#Post-Resident Evil: Infinite Darkness #Not Beta Read #Very-minor Cleon

As soon as they all entered the room, Marco's teammates spread left and right clearing the room. Even outside bright with the light from the central tower, the room was partially in the darkness because the window blinds at both sides of the office were shut. A few strings of light escaped from the broken fins of the blinds providing a good ambiance for their night vision goggles to work.

Marco went across the room towards the adjoined door that led to the East side of the compound. He did the same routine check as before and moved away when feeling satisfied that it was safely secured. It was locked with no bobby traps. He saw Mendoza guarding the closed door that they just come in. As he walked in the direction of Taggert who was hunching down by the working table, Marco pulled his CamelBak nozzle and took a sip of the water he desired just now. After all the strenuous physical workouts they had done since they landed on the other side of the mountain, he could not describe how delightful the plain water was other than wondrous.

Hoffman was standing by the window that faced the main gate, while Ripley was peeping between the blind with his suppressed HK-417 battle rifle trained to the main courtyard and central tower. Marco dreamed of returning to the base before dawn, so he could end his procrastination on finishing one of Dostoevsky's novels that was due for months now. Nonetheless, all came to shatters when he realized that the safe box was wide open and empty with its sought-after content. He and Taggert scrambled every nook and cranny of the room to test their luck on finding the package. Unfortunately, they have used all their luck. It got a lot worse when the two of them heard Ripley's whispers on the radio.

"ONE. This is THREE. We got a situation here."

In a flash, Taggert approached Ripley to access his report with more clarity. The wheel in Marco's mind was spinning trying to figure out if there were any other possible hidden places the package might be hidden during his search at the warden's desk again. He thought maybe he was missing something. The desks, file cabinets, bookshelves, and lockers were all had been searched evidently with their compartments fully opened. But still, the package that they looking for was not in sight. He even screened the wall, trying his luck if there might have been concealed compartments. He shook his head when arrived at Taggert's position, looking at him in despondency.

"This is a bust."

No shit, Marco thought.

Marco could see Taggert's worried face under the illumination of the light outside. He peered to the courtyard as he saw Taggert motioned his head prompting Marco to look at the window. Hostages. Overlooking at the courtyard, a group of three was sitting in a row not far from the central tower with their hands and legs bound respectively. A blond man, a woman wearing a vest with 'PRESS' written on her back, and a local man judging by his clothing. He took a knee next to Taggert whom currently rehydrating. Marco met Taggert's gaze and understood him well. After being his assistant leader for a year now, Taggert entreated to know his opinion.

"This place is too big to continue the search. Too many variables.", said Marco.

"Motherfucking CIA got it wrong. Like always. Can't wait to throw that to their cocky faces later." Taggert said with a grin on his face.

"Ditto."

Marco smiled, gladden that Taggert still had his relaxed manner considering how fucked-up the situation was. A little over halfway into his deployment, the team was being called to report at a base in Northeastern Penamstan. The briefing was not in the usual main planning room. It was held in a room the size of a principal school office, with a few plastic chairs and a whiteboard that had mission details and printed-out satellite imageries of the objectives. No flatscreen TVs, no PowerPoint presentation and no live drone videos.

In addition, the meeting was sparsed with people. Usually, every military branch was there. This time was only his squadron commander, troop commander, a couple of people from the CIA, and a staffer from the State Department. But when Marco noticed one guy sitting in the corner and observed the whole briefing in silence, just then he knew this mission going to be extremely sensitive. Words were passed that Marco's team would be detached from the other teams of their troop and run the operation independently.

Six months ago, during the height of the commencement of the political alliance between the US and Penamstan, one of the higher-ranking politicians was involved in a scandal that could jeopardize the relationship between the two countries. There has been a rumor circulating among them it was the minister's brainchild to create supersoldiers by experimenting with viruses using human trials in Penamstan.

No one attested it and the rumor died in the wind. However considering Marco's team needed to secure any corroboration that may incriminate the US, most likely the rumor was true. Intelligence found a bunch of documents, videos, photos, and ledgers in the minister's safe box that led to this foreboding operation. It was simple. They had to get in, secure the packages containing the evidence, and get out. It was a clean-up service.

But this came the absurd part, they got words that they would run down the objective with a manpower of five. All for one reason. Peace proclamation. After the two nations signed the humanitarian agreement, everything military should be covert and stealthy, raiding the place was not an option. No militarized activities by the US, in which could cause an initiation that might instigate a firefight in the soil of Penamstan.

So, no drones. Because they were all aware that the drone would sound like a lawn mower when circling above in the middle of the mountain in Penamstan. The sound would spook the locals and perish the element of surprise that the Intelligence preaching about. Hence, the printed-out satellite imagery. Any gunships were out of the question. The usage of AC-130s or A-10s would negate the whole operation. This was so unlike how they usually operated, which made him feel like he was disposable.

