A.N. I am thrilled that you all liked the previous chapter! It was so fun (but also terrifying) to write. Fun because I love making Sam awesome, and terrifying because I worry that I am not doing him justice. But I'm glad that he came off sufficiently badass and scary! He's not done yet, though... I'm afraid I have more difficulties to put him through. But just one more chapter and he'll be reunited with the team!
Thank you all for your continued support and gentle prompts of updating! Never in my wildest dreams did I EVER imagine that this story would make it past 100 reviews. You guys are just as amazing as Sam! I want to let you guys know that I am never, EVER giving up on or abandoning this story. Not gonna happen. I know that may not mean much because there have been some great stories I have read in which the author promises not to stop and then does, but that won't happen here. Yes I can be terrible about making you guys wait excessive amounts of time between chapters, but I'm not going to just let this collect virtual dust. We're getting towards the end of the story (wonderfully, but sadly at the same time), and I have it mostly all thought out, it's just a matter of translating it to the written word and making sure it makes sense :)
And now, enjoy!
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The moment Sam hung up, Team One leapt into action. Spike stayed in the truck to monitor the situation in order to let the rest of the team know when to move, and Wordy, Ed, Greg and Jules all rushed to get the necessary equipment before making a beeline for the store that gave them access to The Oakes' north wall.
"Sergeant Parker!" Burcell shouted after them as they were about to enter the mall.
Greg turned and waited for the two men to catch up. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that time is of the essence," he told them, not bothering to conceal his impatience.
"No, you don't. But so are numbers. Let us come in with you. We'll follow your lead, bring up the rear, listen to orders, whatever. Surely you could use two extra pairs of hands?"
He considered for a brief moment before giving a short nod. "Vest up, gear up, grab shields, and meet us at the entry point a.s.a.p."
By the time the Sergeant caught back up with the rest of his team, they were already at the entry point and Jules was beginning to make her way into her sierra position in the vent.
He caught his Team Leader's eye. "We all set?"
Ed nodded down towards Wordy who was finishing affixing the explosive device to the wall. "Just about."
Ed's gaze held his, and Greg saw his own fear reflected back in the Team Lead's eyes. There are so many ways this could go terribly wrong. If more than one subject stays behind, we won't be able to breach and Sam is screwed…
Clasping Ed on the shoulder (for whose support, he wasn't entirely sure), he pulled himself together and addressed Jules. "Sierra One, status?"
"In position," Jules' whisper came over the coms. "Four subjects still in range. I have the solution. I also have a shot that will incapacitate but not kill one of the subjects."
"Copy that, Jules. Stand by. Spike, what's going on in there?"
"Sam's making his move but hasn't given us the signal. You guys all set? Because you're going to need to move the moment they're outta there; the shorter amount of time Sam's dealing with them, the better."
"I know, Spike," Greg reassured the Italian. "Just let us know the moment Sam has engaged and the subjects are a safe distance from the hostages. The timing has to be perfect." He hated to wait until Sam was actively combatting the subjects, but otherwise he was worried they would turn back at the sound of Jules' shot and not give the SRU enough time to breach safely.
"Copy that."
(…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…)
Sam watched carefully as the man dialed a number on his burner phone with shaking hands. Two rings were heard before a sharp voice rang out, "What?!"
The man met Sam's eyes and Sam nodded for him to say what he'd been instructed. "I've found him," he started.
"FINALLY!" Came the roar from the other end.
The man winced but continued, "I've only got a limited visual of him, and given how easily this guy has dealt with us before, I'm going to need help taking him. Probably from all of you, seeing as he took out three of us no problem, but now that he's injured, I think four will be too much for him. He's towards the middle of the store in aisle ten, beyond the men's clothing area."
"Just shoot him!"
Sam held his breath. This was the tipping point. If the other subjects didn't believe their comrade, then this whole plan was worthless. "Can't do that," the man replied. "I don't have the right angle and if I move in order to get it, I think he's going to realize I'm here. If you approach through the clothing, he shouldn't be able to see you. I'll meet you on the other side at the end of aisle eight and we'll take him together."
There was a moment of silence and then muffled voices as it sounded like the man consulted the rest of the subjects. "All right. Hermes is with it enough to handle the hostages. We're coming to you." The call ended.
"Good job," Sam told the subject before him. The man looked at him with a glimmer of hope in his eyes and Sam almost felt bad for him… almost. But then he recalled the small part of his brain that retained the knowledge that this man had come to kill Libby, and it became no problem for him to slip his arm around the man's neck in a choke-hold. It took several moments for the man to go limp, and then several seconds longer for Sam to be sure the man was actually out and not just faking it, before letting the man slide to the ground. Holding the man had aggravated Sam's shoulder, and he grimaced as it angrily told him so with sharp bursts of pain. But it had gotten the job done quickly and quietly. Drawing in a breath to steady himself, he waved up at a camera.
