by L. M. Vila
Isabella died. At least it appeared that way to everyone else. She heard the radio broadcasts whispering her description. Security was no doubt looking for her or someone that looked like her anyways. Being prepared for these types of situations is part of her job. And she did her job well.
Crafting the chemical bomb was almost too easy. She sat near volatile substances during her tenure as an FBI spy. It only took twenty minutes to mix and wire something potent. Unfortunately it had to be crude. Even the littlest jolt could have set it off. Opening the box was supposed to be the trigger. Allowing it to go off in McCrae’s office wasn’t a part of the equation. Pity though, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. Though, not suited for the job he had.
Outside, they were searching for a woman with tanned skin and long dark hair. There wasn’t much she could do about her skin’s pigment but the hair was easily solved. Isabella snuck into a storage room. A pair of scissors wasn’t hard to find. Couple that with a medical gown and her look had completely changed. At least as far as the description was concerned. The only variable in the equation leading to her escape was Meryl. She knows Isabella’s face. A positive identification would put a wrench in this plan. That is why Isabella is currently sitting on a gurney in the morgue area of the facility. A white sheet covered her entire body. Her stolen pistol was tucked under her thighs for quick access. The body that had previously taken residence here was stuffed in a nearby locker. Isabella would be long gone before they found it. She heard a vehicle was parked outside to pick up her body. Freedom was imminent.
Remaining still was the principal issue to overcome. Everything else was taken care of. Toe tag was secured. A splash of baby powder on the face for that pale, freshly deceased look. The gown provided the finishing touches but Isabella refrained from stripping completely naked. She would be convincing enough in her underwear and if any perverts dared to look, they would only have a few moments to regret it.
The door opened. Someone came inside. They were meticulously fiddling with something at the desk. Isabella timed her breaths. Using special breathing techniques in her training, she could sit like this for up to one hour. The process would leave one’s body winded and tired but the effect was flawless.
Once they finished with their work, a pair of hands found their way to the cart and began to push. It wouldn’t be long now. The door creaked open once again. This time, Isabella felt the presence of another.
“Oh doctor, glad you dropped by,” said the first.
Isabella didn’t even flinch. Her body remained as stiff as the one that sat here before it. The other didn’t seem to say anything of great importance.
“This body is set for pick up. A car is waiting outside. I just need a doctor’s signature here to release the body.”
“Sure,” the doctor replied. Their voice was scratchy, like an old woman who lived to smoke cigarettes. A pen slid against the wooden clipboard. “There you go.”
“Thank you kindly,” said the first. He paused for a bit. It seemed strange but his following explanation cleared the confusion. “Could you stay here for just a second? I forgot some paperwork back in the office. It’s just around the corner. I’ll be quick.”
“That’s fine.”
Just a small bump in the road on the way to her escape. A hand slid around the cart cradling the sheet near Isabella’s head. It lifted slowly. She steeled herself. Isabella was only exposed for a second before her face was covered again. Her act worked immaculately.
The first had returned. “Hey, thanks again.”
“Not a problem. What happened to this poor woman?”
“I believe it was an aneurism.”
“Such a tragedy.”
“It goes with the territory.”
“Please, allow me to walk out with you.”
“Yes of course.”
They sure were talkative but it didn’t matter now. The cart was finally moving towards the exit. Isabella thanked her training. The General would need to be informed immediately of her escape. Though the mission was at a loss at least she would live to fight another day.
A.N.K.H. Pharmaceutical was just a thousand yards down the road. Michael exited his car and examined the building being illuminated by the moon’s light. This place was a wasteland. Nothing but dirt, dead brush, and a few scant Joshua trees. Everything within a hundred feet of the building shined with the power of artificial light. Sneaking around was out of the question. He had to opt for a more direct approach.
Michael popped open the trunk of his car. He pulled out the duffel bag and unzipped it, taking out four blocks of C4. Using a piece of electrical wire, he fused them all together and placed a brick into each of the seats, saving two for the trunk leaving just one remaining in his possession. Since this would be the last he would see of this vehicle in its current condition, Michael made sure to take out any items that were irreplaceable. Especially his black dagger kept safely in the spare wheel well. Memories of this weapon’s origin surfaced. A reminder from his foster family. This was a Japanese dagger commonly known as a kodachi. This weapon wasn’t very formidable on offense but served its purpose well as a defensive tool. In training, Michael learned to block and parry weapon strikes with the kodachi and retaliate with his fists. It was lighter than a shield but challenging to master. Michael had a special slot on his back holster designed to hold this dagger horizontally. He hadn’t used it very often but it didn’t hurt to carry an extra weapon.
The trench coat was next. He lifted it up and slid it over his body. Its massive weight settled nicely onto his shoulders. There was plenty of armor sewn into every inch. Excessive for normal use but Michael had gotten accustomed to it during combat. His skin seemed to enjoy the feel of it. Six grenades found home in the coat’s inner compartments. Two of each kind. Plenty for an indoor battle. He took a flash bang and tucked it deep into the trunk. A piece of twine completed the project as Michael tied one end to the pin and the other to the lid. The remote opener carried enough force to make it work. He closed it gently and then tucked the roll of twine inside his inner pocket. There was still one more use he had in store for it.
Once equipped, Michael formulated the next few moves. It certainly wasn’t going to be pretty but as far as practicality was concerned, it couldn’t be defeated. He stepped into the car and approached the building slowly with his vehicle dark. Michael drove far enough to hide himself from lights of the parking lot but close enough to draw attention when he needed it. Out of all of the elements in the world, the most deadly didn’t make it onto the periodic table. This was Michael’s ultimate weapon.
The mercenaries stood firm in the dark lobby. Captain Gale ordered all the lights on the first floor to be shut off. After receiving the orders from their superior, everyone was feeling revved up. They held their weapons steadfastly in hand. Some even grazed the trigger on occasion. The safeties were on of course. They are, after all, a trained mercenary squad.
Twenty minutes had passed since the General’s phone call. Captain Gale wasn’t sharing the same enthusiasm as his men. Even if this was a boring job, it was better than the alternative. Unnecessary combat wasn’t desired but that’s what they were paid to do. The only real perk of being a mercenary was finding a job that was nice and quiet.
Out of everyone on the first floor, the Captain was the only one that seemed tense. He kept his pistol secured in his leg holster. It was the only ranged weapon he carried on him. The other was strapped to his boot. An eleven inch survival knife. It had its uses in combat but Gale kept it as more of a good luck charm. If the pistol couldn’t handle the job, the knife was a last resort.
Beyond the scope of the building rested only darkness. This only worked to their advantage. There is only one way to enter. Two large glass doors separated them from the outside world. Darkness filled the interior. A perfect set up for an ambush. They could see out but intruders couldn't see in.
Suddenly, lights began to blare. Two bright bulbs shined against the buildi
ng. It illuminated a good portion of the lobby. The troops began conversing. Many of them called for the Captain to which he silenced the brigade with a stern voice.
“Stand fast.”
The troops obeyed. It proved difficult to see the source of the light. Captain Gale had to peer deep to get his eyes focused. A shape started to form. It was definitely a car but their headlights were shining brighter than normal. They must have their high beams on. That meant only one thing.
“We’re being scoped out. Troops, take cover!”
Boots clapped against the tile floor. Every mercenary pushed themselves to organize a cohesive formation. Some grabbed couches and kicked them near the center. Each one was pliable enough for a pair of men to hide behind. Others kicked over tables. The entire lobby had been converted into a miniature defensive perimeter in merely seconds.
They converged to the east side of the building. The tall waterfall stood as the centerpiece to which the lights were aiming at from the west. All of Gale’s men were well hidden now. They had the defensive advantage from here. He stood firmly in the center of the lobby, waiting for the next move to be made.
