the orders. Dan kept his shotgun pointed at the door as he heard the shuffle of boots. "Ready."
"Go go go!" Dan kicked the door in, and rushed in, followed by his squad mates. There was a dirty old matress on a springy bed in the center of the room, and a window that had grey mist of the overcast sky comming through, accompanied by the sound of city life and the dreary pant of raindrops. An old record player was sitting on the bed, long since finished playing the record twirling around it, eminating a methodical skip every few seconds out of the raindrops and city noise. Seeing nothing else in the room, Dan turned to the closet to the left of the door, and burst it open, keeping the shotgun ready.
"Aw, shit. Lead, look at this." Dan said, looking in the closet. His squad leader came up behind him, and cursed. In the closet were a stack of 6 small TVs, each covering an angle of the apartment, and one at the entrance to the building. "The guys' long gone from here, man." The leader turned to the wall, and pulled up his radio that was attached to his body armor. "Ok, our guy is gone. Notify the police, he's still somewhere in the area." With a sigh, Dan pulled his ski mask off, the sweat pouring out with it. He felt the adrenaline flowing through him, and a shine of disappointment along with relief. His first job, and nothing happened.
Dan turned away from the closet, and surveyed the area. His leader was arguing with the dispatch on the radio, and the rest of his squad mates were over in the other rooms, looking around the area. Then a creak of the cieling, and suddenly a man fell onto the floor behind the leader without making a sound. Dan fumbled for his shotgun, and suddenly the man held his leader in a necklock with a semi-auto pointed at his head, and used his body as a shield from Dan. Finally gripping his shotgun, he pulled up the sights, holding it on the small image of part of the mans' head hidden behind his leaders' face. "Drop the weapon, now!" Dan heard himself shout. Blood pumped through him, his hands would not keep the shotgun steady no matter how hard he tried. He heard shouts form the other room, and the scuffle of boots on the floorboards. Shouts erupted in a fit of chaos.
"Drop the weapon!"
"Get down! Put your fucking hands up now!"
"Ill blow your head off! Put the gun down now!"
The lights from the tac-lights on the end of the guns shone on the squad leader. The man behind backed away from them all slowly, holding the man as a sheild from the guns. Dan could make out a blue bandana wrapped around his forehead. His eye stared directly at Dan, piercing him, unwavering, with no fear.
"Dan, shoot this fuck!" His leader muffled through the strangled grasp. "Shoot him!" Dan heard the clatter of a pin, and then pure white. A defeaning roar, a ringing in his ears. Screaming. His eyes were searing off of his forehead. "Mothe-" Through the ringing, he heard gunfire. "Where is- " "Aaaaarr-!"
Dan felt himself hit the floor. He couldn't stop blinking, and he could only see white, only feel burning. He was scremaing. The ringing had stopped, but he was screaming. He wasn't holding a shotgun anymore. He blinked more, and a blurry vision of the floor started to take shape among the whiteness. He moved his head slowly, it hurt horribly from the ringing. He could hear the beat of his pulse in his ears, a rhythm of continuousness. It would not stop, it made his head hurt more. His squadmates lay around the floor, unmoving. His leader lay off to his right, where the man was last, with a large hole, dripping of blood and brains through his ski mask.
With a shake, Dan stumbled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. A gust of wind hit him, along with drips of rain. The window. It was open. Dan blinked some more, his vision would not stop blurring. A man crouching in the windowframe, a bandana whipping around in the wind. The man turned to face him for a moment. He had a hard-looking face that was unshaven and rusty-looking. With that one glance, he turned, and jumped out the window. Dan groaned and stumbled clumsily forward, and nearly fell on the windowframe. His legs wouldn't stay straight. The man was running down the fire escape very quickly. Rain poured down the railing onto the noisy street below. People were shouting, cars honking, pollution, and rain. Dan nearly threw up right there from naseasusness. And then, the bandana man was nowhere to be seen. Gone with the trickling rain drops that splashed against the rain gutter and railing.