Chapter 28: Red fog
Author's note: So there was a bit of a misunderstanding on my part. Out of the three other starting South Africans aside from Wolfer, DSM and Cell are white while Kungtotte is black. For some reason, I always assumed Wolfer was white as well. Turns out, he just wears a helmet during every other operation except the covert op and what do you know, he was black after all. But the thing is, I already have written him out as being white and while it might not seem like a big deal, it actually REALLY matters for what I had planned for this covert op (as you will soon see), not to mention the whole picture of him that I have in my head. At this point I don't see any reason to change my plans, so there it is. Wolfer's white now. As for why the lengthy explanation when 99% of you probably wouldn't have even noticed; I don't want the remaining 1% to start throwing the r-word at me.
The black minivan stood parked in a dark alleyway in the outskirts of Detroit. The neighborhood was home to a small gang of Neo-Nazis and the combined intelligences of the Council and XCOM had pinpointed their hideout to be the location of an EXALT cell. Their plans to carry out sabotage against XCOM had to be stopped; another hacked bank account would slow down the defense against the alien invaders considerably, not to mention the terrific prospect of losing valuable research data. Along with destroying the cell, one of the covert operation's goals was to gain access to additional information on the elusive terrorist organization in order to gain the upper hand in the war against terror. As if handling one of those wars wasn't already enough for XCOM.
"Okay, I'm gonna say this one more time: don't fucking hold back. I'm gonna smash your faces in and break your necks if you do. These guys will know if you're faking it. Authenticity, boys", Wolfer whispered to the team of Council's agents gathered around him in the van.
The massive assault had his head clean shaven and was wearing a bomber-style leather jacket over his shirt. Urban camo pants rounded off a sight you would not want to come across in the streets after dark. The four men around him muttered their acknowledgment: all of them dark-skinned individuals and two of them holding lead pipes. With one final glance around, Wolfer got out of the van.
Sliding the door shut quietly, Wolfer took off into the dark street. No one sane was out at this hour, but their surveillance had shown a patrol of gang members walk by every night. Stuffing his hands in his jacket, the big man started down the street. A lookout would signal the crew inside the van once the target would be close by.
Wolfer wasn't a man easily overcome by nervousness. Going into fights and battles had always been like a second nature for him; hell, it might have been his first nature! But doing a covert operation, now that's something completely different. But considering the target, he was the only candidate among the XCOM covert operatives and the commander had signaled his full confidence in the South African's capabilities.
With the slightest bit of pressure in the pit of his stomach, Wolfer walked down the street. It'll be gone when the fighting starts, the man reassured himself. And as if on cue, the screech of wheels came from behind him as the headlights of the van bore down on him. Turning around, Wolfer covered his eyes with a raised arm. The van speeded towards him and came to a drifting halt across the road, the doors sliding open as four dark figures jumped out into the street.
"Fucking niggers!" Wolfer roared, charging the first man coming at him. With a sharp jab, he caught the man squarely on the nose. The attacker was taken by surprise, screaming out loud as a sickening crunch and a spray of blood indicated a broken nose. An angry thought crossed Wolfer's mind. What did I fuckin' tell ya?
Turning to the next attacker, Wolfer lifted an arm to block the swing of a lead pipe. The weapon crashed across his arm, rattling his nerves and drawing a grunt of pain from the big man. But his other arm followed up, burrowing into the attacker's gut and causing him to double over. A lead pipe struck him in the shin from behind, and the big man fell down on one knee with a roar of anger.
Wheeling around, Wolfer saw the man begin to raise his weapon for another strike. Grabbing the pipe before he could do so, Wolfer pulled hard on the weapon. The man came lunging at him and the assault crashed his forehead into the black man's face, sending him stumbling backwards and wrestling the pipe for himself.
Another strike from a pipe landed on his back, this one in absolute full force. Shouting in pain, Wolfer fell forwards, trying to spin around on the ground. A kick landed in his side and then another one, and the man curled up, dropping the pipe and pulling his arms to cover the back of his head. A dozen or so more strikes landed before the men around him yelled it was time to leave, and the hits finally stopped. Screeching tires accompanied their retreat as Wolfer gingerly got up to one knee.
