It was his shuttle's turn to pull into the unimpressive, old building. He couldn't see a damn thing but the shuttle's interior lights reflecting off the pitch-black of the windows, until the building was suddenly flooded with blue light.
Suddenly the floor shifted beneath the shuttle, vibrating up through the seats as everything started to rise around them. In fact, the bus was descending. Between the blue light and rising walls, it was as if the shuttle was sinking into a watery abyss.
"Please stay seated." The driver made the announcement to placate the concerned whispers, but the descent itself was smooth and non-threatening. It was the mere fact of going underground that didn't sit well with Reese.
Underground situations were tactical nightmares; John recalled a couple tough situations he wished he could forget. Getting in was usually hard, getting out was always harder, and that was assuming he had a clear plan and knew something about the layout beforehand. This was a recipe for disaster.
The unease of dwindling escape options grow with every second they dropped. Reese knew chances were slim to none that Finch could still hear him, but he spoke to him anyway. "Heading underground..." He whispered. He hadn't been able to make out Finch's last garbled message. Whether is was due to the jamming device or the thick rock, Reese couldn't know. Either way... he was on his own.
Reese guessed they descended two or three levels, and when the elevator doors opened, the true complexity of the undertaking quickly became clear.
The facility was huge, cut from pure rock still ribbed by the marks of giant drilling equipment. Two industrial diesel generators powered the operation with conduits, as thick as his leg, running along the base of each wall. Reese raised an eyebrow in amazement. Why would they possibly need that kind output?
Their shuttled joined the eight other's now parked down the length of one wall, but it was the white vans that grabbed his attention. So they belonged to W.A.R as they suspected, meaning the Mercenaries worked for W.A.R. and their numbers too. To what end was now the question.
Reese distractedly followed the rest of the group, scanning the rest of the vehicles. Two rows of everyday, delivery trucks filled the center area. They made sense; a clever disguise to move weapons across the city undetected. The ambulances, though? They struck him as an odd choice, but before he could give it any more thought, John's attention was drawn to a resonating voice.
"Distinguished guests. Welcome and please follow me." The very dapper, older man expertly played the part of a formal usher, directing the latest group to the mouth of a long, arched tunnel.
Lighting strips ran along the ceiling's center, illuminating its length with an eerie orange hue.
Reese couldn't be sure about their exact depth; he estimated about sixty to eighty feet. The air felt moister, warmer, and was tinged with a more earthy bite, as they neared the tunnel's end.
The crowd slowed, seeming to bottleneck at the hall's end.
John shifted to see the reason, not thrilled in the least by the reason. What he was looking at were two, full-body terahertz detectors and there was no way around them.
Armed guards stood to either side of the scanners. Six in total, wearing the same uniform and armor as his two earlier attackers, but armed with a futuristic-looking assault rifle, John could only guess at.
Definitely found the hornet's nest, Reese humorlessly grimaced as his thoughts quickly went to all his concealed weapons and mentally prepared himself for the inevitable confrontation.
John flexed, ready to strike the closest guard just as he spoke to the man in front of him. "Please check your coat and weapons before you entering, Sir."
Reese couldn't hide the look of astonishment that must have flashed across his face. As he watched the other guests, each disarming multitudes of weapons, pass hassle-free through the detectors, he realized to NOT be armed would have singled him out as suspicious.
Who the hell where these guests? Undoubtedly all members of criminal society, like the five he did know about.
When his turn came, the guard didn't even bat an eyelash at the number, or types of weapons he was carrying. They were simply collected and checked - paid no more interest than his coat as he was then directed through the scanner.
It was like falling down the rabbit hole, he thought.
A booming voice echoed around a cavernous room, drawing the attention of well over two hundred guests staring in awe at the glowing light show morphing across the white limestone walls.
"Welcome! Welcome to W.A.R. - Weapons Armament Resources Inc. Bringing you tomorrow, so you can own today! We hope you enjoy this year's futuristic technologies of the latest top-secret weapons, Saticom defenses, impenetrable armors, tools and toys for all the trades. Remember what you see here is the future, and we look forward to fulfilling all your special needs. Now, please... enjoy!" With a final dramatic sweep of his arms, giant, twin doors gracefully parted.
The sheer proportions of the subterranean show room was a marvel of engineering achievement. At a height of about ten meters by forty and sixty wide, the enormous room was chiseled from the solid limestone deep beneath the unsuspecting city above. It was like standing in the mouth of a massive ice cave. Bone white ceilings were adorned with opulent chandeliers ostentatiously bathing the affair in icy-blues.
