Ahh, it feels so damn good to be all caught up! Dedicating this chapter to the Exchange Hotel, a nifty pub down the end of my street that I'm currently sitting in. I got the idea to try writing out fo the house to cure the eeevil writers bloc and lo-and-behold, more done in two hours than I have managed in two weeks.
I think I'll end up a regular here.
Johnny picked up the still-bloodied STAG helmet, spinning it around his hand.
"Yo I'm comin' into the base too, right? Not just to the gate and back?" he asked with a quirky half-smile and I pointedly took the helmet from him, setting it back down on the table.
"This is a stealth job," I reminded him smilingly and I began wrestling myself into the bulky, awkward STAG armour. Ugh, the last guy who wore this smelt like hoagies… these things were supposed to have been cleaned.
"So?" Johnny pushed.
I shook my head, "Subtlety isn't exactly your middle name."
His dark smirk broadened just a touch, "You say stealth but we all know how those jobs end up when you're involved," he teased.
"Flattery won't get you anywhere," I reminded him and he slumped against the wall, arms folded over his chest.
"I saw what he did," he warned, taking a cheerless tone that made me pause, "It tried to kill you."
I felt an involuntary scowl snap over my nose and mouth when he said it. He must've seen the look, because he continued.
"Carlos wouldn'ta done that to you, you know it, right?" he pressed but I didn't want to answer. He still didn't know everything, he probably thought Carlos was the same as the things crawling around on Arapice island. I didn't know if I could tell him otherwise.
"That Cyrus guy knew about me bein' in Belgium," he added, inelegantly changing the subject, "I got my own questions, y'know?"
I felt my mouth tug – of course I'd feel easier if Johnny was there. When I finally conceded I didn't have to say anything, he just nodded at my expression and started wrestling his way into the second set of armour.
The plan was… simple. Ish. Birk had managed to hook himself up with a tour of the armoury facility, a meet-and-greet with some of the new recruits to boost morale. He actually seemed irritatingly excited about it, but regardless we now had a ticket into the place.
I was a little excited too, I couldn't lie. I was used to smash-and-grab jobs which (aside from the occasional explosion) were actually starting to get a little… meh. But blasting into the armoury guns-blazing when it was top-secret information we wanted might not have been the best approach, that and I was still unsure if I wanted STAG to know I was alive. While they thought I was dead they seemed to have eased back on attacking and were more inclined to simply hold their ground and stop the Luchadors from spreading.
You know, 'mission accomplished' and all.
So, stealth was the way with this plan. I actually got to use my brain for once, not that this was a Danny Ocean-standard infiltration, but it was enough. And if I fucked up, I could always kill my way outta there.
We suited up in the STAG grunt uniforms and I quietly tried not to hurl into the visor of my helmet. Ngh, this thing was making me nauseous… stepping out of the old abandoned coffee shop we stood on the corner of the street, trying to look inconspicuous. Y'know, two STAG soldiers, just… hangin' out.
I really was out of practise with stealth jobs…
I heard Johnny say something, mumbled through the barrier of both our helmets. I tapped the side of my visor and shrugged, and he waved me off, pointing instead down the road where a black SUV was slowing towards us and eventually pulled up to the curb. Gat and I split to separate sides, shifting into the back of the bulky car; Josh Birk was already relaxed in the black leather back, but where I had been expecting a California-standard star-
Silver-white armour, blood red cape, and a dark, brooding scowl over his usually charming features. Joy of joys, we had Nyteblde today. He lifted his chin as we slipped in either side of him (Johnny taking a wary, disbelieving pause before he did)
"The fuck is with the outfit Birk?" Gat growled and the actor narrowed his eyes.
"This is the sacred armour of the demon hunters," he corrected, his voice about an octave lower than usual sounding like a romanticised Clint Eastwood. The moment the door was shut I flipped up the visor of my helmet, deeply breathing the almost-fresh air.
"He's an actor," I resigned to Johnny, "He likes staying in character."
"If his character is bein' a fuckin' fruit loop, sure," he mused back with an uncertain look over 'Nyteblade'.
"Urgh… two minutes in this thing and I'm already done…" I grumbled, feeling a fresh wave of nausea. Stupid stinking armour, "Gat does yours stink as bad as mine?"
He shrugged, "Since I don't look like I'm about to chuck all over the car I'm gonna say no."