His sides were aching and the arm which he had used to block the lead pipe was screaming at him. Looking up with a pained grimace, Wolfer saw two men running towards him. Sporting leather jackets and shaven heads, it looked like their bait had been taken.
Pushing his head down, Wolfer cursed loudly as he steadied himself with one arm. "Hey you alright man? What did the niggas want with you?" one of the men called over as they drew closer. Glancing up at the approaching men, Wolfer drew in a deep breath. This is it. Don't fuck up.
"What does a nigger ever want with you? Do they need an excuse to beat up a white man?" the assault boomed, staring intently at the men approaching him. The bangers exchanged a look and walked up to Wolfer. Helping him up to his feet, one of them uttered his agreement while the other one eyed Wolfer up and down.
"What are you doing here? I've never seen you around here", the skeptical one inquired, his pierced brow furrowed over a pair of suspicious eyes. The man's face was narrow and sly and reminded Wolfer of a weasel.
Grunting in pain and rubbing his wounded arm, Wolfer answered, "I just got into town and heard there might be some folks who share my ideology around here." Turning to the man, Wolfer easily stood a head above the banger. Looking down with hard eyes he leaned in closer, lowering his voice, "Did I hear wrong?"
Regarding Wolfer with some concern in his eyes, the pierced banger turned to his partner. Receiving a nod of approval from his companion, the man looked back to Wolfer. "Okay, we'll take you to Lamont. What's your name, stranger?" the man finally spoke up.
"Havoc", Wolfer gave his fake name, shaking the men's hands as they uttered theirs. Limping slightly, the big man followed his new acquaintances back the way they had come from.
Passing by many old apartment buildings and a few stores, the men finally arrived at an old two story building that had probably housed multiple stores in the past. Now it was used as a shelter by the worst kind of human trash, and the appearance did nothing to hide the fact. Wolfer wrinkled his nose slightly as he approached the building, the shabby exterior only a small improvement over a crack house. Pushing in through the front door, the two guards posted inside stopped them.
"Yo, who's the new guy?" one of the guards asked. The man was fat and huge, almost as tall as Wolfer and well wider.
His escorts explained what had happened, and the guard signaled for Wolfer to spread his arms and legs. The covert operative complied as the man patted him down roughly, drawing a sharp breath from Wolfer as the guard didn't give any consideration for his beaten sides. With a wave of his hand the guard sent them off and Wolfer bit back the urge to punch the man in his smug, plump face.
The interior of the building was a slight improvement over the outside: the corridors were relatively clean and the walls had been painted a faded yellow, only partially covering the old ripped wallpaper below. Walking through the corridors they made their way over to the back of the building. Through the open doorways he saw bangers gathered around tables, playing cards and drinking booze or just lounging around.
"How many people you got here?" the big man asked his escorts.
The sly-faced escort, Taniseth, answered "Twenty-two. Twenty-three soon, I imagine you're wanting to stay, yes?" The man regarded Wolfer with a glimmer in his eyes and the big assault got the unnerving feeling he was onto him. Pushing such thoughts off his mind, Wolfer turned his eyes back towards the end of the corridor.
"We'll see what this boss of yours has to say", he answered as they came to the door.
Taniseth gave the door a sharp knock and hollered out he had a new recruit. It took some time before a voice from inside answered. Taniseth pushed through the door, closing it behind him and Wolfer heard their muffled voices through the door, unable to make out what was said. Eventually, the door re-opened and the banger stepped out, regarding Wolfer with amused eyes and silently signaling for him to step inside.
The man sitting behind the table was a mean looking son of a bitch. His head was shaven and his black goatee hung long below his chin. The man was pierced at both eyebrows and lips, and his eyes were stone cold gray above his wrinkled mug.
"Come on in", Lamont said with a cool voice, signaling for Wolfer to take the chair in front of him. Wolfer gave the man a nod and complied, closing the door behind him and walking across the room.
The room's walls were painted red and a massive bed stood in one corner. A naked woman of some forty years lay on the bed, apparently unabashed by her nakedness in front of a complete stranger. Her eyes were sunken and hollow and spoke of a long-standing drug addiction. She regarded the big man with mild curiosity in her eyes.
"So, you want to join us?" Lamont asked from behind his desk as Wolfer seated himself.
