Creeping foolishly close to the building, crouching under iced over metal ladders and pieces of catwalk, she listened to the others being grouped and herded into the compound. Someone was struck with a rifle, but no more shots were fired. She held her breath and waited. When the sound of a heavy door being swung shut hit her ears, she looped her rifle over her back and pulled herself up onto the long-abandoned scaffolding attached to the building's side, and started climbing.
Yorick and Sam were alive in the building. If she took too long, that would cease to be the case. She pulled out her sidearm, checked the silencer, and proceeded along the roof top.
It took her a solid half an hour and seven corpses to get inside.
She spent a few moments crouched in a concrete room, listening for sounds of life and moving her ammunitions, flashbangs and knives around so they would be available in the order she needed them. She pushed her goggles up and started down the hall. It was slow going, picking her battles, stopping and starting as she went to avoid some people and quietly slip blades into the trachea of others. By the time she reached the hall with the holding cells, she could hear the quiet rattling gurgle of someone who had had their lungs kicked in.
She spun around the corner in a small, tight arc and place rounds in necks and faces of the four insurgent men- and one ex-SAS officer- and held her position until they collapsed. She strafed silently down the hall and ducked into the cell where the noises were coming from.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, looking over her comrade's vital signs as they failed.
When she slipped out of the cell a few moments later, the noises had stopped. She nodded to the other Russians as she passed them and moved toward the end of the hall, checking the fallen insurgents' pockets as she went. She rummaged over the body of the Australian for a moment, then lifted her head and pushed her weather hood back to look at Sam.
no subject
Creeping foolishly close to the building, crouching under iced over metal ladders and pieces of catwalk, she listened to the others being grouped and herded into the compound. Someone was struck with a rifle, but no more shots were fired. She held her breath and waited. When the sound of a heavy door being swung shut hit her ears, she looped her rifle over her back and pulled herself up onto the long-abandoned scaffolding attached to the building's side, and started climbing.
Yorick and Sam were alive in the building. If she took too long, that would cease to be the case. She pulled out her sidearm, checked the silencer, and proceeded along the roof top.
It took her a solid half an hour and seven corpses to get inside.
She spent a few moments crouched in a concrete room, listening for sounds of life and moving her ammunitions, flashbangs and knives around so they would be available in the order she needed them. She pushed her goggles up and started down the hall. It was slow going, picking her battles, stopping and starting as she went to avoid some people and quietly slip blades into the trachea of others. By the time she reached the hall with the holding cells, she could hear the quiet rattling gurgle of someone who had had their lungs kicked in.
She spun around the corner in a small, tight arc and place rounds in necks and faces of the four insurgent men- and one ex-SAS officer- and held her position until they collapsed. She strafed silently down the hall and ducked into the cell where the noises were coming from.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, looking over her comrade's vital signs as they failed.
When she slipped out of the cell a few moments later, the noises had stopped. She nodded to the other Russians as she passed them and moved toward the end of the hall, checking the fallen insurgents' pockets as she went. She rummaged over the body of the Australian for a moment, then lifted her head and pushed her weather hood back to look at Sam.
"Found you."