Viper 1-1, on standby.

45: Wrath

Blazkovicjh Is Not Done With You, Little Man... - Dylan "刽子手" Blazkovicjh

Dylan PoV:

We had sent the two to protect the bomb.

We had sent almost one hundred people there.

Now we had lost our most useful item.

The entire base was alerted, and we were all in a position to keep everyone out. Comms were still down, and the only way we knew of the loss was through a ghillied agent who had managed to flee. His description was enough to warrant the creation of a horror movie.

Fuck.

I could barely walk after I had accidentally collided with a guard.

"Watch where yer' fuckin' goin' lad!" The guard continued walking as I tried to de-tense myself. Fuck, everything was going off the fucking rails. Everything was going so fast, my head hurt so bad. The boss had sent us the data for his location, the bomb was going to be sent to him and his "Friedenstruppen", his most talented men. I envied them at the moment, knowing they didn't need to suffer through this.

I walked into the room silently before detaching a wall panel. A keypad was hidden in the wall, and I entered the code, "441-916-0163", the phone number for the Friedenstruppen operatives. The wall opened up, revealing a walkway. I entered and then shut the door as quickly as I could.

I've got a bad fucking feeling...

I continued on the walkway until I reached a scanner which I placed my hand on. A muffled sound came from the walls.

Inside the room was a map, our client list, and cameras. They were linked to every Australian base, including the one I was currently inhabiting.

I grabbed as much as I could, stuffing it down into my backpack. The sound of gunfire was a cold reminder of my job's daily threats. The loud bangs of gunfire sounded like it was going on inside. Strange. I walked out to have my greatest fear recognized, corpses scattered. The bullet wounds were at an angle that only could be shot by someone who was inside. A convenient warning for my survival. I felt a cold arm grip my leg. 

Agent: "Please-..." Was the final word that the corpse transmitted through his lungs. He took a final, deep breath, and fell limp as his grip loosened. What a great day! I took his firearms off his corpse, as well as his gas mask and bulletproof vest. No magazine pouch, perfect. I checked the magazine's remaining rounds as a shell flew near me. Looking up, I saw a heavily armed bodyguard, one of mine, named Cougar. I muttered under my breath as I saw one of the men supporting his body fall from a bullet to the head. Quickly, I ran to support the wounded machine gunner. Bullets flew from behind, and I could hear quick footfalls as well as the thump of corpses hitting the ground. I grimaced as a bullet flew between me and my bodyguard. He groaned and vomited onto the floor, giving a not-so-positive sign he was still conscious. 

"Just stay alive, lad. Keep breathing." My words would hopefully give him resolve, knowing his importance to my survival was instrumental. I eyed the pill he kept in his shirt pocket, which was now doused in blood. Cyanide.

Blood wasn't an uncommon sight for me, but seeing it come from one of my best discouraged me. I shook my head as we retreated into the hidden rooms. We had about five minutes until either the people attacking us breached or smoked us out. Maybe they'd use gas. Unless it was Rainbow. Either way, our situation was grave. We all silently agreed to take position and keep our cyanide in our shirt pockets. Cougar, still bleeding profusely out of his side and his shoulder, managed to find a way to assuage the pain by dousing it in water. Small comfort, though. When the room was breached, whoever had been dumb enough to stand in front of the wall was loaded with lead. The gunfire eventually stopped as grenades were thrown in. A yellow gas began filling the room. Gas? Rainbow would not employ gas grenades. Whoever this was must've been unaffiliated with a government or institution. 

The men nearby me either put their gas masks on, ready for a final stand, or they bit down on their cyanide pill. Men fell to their knees if they had tattered for a moment too long. A pick your poison scenario. As for me, I put on my panoramic gas mask, which I had just realized did not have a filter on.

"Fuck me..."

I immediately scoured the corpses for a mask or filter, something to prevent my oncoming death. I tasted the scent-less air but knew somehow that I had inhaled the gas. I could only hope a mask could prevent me from further inhalation, and that the amount I did was not fatal. I found a filter and without hesitation, cranked it on. I immediately breathed less... murky air.

Bullets took me out of my small trance, and hurling my body towards cover, I shot back. Yellow-tinted smoke filled the room, and my shots reverberated in the room.

"Shit! Retreat!"

My command was met with a hail of bullets as the few surviving agents I had with me went to a nearby room. Our intelligence room. Mother fucker.

Cougar stayed behind, valiantly firing back at the attackers. The sound of gurgling came soon after, signaling he'd met his fate. Minutes of silence passed before a crackling sound came from outside. The smoke began to turn into a grey-yellow shade until it fully became dark, musky, and gray. One of my men dared to remove his mask, coughing out one word.

Agent: "Fire."

The room was sent into disarray. They were about to burn us alive. Those who hadn't popped their cyanide earlier decided now was the time. We all got ready to bit down on it, but as they all commenced frothing at the mouths, I realized I did not have a cyanide pill. I scoured for any extras people could have been carrying, rummaging through my comrades. The door was blasted open as a singular man rushed in. I quickly threw him to the ground. As he attempted to crawl away from my grip, I pulled him back.

"You are dying with me!"

I grabbed his knife and thrust it down on him, but it never collided with the man. A bullet to my neck caused an arterie to explode, and blood was sputtering out of my neck.

Sweet death.

1110 Words