This going to suck.

Ripley was the first to question about the whole operation. Being the one of the most seasoned members in the special force community, they looked up to Ripley. Thus, his words carried weight. Even the young and ever-eager Hoffman this time agreed on how ridiculous the Intelligence brought the mission to them. Each team member voiced their opinion, including Marco. Although they were highly trained and prepared, five men could not cover the 3-story-15,000-square-foot compound with only one way in and out with no backup. Let alone it was occupied by armed rebel militias. It was suicidal. Those pencil pushers argued the intel was true and conclusive. They were confident of the floor plan and the package was positive to be at the warden's office.

Nonetheless, it did not make it sensible concurrently was stupid. They contested it, they bitched about it, they commented about it, they discussed it, and in the end, they did it. It was like a grieving cycle that Marco always heard during the counseling session after the end of mission deployment. They denied, angered, bargained, depressed, and accepted. In the end, all of those that happened within two months brought them to this current sticky situation.

"We have to rescue them. We're already here."

"That's the right thing to do.", agreed Marco.

Taggert gave him a cordial tap on the biceps to show his gratitude and said in a whisper, "Mouser, on me."

Marco noticed Mendoza was checking the door to make sure it was locked before following Taggert to Hoffman's position. On the other hand, he took an adjacent position to Ripley mirroring his action.

"Anything new, Sparky?"

"The reporter is restless, Blondie is planning something. Native tried to talk him down."

Through his rifle scope, Ripley was right. Something was going on. The variables he talked about just now, include these hostages. He got his rifle scope focused on their mouth, trying to read the movement of their lips. While doing so, he heard Taggert explain the plan through the radio more lighter mode yet assertive.

"Okay gents, listen up. Our mission is fucked, the package is not in sight. New situation. We got hostages that need to be rescued."

During the intermission of Taggert's broadcast, Blondie tried to stand and fell to the ground. Marco bit his lower lips.

Not good.

Taggert continued, "Here's the plan, myself and FIVE gonna neutralize the main gate. Then, THREE cut the light on SILVER right after. In the dark, FOUR gonna rappel down first to neutralize the guard at the front door from outside. TWO, you stay on the hostages. Once the guards are taken out, we'll move in two elements. FOUR and FIVE with me, assaulting from the outside. TWO and THREE, you'll be the element of surprise from the inside. Everybody clear?"

"TWO. Affirm."

"THREE. Roger."

"FOUR. Roger that."

"FIVE. Affirmative."

In the military, it was not uncommon for plans or tactics to change on the battlefield. It had its fair share of the good and the bad. Plan adjustments defined the leader as an example of what it means by the sense of situational awareness they constantly talk about in the boot camp. Plans were adjusted so that they could maximize their combat prowess to fit the mission purposes and that led to successful missions. However, it had its drawbacks, at least in the normal army regiment.

During his stint as an army grunt in the company platoon, Marco experienced the type of back-and-forth plan readjustment and confirmation that sometimes took a few hours or even days after going through the chain of command. In comparison, working in a small unit like theirs, and missions similar to this, it was their leader they depended on to construct these adjustments within minutes. Sometimes, seconds. After three years of having Taggert as their leader, he could attest to his competency to construct a plan that worked at their ability to the best of their intent.

Marco figured Mendoza was working with the rope again. He was not sure how many ropes his teammate had brought for this mission. He hoped it was enough. This was the second location that was built with soft covers. Both windows that faced the main gate and the central tower had no metal grille or chain link cover. Just a normal window pane. Marco kept his rifle on the window still directed toward the courtyard. Blondie managed to keep his balance and was standing. A couple of guards started yelling at him to sit.

"On my mark."

The yelling and arguing attracted the other militia's attention. Most of them were in their occupied cells now all started to gather in the courtyard. Some occupants on the second floor filled the corridor to see what happened. Not as many as the ones gathered in the courtyard. He estimated it was nearly hundreds. He never guessed this many of them. There were footsteps outside the room indicating some of them moving to the courtyard. There was chatter and a small laugh. It was nearing midnight, and none of them bothered to go back to sleep instead were more interested in what happening below. He heard his battle buddy call his name, guessing he had the same thought as his.

"Marco."

On the other end, Marco heard Taggert's command in comms.

"Execute."

Subsequently, only the clicking sound could be heard. Both gunshots were so close that sounded to be fired by one shooter. And the usage of the subsonic ammunitions made the silent execution more deadlier. As the ruckus between the hostages started to get louder, no one even realized that the main gate was in a defenseless condition. Both the native and the reporter were now joined in the commotion. Just then, a loud bang echoes throughout the compound. He thought it was getting out of hand now. When he was about to report the situation to Taggert, Ripley beat him with the most surprising news.