Looking the man in the eye, Wolfer gave his answer with an unwavering voice, "Well I was mostly looking for a place to crash at for a couple days. But seems like you've got a pretty sweet set-up here, so why not?"
The man stared at Wolfer with his hard eyes, responding in a quiet tone, "Why not indeed? We can always use more manpower, especially if they're as good at fighting as Taniseth made you out to be." The gang leader turned his head and looked over at the bed for a moment before returning his gaze to Wolfer and speaking up once again, "What's your story?"
Wolfer recited the backstory they had come up with: how he'd found out his girlfriend had cheated on him and he'd beaten the woman into hospital shape and killed the man who she had done it with. Fleeing across the border from Vancouver he had come to Detroit to start anew again. By the time he was done with, Lamont was nodding ever so slightly behind his desk.
"That's an interesting tale you've got there", the man uttered, taking a moment to stare Wolfer intently in the eye. The operative answered his stare, his chiseled features betraying nothing. With a sigh, the leader of the gang got up and turned towards the bed. "Taniseth will take you to the doc for inspection and recount you the rules of our little communion here. Respect them, and we'll come along just fine I have no doubt." Lamont ushered for him to get out while walking up to the bedside.
As Wolfer turned to head for the door, he was interrupted by the leader once more, "One last thing. Don't mess with the Suits. We don't ask them nothing and we don't disturb them, you got that?" Glancing over his shoulder, Wolfer voiced his acknowledgment and pushed out the door.
The men outside the room welcomed him into their gang with pats on the back and laughter. Wolfer responded in kind, but inside he felt sick right down to his guts. Looking at the men smiling next to him he got the sudden urge to grab their heads and bash them against the wall, spraying their brains and blood all over the tapestries. And then rinse and repeat for the rest of the scum inside. But instead he only grinned, following Taniseth through the corridors into the doctor's office.
Doctor and office were the overstatements of the year. It was a small room with a desk in the back and a chair in the middle and an old, shriveled man with disinterested eyes and horribly unkempt teeth. Wolfer took off his jacket and shirt as the presumed doctor poked at his wounds and bruises, all the while listening to the chatter of Taniseth as he explained the way of life in the gang. Wolfer responded with grunts of pain and agreement. Getting to the end of his explanations, the sly man noticed the tattoo of the assault's insignia on Wolfer's bicep. The black ink depicted an alien skull with slanted, oval eyes.
"Yo, cool tat man! What is it?" Taniseth inquired eagerly, leaning in closer to check out the simple yet professional work on his skin. Wolfer flexed his muscles, and the image moved along with the brawn below.
"Fuck the Chinaman", he uttered in a serious tone, drawing a quick puzzled look from Taniseth before the man exploded into cackling laughter. Wolfer got up and pulled his shirt over his head, covering the tattoo once again. I need to be careful around EXALT, the man thought to himself as he got back out into the corridors with his new brother.
But EXALT never came. Wolfer got into the daily cycle of things inside the gang, learning the ropes and pecking orders around the base. The closest thing he ever saw to EXALT was the door at the end of one corridor, always guarded by two bangers.
The Council's agents had caught wind of the cell through sightings of an EXALT field squad in the Detroit area. Pinpointing them into the gang's hideout had been a lot harder, with minimal traffic in and out of the building. They had identified a total of four different EXALT operatives entering and leaving the building, with usually only two or three inside at any given time.
Wolfer had tried asking around about the Suits during card games and drinking nights. Nobody really knew anything about them or their schedules, and few wanted to guess. Apparently EXALT paid the gang well and most of the bangers respected their boss enough to keep their mouth shut if he told them to. However, Wolfer did learn that guard duty on their door was a total pain-in-the-ass and considered the lowest of assignments around, yet it was still only given to proven gang members.
It was three days after his acceptance into the gang when Wolfer went out on patrol with two other bangers and Taniseth. It was basic patrolling around their turf like any other night. Except this night, they found a trespasser.
"Yo look, what do we have here?" Taniseth whispered to Wolfer as a solitary figure stepped out into their sights from an intersection up ahead. The street lights illuminated a black man in his twenties with his hoodie up over his head, turning away from the group and walking down the street, oblivious to his surroundings and the fact he had strayed into the wrong neighborhood. A chill ran down Wolfer's spine as he looked over at Taniseth, the man now smirking as he popped his fingers and regarded the back of the man ahead of them.
