I think I've been playing Mr Nice Guy long enough; time for the bodies to start piling up.

The Pelanoi Accounts

Chapter Twelve: Clash

The Survivors

Cassidy was more than a little nervous as she crept through the Ranger Station with Sema, Sydney and Nick. The gunfire had died away not long ago and a nasty little voice at the back of her head was telling her that the black ops team on their trail was even now preparing to storm the building. To top it all off she and everyone else were hunting for a young girl who had been pursued by a monster. She wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run with the data stick chock full of incriminating evidence of Grant & Glukhovsky's illegal dip into the Bio-Organic Weapons market. In the end though, she simply wasn't that inhuman.

Small comfort once that huge snake sinks its fangs into your neck, the evil little voice whispered. She willed it shut and continued to stalk through the deserted corridors. Nick was beside himself with worry, fidgeting and clutching his small knife in a death grip so that his knuckles appeared permanently white. Sydney was a coiled up spring ready to snap at any moment while Sema was twitchy and constantly jumping at shadows.

They were a motley crew of monster hunters if ever there was one.

No, not hunters. All we need to do is find Mary and we can leave. Simple as. Just need to find a little girl and we can go…

A distant scream echoed through the building. It was unmistakably that of a young girl's.

'Mary!' Nick shouted before taking off down the corridor like a man possessed. So sudden was his flight that it was almost a full second before the three women started to follow him.

'Nick, slow down!' Cassidy called, her limbs burning at the exertion despite the impromptu rest they'd taken mere minutes before. Nick wasn't paying attention, too absorbed in his desire – his need – to save the young British girl to hear her.

A lavatory door was flung open further down the hall and from behind it stepped another shambling horror in the guise of man. From its uniform it had clearly once been one of the Park Rangers who helped keep the Wildlife Preserve running. Now it was slack-jawed, dull eyed and filled with a hunger that could never be satiated. It raised its arms and staggered towards Nick's charging form, beginning the awful moan that heralded the arrival of so many of its kind.

Nick didn't duck below the creature. He didn't even try to avoid it. The burly man lowered his head and shoulder charged the shuffling creature, the impact sending it tumbling to the floor in a mess of flailing limbs. Nick didn't stop to finish it off, his worry for Mary was likely so great that he had probably forgotten all about it as soon as he had removed it from his path. Sydney laid into it with her bat, while Sema hacked at its grasping hands with her kukri, her pistol low on ammunition. After a moment's brutality, the creature lay still.

When they looked up from their kill, Nick was disappearing around a corner at the far end of the corridor.

The Mercenaries

The breach was flawless, all seven men and women of Grey Team storming the main lobby with practised ease. Had there been any opposition to speak of, Elias very much doubted it would have stood a chance. Confident that no one was either aware of their entry or in any position to do a damn thing about it, he strode towards the front desk looking for clues. All that was there was a horrifically mangled corpse; a lot of blood and an open drawer, inspecting the contents yielded no hints.

Still, he was confident that their quarry was still in the building, and if they weren't they would most certainly not be far. With any luck they could end this tedious chase before the evening. He turned to his team.

'Jenkins, you and Jäger will sweep the north of the building. Viper, you and Brookes will take the east side. Ghost, Tech, we'll head for the main security office and check if the security system is still operational. Video surveillance might tell us where our friends are hiding.'

Tech tilted his head to the side. 'If I may sir,' he asked cautiously.

'What is it?' Elias snapped. They were oh so close now, he'd hate for a mere chit-chat to lead to them losing the trail.

'I can hack directly into the security mainframe of this building with my gear. There's no real need for us to go looking for the security office. I can access the video surveillance – if it's still up – and keep tabs on that too.'

Elias raised an eyebrow, impressed. 'Then do that, if you catch wind of anything, I want its location stat.'

The young mercenary nodded and, under the mask he wore, began a series of protocols he had designed that would grant him access to anything up to and including a nuclear shelter given enough time. He smiled, blue eyes glinting behind his face mask as he started his work. Ah, the wonders of modern technology, he thought sardonically as he cracked the pathetically simple firewalls guarding the facility. Any script kiddie could probably have broken through given enough time and the exercise barely strained the various programs he had utilised.

Elias though, had demanded, and expected of them to be quick, and quick it most certainly was. In the space of a half minute he had access, and began wading his way through the facility's intranet. Finally he found the video surveillance, which – fortunately – was actually in complete working condition.

