by john | Dec 25, 2018 | Uncategorized
Are you missing any chapters? Click the Raptor tag at the bottom of the post to get them all!
11
Edward Carstairs, Freedom Party candidate for President, gadfly, loudmouth, climate change denier, flat-earther, and general pain in the ass to anyone in any established department of government, charged into the conference without waiting for an invitation, much like he’d inserted himself into the series of debates scheduled in the runup to November’s election.
“The second I get to the White House, I will have your stars, General,” he snarled at Duke as he walked past.
“Colonel,” Duke corrected, his voice even. The big man looked completely unfazed at the interruption, as if he’d been waiting for it.
The florid-faced politician froze in mid-stomp and turned back to the TECH Ops CO. “What did you say?”
“I said, I am a colonel, not a general. Mr. Carstairs. Now, would you kindly return to your quarters? Or are you hungry? Do you need someone to show you to mess, perhaps?”
“Did you make a wrong turn on the way to the restroom, sir?” Raptor asked, following Duke’s lead and keeping her tone light. Carstairs already looked more than halfway to blowing a gasket, the last thing they needed was him stroking out in the middle of their base.
“I am not hungry, I know where the damn bathroom is, and I will not return to that piss-poor excuse for a jail cell you call ‘quarters!’ I don’t know what kind of convict you expect to live in that room, but it’s barely big enough to turn around in, much less for me and my wife to share. This situation is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been in Congress for eight years!”
“Those are Pyro’s quarters,” Tank said, his voice a low growl. He didn’t look at the rotund, red-faced politician, but every face in the room turned to stare at the big man. “Pyro died this afternoon trying to protect your fat ass. He’s lying in a morgue with a dozen bullets in him while you’re in here bitching about sleeping in a bed he didn’t make it back to. So if you want to sleep on the floor, go ahead. If you want to walk out the front door and get yourself killed, you go ahead. But if you say another goddamn word about how shitty it is that you get to sleep in my friend’s bed while he’s wrapped in a body bag, I’m going to stand up and right here in front of my commanding officer I am going to rip your fucking head off and shit down your neck. Then I’m going to shove your head so far up your ass it comes out the other end. You understand me, cockmonkey?”
Carstairs’ red face went ash-white, and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as he stared at the huge man wrapped in steel and hydraulics. He no doubt remembered the strength Tank had shown back at the convention center, and it looked to Raptor like he had little doubt the man-monster could make good on his threats.
“I-I’m sorry, son. I truly am sorry for your losses today. I’m sorry to all of you.” As no one got up to hit him, the brief glimpse of humanity they’d been given faded, and they once again watched the politician take hold as Carstairs found his rhythm again. “But that does not excuse the abject failure of this organization to perform their very simple job – secure the facility against threats.”
This time it was Raptor who spoke, standing up before Tank murdered the man. “That wasn’t our mission, sir. We were tasked with aiding the Secret Service in protecting the candidates, and providing a visual presence to deter trouble. Our primary objective was to keep you and the other candidates safe, and on that front, sir, I think we did a damn fine job.”
“A damn fine job?” Carstairs’ face was back to full crimson now, as if he could somehow shift its color with his mood, or whatever mood he chose to project. “You call that a damn fine job?”
“They do,” came a new voice, and all heads turned as Democratic candidate Vincent Fortuna walked into the room. Far from the cowering man they’d escorted from the convention center, this Fortuna seemed completely together, restored, and vital in a set of BDUs scrounged from the Bunker’s uniform storage. His lean form presented a complete counterpoint to Carstairs’ fleshy figure, and the relaxed smile on his face was welcoming, where the Freedom Party candidate seemed livid and threatening. “I do, too, to be honest. These men and women kept us alive and without a scratch, at great risk and loss to themselves, and I appreciate it.”
He smiled around the table, and as his warm hazel eyes met hers, Raptor couldn’t help but give him a slight smile back, no matter how much she knew he was pandering. “Now, today’s operation could have gone better, but it certainly seems like the team was set up to fail from the start. I don’t know much about that, but I know that when the going gets tough, the tough get going, so let’s get going on working together towards a solution and find the culprits behind these dastardly attacks!”
“I don’t know if he sounds like a motivational poster, or a Little Rascals cartoon,” Viper muttered to Lone Star, who nodded.
“Gentlemen, if you would please excuse us and return to your quarters, we have—“ Duke started, but stopped with a sigh as yet another man stepped into the conference room wearing scavenged BDUs. It seemed to Raptor that only Carstairs chose to play the “bedraggled victim” wardrobe card, with the major party candidates going for the “rugged man of action” look.
“I bet the loudmouth found out the hard way that we don’t carry fatigues in size fatass,” Lone Star whispered to Viper. The lanky man held up a fist, and Lone Star bumped knuckles with him.
Jared Henry stepped to the front of the table like he owned the room, shouldering Carstairs aside without a second glance. He nodded to Fortuna, then turned and snapped off a crisp salute to Duke, who returned it. Henry then surveyed the room, his blue eyes piercing under his close-cropped grey hair. “I’m sure you all know how grateful we all are for the sacrifices you made today. I know what it’s like to lose men in battle. It sucks, and it doesn’t ever get easier. It sure doesn’t help to have a bunch of DOJ pussies second-guessing your decisions. Or worse, and bunch of jackasses on The Hill who’ve never strapped on a pair of boots.”
Raptor found herself nodding without even realizing it. She stopped herself, thinking This guy is good.
“You all know that I am the only one of the three of us that ever served, and I saw my fair share of action in the first Desert Storm. So I know the kind of strain you’re under ever day out there, dealing with impossible situations on not enough information, and having to make life or death decisions in a split second. I’ve been there, and the last thing I want to do is to make you think we don’t appreciate everything you’re doing for us.”
“But,” Viper said before the smooth politician could go on.
Henry looked at the skinny hacker and nodded at him. “Yes. But, there are some things that simply cannot be done, and barging into the homes of American citizens and violating their First, Second, Fourth, and Fifth Amendment rights is one of them,” He banged his fist on the table for emphasis, rattling the water glasses.
“Pretty sure we didn’t force anyone to testify against themselves, Mr. Henry,” Blackout said from his chair. The tall man was in an almost mirror image of Viper’s posture, his chair kicked back and his feet on the table. The only difference was there was no hint of a sarcastic smile across his chiseled black jaw.
“What are you saying, son?” Henry turned to him.
