Uh...Hello? I honestly have no idea how long it's been you guys and I apologize for leaving you all hanging on the wait for Chapter 14 after all these months but writer's block was proving to be a MASSIVE asshole this time and only just recently after some help from friends was I able to overcome it. Creative juices are flowing again so hopefully, I'll be able to churn out a few more chapters this year and start to delve into real some good stuff with this story.

As a quick note: Since we'll finally be hitting Chapter 15 when it goes up down the line, figure I do something special for it and do a Q&A to put at the end of the chapter as a fun little thing for you guys to read. So with that in mind, if you guys got any questions in mind, shoot me a PM on here and I'll answer it as best I can (and make sure these questions are legitimate and not something dumb like "Which Operator would you smash?" or something along those lines).

In the meantime, you fine folks enjoy reading this Chapter and I will talk to you all again when Chapter 15 goes up :)

August 7, 2018

Time: 9:42 A.M.

Location: Hereford Base, Herefordshire, UK

"Right knee rupture...multiple lacerations across the face...bruised ribs...massive internal damage...condition...serious."

Those were the only words that Doc had kept muttering ever since Rainbow had retrieved Bandit from the White Mask hideout in Nantes. When the retrieval team first brought the GSG 9 member in, a wave of silence engulfed the entire base upon seeing the nearly lifeless body. The only signs that showed life were the man's faint breathing and occasional head roll as he was transported to Doc's office. For the past six days, Doc had relentlessly been working on trying to keep Bandit from seeing the light, nearly losing the man twice in his efforts to keep his heart beating but thankfully he eventually became stable after the fifth day with today providing some relief except for the others in the GSG 9. Blitz and Jäger had kept to themselves in relative silence while IQ had come by at least four times a day to overlook the progress being made.

Today, however, was no different as Doc continued to closely monitor Bandit's health. The beep of the heart monitor served as the only noise in the room while Doc continued on with looking over the injury report issued to him by Blackbeard. Even though the pages still remained the same, he felt the need to constantly leaf through them out of habit and also the slight possibility that there might be something he could've missed despite analyzing it thoroughly multiple times. The door to his office clicked open, quickly capturing the attention of Rainbow's resident doctor as he was greeted by a somber-looking IQ, arms resting against her sides as she entered, avoiding any if all eye contact with Doc upon entry.

"Bonjour, Monika."

The blonde German ignored the salutation from her comrade, her eyes more fixated on the body that was laying on the medical bed nearby. An oxygen mask donned on the man's face along with various equipment surrounding him with an IV drip inserted in his right arm. From afar, Bandit just about appeared to be dead to the naked eye but the heart monitor signaled otherwise with its constant beeping. Slowly, IQ made her way over to the bedside, her somber face now focused on the man who was one of her closest companions on base. Absentmindedly, she found herself reaching for Bandit's hand, lightly taking hold of his index and middle finger. With a sigh, Doc made his way to the other side, clipboard still in hand.

"I know you're worried about him but rest assured that I'm doing my absolute best to ensure that he recovers. He may not be the same once the healing process is complete but at least he'll be ready for combat come the end of the cycle."

"It's all my fault…"

"Huh?"

"Dom's condition...if only…"

Evidently, tears started to flow down her cheeks as she struggled to finish the sentence. Despite having seen the same scenario several times in his medical career, Doc couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain in his chest, throat tightening on him as he continued to overlook. Quickly turning, he tapped the pen in hand against the clipboard, trying to figure how to proceed with the situation. Even he'd admit he wasn't the greatest psychologist since he was more specialized in dealing with physical injuries and not mental scars but sometimes he had to play both sides of the field.

"Monika…"

He didn't know how else to proceed with the situation given the dire straits that Bandit was standing in. Things had been starting to become bleak for Rainbow as the trail leading to Jourdain was starting to become cold once again and now they're members were starting to suffer. Morale was starting to take a dive and everyone knew that if they couldn't anything under control then their world would be fucked.

"...I'll do everything in my power to ensure that Dom comes out of this as best as his body will allow. You have my word on that," he stated with a firm nod of his head.

