BMPixy
Well-Known Member
Alright, let’s hope these RTOs work properly. Three, two, one. On the mental signal I phased back into existence and sent a boot out at the door, sending it slamming open. I barreled forward, seeing the man- African-American, two or three centimeters on me, a bit more muscled- spin around, a gun raised with his other hand reaching to turn off the safety. The first shot went wide, impacting the wall to my right, and a grin popped up on my face. Doesn’t this guy know? The safest place to be in a breach is the first one in. As he aimed for the second shot I jumped forward, tackling him against the bank of monitors in front of him, the pistol discharging a second time into the roof.
As if swimming through molasses, the gun swung down to pistol whip me, but I pushed myself back, letting him hit nothing but air. I grabbed the limb he was swinging with and pulled it forward, rocketing my other fist, the one carrying the Arc Thrower, into his face. The two met halfway through their arcs, and the man recoiled back, his nose broken by the blow. Pressing my advantage, I spun around behind him, still holding on to his gun arm, and swept his legs from underneath him, forcing him to his knees. With a twist of his arm the man cried in pain, his arm dislocated and the pistol out of his grasp. A boot to his back sent him face first onto the floor, and I leveled the Arc Thrower, letting loose the bolt of electricity, which knocked the man out.
I took a quick look through the security camera feeds, and nodded in satisfaction at seeing no other presences on the monitors. Now how to deal with this guy...
As I took those few breaths to calm myself down, I pulled the phone out of my pocket, flipping it open. I opened up the contacts, selected the only name on there, and hit the call button. By the time the phone was picked up, time had resumed it’s normal pace.
“Foulke, what is it?” my contact asked, concern evident in her voice.
“EXALT’s buggered out of here,” I said, leaning against a wall. “Nothing left except the security guard I tazed. By the way, I’m gonna need the van out back, need to move the body to somewhere we can interrogate him.”
“What makes you think that he knows anything?”
“Well, aside from the fact that when I breached he came out shooting, I figure that EXALT would need security to work for them, so that he doesn’t go spilling the beans.”
“Right, I’ll bring the van over. I have a safe house about twenty minutes away, we can toss him in the back for the ride over.”
“Alright, I’ll be waiting out back,” I said, pulling the phone away from my ear and hanging up. “Now for you...” I added, voicing my thoughts.
I pocketed the phone as I stepped over to the unconscious man, grabbing him and lifting him onto my shoulder. I staggered a bit under the man’s weight- what is he, a hundred kilos?-, but did not buckle. Under the burdensome weight, I slowly made my way out of the storage room, and slid out of the back entrance. A minute or two passed as I waited outside, until the familiar rumble of the van’s engine pulled around the corner and up to my position, whereupon it stopped.
I slid around the back of the vehicle, a difficult task in the cramped alley, and popped open the rear door. Sarita glanced backwards, and shook her head slowly at the sight of me tossing the security’s guard’s unconscious body into the back of the vehicle.
“You’ll have to ride in the backseat, just to make sure he doesn’t try anything,” she said, to which I replied with a shrug, complying with her request.
The ride was silent, the only sound coming from the rolling of tires upon road and the gentle rumble of the engine as Sarita navigated the clustered city streets. Finally, after an agonizing silence, the van slowed down in front of a small, slightly rundown house. With a tap on one of the many devices on the visor, the garage door slid open, and the Mexican slid the vehicle into the opening, the door closing behind her as she did so.
As Sarita got out of the driver’s seat, I slid out of my seat and around back, fumbling around in the dark to get the handle on the door. With a flick a pair of dim fluorescent lights turned on, providing some illumination to the garage. I hauled the captive out of the back of the vehicle, and Sarita led me into the house, down some steps, and into a sparse basement, with only a closet, a chair, and a bench covered in power tools decorating the room.
“Prop him up in the chair, I’ll scrounge up some bindings,” Quintana said, walking over to the closet.
“Not the first time you’ve done this here,” I stated, laying the unconscious body on the chair, which I noted was bolted to the floor.
“Yeah, used to do some shady stuff for the FBI back in the day, then when they let me go I started doing it freelance,” Sarita replied, returning from her supply trip carrying three pairs of handcuffs and a ball-gag. “Now I’m doing it for XCOM, and the pay’s a hell of a lot better.”
“Anything you need help with?” I offered, extending a hand.
She quickly filled that hand with two sets of cuffs. “Yeah, secure his legs to the chair, one cuff per leg. I’ll get his arms and mouth.” I crouched down and got to work, cuffing him to the chair’s legs. “Jesus Cristo...” she muttered, “Did ya really have to dislocate his shoulder?”
“Well, considering that was his gun arm, I felt I had to,” I replied, securing his other leg.
“Right, just remind me to never get in a fight with you without a gun and ten meters between us,” Sarita said. “Ugh, I’ll have to get a rag to stop the bleeding, don’t want him to bleed out over night,” she added.
“Yeah, almost got shot twice for this guy, better get some solid intel out of him,” I commented, standing as the agent finished securing the ball gag on him.
“Just head out to the van, I’ll meet you out there once I clean up this pendejo,” she replied, waving a hand to dismiss me. I obliged, and made my way back out to the vehicle, climbing in the passenger seat.
God, I hope this guy knows something, or else we’re fucked.
As if swimming through molasses, the gun swung down to pistol whip me, but I pushed myself back, letting him hit nothing but air. I grabbed the limb he was swinging with and pulled it forward, rocketing my other fist, the one carrying the Arc Thrower, into his face. The two met halfway through their arcs, and the man recoiled back, his nose broken by the blow. Pressing my advantage, I spun around behind him, still holding on to his gun arm, and swept his legs from underneath him, forcing him to his knees. With a twist of his arm the man cried in pain, his arm dislocated and the pistol out of his grasp. A boot to his back sent him face first onto the floor, and I leveled the Arc Thrower, letting loose the bolt of electricity, which knocked the man out.
I took a quick look through the security camera feeds, and nodded in satisfaction at seeing no other presences on the monitors. Now how to deal with this guy...
As I took those few breaths to calm myself down, I pulled the phone out of my pocket, flipping it open. I opened up the contacts, selected the only name on there, and hit the call button. By the time the phone was picked up, time had resumed it’s normal pace.
“Foulke, what is it?” my contact asked, concern evident in her voice.
“EXALT’s buggered out of here,” I said, leaning against a wall. “Nothing left except the security guard I tazed. By the way, I’m gonna need the van out back, need to move the body to somewhere we can interrogate him.”
“What makes you think that he knows anything?”
“Well, aside from the fact that when I breached he came out shooting, I figure that EXALT would need security to work for them, so that he doesn’t go spilling the beans.”
“Right, I’ll bring the van over. I have a safe house about twenty minutes away, we can toss him in the back for the ride over.”
“Alright, I’ll be waiting out back,” I said, pulling the phone away from my ear and hanging up. “Now for you...” I added, voicing my thoughts.
I pocketed the phone as I stepped over to the unconscious man, grabbing him and lifting him onto my shoulder. I staggered a bit under the man’s weight- what is he, a hundred kilos?-, but did not buckle. Under the burdensome weight, I slowly made my way out of the storage room, and slid out of the back entrance. A minute or two passed as I waited outside, until the familiar rumble of the van’s engine pulled around the corner and up to my position, whereupon it stopped.
I slid around the back of the vehicle, a difficult task in the cramped alley, and popped open the rear door. Sarita glanced backwards, and shook her head slowly at the sight of me tossing the security’s guard’s unconscious body into the back of the vehicle.
“You’ll have to ride in the backseat, just to make sure he doesn’t try anything,” she said, to which I replied with a shrug, complying with her request.
The ride was silent, the only sound coming from the rolling of tires upon road and the gentle rumble of the engine as Sarita navigated the clustered city streets. Finally, after an agonizing silence, the van slowed down in front of a small, slightly rundown house. With a tap on one of the many devices on the visor, the garage door slid open, and the Mexican slid the vehicle into the opening, the door closing behind her as she did so.
As Sarita got out of the driver’s seat, I slid out of my seat and around back, fumbling around in the dark to get the handle on the door. With a flick a pair of dim fluorescent lights turned on, providing some illumination to the garage. I hauled the captive out of the back of the vehicle, and Sarita led me into the house, down some steps, and into a sparse basement, with only a closet, a chair, and a bench covered in power tools decorating the room.
“Prop him up in the chair, I’ll scrounge up some bindings,” Quintana said, walking over to the closet.
“Not the first time you’ve done this here,” I stated, laying the unconscious body on the chair, which I noted was bolted to the floor.
“Yeah, used to do some shady stuff for the FBI back in the day, then when they let me go I started doing it freelance,” Sarita replied, returning from her supply trip carrying three pairs of handcuffs and a ball-gag. “Now I’m doing it for XCOM, and the pay’s a hell of a lot better.”
“Anything you need help with?” I offered, extending a hand.
She quickly filled that hand with two sets of cuffs. “Yeah, secure his legs to the chair, one cuff per leg. I’ll get his arms and mouth.” I crouched down and got to work, cuffing him to the chair’s legs. “Jesus Cristo...” she muttered, “Did ya really have to dislocate his shoulder?”
“Well, considering that was his gun arm, I felt I had to,” I replied, securing his other leg.
“Right, just remind me to never get in a fight with you without a gun and ten meters between us,” Sarita said. “Ugh, I’ll have to get a rag to stop the bleeding, don’t want him to bleed out over night,” she added.
“Yeah, almost got shot twice for this guy, better get some solid intel out of him,” I commented, standing as the agent finished securing the ball gag on him.
“Just head out to the van, I’ll meet you out there once I clean up this pendejo,” she replied, waving a hand to dismiss me. I obliged, and made my way back out to the vehicle, climbing in the passenger seat.
God, I hope this guy knows something, or else we’re fucked.