The bangers picked up the pace as they walked down the street, Taniseth turning to Wolfer and signaling for him to keep up. Taking a deep breath, Wolfer took a few long strides to catch up with the group. A heavy lump materialized in the back of his throat as he stared at the man in front of them with wide eyes. Fucking run, man. What the fuck are you doing out here?
Steadily gaining ground on the hooded figure, Wolfer clenched his fists in anger. They were mere ten meters away now and there was no way the black man would get away. Wolfer squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled against the urge to pound the men next to him into a pulp. Opening his eyes and drawing a deep breath, he tensed his body as the bangers got ready to pounce. No holding back. They'll notice.
Taniseth was the first to lunge forwards, the young man turning around as he realized all too late what was happening. The sly banger stomped on their victim's knee while grabbing onto the man's shoulder, drawing a surprised yell of pain as he fell over. And then they were all over him, legs kicking wildly and mouths spouting racial slurs and insults as the black man curled up helplessly on the asphalt. And Wolfer was with them.
A red fog filled his eyes as he stomped on the helpless man. His face was twisted into a horrific grimace as he shouted his hatred out. The words coming out of his mouth were foul and despicable and the anger was real. Wolfer was furious with himself, and at the men next to him. Taking that anger, he turned it towards the helpless man lying on the ground. It was the most convincing of performances, and as the man on the ground stopped moving and the other bangers got ready to leave, Wolfer was the last to stop kicking. Looking up with burning eyes, the other skinheads recoiled away from the sight before letting out booming laughs. The men congratulated Wolfer on his hatred for the nigger, and the assault glanced back down once more.
The young man was lying on the ground. He wasn't moving and a massive tear in his head was slowly leaking blood into a small pool below him. "He dead?" Wolfer asked, his chest heaving up and down with heavy breathing.
"Does it matter? The nigga learned his lesson, one way or the other!" one of the men exclaimed cheerfully and the group turned around to head back to their hideout and away from the crime scene. Wolfer stared at the man a while longer and another shout came from behind him, "Yo Havoc, you wanna finish the job or are you gonna come?"
Turning around, Wolfer steeled himself and joined the men as they returned. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he regarded the people in front of him. A sick twisting was rising in his stomach and looking at the scum in front of him only made it worse. I'm gonna kill every single one of you before this is over, an inner voice rang in his head. Closing his eyes for a moment summoned back the image of the man, spread out on the asphalt, bleeding away. What, so are you gonna kill yourself too? Another voice answered, and Wolfer gritted his teeth in anger.
It was the next day when they announced Wolfer would be on guard duty. The bangers sarcastically congratulated the newcomer on his promotion and Wolfer answered their camaraderie with grins and laughs. Inside, he was boiling. The moment would finally come and he would be able to get this over with, one way or the other. His post was next morning with Taniseth and as the day came to a close, Wolfer excused himself out of the hideout and into the streets.
Walking up to the side of an old auto repair shop some five blocks away from the hideout, the operative made his way to a trashcan on the side of the building. One of the council's agents drove the garbage truck that worked the area, and Wolfer reached into the trashcan. Pulling out the walkie-talkie taped into the side of the trashcan, Wolfer glanced around before making his way into the back of the closed repair shop.
Setting the frequency, the big man talked into the phone, "Soulstep here. Do you read me?"
There was a pause of about ten seconds before the phone buzzed to life, a female voice responding on the line, "This is Mother Mary, I read you Soulstep. What's going on?"
"I'm going loud tomorrow at 0600 hours. Make sure the big boys are ready to back me up at extraction after that. Do you copy?" Wolfer stared off into the dark alleyways as he waited for the response. Getting the acknowledgment, he signed off and brought the walkie-talkie hard to his knee, smashing it to pieces. Tossing the broken gadget back into the trash, he took off back towards the hideout.
The night was a restless one as Wolfer ran the extraction plan in his head, over and over again. When he finally tried to sleep, the young black man lying on the asphalt returned to haunt him. So instead he just lied in his bed, hands behind his head, waiting. Until finally, it was time for his shift.