"Danke…" IQ replied, wiping away the tears.

Just then, the door to the medical room opened up, capturing the duo's attention as the figure of Thatcher entered the room. There was a solemn look he bore as the secondary leader of Rainbow let out a sigh at the sight of Bandit.

"How's he holding up, Gustave?" Thatcher inquired, closing the door behind him.

"Stable but still in serious condition. It's one thing for those scratches and cuts to heal on their own but I'm more concerned about the internal damage done to Dominic. They gave him one hell of a beating and once he's fully healed, I'm pretty sure he'll want revenge," Doc noted, tucking the pen into his coat chest pocket.

"He isn't the only one wanting payback. Elias was pretty livid himself and I'm none too pleased either with how this turned out. I know our main objective is to ensure that Girard gets thrown back behind bars but whoever the Unione Corse fuck is that got Dominic captured needs to be served a cold plate of justice. That fucker is going to know what hell is really like once we get our hands on him," Thatcher sternly stated, his demeanor now serious.

"Right, of course. Monika, if you don't mind, I need to step outside for a few moments. There's something I need to discuss with Monsieur Baker here."

IQ nodded in compliance and quietly left the room, tears still gently flowing down her cheeks. With a sigh, Doc placed the clipboard down on the nearby desk, rubbing his temples.

"These last few days have been painful to bear," Doc commented.

"You're telling me. Between having to deal with Six's anger and also having to ensure that everyone else in the squad is holding up has been having its effects on me," Thatcher responded, sliding a hand into his pocket. "By the way, where's Aiden at?"

"In his room, resting. I've told him to take it easy in training exercises and focus more on gradually working his way back into them step by step rather than fully thrust himself back into action."

"Good, good," Thatcher remarked, nodding along.

"So, Mike, tell me. How exactly are we supposed to plan on getting back at The White Masks? Clearly, we're dealing with our own internal problems but at the same time we have a duty to maintain and that's to prevent someone like Girard from causing harm across the globe. As it stands, the entire country of France is in danger but who knows where else the organization has hideouts."

Thatcher let out a sigh as he leaned up against the door.

"That's the part I'm still trying to figure out with Six and Jordan. Effectively, we're pretty much back at square one with the trail now cold after Girard managed to escape and we really have no other leads than the Unione Corse members who were helping him out. We're in a rut so to speak."

"Have you had any contact with Petrus since the night of the raid?"

"Not a whole lot since this is really our problem and not really the French National Police's but I've been conferencing with him on how they should move with the case."

"Perhaps I could be of some assistance in this," Doc stated with a slight smile.

"Assistance in what manner?" Thatcher inquired, raising a brow.

"There's someone I've been monitoring for some time mainly due to a condition she suffers from but she's rather talented in her work. Maxim is the only other person to really see how good she is in a fight but I promise she can be helpful in this scenario along with a companion of hers."

"I'm interested to see what you bring already, Gustave. For the time being though, let's put it on hold. I still got other things to sort out with Jordan and Six and of course there's the situation with Dominic here."

"I understand, Mike."

"Right. I'll be off then and hopefully, everything works out here."

The two exchanged mutual nods before Thatcher exited the medical room, leaving Doc to himself once more as he picked the clipboard back up. From the bed, a slow, pained grow emanated from the injured Bandit.

"It may not be pleasant, Dom, but at least I know you're still fighting," Doc remarked.

Reaching down, Doc picked the phone up that sat on the corner of his desk, dialing a number that was quickly picked up, bringing a slight grin to Doc's face.

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, I need some assistance right now and not medically but in terms of tracking down someone. I know that companion of yours could also be of some help considering that gadget he carries with him."

He rolled his eyes as the voice on the other end replied back.

"I know he isn't on the best terms with us after the incidents that have occurred between our organizations but I'm sure Gilles would be happy to see him again. If everything works out in the end, I'm sure Six would love to bring you both on board as a result."

He nodded along with the voice, another smile flashing up on his face.

"Alright then. Look forward to working with you again."

Time: 11:02 A.M.