He entered in a program of his own that he had dubbed 'Bloodhound'. It was a very useful tool when locating individuals of interest in large crowds utilising live surveillance footage. He simply knocked in a picture of the individual – cleaned up of course – and the program would latch onto the feed, instantly alerting him the moment the person entered the feed. He'd modified it since its conception, partly because he knew technology was always changing in the modern world and partly as a way to kill time.

In the top left corner of his mask's custom-built Heads Up Display (a feat he had been rather proud of at seventeen years old) there appeared a tiny window displaying the feed from a security camera within the building. The view was set to switch every ten seconds, giving precedence to whichever camera found their targets first. He also downloaded a schematic of the building, sending it to the rest of the squad. With that, they were good to go.

'Nice work Tech,' Elias said in approval as he examined the building layout on his PDA, the others nodded too. Tech shrugged nonchalantly, but he was grinning underneath his face mask.

'Not a problem Grey Lead.'

Neither of the others could see it, but underneath his gas mask Elias had bared his teeth in a feral grin of triumph. The prey would die here today. He was certain of it. It was terribly unprofessional of him, but a part of him revelled in the hunt. Another part of him wondered whether he should consider asking for a bonus considering one of the women they were pursuing had almost managed to escape with company secrets he was sure they wouldn't want exposed. He wondered how much he might ask for, and then shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. They still had to find and kill the prey first.

'Brookes, Burke and Tech, you're with me then. The rest of you form up. Move out!' he barked.

The Survivors

'You hear that?' Ethan asked, craning his head back in the direction they had just come.

'Hear what?' Randolf asked. From the look she was giving him, Leah had no idea what he was on about either.

After a moment he shook his head. 'Never mind, probably imagining it.'

'That among other things mate,' Randolf murmured to himself as he snuck another peek at Leah's behind. Leah caught him and shot him a glare capable of burning through sheet metal. Randolf held his hands up in mock surrender and stepped in front of her, his paddle held loosely in one hand.

'Worth it,' he said, mostly to tick her off. Leah wasn't quite as facially attractive as some of the other ladies in their group but she had a look to her when she was irritated that Randolf found absurdly cute. As the trio wandered through the corridor searching for Mary, he had a sudden thought and stopped to a halt.

'What is it now?' Leah asked, her choler raised by Randolf's behaviour.

'If we somehow manage to find her–'

'Not goddamned likely,' Ethan muttered, before suddenly snapping an expletive the Australian assumed was directed at this 'Marcus' person.

'As I was saying,' he continued. 'If we find her, how do we let the others know we've found her?'

The other two froze.

It was a very good question.

'I was just thinking,' Randolf carried on, 'because no one has a walkie talkie or anything and I really don't think shooting or shouting is a good idea if those black ops goons are on our trail, not to mention all the shambling corpses that are probably still wandering about the place, as well as the snake.'

Leah was slack jawed. 'That's actually not the most totally ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say.'

Randolf grinned devilishly at her. 'I've got plenty of good ideas baby, and speaking of ideas–'

'No,' Leah said flatly, that displeased look returning to her face. I do like that look, he thought to himself. He shrugged and continued on.

'Anyway, this issue of communication…'

He was cut off by a sudden thunderclap of noise, followed by a shrill metal clang.

Leah reacted the fastest and spun on her feet, her senses heightened by the din. What she saw froze the blood in her veins.

Four individuals had rounded the far corner behind them. Each was dressed in dark combat gear and brandishing a firearm, all of which were pointed at them.

'Holy shit!' Randolf breathed as he caught sight of the figures.

Ethan ran.

Then the barrage begun.

Gunfire, deafening in the enclosed hallway, rattled down at them. Leah felt two bullets graze her and she yelped as she fled after Ethan, Randolf not far behind them, moving startlingly quickly for a man his size.

'Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit!' Randolf repeated as he pumped his arms and legs as hard as he could manage. In another moment they rounded a corner, blissfully out of the line of fire. Ethan stood at the end of the corner, fire axe held in both hands; his face a mask of mad rage.

'What are you doing Ethan we've got to run!' Leah said, grabbing hold of his shoulder and trying to drag him along. Ethan shook her off.

'Fuck that,' he spat venomously, 'if we don't do something about these assholes here and now this isn't ever going to end.'

'This is insane! There's four of them! You might get one but what about the other three?'

'Then help me! We can get these bastards, soon as they turn that corner – bam! We jump 'em.'

