.
Chapter Five – "Reckoning"
Downtown Los Angeles, California
Approaching Prestige National Bank
1140 hours (PST)
...
"Dispatch. Dispatch. This is Alpha-One-One-Niner… What's the twenty on those EMTs?"
"One-One-Niner, be advised: ambulances southbound from Pasadena and Burbank are closing in on your position. Special response unit is one minute out."
"Dispatch, please send everyone down here! Eleven-Nine-Nine emergency! We have sixteen officers down… First assault ineffective! Say again: first assault attempt was not effective! Two-Eleven still in progress at Prestige National!
"Ten-Four. Elevated Tac-Alert has been raised; re-routing all available units to the Downtown-area…"
…
The police radio told Ethan what he was about to head into. There was no time to cope with the jetlag.
Everyone in the armored van felt it as well. There was a deafening silence inside, save for the chatter in the airwaves and the creaking of ammo boxes stowed overhead. Sirens continued to blare as the van raced to the scene; the team had only landed at Los Angeles International about twenty minutes ago. Meghan, their resident intelligence and comms expert, wasted no time coordinating with the responders from beside the driver's seat. In the passenger compartment, Seamus was reviewing operational notes on his little clipboard. Miles and Jordan were beside him, inspecting their sidearms. To Ethan's right, Emma was testing the wheels of her little robot using her wrist-mounted datapad. The rest of the team, the so-called 'special response unit' as far as the cops were concerned, was composed of Marius Streicher, Alex Senaviev, Yumiko Imagawa, and Masaru Enatsu.
The job was straightforward: capture Leonard Fausse, America's Most Wanted and a member of the White Masks, who was just discovered to be hiding out in Los Angeles. Rainbow Six was gracious enough to charter a G-650 business jet and an LAPD van for the team, which was a bit odd. That kind of pull with the White House only meant that today's mission was a critical one. A couple of hours into the flight, however, the situation abruptly changed: an armed bank robbery had broken out in Downtown LA, with about a dozen heavily-armed, masked gunmen. Complete pandemonium, hostages were taken, no word on casualties. Everything felt too convenient to be a coincidence; the team had a lingering suspicion that Fausse was involved in the heist.
*tires screeching*
With luck, the next few minutes would confirm it. Not long after their journey started in LAX, the van had finally ground to a halt. Instinct told Ethan to peer into the viewing ports of the vehicle, to which he saw a collection of cops and police cars scattered about. The entire site was blocked off from crowds of onlookers, as helicopters buzzed from above. There were a few news crews as well.
"We're here.", Meghan announced, knocking on the van's metal shell to rouse any sleepers.
Seamus turned to his team. "Oi, masks down, eyes up."
It was time for everyone to put on their game faces. All of them donned an assortment of balaclavas, black fatigues, tactical vests, and helmets, in contrast to the colorful costumes they 'wore' in the VR simulation earlier today. Anyone who did not know the team by heart would find it difficult to discern who's who. Marius, who was closest to the exit, opened the door with a resounding clank of the lever. The passenger compartment was immediately bathed in a bright, midday light, as the Operators gathered their things and stepped outside of the van, one by one.
Oh boy…
Ethan held his breath as he looked around, standing in the middle of the street, and the tinted goggles shielding his eyes from the sun. It was a surreal scene, straight out of a cinema. Dozens of cops have completely surrounded the Bank, which was riddled with bullet holes. Curiously, most of the Bank's security shutters were deployed, denying entry and clear lines of sight through the windows. It was probably an automated defense mechanism, or an attempt by the robbers to buy time for themselves. Officers of all stripes crouched behind their vehicles, guns raised and pointed at the building's doors and windows. Empty brass casings and pieces of shattered glass littered the asphalt, as the unmistakable tang of fresh cordite filled the air. Sirens were everywhere.
A closer look here and there would reveal patches of blood, indicating where casualties fell. His hunch was proven correct by the triage station setup at the sidewalk; the medical crews were gathered around the wounded and the dead.
"A fuckin' mess, this is.", Seamus muttered. "Feels like Bartlett, but with less smoke…"
"And less grass.", Meghan added, shaking her head. "It's all gonna be tight corridors and small rooms once we kick this off…"
Ethan nodded in silence, taking their words for it. He felt the buildup of adrenaline in his blood, knowing that he was about to have a date with danger yet again. Today would be his first mission since the Middle East. Brand-new team, but same old rules. A fresh start. While part of him was ecstatic to be back in the fight, the other was more down-to-earth, wallowing in cautious fear. He reminded himself that countless lives would be on the line in a few hours; among them were his and his teammates'. The thought that his last foray in the field had ended in failure also gnawed at him, much as he wanted to ignore it.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a few police officers approach them from afar.
"Guys…?", he called to his buddies.
There were three individuals headed their way, heavily-armed, grim and weary- as if they've been fighting a serious skirmish all morning. One of them was an older gentleman wearing plainclothes, with a badge dangling from his collar. Seeing that he was flanked by a couple of geared-up officers with helmets, this guy was presumably the field commander. Meghan and Seamus immediately took the hint, and their eyes were locked onto the approaching 'welcome party'.
"You lot stay here…", the Scotsman ordered. "…Meg?"
"Right behind ya."
The two of them proceeded to meet and shake hands with the cops. They started talking. They were too far away for Ethan and the others to listen in, but one could easily assume their conversation. 'What happened?', 'How many hostiles inside?', 'How many hostages?'. Miles, who was ex-LAPD himself, peeled away from the group to talk to his former co-workers.
Team Rainbow, meanwhile, was stuck with mindless musings and chatters, anything to keep themselves calm while they awaited their orders. They ignored the curious stares from the police, who seem to be baffled by the commandos' presence, donning all matter of kit. Likewise, the team did not appear comfortable with the prospect of working with so many of Los Angeles's Finest. Too much room for friction in the field, to say nothing about the skill gap between them. These were just some of the many wake-up calls for today- the mission was not a VR sim. No team switches, no 'trades' of kills, no spawning for the next round. The prospect of going home in an ambulance or in a body bag was a real possibility.
"Well… this is interesting, don't you think?", Alex commented, seemingly happy.
"How so?", Emma turned to him, half-smiling. Her black mask had a mouth opening.
"Bank robbery, police cars, gunfight in the streets of Los Angeles? It is like movie!"