I resisted the urge to grumble. The SUV pulled out from the curb and picked up speed as it charged past the Arena, rushing to the bridge to lead us over into Loren Square. It was off-peak hours over the bridge; I tensed a little and let my hand rest over my gun when the blockade stopped us to inspect the vehicle, but a few fan-pleasing quotes from STAG poster-boy Josh Birk and we were waved through – after, of course, Josh signed a quick autograph for one of the STAG inspectors 'sisters' named 'Charlie'. Once we were safely through the checkpoint, I finally broke the thick silence.
"Remember Birk, if we're caught, just act stupid," I said flatly. Josh turned a dramatic, stern look to me, surprising me as he grasped me by both shoulders.
"Should that dire time come," he declared, impassioned eyes searing into me, "I shall not stand idly by… acting the fool, while my friends… are in danger…"
I felt my expression deadpan, just as Johnny groaned.
"That really doesn't help my confidence in you," I said flatly.
"Birk," Johnny voiced icily, "You screw this up and getting fucked in a prison cell is gonna be the least of your problems."
It almost seemed like Birk might have broken character then, but all he did was reverently release my shoulders, sitting back still and statuesque in his seat. I snorted at Johnny's comment and Gat leant forward, raising an eyebrow at me.
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing," I said trying to hold back my smirk, "Just… interesting mental image there."
We quietly went over the plan again in quick-list form till Josh nodded ahead, spying through the front windshield.
"We approach the last checkpoint," he warned. I flipped the visor down again to cover my face, trying to breathe as little as possible. The SUV slowed to a stop and there was a tapping on my window; from the front the chauffer got out and we sat quietly as the car was inspected. A few happy greets from the soldiers who were Birk's fans, even familiar nods to me an Johnny as they 'recognised' Birk's personal guards.
'Nyteblade' was all fearlessness and bravado, just as he had been when we took him along for the bank heist so many months ago. I tried not to think of that as a bad omen; if everything went to hell I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't fold like the world's shittiest poker player. But who knows, maybe thinking that he's Nyteblade would give him a little more confidence?
Once we were over the bridge the short road ended almost instantly at the front of the main administration building, a four-story tall redbrick box that dominated the western end of the tiny island. As we slipped out of the car and Birk was greeted by some-guy-in-a-suit I took a moment to get my bearings and remember where everything was. To the left I could see the armoury; a place I'd certainly been before. When Shaundi and I had first washed up in Steelport it was the first place we raided for a little firepower (a 'little' being a massive bomb we used to take down Loren's skyscraper).
The suit that stepped up to greet us was a tall, soft-bodied man with dark skin and buzz-cut black hair. When he spoke he focused mostly on Josh and I moved back to stand 'at ease' on one side of him, Gat mimicking me and flanking him on the other side.
"Mr Birk, so glad you could join us today," the man greeted warmly, shaking Josh's hand, "I know the new recruits are really looking forward to meeting you."
While Birk played his part, Gat and I stood silently; I was glaring about me for landmarks so I could build a mental image of the island.
The road we took here was from Loren square, so there'd be two more bridges (both capable of being raised) on the northern and eastern sides of the island. Plenty of options there.
Right down the south were the human-filing-cabinets; not barracks per-se but they were strictly residential apartments for STAG soldiers.
I couldn't see much else from there but from memory there was the air park and hangars behind the admin building, beyond that some water tanks, piping, factory-stuff…
"Sir? Sir?"
I jolted when I realised the Suit was addressing me (Sir? Really?); everyone was being lead inside, Gat glancing over his shoulder and waving his hand quickly at me. I awkwardly jogged to catch up, readying my mind for the tour.
This shit…
Was torture.
For nearly an hour we trailed over the admin building, watching Nyteblade do his meet and greets and constantly speak in an over-dramatic tone. Though it gave me a few opportunities to pickpocket two ID access cards it was all I could do to keep my mind focused and keep note of where I was in those taupe, identical, never-ending hallways. That stupid stinking suit and helmet were suffocating me and I was sure if I let my guard down for a moment nothing would stop my breakfast returning and splattering the inside of my visor. It wasn't till Birk was meeting an entire squadron in one of their Air-Cav training lecture halls that Gat and I managed to slip out of the room with the excuse of 'guarding' the exits.
The moment we were along, I flipped my visor up and leant forward, grunting and breathing heavily to clear my head.
