by Dameon Gibbs
“Dust, do you copy?” Pitch asked over the radio.
“Roger, I'm good,” Dust responded rubbing his head when the initial reason for them taking cover came back to remembrance. “Pitch the mini-gun!”
۞۞۞۞
Pitch watched the mini-gun pivoted around to track Dust. With the grenade occupying the soldiers he figured this was his only chance to take it out. He raised his gun and opened fire on the turret. He fired a half clip into it before it started sparking. Taking a second to adjust his aim, with the turret locked on he held his breath while looking into his sights and before he could pull the trigger he had been knocked down by a blast. Damn fuckers tried to throw my grenade back at me. Don’t they know I don't take returns!
Realizing that he had been in the open, he snapped back to the turret and to his satisfaction; the turret was out of commission. Sparks cascaded from what was most likely the control box, which was now mangled and deformed. I’ll take that. Finishing with his half a second of self-congratulating Pitch returned his attention to the other soldiers.
And to his surprise, no one was left standing. All seemed clear until the barrel of a gun began to creep out from the shadows of the container, completely unaware of his location. For a second he was not sure if the figure was Dust, easing his weapon to low-ready he prepared for anything. And upon seeing the Order’s standard black armor emerge from the darkness, he snapped up his weapon and fired, dropping the man with a single shot. “Not today,” he whispered to no one in particular.
“Dust, do you copy?” Pitch asked over the radio.
“Roger, I'm good. Pitch the mini-gun!”
“I got it. It's dead.” Pitch responded over the throat mic.
“You sure?”
“See for yourself.”
Pitch stood a good distance beneath the mini-gun watching it spark against the night sky when Dust walked up to his side. Examining the weapon and was now sure that it was nothing but an oversized paperweight, the two had finally realized that they had not heard from Hawk since the firefight started.
Chapter 9
Though the scene on land was full of explosions and gunfire, the scene below the water was much different. It was silent and still. Quake moved from piling to piling, setting charges. And given that it was night and that he was underwater beneath the dock, it was about as dark as it could get. Navigation was hard and being that he did not feel like getting shot today, lights were out of the question, as it would make him glow like St. Peter himself. So to help him locate the dock pillars more efficiently, he uses a hand-held sonar device.
It was slow going, not just because there were older pilings, dock cribs and other assorted junk under the dock that cluttered up the sonar’s return signal. But because Quake had to be sure that he placed the charges on the correct supports instead of random debris. His task had the longest timeline in the mission plan and the least certainty about exactly how long he had. He worked as quickly as he could while being sure he got it right.
Upon finishing, he swam to a place that appeared secluded, climbing out of the dark waters Doom’s voice came thundering over his earpiece.
“Son of a bitch!” Doom cursed as gunfire and explosions echoed in the distance. “Hawk, are you all right?” No response. “Pitch… Dust… someone answer me.” Doom struggled to keep his sights on the guard next to Ramona. Gonna have to take care of themselves for a minute.
He took a deep breath and recalculated his shot. From this distance and angle, he could keep his sights on his target and still see what was happening with Tucker and Edge. Four people are talking, three men with guns, and a woman tied to a chair a few feet away. A normal, run-of-the-mill exchange set-up for the Deltas.
Doom watched Edge and Tucker react to the commotion outside; he almost pulled the trigger but did not follow through when no one else reacted. “Dammit, that was close,” he said to himself with a sigh. “This is not the time to be chatty, Edge. Close the deal.”
Moments passed, when Winford and his bodyguard Keeast back away, but not before Keeast nods towards his armed men. That’s good enough for me, he thought, as he put the target in the crosshairs. The guard went to raise his weapon as Doom pressed the trigger. The bullet hurled across the shipyard, broke through the window and hit the soldier next to Ramona squarely in the chest catapulting the man into the water as if something had yanked him beneath the waves.
“Quake blow it!” Edge ordered.