Alexsandr Senaviev. Tachanka. 'Alex' to the team, 'Sasha' to his fellow Spetsnaz operatives. An odd fellow to have as a battle-buddy, what with his enthusiasm in combat and affection for old school hardware. The non-standard Maska helmet adorning his head was also an extension of his character, lending him a unique charm. Some people, like Ethan, found it difficult to believe that this goofball was also a living relic of the Soviet War in Afghanistan. But beneath the jovial man's brawn lay decades' worth of military experience, so who was he to judge?
"I've seen that too…", he told him. "…The bad guys got away."
"Hah! Then let us write different ending for this one, tovarishch! I'm thinking girls and-"
"Sheise… now ist not the time to talk about your veird fetishes…", Marius complained.
Marius 'Jäger' Streicher. GSG 9 aviator and engineer. In contrast to the Russkie, this German was anything but a ray of sunshine. Like a pompous dick who thought he was better than anyone else in the room. But he was really good at his job, and he knew it. He'd never turn down a chance to remind people of his 'Magpies' and how they served the Bundespolizei far better than any other cop's time on the beat. Unlikable and cocky, but Emma claimed that he was a good guy at heart.
Despite the clashing personalities, it was nice to know that the team had plenty of gusto. Unfortunately, the levity was short-lived. A few minutes after they started, Seamus and Meghan finished their talk with the cops and made their way back. The mood suddenly became much more grim. Their eyes were razor-sharp with focus. The leader seemed to have plenty of things to say to them, judging by the handful of rolled up papers that he had on his right arm. Miles was trailing behind.
"What do you have for us, sir?", Emma spoke out.
"Gather 'round, everyone.", he motioned his fingers.
They followed Seamus to the armored vehicle, whereupon he laid down the papers on top of a large utility trunk. He began his brief.
"Right then. Brass tacks… The alarm was tripped at around 0950 this mornin', shots were fired, no demands were made… LAPD cordoned the entire site, and they launched an incursion about forty minutes ago… The poor bastards were ambushed when they rappelled from the roof…"
A few pairs of eyes focused on the triage station nearby. Those poor souls tended to by the paramedics wore the blue overalls of LAPD SWAT. There were a handful of body bags as well, carefully hidden from the sights of prying news cameras from afar.
"…Negotiations are out of the question after that stunt. So far, the bobbies (cops) are treatin' this as a robbery, not a terrorist attack..."
"Let me guess…", Jordan commented. "…It's in their best interests that we keep it that way?"
"Aye…"
Seamus then rolled out a large sheet of bluish paper for his teammates to see. It was a floorplan. The words 'Prestige National Bank' caught everyone's eye.
"…The power has been cut, so that sorts out the security cameras at least… Initial drone recon from LAPD counted at least sixteen hostiles on all floors, bottom-up. Automatic weapons, grenades, and light body armor… Security shutters are runnin' on emergency power, so we have to deal with 'em too. We'll have no sniper support otherwise…"
He flicked them a picture of a non-descript female Caucasian. A brunette, probably in her mid-thirties.
"…The bank manager and four other hostages are in the 2nd floor CEO's Office… the place's locked tighter than a scrooge's purse strings: metal barricades, barbed wire, the works..."
"And Fausse? Is he in there?", the former FBI asked again.
"No positive ID.", Meghan tersely replied. Her demeanor as an intelligence officer was showing. "The tangos are all wearing masks, but we are almost certain he's inside. The drones have heard these guys calling his name…"
She then moved past Seamus's shoulder and gleamed down, placing her finger on some locations in the blueprint. They corresponded to the lobby, the first-floor office area, and the back stairwell leading to the vault.
"…We have significant foot traffic here, here… and here…", she pointed. "…Expect roving patrols at these spots. Two or three men a piece, tops... We have no eyes on the vault, so that's another unknown variable we have to consider."
"Your recommendation?", Marius asked, with his hands on his waist.
"Recon with drones and Black Eyes. We go in with sound suppressors, flashbangs, and smokes… Minimize collateral damage, locate and capture Fausse."
"And the hostages?", Emma brought out a sensible query.
"We leave 'em to the bobbies…", Seamus responded. "...Fausse remains our Priority One. Everyone else in that building is expendable."
"Wait, what?!", she exclaimed. "Then… can we consider a non-lethal approach? We start shooting, we might end up with a handful of-"
"We didn't come down 'ere for a rescue mission, Em…", was her superior's stern reply. "…If our target gets away, we'll be puttin' more people at risk in the future."
Emma was about to speak back in protest, but she withdrew her reply at the last second. Blunt honesty aside, Seamus was right. The guns and ammo they've brought today spoke a thousand words about the threat they would have to deal with today.
Ethan turned his eyes to another picture- that of a grizzled, mustached man with dauntless eyes. Leonard Francis Fausse. Fifty years old. Native of Noxon, Montana. Former Sergeant, 2nd Marine Division, saw action in Desert Storm. Dishonorably discharged after multiple altercations with fellow NCOs. Tried to enter civilian life, but had run-ins with the law. Illegal firearms and drug trafficking. Sentenced to fifty years at the State Prison in Powell, but had his term commuted to ten. He went underground after his release, joined a nondescript far right movement somewhere along the West Coast, until he and a few likeminded individuals branched off to create 'America's True Patriots'. It didn't take long for them to organize this band of activists into the most infamous terrorist group in the country's recent history. Colluding with the White Masks was hardly out of character.
A dangerous individual, in other words. One that must be removed from play as soon as possible. It would be easier if Rainbow just killed him, Ethan thought.
"That goes to the rest of ya...", Seamus continued. "...Target One must be captured alive and unharmed. No fannying 'round."
Miles Campbell crossed his arms, clearly puzzled.
"I don't know. Something feels off… Why rob a bank? Aren't the White Masks well-financed or something? …And they've had plenty of time to escape, so why are they digging in?"
"No idea. That's why we're gonna barge in and ask 'em.", the leader replied with dry humor.
"Let's not go into this one blind…", Meghan reminded. "…I'm pretty sure the tangos have shored up their defenses since that last assault… And I sure as hell don't wanna bumrush our one chance of nailing this asshole alive."
"That's the plan...", Seamus continued. "...SWAT said they're gonna have another go in half an hour. They're asking us to join 'em..."
The burly man began to trace lines on the blueprints with his finger.
"...I reckon a two-pronged approach...Alpha: garage entry. Sweep the vault and the security room, then raise the shutters... Bravo: back alley. Secure the offices and the stairwell at the back... We'll let SWAT take the front entrance and rescue the hostages. Give 'em support if need be..."
Everyone began taking notes in their mind.
"…Alpha will have me as breacher... Jäger on point, Tachanka on rear security... Ace?"