"Yo anyone'd think something died in that armour, the way you're carrying on," Johnny teased me but I could faintly felt his arm on my back.
"All the Febreeze in the world," I huffed, straightening. I rolled my shoulders; we didn't have much time.
"Okay, level two was supposed to be some kinda RnD thing, right?" I said inelegantly and Johnny nodded.
"And uh, applied sciences getting set up on the other end of the island?" he mentioned, "They said somethin' about converting the old mills…"
"Well, should be some stuff on that in Cyrus' office if I can get to it. Or anyone higher up."
Something told me I should have thought this through further, but then again I tended to work pretty well when I was winging it. Sometimes having plans set in concrete made it worse when things went wrong.
Gat nodded, a small frown at his mouth. "So you wanna take Cyrus' office?"
"If I find anything about you," I assured him, "Or Belgium or… anything-"
"I know," he said. "Okay, back here in a half hour-"
"And communicators only in an emergency, got it."
I slapped one of the pass-cards into his hand and we split, him heading down the hallway left, me right, and I started up the stairs. Commanding personnel had offices on the top floor…
I did my best to look calm and nonchalant as I hurried, turning onto the fourth floor and scanning the names on the doors. Cyrus' office was naturally right down the furthest end. There was no swipe-pass here; I found myself going old-school and picking the lock, discreetly as I could and glancing constantly over my shoulder in case anyone was going to poke their head out at me. The door mercifully gave way and I slipped swiftly inside, closing the door behind, and lifting my visor with relief.
"Damn…" I muttered at what greeted me. The man's office was nice, had a good view. The office looked out over the river to the midline of the city, floor-to-ceiling glass. I was stunning only a moment before I rushed forward, quickly ripping into the desk and filing cabinets. I only checked the filed briefly to test their relevance; anything I thought might be useful I crammed down the front of my armour. I would've taken it all if I could afford to, but my eyes were hunting for certain buzz-words. Zombies, undead, Arapice Island, Belgium, Europe…
Or Carlos Mendoza.
It was halfway through my frantic hunting that I spied something displayed on top of a cabinet; my eye twitched with anger and nose crinkled when I recognised the dark blade, hilt bound with purple.
That shit took my sword? He took a trophy?
My hands clenched around another manila folder and I stalked over to the cabinet, reaching up and lifting my sword from its display plinths.
"Come back to momma," I smirked at it, eye softening as I cradled the blade and considered how I was supposed to smuggle it out of there. Swinging it into Cyrus' neck seems stealthy enough…
There crackling voice in my ear caused me to jolt.
"Yo, I uh, think I mighta done something-" Johnny's voice revealed and I froze, wriggling my hand into my helmet and clicking my earpiece.
"Done what?" I asked dangerously.
"Well, I was goin' through the place, found this door but that card wouldn't open it, so I kicked it in – couple'a people inside not to impressed with that seein' as they were experimenting on someone."
"And?"
"Well it don't matter much, they're dead now."
I held back my groan. That man was subtle as a brick to the face.
"Well did anyone s-"
A loud, howling siren rose through the air and the building; I tentatively poked my head out of the door and saw red lights starting to swirl down the taupe hallways. My face fell.
"Call for backup," I said shortly and we simultaneously ended out connections, not about to risk the transmissions being picked up.
I spirited myself back down the hall to the stairs, somewhere less conspicuous than the commander's office. The sirens were wailing through the halls now, armoured soldiers jogging to their posts; through the long windows of the corridors I could see the bridges being raised, blockades starting to get up both sides of the river. Dammit!
Okay, find Johnny, then find something with enough grunt to get us off this fucking island. It's a base with an armoury, it had to have something. I moved swiftly down the corridor, halting at the heavy sounding footsteps jogging in unison approached. Pressing myself into a door frame the small squad trotted past and I slipped onto the end of the small crowd, trying to keep place. With any luck, they could unwittingly lead me to some place that had a lot of explosives stored away or at the very least, out of this building. This place wasn't really a maze, but every corridor looked the same; I was stuck jogging along with this squad who began filing down the stairs to the ground level. Well, at least I'd be getting closer to Johnny, with any luck. Splitting up was a bad idea…
They jogged through the doors and started splitting up when they hit the road, uniformly falling into separate teams; some went left, others towards parked Bulldogs and the last two-
To the large airpark and helipads on the other side of the road. I only hesitated a beat before following them, just as a calm, feminine voice began echoing through the speakers in between the wailing of the sirens.