"Possible GOLD package in sight."

"ALCHEMIST. Halt." Taggert used their team call sign to address all of them in a hurry.

"Coming out from right above COPPER. Four prison cells from the Southwest staircase.", continued Ripley.

"Understood."

Taggert was already at their position, scoping the area. A teenager wearing an orange shirt now disappeared to the staircase. That means the package would not be coming to the place they camping right now.

So, where is he heading?

This changed everything. The plan that was constructed minutes ago was a void the moment their objective reappeared. Then, it got more weider.

"ONE, I think there's another hostage inside the cell where the package coming from."

Ripley broadcasted through the radio even Taggert was close to him. This was to make sure everybody on the team was aware of what was happening. Marco immediately maneuvered his rifle looking for the location Ripley referred to. The isolation chamber -code name COPPER- was situated right in the middle on the first floor South side of the compound. Allegedly, in their Intelligence report, this was the location where the torturing of the prisoners by the prison officials took place. The size of the room was estimated to be the sum of four prison cells, with a two-panel solid metal door exactly facing the central tower.

Marco screened along the second floor West corridor which was now empty of people towards the prison cell Ripley referred to. He adjusted his grasp on the pistol grip of his rifle. Unbeknownst to him, he was holding his breath indicating how agitated he was about how unpredictable the mission had become. New and unexpected things kept happening.

"Are you sure?"

Right then, the referred prison cell's door opened wide enough to capture Marco's focus inside the cell. The opening was in seconds, he was confident that he saw a woman sitting on the bed with both of her hands and legs restrained by ropes. Same manner as her fellow hostages. And what happened in the courtyard was getting rowdy.

"TWO here, confirm. In the same cell. Two males just got out from there.", said Marco, exhaling a relief breath.

"Okay. Scrapped the last plan. Need to recon first why the package was brought to the one hostage at the South side. TWO and FOUR, you with me. THREE will hold GOLD with FIVE as support. Copy?"

Everybody shared their understanding on the radio. The good news was they had located what they came for. The bad news was the package was brought to one of the hostages.

Why? Why did they bring it to her?

Is she involved in this?

Is this bad or worse?

Marco's head was charged with questions and speculations. He repositioned himself by the door, with Taggert following behind him. Mendoza was out of the rappeling gears moving to their position.

"Make it quick. Drop them if you encounter any. Marco, you're point. Mouser covers the rear. Go."

Without wasting any time Marco was leading them to the hallway, in stacking formation. Their steps were swift and guarded. He needed to bring his team passed the portion of the corridor lighted by the spotlight. That would be the most vulnerable position. They had moved three-quarters of the West corridor when Ripley chimed through the radio.

"Package is moving towards SILVER."

And suddenly they heard a screaming and more commotion below. Marco quickened his pace, he hoped that his teammates were in sync with him.

"THREE, report." Taggert's voice was heard in Marco's earpiece.

"One of the guards slapped the reporter, Blondie headbutted him in return. A scuffle broke when they tried to move the hostages to the cell."

At that right moment, a man, or a boy to be exact came out from the prison cell directly in front of Marco. Must want to see what happened in the courtyard. The boy's eagerness caught him off guard to notice Marco right in front of him with an infrared laser dot on his chest. There was no hesitation, two shots were delivered by Marco.

The boy's body slouched to the nearest wall. Motionless and lifeless. The shots were silent, with additional noise from below concealing everything that happening in the second floor West corridor. The boy's eyes were wide open, the surprised look on his face did not fade when his life left the body. His white t-shirt was painted new with crimson red. Passing the dead body, Marco continued his task like nothing had happened.

Right when they passed the Southwest staircase, the screaming below got really distinctive. Freakish moans and ferocious roars laced among the shrieking and screaming.

"ONE- JESUS FUCK!"

They heard Ripley cussing on the radio. This was Marco's third year as battle buddy to Ripley and he rarely heard the man curse let alone in their comms. Marco was sure the number of times Ripley's curses did not pass his ten fingers. And those times happened when things got so abysmally fucked. The suppressor attached to the HK-417 did wonders reducing the sound of the large-caliber rifle when it was fired. But the clicking sound could be heard by Marco and other teammates in the South corridor when Ripley tried to juggle between releasing his fires and holding the push-to-talk button of his radio.

"THREE?"

"Package compromised."

Now, a series of gunshots from the rifle that the militia usually used sprung loudly, among the screaming and the roar.

"GO! GO! GO!"

As he heard Taggert's urgent command from behind, Marco swiveled right barging into the solid metal door of the intended location. He thereupon locked eyes with a Redhead who was tied up a moment ago now kneeling between the beds with a handgun aiming straight at his heart. The table was turned.

Shit!