“You mentioned the First Amendment, which protects speech, press, and religion. Since we attacked a cult leader’s compound, you could make some argument that they were exercising their First Amendment rights to express their religion, or that they were exercising their right to speak freely when they criticized the government. They had guns, so there’s your Second Amendment. I suppose you could say we violated their Fourth Amendment right against illegal search and seizure, but most law enforcement agencies would say that when they opened fire on us, exigent circumstances applied and we could go anywhere in that compound we wanted to in search of guns or other dangerous elements. But nowhere in that op did we require anyone to incriminate themselves, which is what the Fifth Amendment protects against. That’s why bad guys plead the Fifth on the witness stand, so they won’t get busted for their own crimes when they’re testifying against someone else.”
Henry’s face started off calm, but as Blackout continued his lecture on Constitutional law, his complexion slowly reddened, until by the time the tall sniper finished, the politician was almost as crimson-hued as Carstairs. “Who do you think you are, son? Some kind of lawyer?”
“Law professor, actually, sir. I served ten years in the JAG Corps, then left the service to teach at Georgetown. Duke convinced me to re-up when this program started. He said it would be a way I could serve my country again, and the country could repay a debt that it owed me.”
“And exactly what the hell do you think your country owes you, son?” the perpetually-angry Carstairs asked.
Blackout stood, his full six and half feet towering over most everyone in the room. He removed the black tactical ball cap that sat atop his head, then pulled unbuttoned the long-sleeved black dress shirt he wore. The cybernetic left arm he sported came into view as he did so, and he folded the shirt and laid it on the table. He pulled his black t-shirt over his head, allowing the visitors to see the fully robotic arm and shoulder that hung from the left side of his body. He stepped away from the table, unbuckling his belt as he did so. He unfastened the button on his black tactical pants and let them fall, the gleaming metal of his cybernetic right lower leg and entire left leg shining between the line of his boxers and his crumpled pants.
Blackout looked at the candidates, his dignity untouched by standing half-dressed in a room full of completely clothed men and women. “Sir, I don’t believe my country owes me anything, except the protection of my rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But I gave up one arm, a kidney, three ribs, half my pelvis, one and a half legs, and three years of my life in rehab, so I appreciated Duke’s offer to let the United States of America balance those scales somewhat, and give me the opportunity to combat her enemies at home and abroad in the process. My country doesn’t owe me a damn thing, but you do, sir. Respect. I have fought for this country, bled for this country, lost brothers for this country, almost given my life for this country, and I will not sit here and be talked to like a fool by anyone, much less two men who had never worn a uniform and another who can’t even remember what the goddamned Fifth Amendment says. Now would the three of you please get the fuck out of our conference room before I decide to stop being polite and, as my mama said, show my raising all over your sorry asses?”
Blackout bent over to pull up his pants, then dressed without a word. Every other TECH Ops member got to their feet as he did so and stood, arms folded across their chests, staring wordlessly at the three candidates. After a pause that stretched almost to the interminable, Henry turned and stomped out of the room, the other two men hot on his heels.
Lone Star leaned over and closed the door, and everyone took their seats. The team all looked at each other, then Breaker spoke. “You think I oughta tell them you got fucked up in a snowmobile accident on vacation in Colorado?”
Blackout grinned across the table at his teammate. “Nah, let the dumb fuckers think I got my shit shot off by a Taliban sniper or something. I never said I was wounded in action. Just said I served, then left to be a professor. I didn’t mention I lost my arm and legs on winter break the second year I was out of the Navy.”
Raptor laughed, and it was an almost unfamiliar sound after the events of the last few days. Too bad it was the last time anyone would hear it for a while.
by john | Dec 18, 2018 | Uncategorized
Are you missing any chapters? Click the Raptor tag at the bottom of the post to get them all!
10
Raptor cleared the door and leapt for the skies, but her wings malfunctioned. She got about three feet off the ground and sprawled face-first into the grassy clearing. “Shit,” she muttered.
“Saw that,” Blackout said in her ear. “Three O’clock.”
Sheila rolled over on her back and fired her pistol in the direction he called out, putting two rounds in the center mass of an onrushing woman carrying an AR-15. “These guys have got some decent hardware,” Raptor said.
“It’s all mass-market stuff, semi-auto,” Whisper replied. “You can buy it at flea markets. Nine O’Clock.”
Raptor sprang to her feet and shot the man kneeling behind her with a shotgun pointing her way. One round in his forehead and he died before he could squeeze the trigger. “How many of these motherfuckers are there?”
“Intel suggests fifty or sixty adults,” Duke said.
“Adults?” Tank asked. “Does that mean there are kids around here?”
“As many as twenty,” Duke replied. “From infant to teenagers.”
“Fuck,” Lone Star said.
“Yeah, smaller targets suck,” Viper replied. Silence greeted him across the comms. “What? I can’t joke?”
“No killing kids,” Raptor said, looking around the clearing to evaluate her forces. Tank and Breaker were back to back in the middle of the quad, turning in slow circles and spewing lead at anything that moved. Lone Star and Viper were essentially out of the fight, stuck in the Humvee with Duke. Blackout was still perched in a tree stand atop a ridge five hundred yards away, but his shooting skills made him a threat no matter the distance. Sheila had no idea where Whisper was, but she felt certain the woman was doing something scary to someone somewhere in the compound.
She was grounded, with an MP-5, two magazines of ammunition, and a Glock .40 with four magazines. Not the kind of armament she’d like to have for a ground assault, but things went sideways when she used her wings to shield Manus and herself from the blast of the grenade.
“Make a plan, execute the plan, plan goes to shit, make a new plan,” Raptor said under her breath as she moved to take cover behind a small nondescript car parked in front of the church. Her eyes widened as she saw a young man with a pistol was already there. The man, kid really, was sitting on the ground with his back pressed up against a rear tire, his knees pulled up to his chest and his gun pointed at the ground in front of him.
When he took notice of Raptor, his eyes went wide and he pulled the gun up. Sheila reached out with her cybernetic arm to hold the barrel down and looked right in the kid’s face. “You can live or die today, and you’re making that decision right now. You want to live, you let go of this gun and lie facedown on the ground with your fingers laced behind your head. I guarantee you none of my people will harm you in any way.”
“You want to die, you point that gun at me. I can see by your eyes that you’ve never killed anybody. I have. It’s not as easy as it looks in the video games and movies, and it stays with you for a long time. I have enough baggage on my soul that one more dead asshole with a gun won’t bother me too much. You aren’t there yet, and I pray to God you never will be. But the only way you find out, is to let go of that gun.”
The kid never spoke, just stared at Raptor for long seconds until finally, with a deep exhalation, he released his grip on the pistol and rolled over to lie facedown in the red dirt and sparse grass of the compound.
“Good call, kid,” Sheila said, ejecting the magazine from the pistol and flinging it away. “Blackout, give me a sitrep.”
“The center of the compound is clear thanks to Donkey and King, the Kong brothers and their big-ass guns. Turns out if he throws enough lead in the air, even Tank can hit the broad side of a barn.”