"Attention all personnel. Base has been infiltrated by persons dressed as STAG officials. They are wearing grey street-patrol armour. Incapacitate and detain any street-patrol personnel."
At that I spirited myself instantly from the line, ducking between the long warehouse and the fence, rushing down the narrow passage – not a good position if anyone should see me. Far down the road I could see some STAG soldiers in camo turn on another whose armour was grey; even as he obediently laid face down on the ground they pinned, handcuffed then tasered him.
There was a side door into one of the holds and I drew back, bracing my arm and throwing my shoulder against it. The door shuddered and it was a few more attempts before it fell inwards, me crashing down onto the slick concrete floor on top of it.
I grunted, my shoulder aching and I looked up and into the darkness of the hangar, before flicking my visor up to see better, pushing up and creeping through the rows of stock. Looked like it housed transport cars, with any luck there'd be something here with a turret on it.
I grunted as I tripped over a thick cable on the ground, stumbling forward and catching myself on a steel pylon. I cussed under my breath, glaring at the cable and my eyes followed along to where it led-
Something tall, maybe twelve, fifteen foot, supported by scaffolding. My lips parted a little as I frowned curiously, stalking up to the thing. I blinked through the half darkness, eyes starting to widen, mouth pulling into a disbelieving grin at what I'd found…
Cyrus marched through the chaotic hallways, his lieutenants flanking him as he barked orders and marched outside to the road.
"Send squad A to secure the docks, keep all bridges raised. I want air support, these could be Saints spies and we know they've got aircraft at their disposal."
"Sir Saints have been spotted massing by the Eastern bridge-"
"Make sure they're cleared out, you know what to do."
"Yessir."
He halted abruptly in the middle of the square, surveying the armoury which was pulsing and buzzing with action as his soldiers carried out their duties. He smirked darkly to himself.
"No way those thugs can fight their way out of th-"
KR-BOOM!
The doors of Hangar 3 blew forward heralding the giant fireball - it sent all the nearby STAG soldiers flying and the doors slammed into the two VTOLs that were in the way. Cyrus stumbled back, an arm over his eyes as he crouched to avoid the airborne, flaming debris that sailed out of the airfield.. He coughed through the sweeping smoke and stared disbelievingly at the huge black hole where the hangar doors once were, the ground shuddering as rhythmic, pneumatic hisses fell in time with heavy metallic foot falls.
Through the smoke and flames, the huge, humanoid machine slowly, awkwardly thudded its way out. The main body was round and headless, a golden sheen over the front bullet-proof windshield obscuring the driver within. The rest was a glossy chrome, bulky and heavy armoured limbs and ebony black turrets on the 'arms' and 'shoulders'. It turned as if to look in their direction-
"Captain!" his lieutenant yelped, weapon drawn and aiming at the machine, "Did you authorise use of the TATU?"
"NO!" Cyrus roared furiously, drawing his own weapon and opened fire, the super heated lasers pulsing rapidly out of his gun. But the shots barely left heated scorch marks over the armour; the turrets on the thing whirred before releasing a deep thboom, two large grenades sailing at them. Cyrus shouted a furious curse as they dashed and dove for cover, falling to the ground and covering heads as the explosion shook the whole world around them, shrapnel pelting and sticking in their thick armour; another hit like that and they'd be done.
The air was thick with shouts, sirens and gunfire as every soldier in range opened on the mech. It was hammered with bullets and lasers, chipping at the armour then bouncing off like rain from a tin roof. It lifted its arms as to point at a Bulldog that came screaming around the corner, turrets whirring and with an ear-splitting hammering sent a hailstorm of bullets into its enemies. The armoured truck that had been racing at them swerved and the tyres blew out, sending the truck lurching and skidding along on its side. STAG soldiers shouted and ducked for cover, others not so quick or lucky as the barrage of heavy artillery cracked through their armour, their bodies jolting an ugly dance of death before falling to the ground. The mech turned then, an arm sweeping away the chainlink and barbed-wire fence between it and the road. I too large, clunking steps over the road and towards the building, right up close as if the driver were trying to look into the second story windows. The arms rose higher above it and a tri-clawed fist drew back and punched through the glass.
There was a crackling on its external speakers.
"-ucking damn i- wait, is it working? Yes!"