Five rows of outlandish booths, varying in style and design, divided the expansive area into long aisles. From his vantage point Reese couldn't yet make out the items on such prominent display, but the people milling with frenzied enthusiasm more than hinted at something of uncommon significance.
John couldn't shake the tight feeling in his stomach. This was worse than they'd thought. W.A.R. was thee Arms Dealer to the arms dealers, catering to what ever hand-picked criminal that fit their criteria.
Who were they? And how were they gaining access to these secret weapon plans? He caught himself wanting to tap his earwig. Again. Of all the times not to be able to talk to Finch!
Time to find answers. Just another among a couple hundred tuxedo-donning guests, Reese didn't hesitation to slip into the fascinated crowd, completing the look was a glass of passing champagne.
Immediately, he made one of their numbers. Sinclair was absorbing a salesman's pitch with gusto. "Liquid-armor and ballistic-glass: We are very excited about this. Under normal pressure and wear, the STF is very deformable and flows like a liquid. However, once a bullet or frag hits the vest, it transitions to a rigid material preventing the projectile from penetrating your body. Composed of hard particles suspended in a liquid polyethylene glycol, its non-toxic, and can withstand a wide range of temperatures. We use hard particles of nano-cellulose or silica and can coat almost any material."
Reese had not enjoyed his taste of how well that armor worked. His aches well reminded him.
A few booths down on the left, he spotted Stark. He casually came up behind her picking up the last bit of the conversation.
"So what are the powers and ranges?"
The booth wall was covered with various hand-held, sound and shock-wave weaponry. Reese couldn't help his curiosity and picked up one of the larger prototypes.
"The smallest," a man handed Stark the handgun, "can soundlessly lay out a man at twenty feet." He turned pointing at the one Reese was inspecting. "That baby can crumple a tank engine at fifty feet."
John set the weapon down, unimpressed with the distance. Fifty feet from a tank was never a good place to be.
So far the numbers seemed as innocent as five, highly trained criminals, at an illegal weapons show, could be. If this thing was legal, and there wasn't some ominously hidden agendas looming over his head, he'd honestly be enjoying himself.
Suddenly Reese noticed Trent leaving a booth across the way. Him.., he needed to avoid.
John maintained a careful distance as he checked the booth that had interested Trent.
A hand-held EMP emitter. Reese idly glance at the product, not especially new technology, but the size was impressive, as was its range. It looked like a key chain and could disable any electrical device from twenty feet. Might actually come in handy.., he thought, then just as quickly threw out the idea. Finch would never allow something like within a mile of his library.
Trent stopped five booths down, giving John the chance to inspect a piece of hardware that caught his eye. Airborne surveillance cameras the size of bumblebees. Now this, Finch would love. John laughed at his next thought... would that make the machine the queen bee?
Reese recognized Boyd and moved into pursuit before he came up with any more bad ideas.
"Finch, were's John? I can't get him on ..."
"We have a problem. I've lost Mr. Reese and... I believe it may have been a trap."
"What! What do you mean you lost him!?"
"We lost all communicates about twenty minutes ago." Finch conveyed.
"Trap? Where is he?" Carter asked again.
"I don't know exactly where, just the general area he was heading when I lost his signal. I intercepted a transmission from the Mercenary group talking about 'taking the targets.'"
"Finch... Fusco and I just found evidence of disappearances. Twenty-four so far, all corresponding to this date for the last five years. They're all ex-government or military with a criminal histories, no families and off the grid. The kind of people no one goes looking for."
"Just like our numbers..." Finch hoping she had more details that might help John. "Any idea why or where they were taken?"
"Nothing. Hell, most of them don't even have case files, and the few that do, are cold. Well, except one... sort of." Carter paused. "Only a part of one victim was recovered."
"Part?" Finch swallowed down the sudden sick feeling.
"Just an arm. Washed up on a bank of the Hutchinson River, only way they even connected it to the victim was by a tattoo that happened to be unique to the guy's old army unit and a rare buddy that cared to connect the dots."
"Can you email me the details and meet me. I'm afraid John may need our assistance in a more physical manner."
"What about Fusco?" She could see Fusco reading a text he'd just received.
"He will be joining us shortly. I need him on another quick task."