"Sir?", Ethan raised his eyes.
"You'll run support with us. I'm gonna have to trust yer aim, yeah?"
"You got it, sir.", he smiled. At that moment, he felt a tinge of pride in his chest.
"Hmph, try to keep up 'new guy'...", Marius challenged him. There was no doubt that he had a smug look wrapped behind his headgear.
"Hey.", Alex butted in. "Play nice, bratan (brother)."
"Hibana…", the Scotsman continued. "…You will lead Bravo. Take Thermite, and Castle with ya... And have Echo maintain a permanent visual on the X with his drone, just in case..."
A big red 'X' indicated the hostages' location at the second floor. Yumiko Imagawa, formerly of the Aichi Prefectural Police, replied with a nod of conviction. Quiet and composed, she exuded 'leadership material'.
"What about me?", Emma asked.
"Charlie. You'll be with Valk- set up your 417 by the parking structure and provide whatever overwatch you can. Charlie-One will give us eyes inside the building."
"I... yes sir."
The answer obviously didn't sit well with her, causing her to frown in disappointment.
"So, that's it...", Seamus ended his briefing. "Any questions?"
"..."
"Alright then. You know yer jobs. Let's go to work."
The man's orders were met with a few head bobs from the team. Wasting no more time, they dispersed to gather their equipment inside the armored van. Amidst the trunks and lockers was a host of military-grade firearms and other toys. Emma brought out a scoped 417 marksman rifle, while Miles and Jordan grabbed their choice of M1014s from the racks. Seamus, in contrast, seemed satisfied with the 9mm SMG-11 in his hands. As for Ethan, he took out a matte-black Remington R4, fitted with a 2.5x optic. While he much preferred his old battle rifle, the M4-style profile was familiar to him. He took a second to inspect the rifle. 5.56mm NATO, cold-hammer forged barrel, and 1:7 grooves to provide sufficient velocity to a 62-grain bullet for medium to long range. He pulled back the rifle's charging handle and quickly checked if the scope was properly zeroed. Then, he fastened a sound suppressor on the barrel, as per the mission parameters.
Everybody else picked whatever gun and gadget demanded by their role. Everybody seemed ready and eager, except for their lone French operative. She was devoid of her usual smile and enthusiasm, much to the recruit's wonder.
"...Hey. You alright?"
"Hmm?", she turned to him.
"You look... nervous."
Just like that, the anxiety in her face disappeared.
"Oh, shove off, Ace...", she patted his shoulder. "...Worry about yourself."
Emma turned around and walked off, with the 417 propped on her right shoulder. The confidence was genuine, yet oversold. Something was bothering her.
She was right about one thing, though. Ethan should pay more attention to his sorry hide. Just as he was about to grab some ammo, he felt chills crawl up his spine. It was an old, familiar reaction; the realization had just sunk in that he was about to flirt with danger, yet again. He felt his pulse quicken and his hands shake. Out of practice for so long, he suddenly felt vulnerable. Or it might have been his old wounds, putting him out of his zone.
The sudden arrival of another batch of ambulances didn't do much to quell his anxiety. Several police officers rushed to meet the paramedics who emerged from the vans, hauling their wounded comrades onto gurneys and stretchers. If there was a pessimist among the group, they would consider this as a terrible portent.
Wish me luck, brother.
He fumbled with Gabe's dog tags, hoping for solace.
...
…
Twenty minutes have gone by. Four heavily-armed Rainbow operatives huddled to the west of the Bank.
"Alpha-One to all teams…", Seamus radioed. "…We're at the insertion. Sound off."
"Bravo-One: in position and holding.", Yumiko responded.
"Charlie-One: in position, all systems green…", Meghan also spoke. "…Black Eyes have good signal… Waiting on you."
"Alpha-One acknowledges. Anythin' yer vids can tell us?"
"Standby… Garage entrance is clear… Rooftops clear… I have two tangos in the lobby, behind the tellers… Two more tangos patrolling the staircase, second deck. Marking now."
In response, Alpha Team lowered the helmet-mounted imagers to their eyes. They saw a number of red pings in the building's direction, which indicated the hostiles' probable locations.
"Markers received.", Seamus replied. "We're ready for the nod."
"Check that."
Thus, the waiting game began.
As they've discussed with the LAPD, Team Rainbow would form the spearhead of the assault. Alpha was positioned near the garage ramp leading to the loading docks in the basement, where the money trucks regularly made their deliveries. The four-man team was hugging the wall in single file, with Seamus leading the pack and Alex forming the rearguard. The Russian was hefting his big fucking machinegun on a backpack. There were a couple of police cars ahead of them, both shot up and abandoned- a reminder of the battle that raged earlier between the cops and Fausse's men. Bravo was presumably huddled in an alley at the southeast, ready to advance and seize the back offices on the SWAT commander's signal. Charlie, meanwhile, was crouched behind several cars at the adjacent parking structure, with Emma scoping out the place with her rifle and Meghan gluing her eyes to the monitors. The blondie was also the one monitoring comms.
Success in this op would depend on her little cameras. US Navy-issue, gyroscopic, and high-def 360-degree perception, all packed in a gizmo that was less than half the size of a football. The Mk2 Black Eyes were a powerful asset to the team, if one had the strength to throw them at a good distance. But the frogwoman didn't have this problem; she had the arms of a quarterback.
"Heads up.", she suddenly spoke. "Black Eyes Two and Three have picked up more movement. Marking now."
Alpha Team's imagers were decorated with even more red lights, which now totaled to seven. That was half of the enemy accounted for, but it wasn't enough. The rest of the bad guys could still be anywhere at this point. For a moment, it appeared as if Rainbow was about to go into this one completely in the dark, even with dozens of SWAT cops backing them up.
"…Damn, I wish Craig or Tim were here.", the ex-Navy SEAL radioed under her breath. "We could use more shooters."
"We make do with what we have, Charlie-One.", Seamus assured her.
"Ugh. Great…"
It was at this moment that Meghan received another message from her headset, judging from the long silence that precluded her next words.
"…Alpha, SWAT just gave us the nod. We have Code Green. Repeat, Code Green."
"Charlie-Two here.", Emma spoke in the airwaves. "I've got a limited view of the second floor. No tangos in sight; you're cleared to move."
"Affirmative.", Seamus replied. "Let's go lads."
It was time for action.
