Four Aces
#8: Chaos and Conflict
X X X
Just outside the warehouse walls of the Mediterranean East Auxiliary Terminus, a stout black Jeep waited silently. A black make, the dusty body was carefully tucked into a narrow alley between two great warehouses, where it was likely to be ignored by anyone in that street – unless you were a particular woman on a particular hunt.
From a distance beyond human capacity, Hearts spotted the little white club stencilled on the front grill of the Jeep, and with a snarl she sped towards it. At the last moment and with expert control, she threw the bike into a sliding stop, tyres shrieking and metal shuddering at the force. Kicking up a shower of pebbles and other street debris, the machine propped just shy of slamming into the Jeep's bonnet.
Assessing quickly that the thieving bastard Clubs was nowhere nearby, Hearts flung a leg over the body of her bike and slipped off of it, a hand grabbing her saddlebags as she went. The woman was muttering to herself, dead set on finding him and blowing him to smither -
Hearts paused. Thinking for a moment she twisted back to look at the Jeep, a glint appearing in her red eyes. It would only take a minute to ensure he couldn't – wouldn't – escape her retribution.
X X X
Some distance from his rival and unaware that she was so close behind him, the Assassin of Clubs – as stout and dark as his jeep – prised one of many warehouse doors open. He'd just spent twenty minutes disarming the building's security and alarm system, using every code Black Ghost had ever given him, plus a few more he had weaselled out of Queen earlier in the day. He'd called back to confirm one of them and found Hearts on the line; now he felt like thanking the two women for their carelessness, for without it he'd have been over at the other base, and far behind the prey.
Now he carefully crept into the building, remaining in a crouch as he both listened for any traps triggered by a perimeter breach, and considered making some of his own. A building like this was rife with opportunity – so many that he failed to notice the red and orange blur that soared over his head and into one of the building windows.
When nothing sprung out at him or threatened destruction, Clubs took refuge behind a disused utility vehicle, allowing the warehouse door to swing shut of its own accord. Head tilted slightly he attuned his engineered hearing to the voices of people overhead – their voice prints matched the ones Black Ghost had given them upon assigning the mission. Confident that at least four cyborgs were overhead, he started sneaking from one piece of cover to the next, patiently working his way across the building's floor.
He had one foot on the base of the stairs when his peripheral sensors screamed at him – whipping around, black eyes fell on a furious red figure. Clubs scowled – but words died in his throat when he saw what Hearts had in her hand. The ring was between her teeth, and the spoon...she wasn't holding it. Despite himself Clubs gaped – she was cooking off the grenade.
Holy shit.
He didn't say a word, the mechanics in his body going into overdrive – or rather, 'survival mode'. Bolting up the iron steps two at a time, Clubs listened for the tell tale clink of the grenade landing after a throw.
It came when he was halfway up the flight. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the round hand-grenade bouncing on the steps just below him – in a slow motion miracle, it rolled right off the stairs.
Clubs barely had time to register the fact that Hearts had already ducked for cover and that he should too – before he could start thinking such things, it exploded viciously. The percussion flung him from the stairs like a ragdoll, amidst a rain of twisted metal, chunks of concrete and shrapnel.
X X X
Diamonds had always maintained that of his comrades, neither Hearts nor Clubs were terribly bright on the tactical front when it came to dealing with an armed enemy. One shot first and asked questions later, the other never seemed to realise that it was possible for an enemy to be dangerous. Spades was no good unless you wanted the target to be dead – so Diamonds had taken it upon himself to be the best of them all. Like any self-proclaimed title it was an arrogant notion, but the Assassin either didn't care or didn't realise. If anything, the more he watched his fellow Cyborgs operate, the more sure he was of this truth.
Such was the case as, lying low on the roof of an adjacent warehouse, Diamonds bore witness to a complex chain of events. Having tracked the Dolphin and Pyunma since leaving Japan, he had decided upon this most excellent vantage point once it became clear that they would be settling in the office on MEAT's upper level.
It was a wonderful place if you wanted to be a sniper's target, and Diamonds did lament that he hadn't brought a rifle with him... it would have ended this mission well before the others arrived.
Or so he liked to think. Clubs, in fact, was not too far behind the Cyborgs, and Diamonds kept his presence hidden as he watched the trap master fight his way through the warehouse defences. He saw the advantage it gave Hearts when she ended up just a few minutes behind him, and watched as 002, flying low with his cargo, arrived to join the rest of the 00-team.
Still Diamonds did not make a move, preferring to wait until the team was embroiled with Hearts and Clubs. It would be easier to pick them off, then, which was an advantage he needed. The fact that 002 had brought 006 with him was unexpected – Diamonds had anticipated that 002 would bypass the little cyborg, for what use did a fire-breather genuinely have on a strike team? His data about the 00-team was thus incomplete, and so determined was he to bring in the most bounties (especially after that ass, Spades, got in his way), Diamonds wanted to maximise any advantage he might have in bringing their hides to Black Ghost.
When Hearts entered the building hot on the heels of Clubs, Diamonds counted to fifty. Only when he was certain that they had moved away from the door, did Diamonds move to street level. Most annoyingly the punch from Spades had knocked out his radar, so he had to rely upon his other senses to judge the proximity of others when he could not see them directly.
With an ear tuned to the street around him – there was still a fourth Assassin unaccounted for, which he did not like – Diamonds slunk across the street. He had one foot over the threshold of the doorway Hearts had left open in her wake, when every danger sensor started screaming at him in unison.
As elite as he may have been, Diamonds was afforded no time before an explosion ripped through the lower level of the building, fueled by the vast amounts of oil and chemicals stocked within its walls. Struck square in the chest by the force of the blast, he was flung back onto the street where he landed on his back. Wind knocked from him completely and smacking the back of his head on the road, the red and white Assassin lay there for some time. He couldn't tell if it had been one minute or ten, but after a bit he tried to pick himself up as quickly as he could, angry that he'd taken the hit like an amateur.
"I wouldn't bother getting up," came the flippant words.
Black boots strode past calmly, heading straight for the flaming doorway. Recognising the syntax and mechanical accent immediately, not to mention that goddamn arrogant walk Diamonds forced himself to stand, a snarl ripping from him. "Spades," he spat, stumbling into a walk.
The response was a cool look over the shoulder, a too-white face breaking into a smirk that Diamonds immediately wanted to rip off. "Don't worry," Spades told him smoothly, unruffled by the venom from Diamonds, "I'll take care of it."
"Like hell you will -" Diamonds lunged for the assassin but miscalculated the distance – many of his systems were still running diagnostics to work out which bits had been damaged by the blast. By the time he reached the doorway Spades had vanished somewhere inside, the warehouse interior now obscured by great plumes of black smoke. Fires burnt everywhere, caused not just by the grenade but by any number of explosive or inflammable things. He could hear Hearts and Clubs not too far away, but couldn't see the 00-team.
Just my goddamn luck to be handicapped, he snarled to himself and stumbled in further, choosing to ignore the critical warnings that his system now tried to deliver.
X X X
Far below the warehouse, safe from the chaos and conflict, a stealthy figure slipped into the underground cavern where the Dolphin bobbed gently in the water. A cyborg but not an assassin, arguably male despite a slender frame, they carefully scouted the idle ship for any possible threats.
Satisfied that there were none, he signalled to a comrade and quietly boarded the vessel.
X X X
To be continued.
