Natalya cursed. She managed not to keep darting glances at Sam's shoulder or Yorick's general well being. She leaned her head out in a darting glance, pulling back fro the sporadic hail of gunfire sent her way.
"Sam, Yorick- be closing your eyes," she said, then pulled something small, roundish and black out of her pocket.
"Flashbang!" she called and chucked it down the hall. It landed, rolled, and then a horrible burst of light and noise filled the small space. She flung herself out into the hall, landing stretched flat on her side, and put rounds in every available extremity she could. She scrambled up, running hard down the hallway, loosing short bursts of rounds from the AK she'd picked up, hearing the others moving behind her, when a glock came down practically on her temple from an alcove between the stairwell and the doors that led out, and up.
She jerked her body back, out of the way, and instinctively threw an elbow. It was caught and she found herself connecting with a concrete wall a little harder than she would have strictly liked. She pulled her body down and tighter together, like a boxer, like Rodya had shown her for grueling weeks of hand to hand before he'd even let her touch a scope, just dodging what should have been a blow to the head. She shoved back against the ex-SAS, older and heavier but not as fast as she was, determined as hell and- she could tell- angry. Surprised. Angry to find himself surprised. He hit her across the face, a dizzying blow that she refused to let shake her, and she came back by kicking him in the chest hard enough to send him three feet away. She whipped her rifle off her shoulder in time to use it to parry the muzzle of his pistol, knocking the shot into the wall behind her instead of her stomach. She almost didn't see the knife coming.
She flipped the barrel of the rifle to scrape the knife's hilt and use it as leverage to keep the blade away from her throat, where it was trying to go. There were no clever one liners to be uttered- she couldn't even find it in her to make sound. She practically held her breath.
He was getting taller and her spine was being crushed harder into the wall, but she was also turning the rifle as he pushed her, sinking down and wedging his hand further toward her neck as she did. Counter intuitive- very- but when she kicked his instep to set him off balance and his own chin found itself a few inches from the business end of her dragunov, it payed off.
The shot was loud in her ears, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut and turn her head to avoid the muzzle flash, but after a moment the mercenary's body fell slowly away from her. When he hit the floor, the back of his head didn't crack on the concrete only because it was no longer there. She slid down, panting, streaking blood across her skin as she wiped it away from her eyes, thinking idly that with her hair so short and pale and all the sun she'd gotten from the island gone from her complexion, she had to resemble the blood spattered snow outside.
She looked over the hallway, the armed and poised Spetsnaz behind her, Yorick looking grim but ready in the back and Sam looking... she had difficulty parsing Sam's expression. But he was there. They all were, more or less. She pulled her rifle snug up to her shoulder and gestured with one hand before kicking out the door and almost stumbling out into the snow. The Spetsnaz followed, and she let them take point while she waited for Sam and Yorick to join her.
"We are secure building," she said, voice rough in her throat, "signal team what is waiting. There is, eh. Nuclear element, here, must needs be- is raw materials are need careful treating. For these specialist, we are wait."
"Sounds exciting," Yorick said, a bit lamely, but Natalya flashed him a smile. He managed one in return.
"Da," she said. "Is typical Russian vacations." She nodded toward the stairs then started up them. When they exited onto the roof, she took a knee and scanned it before getting back up and, finally, lowering her rifle. Another officer was bent over a radio. She let out a terse breath.
"If it's done, it should be done. What are we missing?"
no subject
"Sam, Yorick- be closing your eyes," she said, then pulled something small, roundish and black out of her pocket.
"Flashbang!" she called and chucked it down the hall. It landed, rolled, and then a horrible burst of light and noise filled the small space. She flung herself out into the hall, landing stretched flat on her side, and put rounds in every available extremity she could. She scrambled up, running hard down the hallway, loosing short bursts of rounds from the AK she'd picked up, hearing the others moving behind her, when a glock came down practically on her temple from an alcove between the stairwell and the doors that led out, and up.
She jerked her body back, out of the way, and instinctively threw an elbow. It was caught and she found herself connecting with a concrete wall a little harder than she would have strictly liked. She pulled her body down and tighter together, like a boxer, like Rodya had shown her for grueling weeks of hand to hand before he'd even let her touch a scope, just dodging what should have been a blow to the head. She shoved back against the ex-SAS, older and heavier but not as fast as she was, determined as hell and- she could tell- angry. Surprised. Angry to find himself surprised. He hit her across the face, a dizzying blow that she refused to let shake her, and she came back by kicking him in the chest hard enough to send him three feet away. She whipped her rifle off her shoulder in time to use it to parry the muzzle of his pistol, knocking the shot into the wall behind her instead of her stomach. She almost didn't see the knife coming.
She flipped the barrel of the rifle to scrape the knife's hilt and use it as leverage to keep the blade away from her throat, where it was trying to go. There were no clever one liners to be uttered- she couldn't even find it in her to make sound. She practically held her breath.
He was getting taller and her spine was being crushed harder into the wall, but she was also turning the rifle as he pushed her, sinking down and wedging his hand further toward her neck as she did. Counter intuitive- very- but when she kicked his instep to set him off balance and his own chin found itself a few inches from the business end of her dragunov, it payed off.
The shot was loud in her ears, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut and turn her head to avoid the muzzle flash, but after a moment the mercenary's body fell slowly away from her. When he hit the floor, the back of his head didn't crack on the concrete only because it was no longer there. She slid down, panting, streaking blood across her skin as she wiped it away from her eyes, thinking idly that with her hair so short and pale and all the sun she'd gotten from the island gone from her complexion, she had to resemble the blood spattered snow outside.
She looked over the hallway, the armed and poised Spetsnaz behind her, Yorick looking grim but ready in the back and Sam looking... she had difficulty parsing Sam's expression. But he was there. They all were, more or less. She pulled her rifle snug up to her shoulder and gestured with one hand before kicking out the door and almost stumbling out into the snow. The Spetsnaz followed, and she let them take point while she waited for Sam and Yorick to join her.
"We are secure building," she said, voice rough in her throat, "signal team what is waiting. There is, eh. Nuclear element, here, must needs be- is raw materials are need careful treating. For these specialist, we are wait."
"Sounds exciting," Yorick said, a bit lamely, but Natalya flashed him a smile. He managed one in return.
"Da," she said. "Is typical Russian vacations." She nodded toward the stairs then started up them. When they exited onto the roof, she took a knee and scanned it before getting back up and, finally, lowering her rifle. Another officer was bent over a radio. She let out a terse breath.
"If it's done, it should be done. What are we missing?"