Just like in the drills, Ethan stood up in sync with his comrades. Alpha Team went in first, sticking to the shadows and advancing in silence as they descended into the basement garage. Upon reaching the end of the ramp, the team crouched under the half-closed security gate, held in place by a derelict, bullet-ridden police car. They took a split-second to observe the vehicle: its roof had caved in under the weight, with bits shards on the hot asphalt. The hood and the windshield were perforated with holes, and a few splotches of blood decorated the dashboard.
"Alpha-One, beginning our entry.", Yumiko reported. "See you on the other side."
"Roger, Bravo-One. Good huntin'."
All four members of Alpha scanned their sectors as they moved across the basement garage, swiftly and quietly. It was quite dim inside; there was no source of light save for the emergency lamps that hummed in silence. The team stopped in their tracks and hugged the wall when they reached a corner. Seamus, ever the valiant leader, holstered his suppressed SMG-11 and threw out one of his reconnaissance drones. If the floorplans were right, Alpha Team was just next to the loading docks, which was a few meters away from the vault and the security room. At this point, all that separated them from the masked gunmen were several feet of brick, steel, and concrete. With luck, Fausse was also on the other side.
The whole place was quiet. Rainbow was about to venture into unknown territory, out of the Black Eyes' line of sight. While Ethan was not really a huge fan of the high-tech shit that Rainbow seemed to love, he was really thankful for the little robots that did the recon for them.
"…I'm counting two, three hostiles inside.", Seamus radioed. "…Entrance is all boarded up… No positive visual on Target One."
"Check, Alpha.", Meghan replied.
"One tango isolated, we're gonna take him out."
At that moment, Yumiko returned to Rainbow's frequency.
"This is Bravo-One, I count three armed hostiles in the staff room. In position to neutralize to them, over."
"Check all.", the blonde woman replied again. "Rainbow is cleared to engage."
Seamus turned to Alpha-Two.
"Jäger… I'm gonna mark a tango ahead. If he peeks through the planks, blow his noggin."
"Got it."
The German cop moved ahead of Alpha's little queue and raised his sound-suppressed 416-C around the corner, anticipating an opportunity. Thanks to the imager on his helmet, he knew exactly where the bad guy was located. His poise was well-practiced and exacting, like a hunter waiting to pounce his prey.
...
Alpha Team's first kill came less than ten seconds later.
*Thwoop!*
"Tango down.", Marius announced.
"Roger, kill confirmed.", Seamus commended. He observed the shot using his drone's camera. "Let's move."
Alpha Team followed his lead with weapons at the ready, knowing that there were at least two more hostiles inside. But first, they had to deal with the wooden barricade that the drone warned them about. The barrier was a hodgepodge, obviously constructed from whatever planks and other scrap of wood and plaster that the bank had lying around. It was held in place by nails; designed more to obstruct view and delay entry, rather than ward off any assailants. Luckily for Alpha, they had the means of removing the obstacle as quietly as possible. The lone Scotsman in the team readied his breaching hammer.
"Stand back.", he ordered.
*Whack!*
A single, well-calculated swing smashed open a gap big enough for one man to squeeze through. Marius was the first person inside the barely-illuminated hall, followed by Seamus, and then the recruit with a suppressed R4. Watching his steps, Ethan glimpsed at the masked robber that the German had just taken out; there was a hole in his cranium and a gory mess on the floor. Nobody seemed to have heard their entry.
"Coast is clear.", Seamus whispered.
His teammates followed his lead again, walking and crouching just as he quietly as he was. From there, it was just a short walk either to the vault on one side and the security room on the other. They decided to take a left, all the while keeping their feet away from the shards of glass and spent bullet casings on the floor. The team was committed to rush the lobby leading to the vault itself. But then, Alpha One raised a closed fist, ordering everyone to stop. There were voices coming out of the large, metal door, which was left wide open. Two men, seemingly preoccupied with something else, were chatting amongst themselves.
Alpha Team kept their ears peeled.
"We need more bags, kid!", an older fellow shouted. "We got a shit-ton of money to haul!"
"Everyone's manning positions upstairs, Bryce. We shouldn't even be here. The boss said-"
"Oh, fuck him! There's more than enough here to set us all up for life!"
"Were you even paying attention upstairs!? He said we wait for Caleb's guys! That's the plan!"
It was an odd piece of dialogue. Seamus looked like he mentally scratched his head.
"Charlie-One, you get all that?"
"Check that, Alpha.", Meghan radioed back. "Target One is either ground-level or at the second floor… Sounds like we have enemy reinforcements en route as well..."
The last sentence just raised the stakes. Ethan felt his pulse rise in tempo. Enemy reinforcements? How many? He suddenly felt an urge to check his ammo, see if it was enough to accommodate a few extra targets. He hoped that the police cordon above would be enough to ward off the robbers' friends if they came. But everything was moot until the situation developed.
More importantly, the chatter from the bad guys all but confirmed that Fausse was still in the building.
It was time to clear the next room. To keep their presence hidden, Alpha One turned around and used hand signals to tell his team what to do next. He would distract the two hostiles inside the vault, and Marius and Ethan would have to pick them off simultaneously. The timing had to be incredibly precise and sharpish, lest the bad guys would just have enough time to alert their friends upstairs. Alex, on the other hand, was ordered to watch their backs and keep anyone from jumping them from the security room. The job of the rearguard was a thankless one, but it was crucial for Alpha Team's safety.
With the orders handed out, Seamus moved ahead and crouched behind the corner, while his teammates remained behind. He took one of the large pieces of glass on the floor and prepared to throw it. Alpha-Two and Alpha-Three patiently waited, with their fingers on the triggers...
*TING!*
The shard rang loudly as it hit the marble floor. It immediately got the two gunmen's attention.
"What the- Tony? Was that you?"
They called for their friend outside, unaware that he had already joined the deceased less than a minute ago. The two gunmen faced the source of the noise, cocked their weapons, and proceeded to walk out of the vault. The footsteps were audible enough for Alpha Team to follow, allowing them to anticipate the enemies' movements. A few seconds' worth of silence followed...
Now!
*Thwoop! Thwoop! Thwoop! Thwoop!*
The black-clad commandos sprang their surprise, as the air snapped with the near-silent hissing of the subsonic bullets. A couple of the shots caught the first robber's head, causing him to jerk back and fall over, dead. The other gunman, who was hoisting a rather large duffel bag, was also doubly ventilated, hitting his sternum and neck. The cash-laden bag over his shoulders had a few bills dangling when he fell, causing them to flutter on impact. The vault now had two corpses, and newer splotches of blood.
"Vault clear. Move in, move in!", Seamus ordered.
Marius and Ethan did as they were told, guns raised and ready for more hostiles. To their relief, they didn't have any opposition. A moment of peace. As such, they scanned their respective sectors for anything else that was amiss. The emergency lights gave the vault a rather dim, yellowish hue. The safety deposit boxes were secure. A lot of bills littered the floor. Alpha Team also feasted their eyes on the stacks of money that graced the tables. The recently-killed tangos had been counting their loot, quite messily as the operators noted, and stuffing the wads in the duffel bags.
But a closer look raised a few eyebrows. Mixed in with the Ben Franklins were the unmistakable colors of Euro banknotes, in denominations of a hundred at least. The stacks of paper money lacked identifying markers and serial numbers, which led Ethan to believe that they were uncirculated. Maybe even counterfeit. It was strange to see them all sorted and crumpled, whereas the stacks of American dollars and gold bars at the adjacent room were in pristine condition. As if they didn't entice the robbers.
"This is strange…" Ethan muttered. "…Why didn't they pack these with the rest of their stash?"
"Not for us to know, mate.", Seamus replied.
It was odd for the bad guys to miss these items on purpose. What were they planning? Was this why they didn't escape? The mission did not allow time for detective work, however. Alpha Team still had a second objective. They still needed to seize the security room and retract the shutters, so that the police snipers could back them up. With everything right as rain so far, Alpha One pressed the button on his headset.
"Bravo. We're right below you. Vault is secured, what's your status?"
"Just cleared the break room and open area. Three EKIA. Echo still has visual on the X... No positive ID on Target One, over.
"Alpha copies. Be advised, we're movin' to the security room to-"
*BOOOOM!*
Suddenly, the entire room rumbled from a loud bang from the floor above, rattling everyone's bells.
"What the bloody hell was that!?"
For a split-second, Ethan felt his heart burst through his chest. He thought that someone had just stepped on a pressure plate or a tripwire. Then it became clear that the explosion was far away from his position. It was followed by sporadic bursts of gunfire and frantic screams from above. Telltale signs of a major battle.
"Holy shit!", Emma hollered into the radio. "They rigged the entrance!"
"All teams, all teams: SWAT is under heavy contact at the lobby…", Meghan also spoke. Her calm voice was laced with urgency. "…Cameras are tracking multiple tangos converging on their position."
Automatic fire and panicked yelling all but confirmed Team Rainbow's worst fears. Before the team leader could reply, however, the distinctive firing of Alex's sound-suppressed SMG clattered from the hallway.
"This is Alpha-Four! Enemy contact!"
Such a quick turn of events. The gunfire upstairs must have stirred the tangos in the security room into action, right into the Russian's crosshairs.
A frustrated sigh. Ethan and the rest of the team hurried out of the vault to come to Alex's aid. They found him crouching behind a corner, exchanging fire with tangos. From the sounds of it, there were about two guys unloading bullets from the security room. The team was only a few feet away from touching Alex's shoulder, until he suddenly darted from his spot. There was a look of surprise in his eyes, which gave his comrades a several level of alarm. It could only mean one thing...
"Chyort (Shit)! GRENAAADE! GET BACK!"
*BOOOM!*
...
Another rumbling explosion and a hail of shrapnel. It was too close for comfort this time, with pieces of molten metal missing the operators' bodies by inches. They grunted and cursed, pulling back from the hallway. All four commandos felt the grenade's shockwave rattle their insides for a little, but they were unharmed.
And just like that, the mission went awry. Such tough luck for the cops, being ambushed twice in a row. Even more so for Rainbow, who suddenly found itself engorged in a vicious close quarters battle, exactly how Meghan feared their mission would devolve into. Ethan could hear her making call-outs via the radio, but his ears were still ringing from the explosion. It was deja vu for him. For a few seconds, he felt like he was back in the Middle East. So much gunfire. So many explosions. So much tension and stress.
'Capture Leonard Fausse'. It proved difficult for him to remember the main objective amidst the din and chaos of battle. He was shaken and petrified, but his body forced itself to stand up. There was a mix of emotions in his heart, even as his ears struggled to hear again. He was furious. Everything was going smoothly until the bad guys pulled another dastardly trick from their sleeves. Suddenly, nothing mattered to Ethan Mallory, except getting him and his friends out of this mess. He wanted so bad to jump back right into the fray, and drill a few new holes into the bad guys. He reloaded his rifle, proving his conviction.
"Alpha-One, this is Bravo.", Yumiko suddenly radioed. "We're moving around to assist SWAT. Request you chop off two of your guys to our position, over."
"…"
"Alpha-One! Did you receive my last?"
"Yeah, I got it! *coughs*", Seamus shouted. "Ace! Throw smoke!"
"Roger! Smoking out!"
Grabbing one of the M18s strapped to his waste, Ethan removed the pin and tossed the grenade across the hallway. The team needed some cover before they could dismount from their position. The canister burst soon after, releasing a cloud of white smoke that slowly accumulated. It filled the hall with a noxious gas that was difficult for the bad guys to see through. Thankfully, Alpha Team had the benefit of high-tech imaging technology on their side. Seamus, seizing the initiative, used his drone to mark targets, providing his teammates with several new red pings to focus on. Then, he motioned to Alex to deploy his machinegun. The Russian nodded with utmost glee, dropping his backpack and quickly assembling his prized RP-46.
The turret was propped up not a moment too soon. He set it down in the middle of the hallway, behind an overturned trolley for sufficient cover. The vintage barrel bore down the hall with a menacing look. Then, it came to life with ear-ringing spits of fire.
*Bratatatatatatatat!*
There were screams of terror on the other side of the hall, even as the smoke continued to build. Bullets audibly ripped through flesh, steel, and concrete. Alex began to yell with bravado.
"URRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
His voice was as an accompaniment to the gunfire. Marius, eager to lend him a hand, also let loose with his sound-suppressed assault rifle, without much care for subtlety or finesse.
"We got this, new guy!", he told Ethan. "You and Sledge take ze stairs now!"
His shots meshed with the distinctive clattering of the Soviet weapon that his partner wielded. The bravery and tenacity said it all: the duo laid down covering fire, allowing Alpha One and Alpha Three to displace from cover and rush to the stairs. There was no time to think. It didn't matter that they left half of the team behind, outnumbered and outgunned. It didn't matter they lacked sniper support. More so than the recruit, who was thrown into a maelstrom of gunfire on his first assignment. Normally calling the shots on his own, today he was content to follow the burly man's lead like a trusty footslogger. His heart was beating out of his chest, rife with fury and excitement. He tried his damnedest to keep the mission in his head.