Here’s hoping I didn’t miscount, Quake thought as he pressed the detonator. The entire structure seemed to bounce upwards and then settle with a tilt towards the water. The sudden jolt forced everyone off balance, realizing what was happening Keeast grabbed Winford by the collar, dragging him away from the tumbling crates.
Edge, on the other hand, knew the plan, and as soon as Ramona’s captor went catapulting he dropped to one knee, bracing himself for the imminent explosion. When it came, the guards had to do some fancy footwork to keep themselves upright. Seizing the opportunity Edge pounced like a tiger on the nearest one, driving him to the floor. He wrapped his arms around the man’s head and neck and snapped them to a very unnatural angle, hearing numerous vertebrae cracking, he allowed the lifeless body to collapse to the wooden planks.
Reacting to the situation, the second guard managed to get himself upright quicker than expected and was already aiming his weapon at Tucker. Edge lunged at the guard and dragged him to the ground. A burst of gunfire swung wide of Tucker, who, in all the chaos, probably did not even notice. Using the momentum of the tackle, the soldier spun on his back to tried and shoot Edge while in motion. Edge countered by smashing down on his arm, driving the stock of the gun to the ground as the soldier fired full auto.
“Not today!” Edge growled, seeing his attacker attempt to redirect the barrel at him.
The P90 submachine had been designed with its mechanisms towards the rear, allowing the shooter’s forearm to grapes the grip closer to the body, limiting the length of barrel that extended past the hand. Providing the wielder with nearly single-handed point-and-shoot capability for close-quarter combat.
This guy is as strong as an ox, thought Edge, as he pushed the burning hot barrel into the face of the soldier.
Growling in pain and he landed a solid left hook to Edge’s face. Before Edge had time to react, his attacker had wrapped one arm around his neck, slamming his second hand into his throat only seconds later. The grip nearly caused Edge’s eyes to pop, and in one smooth motion he had flipped Edge onto his back, the impact nearly knocking the wind out of him.
Driving his knee into Edge’s gut to increase his grip. “How does it feel to be fuckin’ choke to death Ranger!” the soldier spat through gritted teeth.
The man’s superior position made it difficult for Edge to escape. If he had the luxury of time, getting out would be second nature. However, the brain’s need for oxygen and his rapid consumption of what little he had in his system urged him to have to improvise.
Meanwhile, two guards kicked opened a nearby door allowing Keeast to escape with Winford towards the dock.
“Hold….on! Hold on!” Winford ordered as he fumbled for his inhaler. The guards put him against the wall and quickly went back to the door to cover their escape.
Keeast took Winford’s inhaler break to get a quick situation report. “Hitoshi, did you take out that Sniper yet?”
“Explosions knocked computers out,” Hitoshi responded. “Rocket was sent. Not sure if it eliminated the target. Rebooting online capabilities now. No! That one!” he yelled distractedly at the other man with him.
“Find out and get out of here. I’m evacuating Winford right now.”
“I will make sure they’re dead first,” Hitoshi responded as he plugged in the wires. He cursed and tossed it to the side as sparks flew from it.
Like a weakened sailor trying to find his sea legs, Tucker staggered around, struggling to keep himself from falling forward, and grabbed onto a nearby wooden crate for support
. Although he had been expecting the explosion, he was not prepared for the strong vertical and lateral floor movement. With the floor beneath him moving, he watches Edge eliminate one of the guards, whose head now lay at an impossible angle to the body. The remaining one seemed to be giving Edge a run for his money as grappled on the wooden planks.
Seeing that Edge was working on the immediate dangers, Tucker’s made it his priority to located Ramona amongst the chaos. Not having to search far, for she was still strapped into the chair, a chair that was now gradually sliding down the sloping floor towards the water. And although the building was starting to settle beneath his feet, he still had the sensation as if walking on an oversize waterbed. He released his grip from the crate and with his hands stretched forward he stumbled towards her in a desperate attempt to keep her from falling off the dock in a macabre variant of walking the plank.
۞۞۞۞
Hawk had managed to crawl into one of the storage compartments. To his right stood one open row of columns between him and the windows on the north wall. To his left, plywood partitions running to the south wall had been constructed between the pillars, producing separated storage areas.
Hawk peered around the pillar and saw the two remaining soldiers, one behind a pillar to his left and the other behind a pillar to the right, just inside of where they had blown the hole in the wall. He flipped the ACOG’s distance scope attachment to the side, leaving the medium range Holographic scope. He fired one shot and jumped back.
As expected, his one bullet was met with a good twenty in return. They were using submachine guns; probably P90’s by the sound of them, a weapon much better suited for these hallways. Hawk came out again and fired, first, at the man on his left, his bullets bouncing off of the concrete wall. Hawk knew he was not going to hit the man; it was a throw-away move designed to draw out the man on the right, so he held his position, waiting for the other man to appear. Sometimes you have to play the bait.
Unfortunately, the man on the right was no longer on the right. In the chaos, the soldier snuck to Hawk’s left, much closer than he wanted.
“Oh, crap!” Hawk cursed as the trap was sprung, managing to spin himself back to cover, unharmed. Taking deep breaths to get his adrenaline under control, Sharp move. You get a point for that one.
Hawk came out firing, sending the men to their cover as he retreated down the hall. Pushing his legs as hard as he could Hawk managed to make it to his next cover while one of the soldiers blind fired around the corner. Examining the cover he found it not to be as solid as he thought, a concrete pillar with large pieces of plywood leaning against it. Not exactly bulletproof. He dropped the old mag to the gun and snapped in a fresh one. He counted to three and spun out to fire, only to realize that the soldier closest to him had been thinking the same thing. This guy is fearless.
Without hesitation, they started to exchange fire. It was not long before Hawk won the game of chicken as the man took cover only to have his buddy snapped out and continue the assault. Not willing to back down Hawk fired controlled burst sending the man back to the wall.
Well, look at that, Hawk thought to himself as he watched the first soldier use the small hole that had been blown in the partition for cover. He had become so focused on the hallway firefight that he failed to recognize his position vulnerability. Locating a small opening, that was no larger than a tennis ball, Hawk edge the barrel of his weapon into the hole. Doom was the team sniper, but Hawk was his back up. He brought the gun up, held his breath and fired one round.
The Crack of the gun was followed by a thud as the man’s lifeless body hit he ground. Seeing his partner the second soldier came out firing in full auto on Hawk’s position.
“FUCK!” Hawk grimaced as one of the bullets caught him above his right hip and another in his right shoulder. He dropped hard and crawled back.
Hawk pulled his sidearm and promptly transferred it his left hand as he made the attempt to stand. He managed to make it one knee when the light of the windows changed to a silhouette of a heavily armored soldier.
Following the trail of blood, the soldier came face to face with Hawk. “You Delta shits are all overrated,” the man said, gloating at his apparent victory and failing to see the gun in Hawk’s far hand.
“Let me guess… SEALs?” Hawk replied clutching his wounded leg.
“You damn ri…” The man never got to finish as Hawk dropped to his back and shot the man right between the eyes.
“Yeah, not anymore,” Hawk finished, dropping his head to the floor and sighing.
۞۞۞۞
“Hawk, I say again, are you with us?” Pitch asked.
“Yeah, I’m alive. Got hit in the side and arm. I’ll try to get myself patched up, but I’m out of the game.”
“We’re coming to help.”
“Negative. Tango’s are down; get to Edge. I can take care of myself.”
“Roger.” Pitch replied as he looked at Dust’s head. “Shit, man, that is one hell of a gash on your head.” He said as he took off his bandana and gave it to Pitch.
Dust wiped the blood off with his sleeve. “Crap, I didn’t even feel it.”
Doom’s order to Quake came over the radio followed by a rumble that could be felt through the ground as wooden supports began snap like large bones.
“Never a dull moment.” Pitch said as the two took off for the building their comrades were in.
۞۞۞۞
Doom’s shot was right on the money and turned to do the same with the two men guarding the boat at the end of the dock. Hearing a familiar noise, he instantly identified it as a rocket of some kind and snapped his head up in time to see the streaking object hurling his way. “Oh Lord.”
