The Alpha
By Adam Morgan

Tango Down The SWAT team were ready, the set on the stairs had each flight covered, while four men stood a wall away from them, two on either side of the door, MP5s ready, torch lights dancing on the walls. The crackle of static in there ears they were swift silent, invisible. Inside Angel could feel them at the door, he made one last desperate tap before he heard the door explode open, but he had already kicked off the desk, the chair rocking along the ground. He fired twice at the PC's hard drive before tilting himself back, getting a good upside down look at the SWAT team before emptying his clip into the first man who was standing about thirty centimetres away from him when he toppled to the ground. Angel leapt up, throwing his gun, hard, at the man standing in the door, his gun down. His visor cracked, his neck rolling back and into the wall behind him. He pushed back his coat, revealing another set of Berettas, which he pulled out before exploding forward and jumping through the wall to the right of the door. In the corridor, the remaining two men baffled as the wooden walls in front of them exploded, almost shattering like glass as the golden figure flew past, his eyes shut and his shoulders throbbing from the force. His hands rocking back and forth as his guns cracked, sending shells falling to the floor and bullets to rip through the air.
On the stairwell, the SWAT team waited. Hearing only muffled pistol, fire they knew something was wrong. One of them stepped up a stair, angling his head curiously, when he was hit by a falling body erupting through the wall. Two shots were fired, the shells disappearing in the rubble and one of the men falling over like a sack on the landing. Nothing could be seen through the smoke and rubble, until the well was lit by the gunfire of the SWAT teamers remaining, their lights rolling around in the rubble. They hear something click, the enemies weapons, hopefully. 'Man Down, tango down I repeat Tango down.'
Outside, King was waiting for a report. He half smiled at the news and walked over to Roberts, who seemed to be disappearing in between the red and blue flashes. 'One of them is gone, the other, I can't tell.' 'I'm not getting anything either. In or Out?' 'I'll stay here.'
Roberts looked back up at the building, pressing his finger into his ear.

***************

Back upstairs the smoke was clearing, the SWAT had assumed a ready position, one on his knee and the other taking weak cover behind a stair railing, his gun poking cheekily out of the gap between two broken railings. The dust settled, the chips and shards of rubble hitting the ground. A broad silhouette could be made out, a flash of gold and a loud crack. One of the SWATs hit the floor, his gun sliding across the wet surface. The weapon dropped, the remaining man fired three rounds. He could hear the raw thud of impact, and then the impact of something hitting him. A large body had hit him, the arms flailing forward, the torso hitting him like a brick, his bulletproof vest had made a good shield for the rebel. Before he could stand up, he was crushed by a large white boot, which knocked him out cold. Angel stepped off the SWAT and surveyed the scene.