The vehicle’s lights had gone dark. It disappeared back into the mysterious night. Clacking of metal followed. Everyone else gripped their weapons tight. Captain Gale threw his arm in the air, the signal to his men to hold their fire. As soon as the shooting started, he was lined up to be right in the middle of it.
Silence was broken by the vehicle’s engine rumbling outside. Gale still couldn’t see a thing but that noise outside reeked of trouble. He started taking a couple of steps back, slowly.
“Get ready,” he ordered.
Gale hoped this man wasn’t about to do what it sounded like he was going to do. Over a dozen semi automatic weapons, shotguns, and pistols were pointed at the vehicle. This would end very badly for him if he tried to force his way in.
Rubber proceeded to melt. The vehicle darted forward. From back stepping to sprinting, Gale dove for cover. The lobby’s front desk was the best source available but also the furthest from his men. As he ran towards it he yelled one final order.
“HIT IT!”
Gunfire rang out. The blistering taps of each individual round cutting into the air melded together to form a loud drone. Bullets penetrated the fragile front door of the building. Glass shattered against its will. The car traveled quickly through the crude opening while still managing to break a few more sections in its pathway.
Hot pieces of lead left their mark against the vehicle’s fiberglass frame as it continued forward. Hundreds of bullets had entered in seconds. Fragments that were once firmly attached had been ferociously ripped apart. The windshield ate its fair share as well. A fine Japanese automobile was being reduced to rubble. Thick clouds of smoke trailed behind the macerated vehicle. It careened head on and decimating the thick jade ankh statue. Wheels still spun as if it were determined to keep moving. The mercenaries had them targeted next and reduced it to nothing more than hot rubber flakes of dust.
Death was inevitable. After going through about three magazines a piece, the car accepted its fate and went silent. Its breath still lingered in the air. Grey clouds still floated from the direction it came.
“Hold your fire!” Gale shouted. He stood up from beneath the desk and saw the grotesque massacre his men had created. Whoever sat inside that vehicle was either dead or wished they were.
“Six in the front, check it out. Everyone else stay on guard.”
The mercenaries moved slowly towards the vehicle. It was ominously calm. After being ripped apart in seconds, it didn’t come as a surprise. The approached the car at all angles. A quick check through the window confirmed something surprising.
“Captain! The vehicle is empty.”
Maybe this man wasn’t as stupid as Gale thought. “Check the trunk. All of you. He could be hiding in there.”
They confirmed the order and moved. Every one of the six mercenaries had their weapon trained on the back end. Their fingers would react to even the slightest twitch. The lead soldier dusted the smoke away from his face. He reached for the latch of the trunk. Curiously enough, it wasn’t sealed tightly which could be due to the massive beating they all gave it. He signaled his men to surround him as he reached for the handle. Then he motioned to move on his count.
Guns were firmly gripped and ready to fire. The lead soldier lifted the latch. It popped up with a click and they pressed forward. Darkness awaited them; the trunk was filled with absolutely nothing. The all clear signal was given until another mercenary spied something hanging from the lid.
“What is that -”
Light, terribly painful light exploded into their eyes with a soul wrenching force, swallowing them whole in a white flare vortex. Even the others watching suffered a similar fate. Their cries and shrieks echoed into the formerly dark room. Some were almost convinced to tear their eyes clean out of their sockets. So much pain filled their lives they didn’t even hear the second click go off.
The vehicle erupted in one last roaring blast. Flames bellowed from within and ignited the air. Doors broke from their hinges and shot into every direction, turning them into lethal projectiles. The inspection crew was not spared of the vehicle’s wrath. They were launched off their feet after being impaled with various pieces of the dead car. Six lives were immediately stolen. All before they hit the ground.
Captain Gale tried to regain his composure. His eyes were still burning. Like the inside of his skull was on fire and he had to cut through them to extinguish it. Even without his vision, experience dictated what to do next. If the target was still alive, there was only one safe place to enter.
