Rainbow Six: November Sun

15: "FLASHING LIGHTS"

Petr Tverdovsky stood near the ground-level emergency access stairwell. He cradled his Bizon in his arms, bracing it across his chest as he surveyed the embassy lobby.

Scores of men and women were lying face down on the floor. An eerie chorus of hushed, frantic prayers, sniveling, shushed cries and the occasional cough drew a strange, quiet curtain across the lobby. His comrades were stationed throughout the area, dutifully watching their hostages with tense gazes and guns pointed.

Another armed man strolled up to Petr, one hand habitually resting on the stock of his rifle. "Where is Yegor?" he whispered.

Petr shifted his weight. "I don't know."

"He tells us all to meet here. Changes the plan suddenly - for what?" the other man asked lowly. "He's not even here! The hell is he doing?"

"Calm yourself."

"Something's wrong, comrade. Why—"

Petr turned and stepped up to his companion menacingly. "Will you fucking calm down?" he hissed. "Don't let the hostages sense your fear."

"Fear? I'm not scared. I'm—"

"Shut it. If Yegor heard you, he'd kill you himself. Get the fuck back to your post, Nikolai."

Petr could see anger flashing in Nikolai's eyes, like embers from beneath his balaclava. "I'm just saying maybe we should check on him, Petr. That's all."

"Fine. Go."

Nikolai snorted, but obeyed nevertheless. The man returned to his station near one of the waiting rooms, his frustration obvious in the swagger of his steps.

Petr clenched his jaw and put his hand to his radio. Niko was a pain in the ass, but he wasn't wrong.

"Yegor," Petr chanced, "do you copy?" He could see some of his comrades venture curious looks at him from across the lobby.

Silence met his inquiry.

Petr turned on his heel and strode cautiously into the emergency stairwell. He leaned slightly to look upstairs, then leaned the other way to look downstairs. "Yegor - status check. Over."

Nothing. Perhaps Yegor's radio had died?

Not likely.

Petr leveled his submachine gun at his hip. He was about to announce his departure from the lobby to go upstairs and check on Yegor when a chorus of muffled gunshots rattled off in the distance.

He froze. Gripped his Bizon SMG. Ignored the chill of adrenaline that washed over him the best he could.

"Shots fired across the street," came one of his companions over the radio. "No contact here. Embassy still clear."

Petr bit his lip. The second November Sun team had begun its mission across the street in the bank. Where the fuck was Yegor?

"All units, I'm going to check on Yegor. Stay on your guard. Petr, out."

He had barely jogged up the first staircase when an explosion erupted in the lobby, shaking the marble steps beneath his boots.

Petr's comrades shouted warnings. Men and women screamed as the lobby was filled with a strange blue light, and all electricity vanished in a shower of sparks and sizzling static.

The emergency access stairwell was shrouded in darkness.

"The fuck?" Petr breathed. He bounded down the steps and chanced a glance around the corner.

As he did, he could hear metallic canisters clinking across the marble tile of the embassy lobby.

Petr's eyes widened. "Watch ou—"

His words were lost to a series of small explosions as flashbang grenades popped off seemingly everywhere. Bright flashes of light erupted across the lobby. Civilians were screaming. Petr's brothers-in-arms were screaming.

Petr retreated back into the stairwell, shocked by the flashbangs. He was lucky to be far from the concussive blasts, but a charcoal image of the lobby still seemed to be burned permanently into his retinas. His ears buzzed with incessant ringing.

Stunned, the man leaned against the wall and aimed his Bizon at the door. Petr blinked frantically, unable to see clearly through the darkness of the sudden power outage coupled with his flashed vision.

Shots popped off in the lobby, echoing wickedly off the walls. A man cried out in pain. The sound of a body collapsing to the floor reached his ears, followed by the telltale clatter of a firearm bouncing across the tile.

Petr heard a barrage of Kalashnikov gunshots as his comrades returned fire. The man gritted his teeth and ventured another peek through the doorway.

Dust filled the lobby, and a large shadow seemed to be sailing through the chaos. Sparks of angry bullets colliding with the shadow lit the room like fireworks. Muzzle flashes to the left and right of the ghostly form sputtered relentlessly.

It was then that Petr realized the shadow was a massive ballistic shield, and the wielder's companions were flowing with him as one wave. Red lasers pierced the dusty mist.

And then, lightning struck a second time.

Some of the barricaded windows on the east side of the lobby suddenly shattered, destroyed by controlled explosions.

As the breach charges erupted above, the eastern emergency exit imploded inward, reduced to dust and debris.

Silhouettes of operatives dressed in tactical gear rushed in. Their movements were frighteningly swift and calculated. Their weapons spit fire.

Above them, more soldiers suspended in rappelling harnesses executed an inverted descent, coming into view of the smoky windows just enough to have clear lines of sight on the lobby.

Petr sank back into the stairwell, eyes wide. His heart hammered his chest. Shouts and screams from friend, foe, and civilian echoed through the lobby beyond view.

He thought he heard a woman barking orders, but Petr did not dare give it a second thought. Desperate and without options, the man turned to flee up the stairs.

He faltered in his step when he thought he saw movement in the shadows. The wicked snap of a suppressed weapon answered his hesitation.

Petr felt the pain in his thigh before he realized he was already sinking to his knees. His SMG fell to the floor.

The last thing he saw was a veiled figure parting the shadows and gliding for him. Something heavy collided with his skull, and Petr's world faded to black.