Time was of the essence. Ethan and Seamus made their way up the staircase, heedless of the gunfire that rang throughout the building. Their guns were raised, ready to drop any poor fool who stood in their way. They trusted Alex and Marius to fight through the security room and raise the shutters, as the rest of Alpha advanced to Bravo's position from the other side. Surprisingly, the plan was back on track. There were a lot more bullets to dodge this time, however.
"Charlie Two to Alpha Three…", Emma called on the horn. "…Tango spotted above you."
What came next was the sound of shattered glass from up high, followed by a loud gasp that ended abruptly. A few seconds later, the body of a dead gunman tumbled and landed in front of Ethan, giving him a mild surprise.
"Woah. Nice shot!"
"Merci (Thanks). Keep moving, Alpha. I got you covered!"
He glimpsed at her position, mentally giving her a thumbs-up. Quickly scanning for targets, Seamus pointed his SMG at both sides of the hallway, then he hooked right. His teammate followed his tail, watching his six with the R4. Then, the two of them crossed the threshold to the open area together, and soon stumbled across a room of cubicles with a number of dead bodies. Gunmen put down by Bravo Team. They already said that Fausse was not among the corpses, so the two operators pressed on.
"Charlie-One. We're moving through the open area and the break room."
"Check that Alpha-Three. Watch the terraces and the skylight on your way out."
They moved across the rooms, stopping for nothing. Just a few meters away from their position was Yumiko and the rest of Bravo, fighting to reach the ambushed cops at the lobby. Ethan wanted to lend them a hand. He and his team leader could swing in from the tellers' office and flank the bad guys. But he also knew that the mission was a higher priority. 'Capture Leonard Fausse'. The gunmen said that their boss was upstairs, so that was Rainbow's next destination. They could not afford to be distracted.
It was only a short dash to the staircase on the other side…
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
A fresh stream of bullets came from up high, hammering the marble floor ahead of them. The two men immediately darted back to avoid the gunmen's line of sight.
"Fuck! Take cover!"
Frustration continued to build. While Seamus motioned to him to hang back, Ethan felt restless behind cover. They needed to keep moving, lest they would be outflanked by the hostiles who were undoubtedly scrambling all over the place. And so, the recruit kept his gun ready. Amidst the cacophony of gunfire throughout the building, he was able to distinguish the unique report of a Russian LMG, possibly a PKM, that was keeping them pinned. Right then, he discovered a renewed resolve and an itch for payback. Rather than be gripped with fear, he let his courage take over. He took out one of the stun grenades in his chest rig.
"Flash out!", he yelled.
*Bang!*
The blinding sparkle and ringing noise was followed by a host of pained grunts. The gunmen had just had their senses bombarded by 170 decibels and a sudden flash of eye-searing light. Seizing the chance, Seamus and Ethan rushed to the other side with his rifle raised. Instinct told the former sniper that his targets were above, so he trained his rifle scope to the second floor. And there he was: a masked assailant wearing bulky white overalls, standing on the terrace, covering his eyes, and about to lose his grip on his machinegun. With the way he staggered, the bad guy's menacing firearm soon fell out of his hands and dropped on the floor below. He was alone and unarmed: a sitting duck for the ACOG.
*Thwoop! Thwoop!*
"Boss get down!"
Ethan had lined up two kill shots when, from out of nowhere, another gunman entered his line of sight and jumped in front to shield his friend. The poor bastard caught a couple of 5.56mm bullets on his back, causing him to wheeze and crumple over. His corpse later fell over with a bone-crushing thud, joining the LMG in a broken pile of metal, blood, and bullets.
Boss?
That word could only mean one thing. Ethan kept his eyes trained at the tango in the bulky suit, rather than shoot him dead. The bastard soon regained his senses, and immediately motioned an urge to run, rather than fight. This guy... seemed different from the others. Self-preservation. It could only mean one thing. The recruit decided to trust his gut, once again.
"FAUSSE!", he shouted
The name went through like a sword. Rather than face the dark-clad commando, the masked man bolted from view, visibly afraid.
"Stop right there!", Seamus yelled.
The burly Scotsman gave chase from the stairs, with his subordinate close behind. While navigating the flight of steps, they saw a few gunmen suddenly emerge from the second-floor hallway, intending to cut them down as they went up. But the two operators let their training respond in kind: they let loose a hail of fire from their weapons that dropped the tangos screaming and dying. Three more corpses adding to the list of bad guys killed.
The man in white kept running.
"MEGHAN! I HAVE A VISUAL ON TARGET ONE! WE'RE IN PURSUIT!"
"Goddamit, check that!", Meghan's voice was filled with urgency. "All teams, all teams: Target One is on the second deck. Charlie-Two, check your targets and confirm!"
Fausse quickly made a right turn and disappeared from the two operators' view. Recalling the Bank's blueprints, Ethan figured that the bastard had just made his way to the conference room, smackdab next to the CEO's Office. Winded but determined, Ethan and Seamus followed their quarry, ready for anything he might throw their way. It seemed reckless to rush their target, rather than check their corners for any threat waiting surprise them. Little did they know that a stroke of luck was on their side: amidst the chaos and the gunfire, the bad guys at the lobby didn't realize that Team Rainbow had already broken through their defenses, already hounding the heels of their leader. The end was near.
Ethan was the first person who entered the conference room. He was ready to let loose a few shots from his R4, when he suddenly heard the air to his right wisp and crack. Instinctively, he dove into an overturned desk in the lounge, just in time for a torrent of bullets to burst through the wooden wall. They turned the door frame behind him into a pincushion; Seamus had barely enough time to fall back unscathed.
"Fuckin' shite!", he cursed behind cover. "Ace! What's yer status!?"
"*cough* I'm fine… I have eyes on the target."
Unfazed by the firepower, he peeked behind the table to observe the room ahead. It was the CEO's Office, where he found a collection of five, tied up, gagged, huddled in fear. Behind them was the man in white: Leonard Fausse, Target One, who was donning the same costume as his men. But his was slightly different. Heavy body armor and bandoliers on top of a bleach-white Hazmat suit. There were several tubes that ran all over his body, and there seemed to be a bulky oxygen tank strapped on his back. There were plenty of blinking lights as well, most of them were concentrated on the ammo pouches…
...
Oh shit!
Ethan blinked his eyes. He was mistaken. The pouches didn't hold mags or ammo. They were blocks of C4. Enough to obliterate the entire floor, vaporize anything within 300 meters and beyond.
"Alpha-One! Target has a suicide vest!", he whispered. "Say again: Target One has a suicide vest! He's rigged to blow!"