The afternoon was drawing closer in the day but Storm was one of the few in the building who paid little mind to it as he laid on his bed, earbuds in with music playing on his phone. His body had been enduring the effects of the anxiety attack he suffered days ago and if he was being honest, he didn't mind laying in bed all day since it was definitely something he had deprived himself of. However, even with the extended rest, Storm felt entirely drained as drummed his fingers against his chest in time with the song that played in his ears. In his other hand, the cellular device vibrated in his palm, capturing the drowsy operator's attention. Lazily, he pulled the phone up to his face.

1 new message from Eliza

Flicking his finger against the illuminated screen, he opened the texts him and Ash had been exchanging over the past few days since he collapsed.

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"You holding up okay?"

"Yeah. Just laying in bed currently."

"Feeling any better?"

"Sort of. Just really tired."

"Told you to take a break. This is why you don't overwork yourself, Aiden."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll remember for next time."

"You better. Otherwise, I'm gonna be constantly reminding you about it."

"Alright, I'll be easy on myself next time."

The phone vibrated once more, this time displaying a text message from Sidewinder. Switching conversations, Storm pulled the one up from the newly recruited Brit.

"Yo, Aiden."

"What's up?"

"Not much, big man. Just kickin' it with Mark and James in the rec room. You trying to come and chill with us?"

"Not today, Christian. My body's still trying to recover from what happened."

"Ah, right right. Another time then."

"How's the hunt for Meghan going?"

"That? Eh, still trying to see if she'd be available for a date sometime soon but with the whole Girard fiasco going on that plan is probably gonna be sitting on the back burner for a bit."

"Good luck with it."

Powering the screen off, Storm set the phone next to his side as he adjusted his head against the pillow. All he could really do at this point was just lie in bed for the time being since he had nothing else to do until Doc cleared him to resume normal activities on base. With a long-winded sigh, he closed his eyes as he let his mind drift away with the music that continued to play in his ears.

{...}

BANG! BANG!

"Get the fuck down!"

BA-BOOOOOM!

"...?"

Storm's eyes slowly fluttered open at the noise. It didn't sound like it was exactly inside his room but somewhere outside and below. The first floor perhaps? His eyes quickly shot open as the smell of smoke filled his nostrils shortly followed by the sounds of fire alarms going off in the corridors. Rocketing up from his head, he leaped onto the floor, starting to make his way over to the door before it was kicked in, a pistol-wielding White Mask standing before him.

"Get the hell out of my way!"

Aiden charged the man, a single bullet fired in his direction that just barely grazed the operative's shoulder to almost no effect as adrenaline pumped through him and in an instant he tackled the man out into the hallway, now wrestling for control as the two constantly rolled over one another in order to get the advantage. Punches started to be exchanged to the point the White Mask aimed the gun at Storm's head only to be punched away and down the stairs. Disgruntled, the terrorist threw the operative off, beckoning him with raised fists.

"You worth your salt, rookie?"

Stormed wiped at his nose, noting the bit of blood now streaked on his forearm. Cracking his neck once, he rushed in with silent fury, slamming the White Mask into the railing behind him only to unload with a flurry of elbows to the side of the head. Grabbing the man's head, he forcefully shoved it into the rails, rendering the man limp as he breathed heavily.

"Fucker…"

Wiping at his nose again, Storm hurriedly made his way down the stairs, picking up the gun along the way. Reaching the base of the flight, his face went pale as he saw the cluster of bloodied bodies on the ground, most of them Rainbow members.

"What the fuck...WHAT THE FUCK?!"

His voice rang out in the corridor as his fist tightened while his grip on the gun intensified. Taking in a few breaths, he cautiously ventured down the corridor, checking on the bodies in order to identify them and to see if any were still alive.

"Miles...gone. Elias...gone. Jordan...gone…"

There was a mixture of sadness and anger that pulsated within him as he continued to look over the bodies, closing the eyes of those that still laid open before moving onto the next one.

"Aiden!"

Instinctively, the former PMC pulled the pistol up, finger on the trigger but the rage inside him stayed contained as he realized who still stood alive before him: Sidewinder.

"The fuck happened here?" Storm inquired, looking the bodies over again.

