Colonial Natural Resources Department Earth and Luna Headquarters
Vancouver, URNA
November 12, 2557
Bowman let out a groan as he shifted uncomfortably in the wreckage.
When the laser had taken the falcon for a spin, the pilot had managed to divert the falling aircraft away from the highest concentration of civilians, many of which were witnessing the entire hostage crisis, drawn by the red glow. Their uncertainty turned into panic when they saw the laser beam leap out to blast an incoming aircraft's engine to smithereens.
The pilot crashed the aircraft onto the roof of an adjacent parking garage to the building that shared an underground tunnel with the CNRD headquarters. This action had saved many lives of civilians, but it claimed the pilot's.
With a grunt, Bowman kicked off a piece of wreckage that had pinned him against the craft's floor and crossed over to the cockpit, already knowing the grim fate of its operator.
"Shit."
Upon impact, the pilot had been thrown forward, an action that had snapped his spinal cord and lay in an unnatural way against the glass. It was a gruesome death, but still quick nonetheless.
Bowman tore open the hatch and wrapped his hand around the pilot's neck. He felt a chain and yanked it free. The family of this brave man were going to get a letter very soon. Another drop of blood upon Gustafson's tainted hands.
"Eon do you copy?!" Boost was practically yelling, "Eon come in!"
"Major, this is Eon Lead. Our team is intact, but Predator five four five is KIA."
Silence on the other line, "Understood. Head to our rally point and our stakeout teams will take it from there."
"Negative. We're moving in on Gustafson. We have our orders."
"And I'm giving you another order. Stand down."
"Major, this situation is getting worse by the second. Gustafson is as legit as they come. He's pretty damn serious. One of my team members is affected by his actions and I'm not letting my own orders get compromised by yours."
Boost sighed, "If you're correct, this is more of a vendetta than a normal op?"
"No." Bowman's voice turned cold, "It's purely our mission."
"Stand down now Captain Bowman!"
"Negative."
"Listen lady," Fowler was helping Austal dig his own way out of the Falcon and Pine was nowhere in direct sight, although their HUDs showed that he had exited the aircraft and was scoping around a few minutes before Bowman came to. "You had my respect as an officer and you still do, but it's quickly deteriorating. We're Spartans, we complete our mission and we shove aside anyone who stands in our way, mentally and physically."
"Gustafson's going to cut off all your communications very soon." Bowman added, "You want to know last time a Spartan team got crossed? Go and look closely at the fate of General Jagardere."
"Captain Bow-" Suddenly the connection cut out, followed by nothingness. Any attempt to mess with their communicators proved no useful either.
"Speak of the devil." Pine quipped.
"Major?" Bowman tried again, "Major do you read?" He gave a sigh, switching to external speakers. "Comms are down. Use external speakers only. Ross, back on me."
"Roger that."
Five minutes later the team crouched in front of the burning falcon.
"Okay." Bowman said, "We go in quietly through the rear entrances and make our way up the stairs. Once we get a better analysis at what we're up against, we'll adapt. Everybody good?"
"Ready."
"Fowler's good."
"Roger that."
"Double check your equipment."
The Spartans searched everything, careful not to overlook a single detail, as that could come back to bite. Specifically in the ass end.
"Oh hell."
"Fowler?"
"Yeah." The Spartan yanked out his camo module, it now had several shards of metal upon crashing and half of it seemed to be squished, leaving nothing but compressed pieces of circuits and mechanics "Busted."
"Mine too." Pine showed his equally damaged one.
"Better not be all of us." Bowman grumbled. He saw his own, "Shit. Austal?"
"Mine's okay. It is a little damaged, but it still works." He triggered it, showing fairly good operating. "Can't say the same for rest of my armor."
"Let's not get into forensics here." Bowman concluded, "We're going to split up. Gustafson's likely hijacked the surveillance system, so he'll see us coming from a mile away. Austal, looks like you're going solo inside. Rest of you on me, we're headed to the rendezvous point."
"Are you kidding me?" Fowler cried, "You're all trading punches with the major and now you're going to kneel down?"
"Fowler, this is tense stuff. Lock it up."
"Yes sir." His words rang hollow as his body language still remained tense. Already, issues were evident between the two.
"Pine, you and Fowler head to the rendezvous point and tell the major that we'll catch up."
"Affirmative."
Bowman pulled Austal aside, "You ready for this kid?"
The younger Spartan was shorter than his captain, but he was just as determined, "Just tell me what I need to do."
"I'm putting Ross on overwatch as long as you're traversing through the main entrance face of the building. Since our HUDs still can work, mark targets to kill or unharm. This goes against our fallback orders and we could get in deep trouble for this. However, the aftermath is even worse if we do nothing to stop it. Stopping Gustafson is your top priority."
"Roger that." Austal's weapons had silencers on the barrels, so he'd be able to somewhat stealthily kill his enemies. His usual weapon of choice was the M57 PDW, a rather new bullpup fully automatic carbine and submachine gun hybrid. Compact and easy to use, this weapon was years ahead of modern weapons research and thus was expensive to field, which was why Spartan-IVs got early access to the new ordinance. The magazine held forty rounds in a standard box cartridge.
"Okay let's get going. Good luck out there kid."
Bowman waved down the major when she met the Spartans at the rally point. Despite the tension filled air between them, she looked somewhat relieved to see they were alive. Her eyes began to show fatigue along with all the stress that had occurred within the day.
"Where's the fourth Spartan?"
Fowler exchanged a glance with his captain, "He had crashed inside the target building. Says he's still going to finish the job."