“On a good day,” the big gunner replied with a chuckle.
“The center of activity now seems to be the school, about two buildings from your position. I’ve seen at least a dozen men and women head in there since everything started, and nobody has come out.”
“What about Manus?” Duke cut in. “Anybody got eyes on him?”
“I kept him alive through the grenade attack, then I rendered him inert and left him lying on the floor of his office.”
“Inert?” Tank said. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means she knocked the motherfucker’s block off and left him lying in his own drool and blood,” Whisper said. “I have him now. He is secure, and still unconscious. Next time you want to knock somebody out, Raptor, just shoot them. You’ll do less damage.”
“Sorry,” Raptor said, in about as insincere an apology as she’d ever given or heard.
“Meh, he’s still alive. Which is more than I can say for my boys yesterday,” Breaker chimed in. “I’m just glad you left us a little something to take apart when we get back to—holy fuck!”
“What is it?” Raptor said, standing up and turning to where Breaker and Tank stood in the center of the clearing.
The big men were both staring down the street, weapons lowered. Breaker pointed, and Raptor turned to follow his finger. “You have got to be fucking kidding me…”
“What’s going on up there, Raptor?” Duke snapped.
Sheila stepped out of cover and into the main thoroughfare of the compound, which was almost big enough to be a little town square. She looked up the street at the small wooden schoolhouse, which was totally engulfed in flames. Fire shot out of every window, and in seconds the roof was completely ablaze. “Sir, it looks like the school is burning.”
“The school where every person in the town is holed up?” Duke asked, his voice hushed.
“Yes, sir, that school. Whisper…” Raptor hesitated, then pushed on with her question. “Is that us?”
“Not a chance, Sheila. I don’t do civilians. There were kids in that school.” Nobody failed to notice her use of the past tense.
“Guys, you’ve got company,” Lone Star said. “Half a dozen news vans just passed us on the road, hauling ass to your location.”
“Son of a bitch!” Raptor spat. “This whole fucking thing was a setup.”
“What?” Tank asked.
“Get our extraction ready, Tank. We need to be out of here, like ten minutes ago.” Raptor said. Normally she would take to the skies and not worry about an extraction, but with her damaged wings, flight was out of the question.
“I’ve got Manus. We’ll meet you back at the Bunker,” Whisper said.
“I’m in the wind, too,” Blackout said. “I’ll be at the Bunker by morning. Don’t sweat me. Radio silent unless I need you.” His comm clicked off, and the sniper was gone. Raptor had no concerns about the two of them. No one would ever see Whisper unless she wanted them to, even with the battered Manus in tow. Now she just had to get out of there with Breaker and Tank, unless she wanted to learn the intricacies of the Gitmo lunch menu.
Raptor scanned the grounds, empty now except for a few bodies and some flaming bits of debris from the demolished school building. Her earpiece crackled to life and Tank’s voice came over her comm. “Heading your way, Raptor. Breaker, to you in sixty seconds. Be ready to jump for it, we won’t be stopping.” The rumble of a big diesel engine came to her ears and Raptor stood, her head on a swivel.
Tank came around from behind the building housing Manus’s office in a battered Dodge dually pickup that might have started life as white, but now was as much Bondo and rust as paint. The cybernetic behemoth pulled the truck alongside the car Raptor was hiding behind, and she leapt into the passenger seat.
“Strap in, boss,” Tank said, jamming the truck into drive and kicking up dirt and gravel as he headed for the compound’s gates. One news van was already inside, its door open and a cameraman sprinting toward Breaker with a blonde reporter in tow. Breaker crouched, then sprang into the air as Tank barreled past them, his bulky frame landing in the bed of the truck and making the heavy vehicle slew sideways as they shot out of the gate and down the dirt road. The big man pounded on the cab of the truck, then sat down and slumped against the cab.
“Any casualties?” Duke asked.
“None of ours, sir,” Raptor replied.
“How many of theirs?”
“Unknown, sir,” Sheila said. “At least a dozen in the firefight, but I have no idea how many people were in the school when it went up.”
“All the children,” Whisper’s voice was low and tight. “I have confirmation from Manus that there were at least two dozen children in the school, along with another dozen adults.”
“Whisper, I need him alive,” Duke said.
“Nobody needs this motherfucker alive, sir.”
“Do not kill Manus. That is a direct order.”
“Yes, sir,” Whisper said, almost too low to hear.
“And do not put him in a situation that you could let him die accidentally. You are to transport him to the Bunker in at least as good a condition as you acquired him. So I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, sir.” Raptor could almost hear Whisper’s teeth grinding together, but she knew it wasn’t in the other woman’s makeup to defy a direct order from Duke. No matter how much Manus deserved to die a horrible death.
“Get back to the Bunker. I’ve got to talk to the Secretary of Defense about this clusterfuck. I’ll debrief all of you when you get home. Duke out.” Their leader’s comm went silent, and Raptor slumped back into the truck seat, her head bouncing with the rough road and Tank’s erratic driving.
“He sounded pissed,” Tank said.
“You have a gift for understatement, big guy,” Raptor replied.
“How are we going to explain this one to the brass?”
“I have no fucking idea, Tank. I have no fucking idea.”
*****
“What the ever-loving fuck was that?” Duke’s voice roared through the conference room.
“I have no idea, sir,” Raptor stood at the end of the line of TECH Ops at rigid attention.
The stark contrast between the career military members of the team and the previously civilian personnel was apparent in their posture. Breaker, Blackout, Lone Star, and Raptor were at attention, while Tank leaned against a wall, his nonchalant posture doing nothing to calm their irate CO. Viper was the only member of the team seated at the table, his chair leaned back and his feet on the large oval table. Whisper was nowhere to be seen, off somewhere with Manus no doubt.
“How did the news crews know we were there? Were they monitoring our comms?” Duke motioned for the team to sit. They did, Raptor smacking Viper’s feet off the table as she did. The skinny man’s chair wobbled, but Sheila was disappointed to see that he didn’t tumble to the floor.
“No sir,” Breaker said. “I built the encryption on our communication system myself. There is no way any civilian cracked that shit. They must have been tipped off somehow, or Manus called them before he came out to meet us.”
“They were there too fast for that. His compound is at least half an hour from the nearest city, and some of those vans were from even further away. They had some kind of notice ahead of time,” Lone Star said.
“I agree, sir. That fits with something Manus said to me when I confronted him, before the grenade attack. He knew something was going on, and he was a step ahead of us the whole way.”
“At least one,” Viper said. “Now we look like assholes to the whole world.”
“Assholes and murderers,” Tank said. “I don’t mind looking like an asshole, but killing babies? That’s some bullshit, sir.”