“The smoke! Fire at the smoke!”
Bullets rained from the east. When more mercenaries could see properly, they joined in the ensuing barrage. Finally able to trust his vision, Gale popped up quickly and unloaded his entire magazine into the cloud of smoke. It was a surprisingly unnatural amount. This couldn’t have come from the vehicle. The target had planned this.
A mercenary’s brain turned to wet dust before the eyes of his companions. Someone was returning fire. They couldn’t even see the target let alone know where he was shooting from. Another went down. He got double tapped through the chest. Fist sized holes protruding with ripped flesh and blood affirmed that the target was using large, high impact rounds. Possibly a .45 or even .50 caliber.
The Captain peeked quickly and tried to regain control of the battlefield. His men were fighting desperately, but one by one, they were being picked off. In this scenario, the target had the advantage. It wasn’t worth fighting a battle against an invisible enemy. They had to regroup.
“Fall back!” The Captain yelled. His troops moved cautiously. What ones he had left anyways. In the corner of his eye, Gale caught something he could only see with his vision fully restored. Movement was flowing behind the damaged vehicle. It started to make sense. The target moved there after blowing up his vehicle. And now, that’s where he’s been fighting since.
“The car!”
Gale’s epiphany was cut off by another flying projectile. He ducked and heard it bounce above his head. The object landed safely inches away from his legs and spun softly to a stop. Curiosity snaked at his attention. The Captain looked down to see what flew at him with great speed and trajectory. As soon as he peeked at the familiar canister shape, he immediately regretted it. The full force and impact of the flash grenade detonated on his lap. His previous thoughts of pain and suffering were overwhelmed by this horrifically nostalgic feeling. Commanding the remainder of this encounter would be impossible.
Michael loaded a second pair of magazines into his pistols. Twenty-eight rounds later and only twelve soldiers dead meant he had gotten sloppy. Watching them flee looked promising. He jumped up to the hood of the car and slid to the other side to begin pursuit. Much to Michael’s surprise, a pair of mercenaries showed some guts. They must have heard the man shout his position before he ate the business
end of a flash bang.
One of them quickly brought their weapon up. It pointed straight at Michael’s face or at least that was the intention. Michael had already squeezed the trigger on his Desert Eagle and watched the .50 caliber bullet tear the man’s arm off at the elbow. He would live. Just not pleasantly. His girlish shout attested to that.
Using the first as human shield, Michael spun his second pistol around and fired at the next. He was way too quick for them. In comparison, they moved at ten frames a second while he cruised at sixty. The bullet shattered the mercenary’s skull. He did manage to get one shot off before his fate was sealed. Unfortunately his comrade had taken the full force of it square in the back.
Michael flipped around the twice shot mercenary and when their backs were together, he guided the pistol along his cheek and popped another round into the back of his head. Both men dropped at the same time.
The odds had started to even out. Only six were left. Michael holstered one of his pistols as he stalked the location of his next prey. They appeared to be cowering somewhere. Like roaches when the lights turned on. It surprised him. None the remaining mercenaries had even seen him move out of hiding except for the recently deceased. You never turn your back on an enemy. Unless it was part of the plan.
Another jumped out to Michael’s left. He brandished a Benelli M4 Super 90 semi-automatic shotgun. Now it made sense. He was the cover while the others relocated. Michael reached out and grabbed the gun at the barrel and pushed it away just as it fired. Dozens of tiny pellets slashed just above Michael’s shoulder. A normal jacket would have torn under the pressure. Not this one.
A kick launched straight upwards catching the assailant straight in the wrist. Bones shattered within the shell of his skin, followed by an excruciated holler. The gun flew out of his hands. It flipped in the air. Michael immediately caught it near the stock, twisted the handle into his grip, and pulled the trigger. Cries were silenced as the mercenary’s face liquefied against the entirety of the shotgun’s explosive shell. He didn’t even have a chance to marvel at the fact that Michael was able to easily discharge the weapon with only one hand.