The voice was distorted through the speakers but clearly feminine, almost familiar enough for Cyrus to recognise as he bellowed orders over his radio. The mech pulled out another window, edging quickly along the building, hunting for something and Cyrus felt a thrill of utter fury race along his spine.
"GOD DAMMIT!" he roared, hitting at his gun furiously to cool it so it could start firing again, "How do they even know how to drive that thing?!"
The mech hunted along further, clumsily ripping out more and more windows as it went.
"Fuck me in both ears where is he…?" it voiced, "Johnny! You in there? C'mon babe-"
The mech suddenly halted as it spied something.
"Hey!" With that it reached into the building and as quickly yanked its arm out again, a person in grey armour clutched in its 'hand'. The man was struggling and shouting something inaudible over the chaotic gunfire.
"Quit'ya bitchin' Faye Raye, we're getting outta here… what-? I found it you can have a turn when we get back."
The mech suddenly turned as a series of grenades were peppered their way, the arm coming up to its 'chest' to protect the person in its grasp from the gunfire and shrapnel. The gold-sheen shell on the front lifted open only briefly to allow the captor to clamber inside with the driver- in a moment two voices were heard from the speakers, male and female, alternating.
"Thanks. Where the hell did you get this thing?"
"EBay – hold up, there's not much room in here-"
"Yo I call second test drive!" The robot rounded on its assailants and started firing again, "What's the plan for getting' outta here?"
"Kill the motherfuckers between us and the exit?"
"…Well I got no problem with that. Hey what's this do-?"
"Don't tou-"
KRA-BOOM! A small missile blasted from the right shoulder and blew an enormous, fiery hole into the building sending the mech stumbling back a step. There was the briefest of ceasefires as the STAG soldiers took cover.
"…Whoops."
"Don't just go hittin' random buttons."
"They aint random, they' labelled. Look, vehicle mode converter, release locks to activate-"
"…I'm thinking we turn these speakers off first-"
"Why, so Cyrus don't hear us call him a pig-fuckin' cumstain?"
This was only followed by a hearty laugh, then another explosion of gunfire as the mech started slowly stalking its way north up the road, squads of foot soldiers were fast retreating out of the way of the giant death machine. Cyrus was shouting into his communicator –
"Clear the area! Send in the tanks or an air strike if you have to, I want that thing stopped!" he clicked the com off and started desperately firing again at the prototype, his rage spurred on by the two infuriatingly blasé voices still chatting through the external speakers.
"So why'd they name these things after a shitty fake-lesbian Russian singing duo?" The male voice asked.
"Beats me. Initials for something?" The female replied.
"Eh, probably."
"TATU… uhh… Tricked-out… Autobot… something something?"
The turrets on its arms whined as it started clearing a path to the draw bridge.
"Tactical Assault Transformer Unit," The male voice said with a little interest.
"Hey not bad, how'd you get that?"
"It's written here on the control panel."
"Huh. Kinda takes the fun out of things – shit, we got company-"
The robot turned to face the two large tanks rolling their way out of the furthest hangar, the canons atop them swinging into aim.
"Oh fuck-"
"How fast can this thing go?"
"I dunno it's a fucking robot I can barely make it walk!"
"Hold up-"
"What are you-" the female's voice was cut off by another clearer, robotic one. The mech jolted, whirred, and with pneumatic hisses the armour plating began sliding back as it lowered to the ground, wheels folded out, and
"Vehicle mode, engaged."
The robot had slid back into a clunky, car-like form. It looked like the mechanical-bastard offspring of a tank and a drag-racer and after jolting forward a little the engine purred. The tyres suddenly screamed over the two heavy booms of the tanks, the car speeding across the base, swerving and shaking as the two massive explosions of the missiles hit the road, leaving flaming potholes. The car slid around a corner, lining up and aiming for the eastern draw bridge blockaded by the Bulldogs and guards, currently trying to stave off the Saints massing on the other side of the island. The engine roared as it accelerated forward; the turrets that were once on the shoulders were now lined alongside the car and started whirring, firing the last of the artillery into the blockade.
Hit by an assault of explosives and bullets, the Bulldogs gave and exploded, shockwaves pulsing through the base and huge orange fireballs blossoming behind them-
And the TATU car hit the bridge, flying up the raise through the flames and sailing over the river.
Hmn... I worry sometimes that I might be spinning too many plates with this fic. Or maybe that's because I'm not looking down the barrel of chapter-after-chapter or resolutions to how many things I got going on here...