The Boomerang was designed to locate a sniper’s position by using a collection of seven microphone sensors. Each microphone detects the sound of gunfire at a slightly different time. In less than a second, the sensors could pinpoint the location of the shooter and return fire. Hitoshi had one placed on the roof of the building connected directly to a computerized sentry rocket launcher. Bt the time Doom’s first target hit the water, the crate concealing the launcher had sprung open. Detecting its target the launcher spun to Doom’s position and released its missile.
Planting one foot after another and running as fast as he could, Doom knew that he was not going to get clear the catwalk in time. His remaining option was a safety line he had set up in the event of him being knocked from the catwalk. Doom dived over the railing and let himself freefall as the rocket slammed into the operator’s platform. The explosion threw sparks and chunks of metal in every direction as the crane groaned under the intense heat like a wounded animal.
The safety line was an elastic rope so that Doom would not get snapped in half when he reached the end. There was plenty of slack, but the explosion pushed him rapidly to the line’s full extension. With the elastic springing him back toward the leg of the crane, Oh, this is gonna hurt! He thought while bracing for the impact.
As his body slammed into the metal, Doom managed, despite the impact, to hook his arm around one of the beams and hold himself in place. “Oh yeah, that hurt.” Attempting to put his weight on his arm, an enormous pain shot through his side. Oh shit, those are cracked.
Taking in death breaths to mentally subdue the pain, he took a moment to study the building. Quake’s bombs had done the trick; the building had been rocked but was still standing. However, at that moment, Doom realized that the sentry launcher was still active, he watched in disbelief as it rotated its second launcher.
Shit, dam thing is bolted to the floor! “Dust, Pitch, can you hear me?”
۞۞۞۞
Slowly awakening and through blurred vision, Ramona came to, and all she saw was Tucker charging at her his hands extended and a troubled expression on his face as her world slide backward. In her half-drugged state, she managed to twist her body to glimpse behind her. Immediately her eyes went bug-eyed as the dock’s end came closer and closer, its dark wa
ters sloshing below. With fear taking hold of her she struggled in vain to free herself. Beads of sweat began rolling down her neck, feeling helpless to do anything, she faces forward. And even with her heart racing seeing Tucker’s face help to ease her emotions.
Racing towards her, willing himself to reach his top speed, Tucker’s locked on Ramona’s almond like eyes: bound to a chair, her hands tied behind her, waiting to be saved. It was the same look he received from Paul ....
In his mind, he told himself that he was not going to lose her, no matter what. But with each step he took she seemed to slip further away.
۞۞۞۞
Edge fought to keep himself conscious. His grip is too strong to break. I need to somehow break his focus; Edge thought grabbing at the soldier’s wrist, feeling a band that reminded Edge of the Everglades. Just when he was about to activate the band’s mechanism the soldier picked his head up and slammed it to the ground. As much as Edge tried to hold on, he lost his grip on the arm.
“I am going make your damn eyeballs pop out,” the soldier spat.
On the verge of being choked to death, Edge looked into the man’s eyes, giving him a wink followed by blowing him a kiss. Confused, the soldier paused for a second to make sense of it, giving Edge the seconds he needed to get his fingers on the wristband again.
Flipping open the protective cover he pressed the button. Simultaneously, the soldier leaned back; his face went wide eyed in disbelief from the death throes as cyanide poisoning begin. The soldier’s face contorted with each draw of air that he struggled to pull into his lungs, with a swift kick to the chest Edge sent him sailing onto his back.
Leaving the soldier to his demise Edge spun to find Tucker honing in on Ramona, oblivious to anything else around him. Edge scanned the building for Winford and Keeast but could not locate them. Instead, he found two armed soldiers stepping through the door, their guns up. Tucker, on the other hand, was hidden from their view by piles of debris. Unfortunately, that would last only a few seconds. Edge grabbed weapons and ammo off his two new and recently dead acquaintances and made a mad dash for Tucker.