Leah was unsure. Her nerves were fraught from the terror she had experienced at the hands of creatures that she'd believed could only exist in old B-Movies and now people were shooting at her. She was tired, afraid and pissed off all at once but murder? Even against people who most certainly had no qualms with putting a bullet in between her eyes…

She shared a look with Randolf, and even though nothing was said she knew the exact same thoughts were running through his head.

She was about to speak again when the first of the mercenaries rounded the corner.

The Mercenaries

'Brookes, scout ahead! Ghost I want you right behind her in case she runs into trouble.' Elias keyed into his comms system.

'Grey Lead to Team Two: we have a positive contact with three of the targets in the…' he paused, checking the building layout, 'East Wing main corridor. Anything on your end?'

'Not yet Grey Lead,' came Viper's voice – as frustratingly indiscernible as ever to place in terms of accent. 'Still sweeping. Ran into a handful of walking corpses and some signs of the BOW in here with us though.'

Elias grunted in acknowledgement. 'Keep up the search. If you find nothing in the North Wing then RV with us in the East Wing, maybe we'll find them all in there.'

'Acknowledged Grey Lead, Viper out.'

-X-

Natalia Brookes ghosted through the corridor, her brown eyes fixed on the corner that their targets had ducked around. She held her silenced handgun in one hand, and one of her various knives in the other, held ready to stab at anyone dumb enough to try lying in ambush for her. She made no sound as she crept along, despite outpacing Ghost by a fair margin in terms of speed.

She wished that she had been a part of Alaina's team. The fiery young Irish woman fascinated her, in a strictly professional sense of course, and then there was the matter of her profession. From a young age, Natalia had found herself fascinated by explosives (though evidently a great deal less than her pyromaniac squadmate). She could spend entire hours watching the fireworks displays held at her home that her parents threw almost on a whim, and her own attempts in her teens had yielded fun, if unpredictable and sometimes painful results.

Naturally her parents disapproved, and in their disapproval they attempted to stifle her very being. Attempting to convince her she was a weak little girl who didn't know any better, daring to inform their friends and family of the same. She scorned their inability to understand her, and spurned the men of various wealthy families who attempted to take her hand, convinced that she would be an easy prize.

Eventually she grew so sick of it that she took as much as she was able to procure and fled her home. She had not looked back once and didn't regret a thing, for – to her great delight – she had discovered in her early travels that new things – whether they were good or bad – excited her. After a year's travel she found herself wrapped up in a warzone when bio-terrorists attempted to unleash a harmful chemical agent on a small town she had boarded in for the day. She had killed for the first time there and while she would admit to no particular joy in the act, the weight and feel of the weapon as it had kicked in her hand gave her a special thrill.

So she travelled some more, collecting experience with different firearms and explosive compounds until eventually she met a group who offered her a place in their Private Security Firm. From there, she went from job to job, finally finding herself in the middle of what was potentially the worst affair of Bio-Terrorism she had ever experienced.

She shook her head. She was doing too much reminiscing, and remembering all the various events that had occurred throughout her twenty-nine years was distracting. He raised her handgun and rounded the corner–

–and came face to face with a youthful looking man wielding a fire axe, his face twisted into an expression of fury, a burning glint in his eyes that suggested this man was damaged in a way that he could never recover from.

Suddenly coming face to face with his expression dulled her reflexes.

But not by much.

She twisted as the man charged, bringing her gun up.

Natalia had a brief sensation of her finger squeezing the trigger before her world exploded with pain.

The Survivors

Ethan roared as he buried the blade of his fire axe into the neck of the red-haired mercenary. Her face contorted with pain and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. Blood streamed from her wound, running down her bodysuit in fast flowing crimson streams. Before she fell though, she raised the handgun she held clenched in one fist and squeezed.

Ethan recoiled as the bullet ripped through him, punching a bloody hole the size of a coin through his abdomen. His hands released the shaft of his fire axe, which remained stuck in the dying mercenary's neck.

'Fuck! Leah shouted in horror.

'Jesus Christ! Randolf cried, echoing Leah's own sentiments.

Ethan staggered back, bumping into Leah and almost sending her crashed to the floor. He was bleeding badly, and stained Leah's jeans with his life fluid. The poor young woman spent a brief moment completely at a loss before finally regaining control of herself and pulling herself out from under Ethan's shuddering body, grabbing him by the arms.