"White Masks, that's what. They got some of our people held hostage right now somewhere in the building. We gotta rescue them!"

Storm clicked the pistol in hand.

"I'll make sure those bastards eat a bullet for every dead operative. Lead the way."

"Right. This way, come on," Sidewinder beckoned, drawing out his sidearm.

While they might not have been their main choices of firearms, a pistol was better than nothing that involved firing bullets. Quickly but quietly, the duo made their way through the halls, cautiously checking the paths ahead of them to ensure there weren't any immediate threats. Along the way, the two rushed past Doc's office, only for Sidewinder to double back, staring at the door.

"Christian, we gotta keep moving," Storm insisted, checking their surroundings.

"There could still be medical supplies in here. Best we grab these first before we go and save everyone so we can immediately provide first aid," Sidewinder noted, slowly opening the door.

Carefully, the pair entered the room. The room was littered with tools and scattered medicines and kits across the floor. Against the right wall, a trail of blood still appeared fresh as drops continued to fall on the floor from the bed that was pushed against the wall. Bandit had been easily murdered, a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, in what appeared to be a struggle caused by the White Masks as they wrestled with Doc. Of the latter, there was no sign of him anywhere or any other blood trails, only leaving Bandit's.

"Dom…" Sidewinder murmured, his eyes becoming solemn.

"Fuck…" Storm cursed, kicking the wall beside them.

"I-I'll check for what's left. Watch the door," Sidewinder instructed, beginning to rummage through the scattered items.

Silence quickly filled the room as Storm pressed himself against the wall while Sidewinder carefully picked out what was laying at his feet. A few minutes passed before the former began to hear voices outside in the corridor. He hardly swallowed, readjusting his grip on the gun as his eyes zeroed in on the door's handle. A few more silent moments crept on by...then the handle began to rustle. Then it rustled even more.

"You trying to give us away?" a voice whispered.

"As if anyone would be here after we killed the bastard in that stupid bed. It's fine," another voice retorted.

Sidewinder had looked up from his position at this point, making eye contact with Storm who simply nodded at him, prompting the Brit to hide behind the metallic curtain on the left side of the room. The handle slowly turned, the door opening up as a White Mask stepped in, letting the door swing wide open.

"See? Completely fi-"

A bullet from Storm cut the man off as he dropped down to the ground with blood pouring out from the fatal wound. Two shocked voices rang out before the sound of guns being drawn accompanied by angered voices as they rushed the room. One sprinted all the way past Storm, leaving him almost entirely distracted from the other Mask that entered more slowly, gun aimed at Storm.

"Orders are shoot to kill. No hard feelings bud," the White Mask sneered.

A bullet from across the way struck the man's hand, forcing him to drop the gun, allowing Storm to pistol whip him over the side of the head, knocking him to the floor. From behind the curtain, Sidewinder possessed a small look of satisfaction at the assist, only for the other White Mask to grab him in a strangle hold from behind while Storm continued to beat down the other Mask, leaving Sidewinder on his own as he struggled in the predicament. Maniacal laughter radiated from the White Mask as he yanked on Sidewinder's neck.

"Time to say bye-bye!"

Keeping a secure hold with one arm, the White Mask pulled out a frag grenade, the maniacal laughter still persisting.

"Aiden!" Sidewinder called out, still struggling.

Storm looked up from the now knocked out White Mask, toward the other two. In a burst of adrenaline, he rushed over but the pin had already been pulled, a look of shock and horror on both Rainbow members' faces.

"BYE-BYE!" the White Mask screamed.

"Aiden, RUN!" Sidewinder barked.

"But, Chri-"

"JUST GO!"

Sidewinder twisted his body about, trying to loosen the Mask's hold on him, striking the man in the groin with the side of his fist. The blow forced the frag out of his hand, an object sighting that quickly made Storm turn tail at the behest of Sidewinder. The Brit dived for it only for the White Mask to dive on top of him, pinning them to the ground. The sounds of struggling persisted as Storm stumbled out of the room, only to be accompanied by an explosion, quickly rendering the room silent. Taking a moment to process everything, Storm raised his fingers to his temples, banging his head against the wall as tears started to silently stream down the side of his face.

