Section 7

"God damn, but I'm tired of living like this."

The walls of the Free Clinic shook as another rocket landed somewhere on the streets outside, momentarily drowning out the already muffled gunfire. The two refugees sat in the clinic's imitation plastic chairs, unflinching. They'd been desensitized to the explosions long ago, and the Free Clinic was built like a fortress. They were probably safer here than any other part of the city.

"It'll be over soon. The NSF can't hold out much longer, now. Stupid thing for them to do, if you ask me. Trying to fight UNATCO out in the open…"

"They must be getting desperate."

"Everybody's getting desperate."

Outside the clinic a UNATCO agent in a dark blue trench coat leaned around the clinics stairwell, peppering the street and the barricaded NSF soldiers with automatic weapons fire. Behind him, two troopers crouched behind a large dumpster that had been pulled out from the wall to serve as temporary cover.

"Christ. Never thought I'd see a Denton shoot like that."

The other soldier leaned around the dumpster in time to see a group of panicked NSF troopers pour out of the Osgood & Sons warehouse door as a guided missile from one of the overhead choppers shot through one of the windows, creating an explosion that tore most of the building apart. Shell-shocked from the blast, the fleeing group stumbled into the street, where they were cut down by Denton's barrage of 6.62mm rounds. The soldier pulled his head back behind the dumpster.

"Never thought I'd see anybody shoot like that."

The immediate crescendo of the agent's weapon subsided, replaced by the more distant, sporadic gunfire echoing in from all over the city. Denton crouched beside their dumpster, rifle in one hand, the lip of the dumpster in the other.

"I need to get into Osgood & Sons, but there's still at least two snipers covering the street and the choppers are being called off to help Paul. If I keep the marksmen distracted, can you get to the park and hold it until Agent Hermann arrives with reinforcements?"

The troopers looked up in surprise. They were usually the distraction.

"Yeah, sure thing, JC. No problem."

The agent nodded.

"Alright. Get ready to run for it."

Denton pulled himself up, pulling the near empty clip from his rifle and letting it drop to the ground. A sprint down a sniper-infested side-street into a burning building that would hopefully lead into a mined and hastily booby-trapped alley that was supposed to run alongside a warehouse swarming the NSF soldiers protecting a generator that Paul said needed to go down. Denton sighed as he un-slung the bolt action 30.06 from his back and strapped the bull-pup assault rifle back onto his thigh, a new magazine freshly inserted.

At least he was a pretty decent runner.

Above them, invisible against the night sky, a black silhouette sliced through the air, its already quiet rotor whirr was drowned out by the war that raged below. In the cockpit, the pilot switched on the communications transmitter and glanced down at the scene beneath his silent bird of prey.

"Manderley, have you seen this? The entire city's lit up."

The response from the radio was crisp and clear, with only a few miles of air to distort it.

"I'm getting the reports, but with everything that's happened, security isn't letting me outside to see it for myself. How bad are we looking at?"

"They're setting fires on Wall Street."

There was silence from the other side of the line. The pilot spoke again.

"You still want me over at Sector 12?"

"Yes." Manderley said after a brief pause. "I'm worried about Paul. He shouldn't need this kind of backup."

"Everybody has their bad days. I'll be on site in… Four minutes."

"Good luck, Jock."

The radio transmission went dead. Manderley turned to his computer as reconnaissance photos and action reports continued to flood the screen. JC could handle himself in a firefight and wasn't scared of achieving a combat resolution. Battery Park had proven that much, at least. He could manage for a while longer. Manderley glanced at one of the electronic reports floating in space on his monitor. Denton had even managed to garner a full recommendation from Anna Navarre for his actions at Castle Clinton, though Manderley was unsure exactly how to assess praise coming from someone like Agent Navarre.

The door to Manderley's office creaked open, and Agent Gunther Hermann, a hulking, mechanized mass of nerve and steel, sat down in the chair opposite Manderley's desk, his thick German accent garbling some of his words.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Manderley."

Manderley slid a light folder across the desk towards the agent.

"I'm changing your standing orders. I think Paul's going to need some help taking down the warehouse. He hasn't been proceeding with his usual level of skill."

"You mean he is getting better? I find it hard to believe he could get any worse."

"That's enough, Hermann. Just because Paul carries a different philosophy than-"

"He is timid, like a child. For weeks we read the briefings on the new super agent, and the wonderful machines that power him, and that he is to become the new standard for UNATCO agents. We are shown his specifications. We cannot believe such an efficient killing machine is possible. Finally, the man of the hour arrives, and he cannot even fight!"

"I said that's enough, Hermann. I want you on the next to chopper to Sector 12. Help Paul if he needs it, but don't be difficult."

"I am to be his side-kick, now?"

Manderley started to make an objection, but Gunther interrupted.

"It does not matter. A side-kick is better than an old, grey golem waiting to rust."

Gunther stood up and left Manderley's office with a grim, determined gait.

Manderley let out frustrated sigh before returning to the flickering monitor screen.