"Bloody hell! Alpha-Three, fall back now!"
It was worse than he feared. First a shootout, then a hostage situation… now Rainbow had to deal with a bomb threat. The former Delta sniper shook his head at the incredulous turn of events. Peeking out again, he saw that Fausse had a pistol in one hand and a detonator on the other. Ethan's combat experience and moral compass told him to kill the bastard and stop a major catastrophe. But would the mission allow it? Would Rainbow abet in killing a principal suspect just to save lives? What would Six do when she learned about this? There were so many variables that went through his head. They vied for space and attention. They tested his patience.
"Negative sir. He's mine…"
Against all sense, Ethan stood up with his rifle aimed at Fausse. But he didn't open fire.
"…Give it up Fausse! It's over!"
The man in the white overalls was speechless, as if he didn't expect a trained killer to parlay with him. But then, he let his defiance get the better of him.
"FUCK YOU!"
"You got nowhere to run! Put down your weapons and place your hands on your head!
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"
Alpha Three took a few more steps. He kept his cool and his trigger-finger steady, even though a slow rage boiled in his blood. He didn't have time for this rubbish. He placed a pound of trigger-pressure in reserve, just in case. If things went south, there was a 62-grain bullet in the chamber with Fausse's name on it. Without the SWAT snipers, he only had himself to trust.
"Think this over, pal!", Ethan yelled. "Nobody else has to die today if you turn yourself in!"
"SHUT UP! GET BACK OR I'LL-"
Fausse remained firm, tightening his grip on the pistol and the remote control for the bombs on his body. The hostages, particularly the bank manager, continued to whimper and beg. It was definitely a nightmare scenario for them: their fate rested on a crazed lunatic and a heavily-armed soldier. Ethan felt their plight; there was an urge in his heart to console them, even if it meant handing out false assurances. But he needed to stand his ground as well, lest the masked bastard in the room would take them all out.
At that moment, Seamus whispered to him via radio.
"Ace. Keep him talkin'... Be ready to tackle him in five... Bravo-Four, are you set?"
The callsign belonged to Masaru Enatsu. Echo.
"Mochiron (Of course). Awaiting your word.", the Japanese man replied.
It seemed that his comrades had a plan. Ethan pondered about it for a while, sifting through the mission briefing if he missed a crucial detail. Then, he remembered Bravo Team's drone. It was still on the ceiling, watching the action and hiding from view. There was an opportunity in the works. And so, the charade continued.
"Let these people go, Fausse! They've got nothing to do with this!"
"NO! NO!", the other man resisted. "They are my ticket outta here! You government dogs don't know how anythin' works, do ya!?"
...Three
Two.
One.
*WOOOOM!*
A deep, whirring noise suddenly erupted from the ceiling. Louder than the most obnoxious subwoofer. It was so powerful that Ethan visualized a sonic boom careen from above and go straight to the madman's body. The impact rang everyone's ears, but none more so than Fausse, who immediately screamed in pain and dropped his weapons. Slightly dazed, the Rainbow operative saw the opportunity to pin him into the ground.
"Argh!"
The target offered no struggle, as the commando wrestled him and removed all the wires from his suit. There were a lot of screams from the hostages, as usual for civilians unaccustomed to violence. Hearing the commotion, Seamus rushed inside the office with his weapon drawn, surprised to see that his plan worked. Then, he lent his teammate a hand by producing handcuffs from his utility belt. He also recovered the detonator, and promptly removed its power source.
"Target One is captured.", he called into his radio. "Repeat, Target One is captured… Bloody good job, Echo."
He and Ethan brought their prisoner up on his feet. They forcibly removed the ballistic mask from the suit, revealing the visage of a dazed, defeated, and pathetic man. He was drenched with sweat, as they all were. He looked like he was about to cry. Neither of the two commandos had any sympathy for him.
"Okay! I surrender! I surr- *smack!*"
"Shut up, you fuckin' son of a bitch!", Seamus cursed, after he gave him a mean right hook.
The Scotsman's fury mirrored Ethan's. It was clear that they wanted to give their prisoner a ferocious beating, after what he did today. Within the seconds, the gunfire throughout the building began to subside, followed by shouts from the good guys. All hostiles had been taken out. Then, a flood of footsteps. Fellow Rainbow operatives and SWAT officers stormed the office from all sides, weapons drawn. Seeing that Fausse had been subdued, they turned their attention to the hostages, crying their hearts out of fear, stress, and relief.
"Alpha-One to Alpha-Four. What's yer status?"
"Da. We're fine tovarishch!", a man with a thick accent happily replied. "We're at security room... All targets dead. We are lifting shutters now."
The metal panels at the windows began to retract, slowly bathing the building with a bright, midday light. Then, more people began to converge in the Bank. Additional cops, SWAT officers, and paramedics. They all poured into the entrance from the streets, to check at the carnage and tend to the casualties. A few of them went to the hostages, who were understandably shaken from the battle. Yumiko and Jordan emerged from the stairs and lent them a hand, while Miles and Masaru went to escort the civvies outside. A terrible smell filled the small confines of the well-furnished office. Dust, gunpowder, and the unmistakable tang of blood filled the air. But for everyone else breathing, the adrenaline was gone.
The crisis was over.
It was time to get Fausse out of the building. Ethan grabbed him by the collar, forcibly dragging him out of the room. The urge to punch him in the gut dangled like a carrot on a stick.
"Hey! I know my rights!", the prisoner spoke out. "I need protection! I want a lawyer!"
"Save your breath, dipshit."
"You don't understand! I'm ready to cooperate! J-Just... Just give me a second to explain!"
Cops and commandos could barely believe what they were hearing. America's Most Wanted, the dreaded leader of ATP, a self-styled revolutionary… was mewling like a baby. His menacing visage had fallen apart; now he looked like a crazy kook being dragged away. Was his reputation worth nothing? Suddenly, his name seemed more like a misnomer.
"A reckoning is coming!", he rambled. "Three weeks from now! Mohandes is gonna strike and-"
The words struck a nerve in Ethan's brain. He suddenly spun to face the old man, eye-to-eye. He clenched his fingers around the Hazmat suit's collar.
"What did you say?!"
'Mohandes'. The name was a familiar one. The rogue chemist. 'The Engineer'. The target of Operation Witch Hunt. The same man who was pinched on his watch, all those months ago. The same bastard who got Gabe, Omar, and the others killed. The same guy who undoubtedly had a hand in the attack on Bartlett, five days ago. Compound Z. The Middle East. Emily. All sorts of thoughts began to pour into Ethan's brain.