“I agree, Tank,” Duke said. “But the genie is out of the bottle now. Between cell phone cameras from the wounded on the scene and the footage the news crews shot themselves, there’s plenty of footage of us on the ground in Albuquerque, and none of it looks good.”
“Did we get anything out of Manus, sir?” Raptor asked.
“Not yet, but Whisper is working on him. If he knows anything about the D.C. attacks, she’ll get it out of him.”
“Yeah, but how much will be left of him when she’s done?” Tank asked. “That chick is scary.”
“Thank you,” Whisper said, suddenly appearing right behind Tank’s chair. The big man jumped out of his chair, which then collapsed under his weight when he landed back in it.
“Goddammit, Whisper! I’m gonna put a friggin’ bell around your neck!” Tank yelled from the floor. He stood up and grabbed a reinforced metal chair from the wall, then slid it over to the table. “I liked that chair. It had a nice cushion for the ass.”
“It didn’t have a cushion, Tank,” Raptor said. “It was just slowly collapsing under your exoskeleton.”
“Let me dream, Raptor,” the big man protested. “I haven’t sat in a normal chair in years.”
“Yeah, but you can walk, you big oaf,” Lone Star said with a chuckle. “Everything’s got a price.”
“What did you get out of Manus?” Duke asked, motioning the others to be silent.
Whisper walked to the end of the conference table and took the lone empty chair by Duke. “He was emailed a script for his anti-government speech this week and sent a bank transfer for a quarter million dollars. He has no idea who sent it, and the money came from a numbered account in the Caymans. I have a few people looking into that, but I’m not very hopeful.”
“Well, you’d better be more than hopeful, young lady, or the second I take office, this program and every one of you metal murderers is going on the scrap heap!” Came a new voice from the doorway. Raptor turned to see a rotund man with a sweaty red face standing in the doorway, with a face full of fury. It looked like one of their protects had decided to join the festivities.
by john | Dec 11, 2018 | Uncategorized
Are you missing any chapters? Click the Raptor tag at the bottom of the post to get them all!
9
Raptor glided in over the farm, her enhanced vision relaying a feed of what she saw back to Duke, who directed the assault from a mobile command center a mile away. “There are two guards in each of the three towers,” she reported. “Each one armed with a scoped rifle. Probably a Remington 700 or something like that.”
“I’ve got eyes on the north tower,” Lone Star said over the comm unit. “They are positive targets.
“South tower is covered,” Blackout’s voice came across in a low murmur. “Two positive targets.”
“West tower is covered,” Whisper said. “One positive target.”
“There are two tangos in the west tower, Whisper. Confirm.” Raptor swept back around and double-checked. There were two people walking the post in the tower, just like she saw a – what the hell?
The shorter guard turned, took three quick strides over to the other guard, and wrapped an arm around his neck. Seconds later, the taller guard dropped to the floor.
“West tower secure,” Whisper’s voice came across the comms. “One tango down in the tower, one down in the barracks.”
“Jesus, Whisper,” Raptor said in a hush. “How the hell did you manage that?”
“That’s what I do, Raptor. Duke, west tower is secure. It’s go time.”
“Roger that, Whisper. All teams go. Remember, we need at least a couple of them alive.”
“Too late for these guys,” Lone Star said. The flat crack of his sniper rifle echoed across the fields twice, and the two guards in the north tower slumped to the floor. Half a second later, the guards in the south tower were down.
Raptor tucked her wings in tight to her body and aimed her head down, turning her body into a missile aimed at the ground. Bare seconds before she crashed into the turf, she spread her arms, wings flaring out to the sides and bringing her up in a tight arc just inside the reinforced gates of the Warriors of the Power compound.
Raptor stepped forward and lifted the heavy wooden bar across the metal-reinforced wooden gates, tossing the four-by-four chunk of lumber to the side. “Gates are clear, come on in, boys.”
“There in three, Raptor,” Tank’s voice was gleeful as he spoke. “You don’t want to be too close to that gate.”
Sheila sprang back into the air, activating the small jets on her back just as Tank slammed into the gates with a thunderous crash. The unstoppable force met a very movable object, and move it did. The gates flung open to reveal Tank standing there holding his electric claymore, wearing nothing but a huge Black Watch tartan kilt, blue face paint, and a vicious smile. Breaker stood next to him with a modified minigun in his hand and a case of a thousand rounds of 7.62 ammo strapped to his back. The two behemoths stomped through the door in matching Doc Martens, but Breaker was at least wearing something resembling tactical clothing in his black t-shirt and black pants. The red and blue luchador mask on his face put an end to any semblance of propriety he almost made a nod to.
All over the compound, doors slammed open and men armed with hunting rifles, AR-15s, and shotguns poured out into the central clearing. Raptor stitched a line of 9mm bullets into the ground in front of them, strafing the dirt with her MP-5 from thirty feet in the air.
“You should all rethink a lot of your life choices really fast,” Raptor called down.
“Or don’t,” Tank said, still grinning like a maniac. “I’d really, really like it if you don’t.”
“We have taken your guard towers and destroyed your gate before any of you could fire a shot. We will happily kill every man, woman, and child old enough to pull a trigger in this place if you give us even a hint of an excuse. It’s been a very long week, and we would like to spill some blood.”
“So give us an excuse,” Breaker said. “Pretty please.”
“What in God’s name is going on here?” A tall man with silver hair, a white beard, and an air of absolute calm authority stepped to the front of the group. Sheila recognized him as Harold Manus, leader of the Warriors. His hands were empty, but Sheila took note of the Colt 1911 on his hip and the bulge of a smaller pistol stretching his left pants leg.
“Hideout pistol, left leg,” she murmured, knowing the small mic affixed to her throat would pick up the vibrations and amplify her words to the entire team.
“Got it,” Blackout said. “If his hand goes anywhere near his Colt or his ankle, I’ll part his hair for him. Lone Star is en route to Command.”
“He just got here,” Duke said. “Command is en route to you guys.”
“Roger that,” Raptor said. “I’m going down.” She cut her engines and glided down to land in front of Tank and Breaker, her slender form dwarfed by the heavy gunners, but to be honest, there were entire football teams dwarfed by Tank alone.
“Mr. Manus, my name is Raptor. We need to talk to you about some of the things you said online yesterday.”
“You see, my children!” Harold Manus turned to the others in the clearing and spread his arms wide. “I warned you that this day would come. I told you that the imperialist Zionist Occupation Group, ZOG, the cancer that has grown within our own government, would one day come for me! I have seen this day many times in the visions that God has granted to me, his most favored son! These jackboots are here on the orders of the Zionist infiltrators to oppress me and my white brethren! They are here to force us into race-mixing with Mexicans and the mud people! They are here—“
“I am here to put a foot up your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up and answer my questions,” Sheila said, spinning Manus back around to face her. She reached up to the tall man’s collar and jerked him down until they were almost nose-to-nose. “We are going to go into your office, and we are going to have a conversation. If I don’t like what you have to say, my friends here are going to turn every racist cocksmoker out here into Swiss cheese. Do you understand me?”
“Oh, I understand everything, little Bird of Prey,” Manus said, his voice pitched so that only she could hear. “The question is, do you understand anything about what you have done for me today?”
Raptor looked at him, baffled, then scowled and spun the tall man around again. “I’m going into Mr. Manus’ office. My commanding officer will be here in a moment, and we will have a chat with your leader. If anyone tries anything stupid, it will not go well for you.”
“Please try something,” Tank said with a maniacal grin. Moments like this, when he had his blood up and wanted to hurt somebody, Raptor wondered what he was like when he was wrestling. She had a feeling it was pretty scary.
She led the trim “pastor” into a nearby building and into a small office. Manus sat down behind the plain desk and leaned forward, his elbows on the large calendar that bore the name of nearby feed supply store. “What can I do for you, ma’am? Besides sure the federal government for its unlawful attack on my property. The men you murdered were U.S. Citizens, bearing arms in accordance with their Second Amendment rights, defending our way of life from the influx of—“ His words stopped short as his eyes focused on the barrel of the .40 Smith & Wesson pistol Sheila had pointed at his left eye.
“If you say another word that is not the answer to a direct question, I will paint that window behind you with your brains. Do you understand me?”
Manus nodded, his head moving very slowly. “Yes.”
“Good. Now we’re going to sit here in silence until my boss gets here. Then you’re going to answer all of his questions, without even a hint of reservation, or we are going to make you and everyone in this camp disappear. We won’t send your ass to Gitmo, we will erase every record of your existence from the world. You won’t just vanish, it will be like you were never born. As far as every computer network and public record is concerned, that’s exactly what will have happened – nothing. Do I make myself clear?”
Sheila could see the muscles in his throat working, the lines in his forehead growing deeper, a tiny bead of sweat forming at his temple as he fought the almost irresistible urge to use his charm, his charisma, his honeyed tongue to work its magic on her ears.
After many long heartbeats, he nodded. “Crystal clear.”
“Good, then we can just sit here quietly while my guys keep everything nice and calm outside, and our fearless leader rolls in from—“
“Raptor!” Lone Star’s voice across the comms cut her off. “We got a bogey coming your way!” She heard the crack of his rifle, but no accompanying confirmation that the target was down. Tank’s heavy machine gun spat thunder, and she heard the screams of people outside.
Sheila sprang to her feet and reached across the desk. She latched onto Manus’ shirt front with her cybernetic arm and yanked him up and over the big chunk of wooden furniture.
She heard Blackout yell “Grenade!” over the comm half a second before she heard the glass splinter behind Manus’ desk. Throwing herself and the thin man to the floor, she flexed her shoulders and expanded her wings to their maximum spread. The titanium-alloy fins flared out, and she wrapped them around her body and the man beneath her just as the grenade exploded. Shrapnel tore through the room, turning the heavy wooden desk into a pile of matchsticks and shattering the rest of the window from the frame.
The concussion drove the air from Raptor’s lungs, and the peppering of metal shards shredded her Kevlar jacket, but the microfiber chain mail mesh woven into the coat stopped the worst of the shrapnel. She still felt the warmth of sticky blood running down her back, but she could tell nothing vital was hit.
The rest of the compound erupted in gunfire and mayhem as her TECH Ops team engaged with a suddenly rabid and armed group of what once appeared to be civilians. Sheila stood, looked down at a grinning Manus, and realized the level to which they had been set up.
“You planned this all along, didn’t you?” She asked, pushing herself to her feet.
“Of course,” he said, a small cut on his forehead streaming blood down his face. “I knew you Jew-puppets wouldn’t allow a free white man to stand tall without trying to bring him down. So I trained my warriors of faith to turn aside the forces of ZOG whenever they entered our Holy Land.”
“Shut the fuck up,” she said, swinging her robotic fist through his jaw, shattering it and sending him slumping to the floor, unconscious.
“Duke, get the hell out of here! It’s a trap!” She yelled, exiting the office and running for the front door.
“Good call, Admiral Akbar, now what?” Viper’s laconic voice came over the comms.
“Same thing we do every night, Pinky,” Tank sounded like a giddy little boy at Christmas. “Kill the bad guys and try not to get dead!”
by john | Dec 4, 2018 | Uncategorized
Are you missing any chapters? Click the Raptor tag at the bottom of the post to get them all!
8
“What the ever-long fuck happened out there, Raptor?” Duke didn’t yell. He didn’t rant, he didn’t pound his fists on the table, he didn’t even look disappointed. He just stood at the end of the rectangular dark cherry conference table and looked at the remaining half dozen TECH Ops team members.
“We got our asses handed to us, sir.”
“I see that, but how? Alpha Team was made up of experienced soldiers. There were no half-assed civilians in that group, nor Beta. So how did our two best teams get turned into sausage by a bunch of home-grown David Koresh wannabes?” Duke looked to Raptor like he’d aged ten years in the last twenty-four hours. Shelia supposed losing half your team in one shot could do that to a person.
“I have no idea, sir. We were in the back of the—“
“They were waiting for us,” Blackout interrupted her. “Sorry, Raptor, but you weren’t up there. We were. Me and Breaker were in the ballroom. I don’t know what happened to Alpha, but they caught us by surprise because they were in the building before we were. So were their weapons.”
“How the hell did that happen?” Duke asked the man.
“I have no idea, sir.” The trim man looked abashed at having to admit to Duke that he got caught with his pants down, but his gaze never wavered. He sat ramrod-straight in his reinforced chair at the table, his hands folded on the dark wood in front of him. “The first shooter I engaged was dressed like part of the catering crew, but I honestly don’t remember if they all were or not. It very quickly turned into shoot at anyone who shot at us, and try to stay alive.”
“Yeah, it was a mess, sir,” Breaker added. “Longshot went down almost as soon as the shooting started. It was like they intentionally took him out first. ‘Dozer held out for a while, laid down cover fire for the Secret Service guys and the candidates to get behind the podium and try to stay out of the field of fire. Me and Blackout were at the back of the room by the sound guy, and we were pinned down by friggin’ waiters with MP-5s.”
“Were you injured badly, Breaker?” Duke asked, taking a look at the man for the first time. He was adorned with bandages, and a strip of gauze wound around his forehead.
