Hey guys, just for some info, I have written this story such that the control points are referred to as their military alphabet. Fallen Cranes for example would be written as Control Point Foxtrot Charlie. Remember to give write reviews if you like the story. Or if you don't. Or you just want to suggest something.
***Beware there is a small torture scene in this chapter. I do not think it is that bad but I am telling you now incase you are unnerved by that sort of thing.
"Effective immediately, I've closed off all contact with Stryker." Manny told the rest of Alpha Tango.
After a chorus of opposition, Manny told them the situation. "Look, when the med staff tried to wake her, something went wrong. As of now, she is in a coma. Hopefully we'll get her back soon." Despite the fact that he knew it was a lie, it saddened him to see the reactions of the team.
Before anyone else said anything more, Hemorrhage spoke. "Understood sir. Will we be receiving a newbie to fill in her spot temporarily?"
"Affirmative. Since we don't know when she'll wake up, as of now, consider yourself the permanent team leader of Alpha Tango. Y'all got a lot of work to do and I suggest you get to it. Dismissed."
"Sir!" The team saluted before exiting the room.
After making sure they were beyond earshot, he clicked open a comm channel.
"Big Penn to Reaper, Big Penn to Reaper, how copy?"
There was a small amount of static before a voice broke through. "This is Reaper, go ahead." For some reason, Manny felt good hearing Sarah's voice for the first time since she had left.
"Alpha Tango has secured the Campus and control points Tango Alpha and Echo Whiskey. Advise you to avoid the north western part of DC for now, they were just sent to secure the federal emergency bunker."
"10-4. Be advised, I have new intel gathered from some captured outcasts. Leader known as Emeline Shaw is located on Roosevelt Island. Need to secure the Kennedy Center and control point Tango Golf before assaulting the island. How copy?"
"Big Penn copies all. Big Penn out."
He didn't know how Sarah had gotten that information since outcasts were pretty much a cult, but he knew of her background and he knew he gave her permission to use any 'interrogation method' needed to get information. He felt a shiver run up his spine at the thoughts of what she did to them; regrettable yes, but necessary.
"What the fuck happened here?" Raptor asked to no one in particular. The team had entered the bunker and were clearing the halls as they passed maybe a dozen or more bodies of JTF personnel and some division.
"Keep it frosty." Hemorrhage said before any response could be given. "Thunderclap, you're up."
"Copy." He strode forward with his assault rifle raised; clearing the halls that decorated the main hall.
When the team reached the end of the hallway, they found the bunker's control room. In it were almost a dozen outcasts. "Time to get to work ladies and gentlemen." With that, the team rained hellfire down on the outcasts.
"What do you miss?"
"Fuck you!"
Stryker was sitting in a chair opposite of a captured outcast. She needed information.
"I miss barbeques. With good southern sweet tea."
"Go to hell!"
"I'm already there. Now, I grow tired of these niceties. Tell me everything about Roosevelt Island's defenses."
"I will say nothing! You and those True Sons are responsible for our suffering."
"Very well. If you won't talk, you'll show me."
She got up and walked around the table. Pulling his head back, she grabbed his tongue and put her blade against the soft flesh.
"I'll ask one more time. Tell me about the island. I won't ask again nicely."
"Fuckā¦"
Before he could finish his curse, like a precise surgeon, Stryker cut off the man's tongue in one fluid motion.
"Aggghhhhh!" Strapped to the chair, the only thing he could do was shake in his chair as blood flew from his mouth like a hose.
"They always try to act tough, why?" Trying to be heard over the screams, Stryker retrieved a map from a nearby table. "Now, I am gonna ask some questions and you're gonna nod yes or no. Understood?"
All the man did was nod, it wasn't like he could say anything.
Putting the map on the table, she slid her finger across the map until it rested on the image of the island. "Is this bridge the way you move men and supplies?"
He nodded yes.
"Is there an escape route of any kind for that piece-of-shit Shaw?"
There was a grunt of resistance to the insult, but she just slapped him upside the head and continued. "Is there?"
He nodded yes again.
"Where? Show me on this map."
He shook his head back and forth violently.
"Oh don't be scared of what she'll do, you're not walking out of this room alive."
He looked up with the most terrified face. If it wasn't for the suicide bombers used against civilians or the simple extermination of civilians, she might actually feel bad for the outcast.
"Listen, if you help me straight, I might consider giving you a quick death." She could tell he became resigned, accepting that his death was nigh. "Show me."
His hand shaking, he extended his arm and pointed at a spot that used to be the drainage area for the sewage system on the island. "I presume she keeps a motorboat there for emergencies?"
He nodded solemnly.
"I thank you for your cooperation." She started to walk behind the man and picked up her pistol on her bag. "As such, I'll keep up my end of the bargain." Before he could even turn to wonder what she was doing, she put a .45 round from her Tactical X-45 through the man's head, covering the map on the table with a spray of crimson fluid.
"Damn. Forgot to put that away first."
"So, are you excited?" Matthew Velma asked. He was an outcast, one of the original on the island when they were quarantined. He was proud to serve under Emeline Shaw. The man he was talking to was terminally ill with the green poison. He volunteered to be a bomber.
"Yea, for sure. It's an honor to serve with y'all and I wouldn't go out any other way."
The group of four outcasts turned the corner and they stopped dead in their tracks. Before them was a massive semicircle, made from crucified outcasts, all showed severe trauma from torture. In the middle was a sign with the words 'You reap what you sew' in spray paint.
It was too late when one of them heard the scream of a high-velocity round hit the explosive chest pack of their comrades, lighting them up. Soon, they were all still.
High up on a rooftop overlooking the intersection, Stryker pulled the bolt back, and reloaded another round into the chamber of her rifle. "And Death shall reap." She muttered.