"Mohandes! Where is he!?", he yelled, tightening his grip. "WHERE IS HE!?"
"Oi! Take it easy, Ace!", Seamus chastised him.
Ethan didn't listen. He wanted answers. The name was like a trigger, causing him to briefly relive his failed mission and the deaths of his friends. While he tried his damnedest to keep the rage in check, his prisoner was visibly shaken at the amount of anger. But to his credit, he had no problem spilling the beans. For a moment, he seemed nothing like the briefing made him out to be.
"I don't know where he is, okay!", the old man pleaded. "But he's using a different name now. Get me to a federal prison and I can tell you everything!"
"WHERE IS HE!? WHERE THE FUCK IS HE!?"
"Look kid, you gotta to help me! Caleb's gonna come for me, but it won't be a rescue! I know what they're planning, and I think he's gonna-"
*SPLAT!*
...
It came from the left side. Ethan heard the air in front him suddenly snap, startling him a bit. His face was splashed with a spurt of liquid, staining in his goggles. He didn't know what had just happened; there was nothing else other than a bone-crushing thud and the sickening sound of flesh and meat, grinded together.
When he looked at Fausse again, there was... something wrong. What used to be a grizzled, mustached face of a terrorist and a petulant fool was suddenly unrecognizable. It was a reddish pulp, like a cracked watermelon, with all sorts of bits intermeshed within. A stream of claret gushed from the man's neck and jaw. Then... it dawned on him. His goggles had been sprayed with blood. The body he held by the collar had become limp. Dead. The adrenaline returned, as cautious fear gripped him once again.
The bank manager saw the whole thing. She screamed in terror.
"S... SNIPEEEER!", Ethan yelled.
In turn, everyone ducked for cover.
...
...
*TING!*
The empty brass casing landed on the linoleum floor with a distinctive ping. Caleb racked the bolt to chamber a new round- a precaution in case he needed to fire another shot. But he already knew that he had a clean hit. The target was about 700 yards from his position at the penthouse. The distance stretched his M40's effective range, but it was nothing that an adjustment to bullet velocity and trajectory didn't fix. The result was a textbook confirmed kill: an old man, dead on the floor. Rainbow's would-be intelligence coup, flatlined.
It was good that the cops raised the Bank's security shutters. The sniper peered into his scope for a while longer, wiping the trail of sweat from his auburn brow. He admired the mess he made, like a kid on the microscope. The black-clad commandos were frantic at the sight of Leonard Fausse having half his skull blown off. It was a little funny, seeing some of the 'best warriors on the planet' scurry like startled ants and head to cover. There was an urge in his blood to shoot them, give himself a few less obstacles to overcome in the days ahead. But doing so would compromise his escape plan.
One less loose end. Without missing a beat, Caleb lifted his sniper rifle from the propped-up table. He retracted the bipod, removed the sound suppressor, and took out the box magazine, which still had nine bullets left. He also undid the screws from the 5x scope to remove it from the weapon's top rail. Then, he gathered all the parts and returned them to the polymer rifle case sitting at the hotel bed, carefully placing each piece onto their respective compartments. Leave no evidence. The last detail was the spent rifle shell on the floor, which quickly found a place in the bald man's jacket pocket. The haste was crucial; by the time the police have dispersed search parties, the shooter would already be long gone. They wouldn't know right away that the shot came from their position. And if they saw him in the crowd, they wouldn't even notice: he looked like another upstanding member of Los Angeles's Finest, thanks to the badge and the black overalls. He just needed to keep his cool, play the part of an actor like he did in Bartlett five days ago.
But just as he was about to make his way out, his eyes glimpsed at his prisoner. Gagged, tied up to a chair, and in his boxers. It was a cop: the same guy that Caleb knocked out to relieve him of his uniform. The poor guy was sweating profusely and his eyes were rife with fear. He was mumbling out something, muffled by the thick cloth wrapped around his mouth.
'Please don't kill me'. 'Please let me go'. Or whatever rubbish people say when they beg for their lives.
Caleb shook his head, briefly chastising himself for driving to California from Oregon without bringing his own disguise. It was sloppy work, but the old fool forced him to act at such incredibly short notice. All this trouble could've been avoided if it weren't for Fausse and his goons. They could've just waited things out, let the cops grasp at straws. Alas, they acted recklessly and painted themselves with even more crosshairs. A vain attempt to appease the Bossman, by pulling off a heist to recoup their losses in Ibiza. But this last hurrah from those idiots was the final evidence, the last proof that 'America's True Patriots' was nothing more than a band of glorified anarchists with a manifesto. All romp and bravado, but no actual skill.
The perfect cannon fodder. And now they've dismantled themselves, it was time for the other cells to find more bodies to throw into the grinder.
"Alpha One-One-Niner, report in."
Caleb froze at the doorknob when his walkie-talkie suddenly buzzed in. He was monitoring the police chatters since he arrived, but it slipped his mind to get rid of the damn radio once he was done with what he came here for.
"Alpha One-One-Niner, do you read?"
"Ten-Four, Dispatch. Loud and clear...", he played along.
"Units reported shots fired near your position. Can you confirm, over?"
Another setback. The sniper paused for a few seconds, contemplating his next actions. What he did today was meant to pave the way for the next phase. The Engineer's work must continue unimpeded, and the last thing they need was an old man who would rat them out. But then, there was the prisoner: a poor bastard at the wrong place. Another witness who could jeopardize everything. Another obstacle.
"Negative, Dispatch. I didn't hear anythin'..."
He made up his mind in a heartbeat. He pulled out a sound-suppressed pistol and cocked the hammer. The man tied to the chair widened his eyes in absolute dread. He whimpered even more.
*Pht!*
Another headshot, another loose end dealt with. The prisoner jerked for a moment, then slumped. A pool of blood slowly trickled.
'Nothing personal man.' The thought didn't cross the sniper's mind. He simply picked up the empty handgun cartridge on the floor and holstered his weapon. If there was one thing that the Marines taught Caleb, every action should serve a purpose. Every effort must be calculated. Every death must have a use. And so, he left the room and locked the door behind him. For now, his job was done.
...
Author's Notes and Comments: This is the longest one I've written so far, holy crap. The 'bank scene' turned into two chapters while I was writing it, but I decided against splitting them up so as to not ruin the pacing. I hope I did justice to the other operators, particularly Tachanka, Echo, and Jäger. I fully intend to put them back into action (maybe in later chapters). :)