"Dammit...dammit...dammit...dammit…"

Exhaling a tormented breath, he pushed himself away from the wall, knowing he had this mission to finish alone now. In a mixture that sounded like sobbing and despair only to quickly turn into frustration and rage, Storm clawed at the sides of his neck.

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE REST OF YOU? TOO SCARED TO COME OUT AND PLAY?!"

In a sprint, Storm rushed down the hall, the end almost nowhere in sight as it seemingly appeared to continuously extend multiple times. In his mind, he couldn't stop running as he knew that meant losing time to save his teammates. Suddenly, a bullet streaked toward him, embedding itself in his shoulder, forcing Storm to stop in his tracks as the adrenaline rush came to a screeching halt and pain began to shoot in all directions as he covered the wound with his gun carrying hand.

"Late arrival, Mr. Mitchell."

"The fuck?"

Storm snarled at the being before him as he turned from his wound to the source of his voice. Bearing a shit-eating grin was the man who been nothing but trouble and an agent of chaos: Jourdain Girard.

"You…" Storm growled, anger quickly rising.

"Yes, me," Girard chuckled.

"Where….WHERE DID YOU PUT THEM?!" Storm shouted, aiming his pistol at the White Mask leader.

"Relax...they're just past here. You know, shouldn't let rage consume you. It blinds you and makes do some dumb stuff, my friend," Girard sneered, stepping aside to let Storm past.

The Rainbow operative gave Girard one more vengeful glare before turning to the white door before him. Rather than simply twist the knob, he kicked the door in, the door falling off of its hinges before clattering to the ground. The room before him was nothing but a bloody mess as the bodies of other Rainbow members were strewn around. Echo, Lesion, Buck, Mute, Caveira, Hibana...it was practically something out of a nightmare horror film. There was one other body, however, and that was Ash's, sat up in the far right corner of the room with her head hanging low. Her hair was a frizzled mess despite still remaining in its usual braided ponytail style but surprisingly, there appeared to be no blood on her.

"Eliza!"

Storm staggered into the room, his hand still clutching at his injured shoulder. Tripping over his own feet, he fell to his knees in front of Ash, quickly shaking her body by her shoulder.

"Eliza! Eliza!"

The shaking persisted as he tried to wake her up, still repeating her name several times over. The head appeared to slightly move at times but still no signs of Ash coming to an awakened state.

"Eliza…?"

Gently, Storm lifted her chin up and his pupils shrank at the sight of what he saw: Blood. Although it was dry by this point, it was obvious enough that Girard had murdered Ash by slitting her throat. The pent up anger and hate quickly surged forth as Storm turned back to the doorway, drawing his gun.

"GIRARD!"

A shot rang out, catching Storm in the knee this time, leaving him in agony on the floor as the pistol fell beside him with a loud clatter. Girard calmly stepped into the room, gun in hand as he walked over to the operative, who still hoped to get one final shot in as he tried to grab at the firearm. With a smug grin, Girard kicked the gun out of reach, Storm looking up at him with a faceful of hatred as he aimed the barrel at the crippled man.

"Allow me to reunite you two in death," Girard devilishly stated, cocking the gun.

"Fuck you…" Aiden murmured as he stared death in its face.

"So long, Aiden."

{...}

From his bed, Storm immediately shot up with panicked breath, his phone nearly flying off the bed with his earbuds. His hands reaching for his head, clutching at it as he struggled to comprehend what just happened. The sequence played over again in his mind, rendering him nauseous the more he thought about seeing all the dead bodies, the base in ruins, the White Masks having won against Rainbow, it was unbearable to think. Suddenly, a knock came at his door, greatly startling Storm as his body began to shake almost uncontrollably.

"Aiden?" a familiar voice called out.

"Eliza…" Storm muttered, his mind flashing back to what happened in the dream. "It's...it's unlocked."

He balled up on the mattress, forehead resting against his knees as he tried to steady his breathing and empty his mind, ridding it of the nightmare if he could. His body quickly tensed as Ash's hand fell onto his shoulder, nearly causing him to bite his own cheek out of stress.

"Hey," she quietly stated.

Storm didn't bother to look up at her as he was buried deep in his own mind. His hands slowly moved behind his head, fingers interlocking with one another as he drew in a slow, deep breath and exhaling it in similar fashion before bringing his arms back around and slipping them under his forehead.

"Aiden…"

Briefly, he looked up at Ash with blank, red eyes before resting his head back down.

"I…" he choked, struggling to formulate some kind of response.

The breathing started to become irregular once more as Storm struggled to maintain his composure. Several words floated around in his mind, trying to piece together something to say but easily found himself failing to do so. In the midst of his thought process, he almost failed to notice Ash sitting on the edge of his bed but he could feel her staring right at him.

"I'm...I'm scared…" Storm finally breathed.

"Scared?" Ash inquired, a puzzled look popping up on her face.

"I'm scared of the future…" Storm murmured, his throat tightening with each word.

He pressed his forehead against his arms more as he drew his legs in as much as he could. His body still continued to tremble slightly while Ash looked on rather helplessly, unsure of what to do. With a quiet sigh, she maneuvered herself behind Storm, gently wrapping her arms around him as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

"That scene...it felt so real…" Storm continued.

"What scene?" Ash asked, tilting her head.

"Dream, no, nightmare would be the more fitting term. I thought the base had been attacked when I heard the explosions and smelled smoke. I saw bodies strewn across the corridors, I witnessed someone get killed...it was a killing zone. Everyone was dead…...and it wasn't until Girard put a bullet in my face that I did wake up," he croaked, the sound of fear radiating in his voice. "I don't want this to fail...I've got so many responsibilities to uphold and if everything falls apart…."

"Aiden...don't," Ash remarked, cutting him off.

She maneuvered her arms up so she had them wrapped around Storm's neck as she leaned her head against the back of his. Although it was rather faint, sounds of the reserved operative crying through gritted teeth could easily be detected, his fingernails digging into his arms as a means to hide his weakness. The signs only made Ash hug him tighter in order to give Storm some reassurance in the matter.

"...It's a tough situation to deal with, that much I know, Aiden, but you're not alone in shouldering this burden. Everyone's worried about the outcome of this but like any elite operative, we stand strong in the face of failure because that's how we built ourselves from the ground up."

Ash moved over to Storm's side, taking his face in her hands and slowly turning his face toward her. Clear tear stains rested below the man's eyes, his gaze not rising up to meet Ash's as he continued to wallow within his own thoughts. HIs teeth still sat clenched, almost grinding a bit out of stress.

"Don't let it get to you that much, Aiden. You got a lot of people here to offer a hand up if you feel like you're falling and you know we'll catch you and pull you back up. Never forget that while you're here. Don't stay in your shell forever when you have those people around willing to help out."

Gently, she pulled Storm into a hug, cradling his head against her chest. A grunt through gritted teeth resonated from Storm at the small thought of help but with the contact between him and Ash, he simply let his body relax, letting the tension flow out of him as his shoulders lowered and his limbs becoming less stiff.

"Help...the one thing I always never asked for unless someone noticed my predicament. It's a concept I never fully understood even in school. I only wanted the mindset of being able to do things on my own but my stubbornness only hurt me and now look at me: A sulking giant."

Internally, Storm sighed at the thought.

"I still don't fully know myself then if this is the case. I don't know even know if I really fit in with most of the people save for the inner circle I got. Combine this with the PTSD...and I'm just an utter mess of a human. Maybe...it is time to put out a call for help…"

August 9, 2018

Time: 8:09 P.M.

Location: Portier Estate, Nantes, Pays de la Loire, France

"The hell do you mean you won't help us, Robert?" Girard growled, fists planted on the mahogany desk belonging to the leader of Unione Corse.

"You've run your river dry, Jourdain. First, you ask for assistance in order to help keep you low and now you're asking for help to exit the country and somehow jump to the States on the WEST COAST no less. I may have connections but the international ones ought to be your doing, Grand Master," Portier chided, his eyes now bearing a fierce look.

"So you just think I got immediate access to other criminal networks all because I hold a title? Is that where your brain's going?"

"Considering you used to work under me and I mentored you in your career, then yes."

"You old sack of shit…"

In a fury, Girard reached over and grabbed Portier by the shirt, yanking him up out of the chair. The underlings of both men in the room immediately raced over and started trying their hardest to separate the two as Girard began to shout obscenities at his former mentor with Portier doing the same in retaliation. As the men managed to get firm grips on both in order to pull them away, Girard spat at Portier, catching him square in the face with a glob of saliva. Infuriated, Portier began making his way around the desk, pushing his Corse men out of the way while the White Masks were trying to keep Jourdain at bay.

"You fucking scum! You think you can just disrespect like that?! I'm the goddamn leader of Unione Corse and I won't hesitate to turn your ass over to the cops and send you back behind bars, Jourdain!"

"Motherfucker…!"

Breaking out of the holds on him, Girard quickly surged forward, pushing the people trying to keep him back out of his way. In a flash, he suddenly drew his sidearm and without hesitation immediately pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through Portier's jaw. The Corse leader stumbled back in bloody pain as he clutched at the gaping wound while others were quickly trying to position themselves between them but Girard forced them back by firing a few rounds into the ceiling.

"I'm done with your shit, Robert."

Aiming his sights down on Portier again, Girard fired off four more shots in quick succession, with two catching Portier in the side of the head and the other two in the neck, making the man fall to the ground as he stumbled into his desk, blood coating the corner of it along with the carpet now being stained. Striding forward, Girard didn't bother to look down at Portier as he fired off the remainder of his clip into the back of Portier's head, a grimacing scowl resting on his face as he pulled the trigger on the now empty pistol a few times before throwing it onto the ground in silent anger. The rest of the room was silent after everyone had just witnessed an absolute murder right in front of them. Turning on his heels, Girard made his way back toward the White Masks, pushing his way through the cluster of men until he came to LaRue who was somewhat shaking at the sight of what had just happened.

"S-S-Sir?"

"I want everyone in this room that isn't a White Mask dead, Olivier," Girard growled, turning the handle on the door.

"W-What?" LaRue nervously asked, stepping back.

"Give them the order, Olivier. NOW!"

The young Frenchman nearly jumped out of his boots at the intensity of his leader's voice. Swallowing hard, he turned to the closest Mask, whispering the shoot-to-kill order in his ear. The man blankly stared at LaRue out of confusion but the vice leader only nodded in confirmation before heading out the door after Girard. With a sigh, the White Mask stepped forward, whispering to the others to draw out their firearms as he moved to the head of the group. Standing at the helm, the Mask cleared his throat as he looked out across the Corse members.

"...Today is the day you all DIE!"

In a flash of muzzles and bullets, the screams of men being pelted with gunfire radiated in the room as the sect of Unione Corse was massacred in brutal fashion. Outside in the corridor, Girard and LaRue walked side by side with the commotion going on behind them. LaRue was still shaken by the ordeal but Girard only bore a smirk that would make any supervillain proud of what he had accomplished. As they reached the top of the stairs, a door just behind them opened up, a young boy no older than six or seven stepping out as he looked down the hallway with the arm of a teddy bear clutched in his right hand.

"Uh...sir…?" LaRue asked.

"Leave him. The men will know better than to kill a child. We aren't that cruel, Olivier. Now c'mon. We got a flight to catch. Hopefully, our other contact is willing to answer our call for help," Girard beckoned, beginning his descent.

"Papa?" the boy asked, his attention still focused on the doors leading into the massacre behind them.

LaRue froze in his tracks as he looked back at the kid. His muscles stiffened, almost refusing to move as he stood at the top of the flight of stairs, his stomach becoming uneasy very quickly.

"Oliver, move."

"Yes...sir."

Hanging his head low, Olivier started his descent down the stairs, tailing after Girard. He wanted to look back once more but at the same time, he didn't want to keep dragging his feet behind Girard knowing they had a massive agenda to deal with and dealing with small things wasn't going to make anything any easier for them nor would it draw the group closer to the goal. Only one goal still stood clear to him: And that was enacting vengeance against Team Rainbow.