He tucked the man in an open space in the shelves, out of sight unless a person walked down that particular aisle, then quickly worked his way into the clothing racks of the men's section. He couldn't predict the precise path the subjects would take, but he knew where they were headed and what their rough approach would be. As such, he took a leaf out of Libby's book; there were no floor length dresses, so long pants would have to do. He found a circular stand right by the entrance to aisle eight and worked his way inside, careful not to let any blood rub off on the outside, though he was afraid that some of the pants towards the inside would be ruined forever. They better not bill me... he thought to himself. Hiding in a bunch of pants… never thought that would be my go to cover. His lips curled up in a hint of a smile.
All thoughts of amusement vanished from his head as he heard the first sign of footsteps approaching and readied himself for what was to come.
(…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…)
"There's the wave, we're a go. The subjects are gathering and preparing to leave," Spike informed them over the coms.
From her position in the vent Jules could see three of the subjects clearly about to go after Sam. It was with a mixture of great relief and trepidation that she realized they had decided to leave the subject with the broken arm back to guard the hostages, just as Team One had hoped they would, leaving three well-armed, able bodied men to hunt down Sam.
"Okay Jules, on Spike's signal you are cleared to fire," Greg's calm voice told her. "If you have the solution, you have scorpio. If you have a less lethal option and you are confident you can make it work, take that. I do not have a visual of the situation, so the final choice is yours."
Jules took a deep, steadying breath before replying, "Copy that."
She focused in on the subject left behind as the remaining three left the area. He had struggled to his feet and held a gun with his good arm, his broken one cradled carefully against his body. He was not aiming the gun at the hostages, it remained pointed at the floor. With a silent prayer that this would work, she moved her aim from his forehead to his non-broken fore-arm. If both of his arms were out of commission, then he wouldn't be able to fire on the hostages. She inhaled three times and let out a final breath, allowing her body to become absolutely still as she waited for Spike's signal which she knew would be coming momentarily. She allowed herself one small moment of useless wishing… wishing that it was Sam here taking this shot for two reasons: one because she knew there was no way he would miss, and two because it would mean he was not about to engage three hostile subjects while he was already injured.
"And, execute!" Spike sounded clearly over the coms.
She fired.
(…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…Flashpoint…)
Due to his position, Sam could not see the men approaching, but he could hear three distinct footstep patterns. Good, he thought to himself, that means things are finally going our way and Team One will be able to breach. He kept listening intensely and couldn't believe it when he heard the footsteps separate, parting around the very clothing rack in which he was hiding. Finally, a bit of luck on this unlucky day. One set of footsteps went right, the other two went left.
He gathered himself, preparing to take on the solo person first, when he heard the distant gunshot that he dearly hoped was his team. Time to go. He launched himself out of the clothing rack, tackling the man in front of him and taking him totally by surprise. That allowed him to quickly disarm the man and strike him in the temple with the butt of a gun, neutralizing him. In the distance he heard a loud "BANG," that he once again hoped was his team entering the store. You're so close. Stay focused.
The other two men rounded the clothing rack from opposite sides. Looking left, Sam saw one of them aim and begin to pull the trigger to their gun, so he dove forward desperately, tucking into a roll as a deafening "BANG" shot behind him, followed by a yell. His shoulder jarred in protest as it took the brunt of his fall, and his ribs shrieked. Completing the roll in a crouch, he whipped around to face the man that had just fired the gun and shot the subject without hesitation. He would not kill these men in cold blood, but when it came down to his life or theirs, there was no question. The man collapsed and would not be getting up… Sam didn't miss. He had just enough time to realize the yell had been the third subject getting hit in the arm—causing him to drop his gun—by the bullet that had been meant for Sam, before that man tackled him.
Sam grunted in pain as his gun flew from his hands and he was knocked onto his back roughly, getting struck twice in the face before he could draw enough breath to protect himself. Raising his good arm in defense, he blocked the next blow and pulled his knees up to his chest, throwing the other man off of him. Gathering every reserve of strength he had left, he leapt to his feet quickly and moved into a defensive position opposite the subject. He met the man's gaze and had to force himself not to shudder; the man's eyes were dead. Ruthless. There was nothing there. Despite the blood oozing from the man's arm, his mouth quirked up in a humorless smile.
Before Sam could reach for his second gun, the other man was upon him. The man rained down a flurry of strikes that Sam was able to block for the most part, before the subject landed a lucky punch directly to Sam's injured shoulder. He couldn't stifle the howl of pain that escaped him at the contact which sent fire shooting down his arm and torso, and his eyesight failed him for a few crucial moments. When the white hot veil of pain receded from his eyes and he was finally able to see again, he was met with the sight of the man's foot snapping out to connect with Sam's chest. Too late to evade, all Sam could do was absorb the hit and use it to put as much distance between him and the subject as possible. As the foot collided with his sternum, the power of it hurled Sam backwards to slam on his back. He felt the breath leave his body and heard a crack from his already weakened ribs. The distance between him and the subject now made it possible for Sam to grab his second gun, but it also gave the subject time to scoop up his own discarded weapon. Sam grasped the gun, raised his arms, aimed and fired. Two shots reverberated in echoes through the store.
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A.N.2. Yup. That's where I'm going to leave you... eternal apologies! I still hope you enjoyed the chapter, though I recognize it was another short one :)