He shook his head. “No sir. I got a through-and-through to my left bicep that would be a real problem if I couldn’t hold my gun with my right, but everything else is just scratches.” Raptor looked over at the man, who she only knew to nod at in the breakfast line. He flexed his cybernetic right hand, the gleaming metal catching the fluorescent light and making him look particularly menacing as he gave Duke a grim smile. Sheila very much wanted to see what he did to the men who planned this attack when he caught them.
“Do we know who the target was, sir?” Raptor asked.
“Not yet,” Duke replied.
“Has anyone claimed responsibility?” Lone Star chimed in.
“Nothing. There’s not even chatter on the DarkNet,” Viper replied before Duke had a chance to speak. “Oh, sorry, boss. My bad.” He motioned to Duke, who chuckled.
“No, go ahead, Viper. I’ll cede the floor to your expertise in all matters cyber.”
“Good idea,” Viper said, standing up. He seemed to never stop growing taller as he unspooled his lanky frame from under the table and turned to address the team. “Usually when something like this happens you get three waves of attention-seekers. First you get the Katos, the people who want to know something about the attack because they think they can get famous. You’ll even have a few false confessions, depending on how high-profile the attack is. The only people that died today are civilians, soldiers, and cops, so you won’t have much of that. Not enough public sympathy for the glory hounds.”
“Then you’ll get the conspiracy nuts throwing their theories around. These aren’t so much people claiming to have perpetrated the attack as people claiming to see a pattern in it, and to know what happens next. They’re every bit as useless as the first bunch. Then, finally, you have the real possibilities. Most of the time you’ll have two or three groups claim responsibility for an attack, especially one that threatens the election coming up. It’s usually pretty easy to figure out who’s a poseur and who’s the real deal, just based on history and ideology.”
“But this time there’s nothing. No chatter about who it might be, no conspiracy nuts, no thrill-seekers, nobody that wants their name in the papers – nothing. And that’s weird.” He finished and sat down, but not before looking around the table at the shocked expressions on the faces of his teammates. “What? You want me to say something about Raptor’s boobs so you’ll remember it’s really me? This is my shit. If it’s online, it’s my world. And nobody knows my world better than me. I want these guys as much as anybody else.”
“So we have no idea who did it?” Blackout asked.
“And likely won’t until the forensics teams are done, or someone comes forward to claim the attack,” Duke replied.
“Or there’s another attack,” Tank chimed in from a specially-built chair at the far end of the table. His enormous frame required special consideration before he added several hundred pounds of exoskeleton to it. Now, even using titanium for most of his parts, he weighed in at nearly a quarter ton.
“Unfortunately, Tank’s right,” Duke said. “And you all know that those words coming out of my mouth feels like putting a tuxedo on a chimpanzee. But the likelihood of another attack is definitely something we need to pay attention to.”
“Where are the candidates today?” Blackout asked. “They were pretty insistent about keeping their campaign appearances. Do we need to deploy the rest of us out there to keep an eye on them?”
“They’re sequestered,” Duke said. “And no. The Secret Service seem to think that they can protect the individual candidates better without us there to call attention to things, and I don’t hate that idea.”
“There’s also the possibility that they weren’t the targets,” Raptor said, a thoughtful expression on her face.
All eyes swung over to her. “What are you suggesting, Sergeant?” Duke asked.
“I’m not suggesting anything, sir, I’m just making sure that we look at this crap from every angle. We lost fully half our operatives in that assault, sir. We’re down to four field-ready operatives and two rookies, one of which is a convicted felon with no field experience of any kind. These bastards scared the shit out of a couple of politicians, and killed some good police officers and Secret Service agents, but they crippled us.”
“She’s right, boss,” Tank agreed. “We’re supposed to be able to respond to two situations in two cities with a swing team at the base for backup, but now we could barely cover one crisis.”
“I’m well aware of the desired operational parameters of this program, Tank,” Duke said. “But I doubt very seriously that anyone specifically targeted TECH Ops by blowing a convention center all to hell and killing a dozen police officers, Secret Service agents, and civilians. Especially when you consider the fact that this entire program is Top Secret, with yesterday designed as the big reveal. Nobody who would want to kill you even knows you exist yet.”
“Good for Viper,” Lone Star said. “Because wanting to kill him is like the normal reaction whenever somebody meets him for the first time.”
“Very funny, asshole. Don’t you have a river to swim across or something?” Viper shot back.
Lone Star gave him the finger, ignoring the racist jab so as not to give Viper the satisfaction.
“So what’s the plan, Duke?” Raptor asked. “We just going to sit here and wait for something else to happen? Or are we going to find out who did this and kick their ass?”
“The FBI is working the scene. In the meantime—“
“In the meantime, I found a few trees for us to shake. Let’s go to Nebraska, and see what falls out.” All heads turned to the door, where a short woman with nondescript shoulder-length brown hair stood. She wore jeans, running shoes, and a US Navy t-shirt, but something about her decried any history of military service. She almost blended into the wall, the way Raptor’s eyes just slid over her, making her hard to focus on. Sheila shook her head, trying to clear her vision, but she still couldn’t get a good look at the woman.
She reached up and pressed something behind her left ear, and her features snapped into focus. Judging by the confused looks and the shaking heads around the table, Raptor wasn’t the only one who had trouble looking at her. The newcomer stepped into the room and took the empty seat at the table next to Viper. He gave her a long look up and down, then sat up a little straighter and pushed his chair away, a predator who suddenly realized he was no longer anywhere near the top of the food chain.
“Hello, Tara,” Duke said. “Raptor, gentlemen, meet Whisper.”
A low murmur went through the experienced TECH operatives, with Lone Star and Viper trading confused glances.
After a few seconds, Blackout leaned forward and asked the question on everyone’s mind. “You’re Whisper? The Whisper?”
“The only Whisper I know of, Gerald,” she replied, her voice completely calm, as if explaining her existence was something she did every day.
“Yes, this is really Whisper. Yes, Whisper is really real. Only about a third of the things you’ve heard about her are real, but she really is our infiltration and surveillance expert, she really is that damn good, and she really is the deadliest member of this program, and that includes Tank on Chili Night.” Duke restored order to the room without moving from his chair, his voice and presence killing the whispers.
“So you’re sneaky,” Viper said. “Good for you. What do you know about the assholes that tried to kill us?”
“Nothing concrete,” Whisper said. “I’ve been on some message boards and chat groups that I monitor, but there’s been nothing.”
“I could have told you that,” Viper grumbled.
“And you did, about ten minutes ago,” Whisper agreed.
“How did you…” Viper looked around. “She wasn’t anywhere near this room.”
“I bugged the table,” the small woman said. “There’s another one in Breaker’s shoe, but Blackout wore his dress belt to the debrief, so I don’t have any devices on him right now.”
“You bugged me?” Breaker pulled off his shoes and started trying to turn them inside out.
“I bugged everyone,” Whisper said. “It’s what I do. The only one I haven’t bugged is Duke.”
“As far as I know,” Duke said.
“As long as you’re paying the bills, you don’t get surveilled,” Whisper replied.
“Simple plan, I like that,” Duke said. “But what brings you here, Whisper? You hate meetings.”
“I hate everything, Duke, I just hate meetings a little more than most things. I’m here for the mission brief.”
“We don’t have a mission,” Raptor said.
“We do now,” Whisper countered, tossing a red folder into the center of the table. “This was authorized fifteen minutes ago based on communication I intercepted. There’s a militia group in Nebraska making noise about taking out a bunch of fascist government enslavers. That’s us, by the way.”
“Even I knew that,” Viper grumbled.
“They’ve only marched up until now, but this new chatter looks like they’re claiming responsibility for yesterday’s attack.” Raptor closed the folder and slid it across the table to Blackout, who started flipping through the few stapled papers.
“There’s not a lot here,” Blackout said.
“There never is,” Whisper replied.
“Is this enough to go after them?” Lone Star asked.
“If that’s not, this sure as hell is,” Viper slid his cell into the middle of the table. One the screen was a video of a man standing in front of a military-style compound wearing fatigues and holding an AR-15. He was shouting at the top of his lungs, largely incomprehensible screaming.
“That’s Harold Manus,” Whisper said. “Leader of the Sons of Freedom. He’s shouting to the heavens that God visited death upon the fascists, and he is the instrument of God’s will on earth.”
“Sounds like a confession to me,” Duke said. “Let’s go light this bastard up.”
by john | Nov 27, 2018 | Uncategorized
Are you missing any chapters? Click the Raptor tag at the bottom of the post to get them all!
7
Except there wasn’t a fight to go back to. When the trio reached the main ballroom, they found nothing but scattered bodies and spent shell casings. The room looked like the set of a mediocre action movie, except for the dozens of dead civilians scattered across the floor. The smell of gunfire and blood mixed together into a miasma of wartime death that Raptor knew all too well. She saw on the faces of the other TECH Operatives that they remembered it, too. She didn’t know the men well, just from occasional sparring and training sessions, but she remembered both were vets, having done at least a couple of tours in Afghanistan or Iraq. She got the impression that Blackout did some wetwork in some unofficial places, too, but he never talked about those things, and she never asked.
“Fuck,” Breaker muttered as he stepped up onto the platform where they’d left the other two Bravo Team ops. Speakeasy, their surveillance and communications expert and a legendary quickdraw artist, lay decapitated in the center of the platform. Their team leader, A heavy gunner named Bulldozer, a thickly muscled white guy with a shaved head and goatee, was bent backwards over the podium at the center of the stage, his throat cut from ear to ear and his chest split open.
“Whoever did this…this shit was personal,” Blackout said, surveying the scene. He waved a hand around, indicating the entire room “Look at this shit. Everybody is taken out clean. One shot, maybe two or three if it looks like crossfire. But our guys? They wanted to hurt our people.”
The ballroom was still teeming with activity, even after the attack. Civilians screamed in pain, shouted for help, and some just sat on the floor crying. Secret Service agents and police officers walked through the room, kicking guns away from the hands of the dead attackers. The cops flipped a few of the living over and cuffed them, but the majority of the terrorists were dead.
Agent Santos caught sight of Raptor and came running. “Raptor, what was the explosion we heard? Did the candidates get evac’d?”
Raptor pulled the woman aside and spoke in a low voice. “Both candidates, their wives, and a couple of other civilians are fine. We’ve got them in the dock master’s office under guard. Two of my team are back there with them, along with some of your other agents.”
Santos let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear. Our comms went down at the beginning of the attack, and our frequency has stayed jammed ever since. What about yours?”
“We’re good,” Raptor replied. “There’s a dead spot that covers most of the corridors, but the dock is good, and we can communicate in here. Whatever jammer they’re using, it must only have enough range to cover the hallways.”
“What about the explosion?” Santos repeated.
“There was a bomb. We reduced the payload, but it still did some damage to the dock. We managed to avoid any casualties, but it was close. How many did you lose up here?” Raptor looked around the room at the scattered bodies.
“I don’t have a good count on the civilian casualties or the police. We have seven agents KIA, with four more wounded, plus whatever condition the men with you are in.”
“None of them are seriously injured. It looks like we lost two in here. Do you have a sitrep on Alpha Team?”
Santos’ angular face was grim when she looked up at Raptor. “I…I’m fairly certain they were all taken out.”
Raptor felt herself stagger, and a sudden weakness passed through her phantom legs. She knew it was purely psychological, her prosthetics couldn’t get weak in the knees, but it didn’t matter. All of Alpha Team killed? That was inconceivable. “What happened?”
Santos took a deep breath. “There was an RPG attack at the far McCain Street entrance, where Cap was stationed. We believe he was killed instantly. The woman on the team, I’m sorry, I don’t remember—“
“Siren,” Raptor supplied. Tansy Grant was a communications specialist and former karaoke queen who lost her legs in a car accident and joined TECH Ops to atone for the harm she caused when her car crossed the center line and smashed into a minivan coming home from the bar one Saturday night. Raptor blinked hard. Siren wasn’t really Sheila’s usual kind of girl-pal, but being two of the women in the program had forged a very unique bond between them.
“Yes, Siren. She ran to help Cap and was killed by a suicide bomber in a followup attack.”
“Get the first responders,” Raptor said. It was a classic, right out of Chapter One of the Fuck Shit Up Playbook. A secondary explosion following an attack can often have greater impact than the first one, because it take out EMTs, Firefighters, and others who are typically considered off the target list. Except nowadays, nobody was off the target list.
“What about Rockstar and Pyro?” Raptor asked after a few seconds. “They were supposed to hold the main entrance.”
“And they did, as long as they could. But eventually they were overwhelmed. You guys are tough, and some of the shit you can do looks like Superman, but your soft bits aren’t bulletproof. Throw enough lead at you, and you go down. That’s what happened to your other two men. Apparently they went down under a hail of automatic weapons fire.”
“Dammit,” Sheila took a deep breath, trying to still the whirlwind of emotion roiling through her. Focus. None of that shit helps right now. Deal with it back at the Bunker. “Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “What’s the plan? This is still your rodeo, so what do we do?”
Santos shot her a grateful look, probably just happy she wasn’t going to have to fight for jurisdiction with anyone else. Raptor didn’t give a single shit about jurisdiction, or credit, or any of that crap. Their people were dead, the men who killed them needed to pay, and the candidates still needed protection. That’s all they could focus on.