"I thought I ordered everyone to fall back."
"Well I'm going to have to punish him quite severely once he's done."
Inside the lobby, Austal slowly walked forward, training his eyes everywhere. His motion tracker was cold which meant that either they were unmoving or it had been tampered with during the crash. It was most likely the former.
The linking tunnels were made of concrete, stretching across enough for two cars to go on a twin lane road. Lighting was done by a usual fashion of lights all connected by a long tube of gray plastic containing wires to power them.
This complex was used to aid in the sheltering of an event of fire or other natural disaster. Now it served as the Spartan's only way to enter without being spotted, even if he used the cloaking, the tangos would instantly know something wasn't right when seemingly nothing opened the door to the lobby.
Also, several other corridors branched out to several other buildings in the area, but they seemed to remain silent. He could tell by the shade of the concrete that the CNRD's branch of the complex was newer.
Following the waypoint on his HUD, Austal came across three doors on each side with the entrance to the facility another hundred yards ahead. The six entrances were painted black and looked reinforced, all of them had a small keypad on their side.
The CNRD had likely kept these vaults as guarded secrets for valuable things and information.
None of them looked like they had been used within the past hours, so he didn't bother.
Continuing up the stairs, he found himself at the lobby floor of the facility. Looking over from his concealed position, he activated his camo and crossed over.
A huge pile of debris lay in the center and cases of spent brass littered parts of the floor. This was part of a battle and the grim fate of the SWAT group the major must have sent in prematurely.
Gustafson hadn't established any overwatch to the lobby and Austal crossed over with no trouble at all. It seemed very easy that he was going unnoticed.
Now he was beginning to wonder if he had been deliberately let this far. Was it a trap?
Couldn't be. Gustafson wanted to battle Spartans and a battle he would get. Except this time, Austal was on the winning side.
The man had been responsible for the gas attack in that Los Angeles hotel that day. His parents were the targets, although dozens of others perished as well, many of them with backgrounds that could question who the true target of the attack was.
He had never really had a good relationship with them in the first place. They lived in the western part of the URNA during his childhood after moving from New Corsica, the colony world he had been born at. Most of the dissent between them was negligence. The reason they had been targeted was because they were influential diplomats. Both Steven and Loretta Austal were fondly known to settle even the most cynical disputes. Sometimes, even the best can't break tensions and they knew when negotiations were meant to be applied.
That being said, they had put more care and attention to their own careers than to him. He was an only child and in his youth was quiet, not social around others. Of course, as he went into intermediate and high school this changed and he started to come out of his shell, but he continued to remain somewhat distant.
The deaths of his parents unnerved him. While in most children it would be a time of mourning and emotional trauma, it actually seemed to define him more into the person he was today.
He would take down Gustafson, dead or alive. The madman was going to get the battle against a Spartan he had always dreamed of. It would be done, but not for his parents.
Crossing the edges of the lobby, he moved towards the elevator. Deciding against calling down, he began to search for a staircase. Activating it would telegraph his approach and ready the hostiles for him. If not by a hail of automatic fire, then many well placed grenades could be thrown in the movable room and easily kill him.
He halted short, just in front of a narrower hallway as his enhanced hearing began to pick up. Even though Gustafson may have rushed to take the building, he left many places unsearched and would conduct searches for hostages and routing any attempts to retake it from their grasp. His motion tracker had three blips in a steady movement in his direction. Activating camo, he vanished from sight, remaining perfectly still and practically invisible to even attentive individuals.
"I heard something."
"Nah, you're just hearing shit."
"No I swear. Came from over there."
"Then shut up! Can't let them know we're coming!"
The noise volume they made dropped to a lower level as the men tried to silence their approach as best they could. At their quietness, most people could not detect them.
But Austal could.
Finally, he saw the two black clothed men arrive at the end of the longer hallway. They had simple visors on and cradled MA2 assault rifles. Although dated, it remained rugged and reliable, now commonly found in the hands of rogues and freelancers. Still, within the UNSC as of 2557, it was still in service, albeit in very limited numbers.
Austal shifted his focus on their interest from their conversation all about Gustafson. Although they could be saying something vital, it was more of complaints about their boss. Something he kept his recorder on for.
His camo was plenty to make him invisible to the tangos as they walked closer. The set of doors down the hallway were occasionally opened.
His motion tracker suddenly detected more blips. At first he thought it was damaged too, but then it appeared a second time.
The tangos were getting closer to them as well.
The thought clicked in his mind as he slowly moved in that direction, remaining thoughtful to stay out of sight.
One of the gunmen swept the final door.
"Nothing in here."
"Are you sure?" His partner asked right behind him.
"Yeah. There's nothing."
"I'm not convinced."
"Like we have any tools to search. Boss will give us guns, but won't even give us lights or night vision."
"What can I say?" His partner waved his rifle casually, "Budget cuts suck." This got a chuckle from both of them. "C'mon, I don't wanna miss his next starring moment with the authorities."
Marcus moved to the door they had searched the moment they had turned their backs. His hearing picked up something, causing him to listen more carefully.
Breathing.
"What was that?" A voice whispered.
Austal looked down as he scanned the room. He came face to face of what had alerted Gustafson's men in the first place.
Wow. Seriously, it felt like yesterday when I last updated. I wasn't wrong when I said updates will be longer in the span between. Once again, I'm sorry...I keep apologizing for the delays don't I?
Anyway, I appreciate all of your patience in waiting. Hopefully I didn't lose anybody!
Thanks for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose!