The doors flew open and Hox was surrounded. 4 SWAT units surrounded him as he stood around the dead bodies of gangsters. It was rather incriminating.
"Hands behind your head!" One of them yelled as their guns trembled before the scene, along with the trail of death and destruction that they had to crawl through to get here.
"Alright mate, don't get your knickers in a bunch." He dropped all of his weapons and kicked them over to the officers, knowing that fighting would be futile in a situation such as this. "Is there no more justice anymore?"
"Not as long as we are around.." A SWAT officer with a familiar voice interjected before...
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
BANG
He felt like he wanted to punch the person with that voice. It was too familiar.
Hoxton didn't even realize what had happened until after all the SWAT had been dispatched. The familiar voice took off his helmet and it was none other than the wanker Houston himself. Maybe he wasn't such a cunt after all.
"Miss me?" He asked in a sarcastic tone
"Wouldn't miss you for a day in my life." He picked up the assault rifle of one of the officers and looked around. "Not gonna bother as to how you did this shit. We have to get W-"
"They got him.."
"What?"
"You're not deaf. You heard me."
"Bloody Hell!" He yelled, not caring about this newfound ballsiness of Houston. He would never tall to Hoxton like that; but not wasn't the time to be questioning tones of voice. "Are we gonna go get 'im?"
"Fuck that."
"You minger! I'll shove yo-"
Before Hoxton could finish his threat, the radio static caught the rooms attention.
"Yeah, this guy is definitely part of the PayDay gang. He goes by the pseudonym 'Wolf'. We've tranquilized him but to no effect. He hasn't answered any questions and he almost bit off the ear of an officer.." The officer on the radio chuckles before coughing and continuing the dispatch "We're gonna leave him in the back of 'Truck 151' until we can decide where to throw this fucker without him..." He paused again to laugh "biting anyone's ears off. Out."
"Well, there we go! Let's get him out and fuck off!" Hoxton said, enthusiastically
"They've brought in the National fucking Guard. There's no chance in Hell that we are getting him out of there." Houston replied, bringing a new splash of pessimism to the air
"Well..." He tried to think of something he could do but he had nothing. There was no great scheme that he could hatch. No master plan. That was it. For now, hopefully.
"Yeah, I thought as much. Now get one of those uniforms on if you want to leave alive. And before you make the comment, we can't just drive him away. It doesn't work like that." He was significantly more serious in tone. Even earlier, he wasn't as dreary.
"Hey, didn't you run off with Wick? Fucking wankers, the both of you."
"Yeah... That didn't turn out so well. I thought I was a perfectionist."
"So you broke up?" Hoxton asked in an insincere and condescending tone.
"Shall I turn your ass into the cops? You are wanted in Illinois as well, you know."
"You wouldn-"
*KSH* "Yeah, dispatch. I think I've seen a second assailant. Location...12th floor, 3rd hall down."
"Yeah, we thought there was a second guy. If you see him, do not approach. Are you the squad captain?"
"Roger that."
"Then tell your guys to keep their eyes peeled. Apprehend all other Cobras you come across and note then to us. We'll have a recovery team in there as soon as the area has been sweeper and deemed safe. Round up the rest of the Cobras on your floor and regroup in the roof."
"Affirmative." Houston turned off the radio and looked back at Hoxton who was standing right next to him, throwing a punch right his way. He couldn't react in time and was subsequently sent onto the floor, cushioned by a dead SWAT officer. Hoxton mounted the now downed Houston and began sending punches left and right, Houston blocking most of them with his hands.
"You're dead you little shit!" Hoxton yelled, his position compromised.
"Rela-" A punch landed directly on the bridge of his nose. "Fucking... Wait. This isn't the 12th floor, dipshit." He managed to throw the full mass of Hoxton off of him before scowering to the corner, his gun trained at Hoxton. He saw this and grabbed a gun, pointing it at Houston.
"Knobhead." Houston dropped the gun and took off his clothes. "You gonna jack off? Turn around!"
Houston complied, as not to insinuate any thing that could be 'wrong'.
Five minutes and some awkward looks later and Hoxton was geared up and ready to get out of here. "I heard there is money in the Boss' office. Like, millions and that. We can ba-"
"Mkay. You can go up, grab the money, get caught, get thrown in a cell then be raped by a Mexican guy named Jesus whos locked up for touching little kids!"
"Point taken..."
They grabbed their guns and made their way Dian the flights of stairs to the first floor where they were met by a large crowd of SWAT and one Captain Winters in the middle, trying to organize this whole fucked operation.
"Alright alright! Calm down you women. We have learned that there was indeed a second operative at work here who goes by the alias 'Hoxton'. He's British and hard to miss. The guy might be wearing one of our uniforms... I want a line up, NOW!" All the SWAT officers, Zeal Team and all others lined up so Houston and Hoxton followed suit.
'Goodbye freedom.'