“The mission hasn’t changed, it’s just shifted location. We need to make sure the candidates are safe. This is now an active crime scene, so we need to clear out and let the FBI techs do their work. A team has been called in from CITY, they should be here any minute. I need to set up an enhanced detail with the protectees, so let’s pull all your people and all my people back to the dock office until we can get an extraction in place.”
“Sounds good,” Raptor nodded, then relayed that through comm to her team. “But you should know, nothing is getting in or out of that loading dock for a long time, vehicle-wise. We blew up a lot of shit out there.”
“That’s fine. Worst case, I think I can count on you guys to make a hole.” Santos gathered her remaining agents, relayed their intentions to the FBI agent in charge of the scene, and they headed back to the loading dock. Raptor hung back to cover their rear and to watch as Blackout knelt by Bulldozer’s side for a moment before reaching over and sliding the big man’s eyes closed. He fell into step beside Raptor, who could have sworn she saw a glimmer of moisture in his eyes.
*****
“You want us to what?” The incredulous question came from Edmund Carstairs IV, the current Freedom Party Presidential candidate. His red face shifted all the way to purple as he attempted to stare down Agent Santos.
Santos was having none of it. “I don’t want you to do anything, sir. I am telling you what you will do. You will remain inside this office while Tank creates an extraction point on the far wall. Then you and your wife will carefully step through the rubble and make your way, along with Mr. Henry and Mr. Fortuna and their spouses, to the waiting Suburban, which will take the six of you to a secure location. This is not a request, this is not an option, and this is not up for debate.”
“Young lady, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I’m—“
“Shut the fuck up, you ignorant twat,” Viper’s laconic drawl cut through the room like a machete.
The candidate whirled around, somehow managing to look even more apoplectic than he had seconds before. “What. Did. You. Say. To. Me?” He asked, accentuating each word.
“I said, ‘Shut the fuck up, you ignorant twat,’” Viper replied. “I’ll be a little gentler this time if you need it. Please shut the fuck up, you ignorant twat. Santos is giving you a ride out of here in a bulletproof SUV. Fucking take it. If you don’t want it, in about thirty seconds, there’ll be a big fucking hole in the wall. It’s a lovely day for a walk.”
“Come on, Ed,” Jared Henry, the Republican candidate said. “We’ve all been through a terrible experience, let’s just get back to our airplanes safely and get this place behind us.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Santos said. “But you will all be staying here in Albequerque for at least the next 48 hours while this incident is under investigation.”
Henry, the current leader in every major poll turned to Santos, his million-watt smile undimmed by the carnage he’d witnessed in the past hour. “Young lady, I’m not sure if you noticed, but there is an election in barely two months. This was to be one of our most important stops, but certainly not the only one, and—“
“Do I have to call every motherfucker in here a stupid twat, or can I just issue a blanket goddam proclamation that you’re all fucking idiots and let that be all?” Viper said, stepping to the middle of the room. “You,” he pointed at Carstairs. “You don’t have a snowball’s fucking chance in the first place. Everybody knows you’re in this asshole’s pocket,” here he pointed to Henry. “So this limp-dicked shitweasel,” he pointed at Vincent Fortuna, the Democratic candidate. “Just has to stand around with his wee little cock in his hand and watch you siphon off enough votes to get your twatwaffle pal Jared into the White House so you can ride off into the sunset to a cushy job at some Libertarian think tank or some other useless piece of Washington bullshit.”
All three candidates looked on the verge of aneurisms, but Viper wasn’t finished. “Now, personally, I don’t give a single fuck about any of these assholes. But Santos, she seems like she’s mostly not a moron. She’s lost a lot of friends today in the name of keeping you idiots alive. Same goes for Raptor. Me, I don’t have any friends, and don’t care if you walk out of here into the back of a safe ride, or leave in eight different body bags. But in about fifteen seconds, the big stupid one over there is going to make a hole in the wall. I’d suggest when that happens, that you exit through it. Because I sure as fuck will.”
Raptor just leaned against the wall and watched as her newest team member launched his profanity-laced tirade against the three men most likely to be elected leader of the free world. If they survived to November. She didn’t like Viper. She didn’t trust him yet, either. But he certainly had a way of getting his point across that was unmistakable. The men fell silent, glowering at the skinny hacker and probably mentally composing the emails they’d sent to the Director of the Secret Service and anyone they thought would listen at the Pentagon.
Too bad those emails would get them absolutely nowhere. Viper had evaluated the situation perfectly right from the start. He could do and say almost anything and it would have almost no consequences. He, in fact all of the TECH Ops teams, were simply too valuable to cut loose. At nearly half a billion dollars each, the only thing that was going to get them pulled from active duty and their parts reassigned was a felony, and even then it had to be one of the bad ones.
“Can I please fuck some shit up now?” Tank asked. Santos gave him a nod, and he left the office, walking over to the exterior wall. He made a big show of sizing it up, patting the cinderblocks in a few places, then he walked back about twenty feet and planted himself. He held out his arms and squeezed his fists, extending a pair of shoulder-mounted mini-guns from his back. The barrels spun in the air for the briefest of seconds, then hundreds of 7.62mm rounds spat from the rotating barrels.
The deafening roar was punctuated by Tank’s howls of glee as the bullets chewed into the soft concrete, sawing a rectangular opening in the wall within seconds. Devastation wrought to his apparent satisfaction, he strode over to the wall and kicked it with his right foot. The entire section of brick and concrete collapsed outward, covering him in a cloud of fine gray dust.
Raptor just shook her head, watching the big goof work. He was good with those mini-guns, a real artist, and strong as his namesake. Now she just had to keep him alive.
A black Suburban pulled up to the hole in the wall and the rear doors opened. A black-suited Secret Service agent hopped out of the passenger seat and stopped dead at the sight of the behemoth standing in the newly-created doorway. Tank stepped aside and gestured for the man to enter the loading dock. The agent just nodded at him and stepped up to the hole, waving at Raptor where she stood by the door of the office.
Raptor cleared the door and Santos lead the candidates and her surviving agents out toward the waiting car. They piled in and sped off without so much as a nod goodbye, peeling rubber along the street in their hurry to get their protectees out of the area.
Viper stepped up to stand next to Raptor. “I suppose this is the part where you tell me I’m a dick for talking to those morons like that.”
“No,” Raptor said, looking up at the shocked man. “This is the point where I thank you for saying what I couldn’t. I’m a sergeant in the United States Marine Corps, and I always will be. But you’re a civilian, and you don’t care anything about the chain of command, or respecting anything or anyone. That’s what we needed at that moment, and I appreciate it.”
Viper looked a little shocked, but he recovered and a grin spread across his narrow features. “So you’re saying that you want to reward my initiative?” He leered down at her.
“No, I’m saying if you ever use that kind of language when talking to me, I’ll shove your razor blade so far up your ass you can shave with it from the inside of your face. Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
