All while Peter lay inside the vent, the military was scrambling to
find him. Everything sounded so far away, so distant. He felt the warmth of
his own blood under him, leaking through the grate. It wouldn't be long
before a soldier entered and spotted the blood, therefore bringing his
death sentence. He rose carefully and weakly to his hands and knees, slowly
creeping, inch by inch, in the direction of the light source in the vent.
As he was crawling, he carefully listened for any sign of soldier activity.
His Air Force uniform was ragged and covered in his blood, the straps of
the XM-29 wrapped around his shoulder, his heavy machine gun helping to
slide his bloody legs behind him. His .44 was securely holstered, but not
locked. His arm slipped on a seam, and he thudded to the metal. The .44
discharged, grazing his hip and penetrating the thin sheet metal below him.
"Dammit! My shoulder!" Peter heard the muffled sound of a soldier yelling
in pain. Receiving one of the biggest adrenaline rushes of his life, he
forgot the pain shooting through his body as he snatched up the heavy
machine gun and bolted as best he could through the vent. "There!"
POPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOPOP! Bullets of small and large caliber blew
through the thin sheet metal, penetrating Peter's feet twice. He rose the
heavy machine gun, and with split-second calculations, determined the angle
of the bullet holes, and fired opposite that angle.
CLACKCLACKCLACKCLACKCLACK! The huge bullets tore through the metal, and
Peter heard the unmistakable sound of the bullets piercing flesh.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Peter heard the screams of agony from the soldiers
below him. "Hank? Hank!? He's not breathing! MEDIC!" Peter heard the
soldiers that either weren't hurt or weren't badly scramble to Hank's side.
He took that time to, as quietly as he could, sneak around the left corner
of the vent, into a whole other room. He slouched down, mainly because of
the burning, throbbing pain in his feet, also because the vent was, at this
location, at least twice as wide, allowing him some foot room. He wondered
why is was wider, but he soon found the answer. He felt a very cold blast
of air enter the vent. He shivered before another blast came, colder then
the last, and nearly blew him over. It was so cold, in fact, that his
fingers were going numb. He snatched up the heavy machine gun and broke
through the grate nearest to him, falling about twelve feet before hitting
the bottom. "AH!" Peter gasped as his feet hit the floor, buckling beneath
him. At least, that's what he thought. The fact was, they didn't buckle,
they slipped. On ice, to be exact. He shivered once more, and surveyed his
surroundings. He must have gone around to the cafeteria, because he was
actually inside a giant freezer, filled with hamburger packages, boxes
labeled 'SPAM', and a crate of soft drinks tucked in the corner. CLANG!
CLANG! CLANG! "Who's in there!?" Peter heard a soldier outside the freezer
door yell out. He yelled in the gruffest voice he could, "Help!" The
soldier opened the door, but Peter was ready, clinging to the wall above
the door, reaching down and pinching the soldier's neck hard. The man
dropped like a brick. Peter dragged the soldier outside, and gave him a
look over. He was in his late twenties, early thirties with black hair with
a crew cut and wearing a Marine uniform. The name patch said Irgon on it.
He was carrying an M4, a Glock, an Uzi, and a small 9 millimeter. He had a
hand grenade on his shoulder, and extra clips on his utility belt. Peter
took the Glock and Uzi. He slung the Glock over his soldier, and tucked the
9 millimeter and Uzi into his waistband. He left the M4, but not before
twisting the barrel into a 90 degree angle and taking the hand grenade and
putting into his pocket.