Getting up from his bunk, he joined a sleepy Taniseth in the junction leading up to the EXALT's door. Yawning widely, the sly man complained as they walked up to the night guards. It was 4 am and their shift would last until 10 am. Switching shifts, the relieved guards passed their pieces to Wolfer and Taniseth, taunting them as they took off. Leaning against the wall, Wolfer regarded the door silently. It didn't even have a lock on it; EXALT really seemed to be smug and overly confident with their ability to manipulate other people into doing their bidding. Wolfer smiled slightly as he thought towards 6 am.
Taniseth continued his complaining the entire morning, his whiny tone and weasel-like features growing ever more on the big assault's nerves. Until finally, his clock struck 0600 hours. Turning to Taniseth, Wolfer smiled a heartfelt smile.
"Taniseth?" the big man inquired. The banger glanced up at Wolfer with surprised eyes, having gotten used to the man's silence during the morning shift. Wolfer grinned from ear to ear as he continued, "I've got something I wanna give ya." Turning to the big man face-to-face, the small Nazi's response was cut off as Wolfer's hand closed around his throat.
A disbelieving look appeared into the banger's eyes as his arms instinctively jumped up to the hand around his throat. With his other hand, Wolfer snagged the pistol from the man's pocket, clicking his tongue disapprovingly as the man tried to reach for the gun, incoherent gurgling emanating from his mouth. Tossing the pistol to the ground, Wolfer closed his other hand around Taniseth's throat and lifted him from the ground.
Pushing him against the wall, Wolfer's thumbs pressed into his throat, sinking in as if he was kneading bread. Taniseth's windpipe let out a sickening crunch as it collapsed under the pressure, and the man's eyes bulged out, legs drumming against the wall helplessly. Wolfer's face was twisted into a horrific grin as he let out all of the frustration, anger and violence pent up inside of him over the course of the operation. He pushed and pushed and pushed, and blood started to trickle down from Taniseth's mouth. His eyes turned back into his skull as the blood continued to run, until finally his legs stopped moving.
Dropping the man to the ground, Wolfer turned to the door. The red fog had settled over his vision once again and any semblance of covert actions had left his mind. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the room.
"Hey, you can't come in here!" an EXALT operative shouted from behind the desk in the middle of the room. In front of him was a high-tech laptop and a pile of files and folders spread out across the length of the table. His eyes moving from Wolfer to the dead man lying on the ground behind him, the terrorist's eyes widened as he reached for his pistol. He never had a chance.
Wolfer was on him in three lightning strides. Grabbing onto the man's vest, he jerked hard and the man came flying over the table. Crashing into the floor face-first, the EXALT operative lost his grip on his weapon, the pistol clattering across the room. Dropping his knees hard on the man's back, Wolfer slammed the air out of his lungs. The red fog was on him, and there was no stopping it.
Grabbing onto the man's head with both hands, Wolfer brought it up hard, the man exclaiming in pain as his torso twisted between the knees pushing him in the back and the hands pulling him up. With all his might, the assault crashed the man's head onto the floor. A hollow thud emanated from the floor boards as the man lost consciousness. Bringing his head up again, Wolfer slammed it down a second time. This time, a sickening crack rang in the room as the man's skull broke open. A low guttural noise echoed from Wolfer's mouth as he held back his shout, face twisted into a horrific mask and eyes blinded by the red fog. He brought the man's head up a third time. Putting all of his weight behind the slam, Wolfer lunged forwards and smashed the head into the ground, spraying blood and brains all over the floor and himself.
Not wasting any time he got up, dashing towards the door on the side. A voice from behind inquired what was going on. As the door opened and an EXALT operative stepped into the door frame with his pistol drawn, Wolfer was already on him.
Tackling the man from the waist, Wolfer threw himself and the terrorist into the next room. Crashing down on top of the EXALT operative, the man below him let out a muffled grunt as the wind was knocked out of him. Grabbing onto the hand holding the gun, Wolfer twisted hard. With a whimpering scream, the man let go of his gun as the bones in his wrist snapped. Bringing his head down hard, Wolfer smashed the terrorist's nose open.