'Help me with him goddamnit!' She screamed at Randolf, who shook his head several times as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He nodded hurriedly and took one of Ethan's arms. The pair lifted him up, ignoring his cry of agony as his wound was agitated and, holding him up by his shoulders, dragged him away.

-X-

Mary was a shivering wreck when Nick found her, but at least she was alive, and she was as glad to see her guardian as he was to see his ward. Mercifully, they did not encounter the giant BOW that had pursued the young girl, who claimed that she had ducked through a few small spaces and given it the slip. From Mary's hiding place in a staff lobby the five of them had retraced their steps, eventually happening across Tiffany, Kit and Ellen, the two former of whom had spent the entire time 'flirting' as Ellen had put it (much to Tiffany's chagrin and insistence to the contrary). Then they heard gunfire and raced to the scene.

They were in such a hurry that they almost collided with Leah and Randolf and a moaning Ethan who was slipping in and out of consciousness.

'What in God's name–?' Tiffany began.

'Bad dudes in black, four of them! Well, three now,' Randolf interrupted.

'Let me look at him! Set him down somewhere,' Sema said, the medical professional in the young Turkish woman taking control, allowing her to blot out some of her fear. Here was something she knew, something she could deal with.

'That's really not a good idea, those guys are right behind us and who knows how many more of them are in this place with us,' Leah said quickly.

'Well I need to take a look at him to see what the damage is, and moving him might exacerbate the wound…' Sema protested.

'Sema,' Tiffany interjected, 'if what they've said is true, then we probably don't have much time before whoever did this catches up with us. We're not far from the vehicle bay, once we've got a ride out of here, then you can set him down and examine him. For now, we need to focus on our escape.'

Sema appeared less than satisfied but finally nodded in assent. Kit helped Leah and Randolf carry Ethan along, who had by now turned worryingly pale. Sema kept a close eye on him.

'He's gone into shock,' she warned.

'Later doc!' Ellen snarled as the group forged along, rounding bend after bend.

Finally they found themselves in front of the door to the vehicle bay, after a tense moment's fiddling with the keys, Tiffany found the right key and, hurriedly, they entered.

The vehicle bay was a wide open space, with six bays in which sat two minibuses and four Hummer jeeps with a green jungle camouflage paint scheme. The survivors stood on an elevated platform, at the end of which was a small control room which likely opened the large steel doors currently barring any escape.

Tiffany, Ellen and Cassidy moved on to check the control room. A window looked out at the vehicles parked in the bay, with a console with six switches labelled 'Door One' through to Six sat on a small console just beneath the window. Conveniently, the keys for the vehicles lay inside a drawer labelled 'Vehicle Keys.' Tiffany took a set of minibus keys out first, and then, after a brief thought, took the other five as well.

'What do we need all those for?' Cassidy asked her curiously.

'Don't want those soldiers behind us following. No keys, no pursuit.'

'Unless one of them can hotwire a car,' Ellen said.

'If it doesn't throw them off us completely it should at least give us a head start. Now let's go.'

Tiffany threw the switch of the great steel door in front of the minibus she planned for them to take and made her way down. There however, she encountered another problem.

'Ethan says he doesn't want to go,' Sydney said, the poor student was trying her hardest not to stare at Ethan's bleeding wound. Tiffany sighed in exasperation.

'Look, Ethan. You've been shot. You've probably lost a lot of blood, you're in shock and you're delirious because of–'

'Aw shut the fuck up already I know what I'm feeling!' Ethan snapped, though his voice was weak, so weak Tiffany almost had to strain to her him.

'Look,' Ethan gasped. 'I'm done. I hate to say it and I hate knowing it even more but it's true, and if I'm being honest I'd much rather get this dying shit over with instead of dragging it out and suffering.'

Tiffany shook her head, though whether it was due to impatience or because she didn't believe what she was hearing was anyone's guess at that point.

'But we might find something to patch you up – Sema here knows her stuff, she could–'

'Jesus Christ woman it's almost sounding like you assholes are going to miss me or something.' He smiled bitterly, a thin line of blood streamed from his lips. 'I'll bet it burns your tight little ass Miss Goody-Two Shoes, but you can't save me, and if you drag me along all I'll do is end up as zombie bait and I am not going out like that. No way, no how.'

'You little bastard,' Nick fumed, 'she's trying to save you!'

'Tell it to someone who gives a rat's ass big guy. And – newsflash – I don't want to be saved. More to the point: I can't be saved.'