"Colonel! Where are you going, sir?" Peter was stopped by a Major guarding the General's room two floors below the freezer. "Um, gotta see the General." "Well, he's busy, sir. And-what the-!?" Peter cut the Major's exclamation short by clogging his mouth with webbing and smashing him over the head with the butt of the Glock. He dragged him into a nearby closet and disabled the Major's weapons. He grabbed the Major's glasses and put them on. His vision immediately became clouded, so he took them off, walked to the door to where the General was, then put them back on. He still had some face-paint on, so he was barely recognizable. He opened the door, and almost immediately, a dozen weapons were trained on him. Until a Lieutenant Colonel exclaimed, "Attention on deck!." All the weapons were lowered and he was saluted. The General was at a desk directly in front of Peter, and had a small boom box on the desk, listening to Rammstein at a low volume. He had his back to Peter, and didn't even bother to look behind him. "Well? What do you need?" Peter put back on the gruff tone and said, "Oh, not much. Just need you to sign some papers." Peter whipped out his Glock and Uzi, which were set on automatic, and fired at all the guard's legs. FTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFT! POPOPOPOPOPOPOP! The Uzi and Glock made separate noises, as the Glock was silenced and the Uzi was not. Before even one guard could take the safety off his weapon, Peter had scored hits to their legs. Some of the guards attempted to get up or raise their weapons, but Peter aimed the heavy machine gun at them, which did a pretty good job of stopping them dead. "I'll get you all First Aid after I'm through. But for now, relax." The soldiers quickly forgot about Peter and tended to their wounds. The General still sat with his back to Peter, and Peter looked over the General's shoulder, spying about seven TVs, all with security cameras. "I was waiting for you. That Colonel uniform isn't fooling anyone. We found the real Colonel and two other soldiers in the supply room. One was dead." "I'm sorry about that General. Your boys were shooting at me. I had no choice." The General finally turned and looked him straight in the eye. "Yes, you did. They didn't have real ammo in those firearms. They were plaster rounds! They delivered an electrical shock strong enough to knock you out. You wouldn't have been hurt!" Peter took the information in with shock. He collapsed suddenly. The soldier holding the tranquilizer gun finally gave in to blood loss and passed out.
"Colonel! Where are you going, sir?" Peter was stopped by a Major guarding the General's room two floors below the freezer. "Um, gotta see the General." "Well, he's busy, sir. And-what the-!?" Peter cut the Major's exclamation short by clogging his mouth with webbing and smashing him over the head with the butt of the Glock. He dragged him into a nearby closet and disabled the Major's weapons. He grabbed the Major's glasses and put them on. His vision immediately became clouded, so he took them off, walked to the door to where the General was, then put them back on. He still had some face-paint on, so he was barely recognizable. He opened the door, and almost immediately, a dozen weapons were trained on him. Until a Lieutenant Colonel exclaimed, "Attention on deck!." All the weapons were lowered and he was saluted. The General was at a desk directly in front of Peter, and had a small boom box on the desk, listening to Rammstein at a low volume. He had his back to Peter, and didn't even bother to look behind him. "Well? What do you need?" Peter put back on the gruff tone and said, "Oh, not much. Just need you to sign some papers." Peter whipped out his Glock and Uzi, which were set on automatic, and fired at all the guard's legs. FTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFT! POPOPOPOPOPOPOP! The Uzi and Glock made separate noises, as the Glock was silenced and the Uzi was not. Before even one guard could take the safety off his weapon, Peter had scored hits to their legs. Some of the guards attempted to get up or raise their weapons, but Peter aimed the heavy machine gun at them, which did a pretty good job of stopping them dead. "I'll get you all First Aid after I'm through. But for now, relax." The soldiers quickly forgot about Peter and tended to their wounds. The General still sat with his back to Peter, and Peter looked over the General's shoulder, spying about seven TVs, all with security cameras. "I was waiting for you. That Colonel uniform isn't fooling anyone. We found the real Colonel and two other soldiers in the supply room. One was dead." "I'm sorry about that General. Your boys were shooting at me. I had no choice." The General finally turned and looked him straight in the eye. "Yes, you did. They didn't have real ammo in those firearms. They were plaster rounds! They delivered an electrical shock strong enough to knock you out. You wouldn't have been hurt!" Peter took the information in with shock. He collapsed suddenly. The soldier holding the tranquilizer gun finally gave in to blood loss and passed out.