Getting up to his knees, the assault brought down a massive fist on the man below him. And then another. And another. Blood flew in the air as Wolfer shouted silently, his mouth open and eyes wide. Pouring out everything from within, the assault hammered down relentlessly, finally letting go. The red fog engulfed him completely as he lost sight of the room around him. Fists swinging, Wolfer was taken over by a bloodlust he had never even known existed within him.
Falling back from the disfigured and caved-in face of the EXALT, Wolfer glanced around the room with wide eyes. Finally coming to from his rage, he shuddered and drew in a deep breath. It was lucky there had only been two operatives in today and not three. He wasn't sure he would have noticed a third one before a bullet to the head would've alerted him to the fact.
Clambering up to his feet, Wolfer turned around back into the main room. Hurriedly getting to the table he reached for the laptop. Realizing the condition of his hands, the big man cursed under his breath and headed for the door leading into the corridor. Pulling the body of Taniseth inside he closed the door and wiped his hands on the banger's shirt. With most of the fresh blood wiped off, his hands were still absolutely caked with it. Cursing again, Wolfer turned back towards the table.
Stuffing the laptop and the files into a bag lying on the table, Wolfer slung the strap over his shoulder. Checking he still had the pistol in his pocket he pulled out his knife. Stepping to the heavy back door, he released the lock.
The guards posted outside were completely oblivious to what had been going on inside. The room was well sound-proofed, which was likely the reason EXALT had chosen it to be their operation room in the first place. The man on his right turned around in surprise as the door swung open. Wolfer slashed, and blood sprayed out of the red gash on the man's throat. With a scream-turned-gurgle the man fell on his knees, desperately trying to plug the stream of blood with his hands.
Wheeling around to his left, Wolfer got ready to face the remaining guard. The Neo-Nazi had his pistol halfway drawn and Wolfer stepped close. Grabbing onto his wrist, he turned the gun away and buried the knife into the man's gut. Gazing into the man's face as it twisted in pain he noticed it was one of the men who had gone on patrol with him the other night. Turning the knife around in his stomach in satisfaction, Wolfer pulled it back and sank the blade in again.
A gunshot rang in the early morning as the dying man managed to flick off the safety of his pistol. Cursing loudly, Wolfer pulled the knife out and slit the man's throat from ear-to-ear. Another shot echoed into the air as the man fired aimlessly into the air. Tossing the banger unceremoniously aside, Wolfer took off in a heated run towards the chain-link fence of the backyard. Noticing the gate was locked he jumped on top of one of the cars parked against it and vaulted over the fence, dashing off into the streets beyond.
Running his way through the streets and back alleys of Detroit, Wolfer made his way over to one of the numerous escape vehicles they had set up in the AO. Getting on top of the motorcycle in an abandoned shack, he pulled on a pair of leather gloves over his blood-caked hands and a helmet over his head. Kick starting the bike, he took off towards the extraction zone on the edge of the city.
Driving through the streets, the assault looked for signs of EXALT giving chase. The sun was shining down on the mostly empty streets, the lamp posts and buildings throwing long shadows as Detroit was about to burst to life. As Wolfer approached the extraction zone, black cars barreled onto the road in front of him.
Driving hard towards him on both lanes, the windows rolled down as men masked with red scarves leaned out with machine pistols in hand. Taking a hard turn right, Wolfer drove into the alleys between the tall buildings. Snaking his way through the back alleys, he saw cars block off exits all around him. Cursing inside his helmet, the assault looked frantically for a way out.
A car drove into the alley behind him, sending trashcans flying through the air. The men leaning out of the windows were sending rapid bursts of fire at him as the assault pushed his head down and hit the throttle. Taking a steep turn right, Wolfer brought the bike to a screeching halt as he cursed out loud. Dead end.
Jumping off the bike, Wolfer glanced around the alley. There was a fire escape on the building to his left and he leapt up, catching the low-end of the ladder. Pulling himself up he quickly scaled up to the first level. The car screeched into the alley below him and Wolfer dived through a window on the side of the building, crashing helmet-first into the corridor of the apartment building as the sounds of gunfire exploded behind him.
Scrambling to his feet the assault threw away the helmet. Running down the corridor he took the stairs up, loping his way up story by story. The door to the roof was locked so he pulled his pistol, turning his face away and firing three rounds into the lock. With a resounding kick he sent the door swinging open into the bright sunlight.
Running off to the roof, Wolfer glanced around. The next building across the alley in front of him was on a lower level, and the man stopped for a moment to consider his next move. The EXALT giving him chase would soon be on him. Wolfer froze for a moment as he noticed the distant flapping of a helicopter. His mind made up, he sprinted the last few meters and leapt.
Swinging his hands wildly, the assault let out a loud yell as he flew through the air. Landing on the roof of the next building, Wolfer crashed down into an inelegant roll, knees jolting with the impact. Scrambling back up, he ran onwards as the sounds of the chopper drawing ever closer intensified. And then the sounds of air being beaten into submission filled his ears.
The chopper came up on his left, the side of the aircraft open with an EXALT operative behind a minigun. The weapon spun up and from below the beating of the chopper the deafening crash of a bullet storm broke into the morning air. Wolfer pushed his head down, covering his face with an arm as concrete dust and debris flew into the air around him, the edges of the building being torn apart as the EXALT tried to bring the weapon on target. Dashing desperately towards the air conditioning tower in front of him, Wolfer dived behind the box of metal.
The clanging of metal filled his ears as the minigun punched holes into the cover above him. Covering his head, Wolfer clenched his teeth together. I can't stay here. I have to run. Getting ready to bolt, he tensed every muscle in his body.
A massive explosion rang in the air as the minigun fire suddenly stopped. Rolling over and looking towards the chopper, Wolfer saw the husk of the aircraft spin away from the building, crashing away from his sight with a massive tail of flame and smoke trailing behind it. Jumping up, the assault ran to the edge of the building.
On the other side of the street, Orgun was kneeling behind a mailbox. Smoke rose from the rocket launcher on his shoulder as the man let out a wild cheer. Scubaman, DSM and Hypergeek were all taking cover on the edges of the building, laser weapons at the ready. Wolfer glanced around and noticed the ladder of a fire escape to his right. Dashing over he swung to the ladder, sliding his way down. The friction burned away relentlessly at his gloves but he still only stopped twice along the long descent. Jumping off into the alley, Wolfer threw away the smoking gloves, the palms of his hands red and stinging.
"Run on over! We've got you!" Scubaman shouted from across the street, and Wolfer complied.
Pushing his head down, he dashed across the street. DSM was firing her laser strike rifle, keeping the EXALTs that had given Wolfer chase away from the edge of the rooftop. As the covert operative reached the squad, everyone withdrew into the alley behind them, Hypergeek leading the run back with scatter laser raised.
Bursting out from the end of the alley the squad laid eyes on the Skyranger, parked in the middle of Detroit on a small patch of grass that served as a children's soccer field. The ramp lowered and the operatives dashed inside, the aircraft taking off with thrusters blasting in full force.
A thoroughly exhausted Wolfer scrambled out of the Skyranger and into the hangar bay. He had left the intel unceremoniously lying on the floor of the aircraft. Swiping a sore hand across his face, he pushed past the Skyranger mechanics and the member of the intelligence team. There was no hero's welcome for Wolfer as there had been for Kilroy; it was late in the night in Japan and the honors of the first mission against the new enemy had already been taken. Loping up the stairs to the upper level of the hangar bay, Wolfer got ready to leave when he saw his friend.
Instinct was standing next to the railing, looking at Wolfer with an amused look on his face. "Where're you off to in such a hurry? Almost didn't notice me huh? That's what I get for giving a shit about you I guess."
Wolfer stared at the Nigerian man with weary eyes. Striding over, he grabbed the shorter man into a bear hug. Closing his eyes, Wolfer slammed a hand into his friend's back, over and over again. When Wolfer showed no signs of stopping, Instinct spoke up with a slightly amused and worried tone, "Hey man, what's up? Everything okay?"
Wolfer stepped back, looking at the black man in front of him with an affectionate look. Slamming a hand on his shoulder, Wolfer answered, "It's just good to see you, you know? Come on, spar with me. I feel like I have a hundred pounds of shit inside and I need you to kick it out of me."
Slinging his hand over Instinct's shoulder, Wolfer started towards the corridor. "Hey what the hell man, it's the middle of the night for me! You jet-lagged, selfish piece of shit!" The futile objections of Instinct rang in the empty corridors of the base as they made their way towards the martial arts room.