'You don't know that yet,' Sema began. 'There could still be a way to–'

'Oh for the love of crap, shut the fuck up, pack your shit in and go. I am actually trying to be nice here but hell if you guys aren't making it hard for me here.' He hacked and sputtered like a broken engine as he finished. His shirt was almost completely soaked with his blood. Tiffany had seen combat wounds before. He was dead and she knew it, had known it.

He was right. It was killing her to know there was someone about to die right in front of her – even someone as frustrating as Ethan – and she could do nothing to help him.

She was about to give in and suggest they move on when the rattle of gunfire reverberated throughout the vehicle bay. Bullets spanked off the side of one of the Hummers and stitched a line in the wall.

'I think they've spotted us!' Cassidy called over the din.

Randolf looked at her incredulously. 'No! Whatever gave you that impression? The gunfire? All the bullets flying all over the place or are you just a fucking psychic!'

'Go!' Tiffany shouted and made for the minibus, Kit hot on her heels with the rest, including Ethan, despite his protests and curses for them to put him down.

Tiffany raced to the other side of the minibus to hop into the driver's seat and was met by a large black mass. Too close to utilise his firearm effectively, the mercenary dropped it and gave Tiffany a snap-jab that smacked her on the nose and rattled her brain inside her head. Despite her fatigue though the young marine captain recovered quickly, ducking underneath the haymaker and dropping low, sweeping a leg wide to take her aggressor's legs out from under him.

The mercenary hopped over her legs and, when he landed, raised a booted foot high and stomped down with the aim of shattering her femur. Tiffany rolled out the way and hopped onto her feet, feeling blood running from her nose and dripping from her chin. She lashed out with a side kick which the mercenary avoided but she had been counting on the dodge and turned the kick into a quick, vicious thrust with her knee which landed squarely in the mercenary's abdomen. The merc stumbled but didn't falter for long.

'Tiffany!'

Kit had circled around the bus and was charging to her aid, Ellen had followed, evidently to see what the commotion was about and was only a step behind.

The big brute glanced in the oncoming pair's direction, during which Tiffany closed in and slammed her palm into his chest, staggering the merc. Kit held his crowbar in one hand and held it high, intending to bring it crashing down upon the back of the mercenary's skull.

The mercenary pivoted on the spot, taking him straight out of the arcing path of Kit's weapon. Overextended, Kit was all but defenceless as the mercenary thundered his knee into his chest, winding him. A vicious chop to the throat would have killed the young man then and there but before the blow landed, Ellen made her move. The young woman, who appeared almost comically small next to the hulking trooper, latched onto the chopping arm and twisted sharply, turning what would have been a quick, clinical chop into a clumsy lunge.

Ellen grimaced. She had intended to throw the big bastard but not only was he heavier than she had expected, he had reacted. And he was good. Never one to be deterred for long though – having many times found herself outmatched in terms of height and body mass in her time learning various different forms of unarmed combat – she tucked closer into the mercenary, hands still clutching his arm, and pulled.

This time, he went over, landing roughly on the concrete. She raised her leg high, intending on taking him out of the fight permanently with an axe kick, but in a desperate move the merc thrust his hand out at Ellen's ankle, forcing her off-balance. The merc rolled back away from them and when he was up, he was clutching a short, compact submachine gun, aimed squarely at them. There was no room to manoeuvre. It was check-mate.

'You're good,' the merc grunted, his gravelly, unmistakably British voice betraying a note of grudging respect.

There was a crunch of impact, and he was suddenly thrown forwards, knocked flat on his face.

Randolf appeared behind him, his paddle held clenched tightly in both hands.

'So are we going or are we just going to let the rest of them murder us?'

The merc was stirring. Not missing a beat, Randolf gave him a few more smacks with his paddle before hopping into the minibus. Tiffany helped Kit, who was still wheezing from the body blow the merc had given him, up onto his feet and opened the side door of the minibus (having to reassure him that she was fine despite her aching nose and head as she helped him in) and then hopped into the driver's seat. More gunfire echoed through the bay and the left wing mirror of the minibus shattered. Mary squeaked in terror as Nick forced her head down, placing himself in between her and any oncoming fire.

'All in?' Tiffany called. A chorus of affirmatives answered her.

'Good! Now buckle up! We're blowing this popsicle stand!'

A twist of the key and the engine flared into life. She released the handbrake and hammered the accelerator. The minibus lurched forwards before easing up. Soon they were away, bullets chasing them the entire way until finally they lost sight of the ranger station behind a wall of vegetation.

No one said anything for a few minutes, allowing Tiffany to drive the minibus in silence through the preserve. Were the situation less critical, she would no doubt have liked to take stock of the very attractive scenery. As it was though she was on a hair trigger, as were the rest of them…

Hair trigger…

Her eyes widened in horror, slowing down so as not to run them off the track laid out through the thick vegetation, she twisted her head around.

'Where's Ethan?'

Ethan

So, after all that, it finally comes to this huh buddy?

'Shut the fuck up Marcus,' Ethan gurgled. He hurt. He hurt everywhere. His vision was growing dim. Not long now.

Not long indeed. Marcus agreed, Ethan could almost picture him nodding sagely.

Well, look at it this way man, at least you aren't going to be eaten alive – and let me tell you, that was a bummer.

'T'ld me hunnr'd times shithead.'

Yeah, I have. Mostly cause, you know, I know how it eats at you, having just sort of left me there getting chomped on by cannibal freaks.

'Di'n't… nevurr,' his speech was slurred. He felt dizzy. Was his shirt always that red?

I know, but that's what happened... hey, you think those other guys made it out?

'D'nnu, dun carrre.'

That's what I thought… hey man, you got any regrets? Not like leaving me to die back there or having to live through a zombie apocalypse or getting shot, but life regrets, like something you'd have liked to do differently?

'K'nd 'f f'ckin' st'pid que'stun 'zat?' He asked, half-choking.

'C'rse I g't f'ckin' r'grets.'

Marcus was silent for a while. Ethan noticed dimly that the gunfire seemed to have stopped, and was dimly aware that several black, unfamiliar shapes were surrounding him.

All right, enough downer talk. How's about I take you out for a nice cold beer up here in heaven. I'll show you around, shoot the shit with some folks, maybe even get you laid.

That made Ethan chuckle, or it would have if he had been able to.

'Y're 'n ath'ist.'

And you're crazy.

Ethan didn't reply. A looming shape, somehow blacker than all the others stood over him. He didn't have long, barely a minute if that, but he couldn't resist giving one last 'fuck you' to the people who had put him here. So he mustered what little remained of his strength and opened his mouth.

The Mercenaries

Elias was furious.

One of his team was dead. Ghost had done what he could but there is only so much anyone can do when someone has a fire axe lodged in their throat. He wasn't saddened by the loss by any stretch. People died in this profession all the time.

No, what infuriated him so was the fact that Brookes' death seemed like rubbing salt in his wounds at this stage. The loss of the recon specialist on top of being blindsided by a damned civvie and having the prey escape from under his very nose was a shame he hadn't experienced since his days as a Second Lieutenant still wet behind the ears from Phase Two training. Humiliation coursed through him and as it gave way to more rage he tore his gas mask – which was cracked from his engagement with the three targets earlier – from his head and threw it at the wall.

He glared at the dying kid lying propped up against the other minibus. He was bleeding all over the place and was probably not long for this world. The idea of torture entertained him for a moment, but looking at the shape of the wretch it would be a wasted effort. He breathed in deeply through his nose and tried his best to calm himself. Control, he thought to himself, control. Always be in control.

He picked up his G-36, which he had dropped in the melee, and strode over to the dying target. He sniffed at the state of him, and consoled himself in the knowledge that at least one of their targets was disposed of, or about to be.

'Looks like you were left out to dry kid,' Elias growled, checking his magazine. Half full. He fancied himself an optimist of sorts.

The civvie – Ethan Meyer if he recalled correctly, from the data Tech had pulled up – raised his head to stare at the hulking mercenary commander. His face was ashen with blood loss and pain and simple fatigue.

'You th' pizza guy?' The kid asked.

Elias stared at him for a moment, unsure if he heard correctly. Eventually he snorted.

'No one likes a smartass kid,' he said.

Then he raised his weapon and shot him through the head.

-X-

Bam.

I'd be willing to bet a shiny penny that there were few of you who saw that little number coming.

From the start I never really planned on having Ethan survive the journey. Hell I actually planned on offing him much earlier but I had other ideas. As for poor Ms Natalia Brookes: it was nothing personal, rest assured. I was planning on killing one from the team (and, being the bad guys, it's pretty much a given that they'll all end up dead sooner or later) and literally ended up drawing straws to see who'd be the unlucky lad (or lady). The rest, as they say, is history.

There are three references in this chapter, see if you can't spot them.

As always, R&R and C&C are mucho apreciado.

Until next time folks.