The terrorist organisation responsible for the attack on the MRF strikes again.
There was a sound resembling a low metallic click as the man loaded his magazine into his handgun and pulled the breechblock.
"It's just you in there, so no unnecessary risks, T. B will be covering you from two buildings over, so if you're in a tight spot, stick close to the windows on the south facing side."
Placing his Colt .45 into the holster strapped to his belt, T reached up and swung the AK-47 from the strap on his back into his hands. Still listening to the radio, he checked the sight was in line before pulling out a spare magazine and a roll of duct-tape.
"K will be hacking into their security systems, so you won't be picked up unless someone actually sees you, so keep it quiet."
Flipping the spare magazine upside down, T proceeded to tape it to the side of the magazine already loaded into the gun.
"Avoid using your firearms if at all possible. Knives will do. If you are in a situation, however, you have permission to shoot."
Replacing the gun to it's former position, T proceeded to methodically check the knives strapped to his belt and left leg.
"Hey, D," T said, reaching up and pressing the button on his radio.
"What is it?" the static lined voice replied.
"This would be a lot easier if C was here with me," T said, slight amusement filling his voice.
"C is MIA at current time," the voice replied. "Your just going to have to make do without your partner at present time. And even if he were here, he's too much of a liability."
"Fine with me," T chuckled.
"Is the device prepped and ready?" D's voice crackled.
"I built the device," T laughed in a matter-of-fact manner. "Of course it's prepped and ready."
"Alright then. In and out in forty. Pick up at 1700. Over and out."
There was a high toned electrical distortion as the radio signal ended.
"Hey...Connor?" General Miles whispered, cradling the receiver of his phone in his hands. "I- It's your father... I know I'm only talking to a machine, but..." He paused and let out a heavy sigh. "I...I'm sorry..."
Slamming the phone back down onto the receiver, Miles groaned and proceeded to clasp his head in his hands.
It had been five years since his son had left. It wouldn't have been as bad if he had simply left home. The fact that he had rejected Miles' belief system and cursed him out in front of their family was what really made his departure unbearable.
And now, he wasn't returning his phone calls. Jesus, he probably wasn't even listening to his answering machine. He knew for a fact that his number hadn't changed. All phones nowadays were equipped with voice recognisers to relay information to the central grid. Everybody's voice was on record. It was new technology that allowed stolen phones to be recovered. Miles had checked into this after his son had left.
He could have gotten the boys in the central grid to put a trace on it, but he wasn't ready to see him just yet. Connor needed his privacy.
However, Miles couldn't help but remember the last thing his son had said to him:
Running up the fire escape staircase, T began to pant heavily. He had almost reached the halfway point up the building. T had been at this for about ten minutes. Assuming that it would take him the same time to reach the top as it did for him to get here, then he would have twenty minutes to complete his task and get out.
His black overalls bunched uncomfortably around his bulletproof vest as he continued to run. It was at times like these that he regretted his weight. It wasn't as if he were fat. It was simply an issue of his frame being a considerable amount larger than the other members of his team. It was difficult going, lugging his body as well as his gear up these stairs.
Unfortunately, he was the only one used to full frontal combat, now that C had gone MIA. The only choice was for him to go in and complete his task.
"Sir," announced a man clad in the traditional grey garb of the Batallón soldiers, as he entered General Miles' office.
"What is it, Private?" Miles groaned, looking up from his phone, not long placed back onto the receiver.
"I've just had a call from the boys downstairs," the Private stated. "The security cameras, alarms, everything. It's all down!"
"Son of a bitch!" the General cried out, leaping to his feet and running for the door. Beneath the lights, fixed into the ceiling, his tin coloured hair gleamed. "It's them again!"
"Sir?" the Private inquired, trailing behind his superior as he strode down the corridor.
"Those terrorists!" came the answer. "The ones that attacked the MRF!"
"How do you know that sir?"
"They have an inside man! Or someone who used to work for us at least! It's the security systems that tipped me off!" Miles gritted his teeth. "Every building that they've hit, even the small ones, have had all the security systems completely disabled. No trail led in or out. Their hacker is good. Too good. He already knew the systems!"
Emerging from the door labelled 'Fire Escape' at the top of the staircase, T swung his field of vision around the area.
The hallway was empty.
"Result...!" he muttered to himself, turning and making a beeline for the south-facing side of the building.
Reaching a door, he tried the handle. It was locked.
Thrusting his hand into his pocket, T withdrew something that vaguely resembled a Swiss army knife. Upon it's withdrawal, he began to work on the lock with his tool.
Within a matter of seconds, the door was unlocked.
Moving into the next room, he began to move alongside the large window. Looking through the glass, he raised his hand in a kind of salute, indicating to B that he was in position.
All doors to adjacent rooms were located right next to the windows, on this floor. He wouldn't have to worry about moving out of B's covering range.
Upon his emergence from the fourth door, T arrived at his destination. It was the central filing room for the building.
Located in the centre of the room was a large computer. Connected to this computer were hundreds upon hundreds of wires, leading into the three surrounding walls. This was his target. The computer that held all the files for the Batallón Última.
Running towards the computer, T unzipped the pouch attached to the right hand side of his belt. Thrusting his hand inside, he withdrew with a small device clasped in his fist.
In size and shape, it resembled a tennis ball with one side either filed flat or cut off, allowing it to stand stationary if it were placed on a flat surface. Constructed from what appeared to be a mixture of steel and glass, it gleamed beneath the ceiling lights.
Atop the device was the outline of a circle, indicating that it could be depressed, like a button.
Placing the device on the floor, next to the computer, T grinned to himself before pushing down on the circle on top of the device.
"Smile, ya dirty bastards!" he chuckled, stepping back from his device.
Turning around, he headed straight towards the door opposite from the one he had entered through.
"Hold it right there!" arose a voice from behind him.
Groaning, T turned around to face the owner of the voice. He didn't have time to deal with this now. Not when he thought that everything had gone so smoothly.
Pressing down on the button on the side of his radio, he hissed: "Where the Hell have you been looking asshole!"
T had since plugged in his earpiece, so the response he received was hidden from the other occupant of the room: "I was going to take him out once he was in the Central Filing room, but he's standing behind the door. It opens towards the window. I can't get a clean shot!"
Now fully turned around, T laid his eyes on the man who had discovered him. Judging from his massive lack of decoration on his uniform, the man was most likely a Private. Clasped in his hand was a taser.
"C'mon man, let's think about this," T began.
"Don't move!" the Private shouted, raising the taser and pointing it towards T.
"C'mon!" T persisted. "Don't taze me bro!"
"Don't try anything!" the Private stated, taking a step forwards and raising his arm higher. "I'll damn well taze you if I wan-!"
He was cut off as the window next to him shattered. Almost instantly following this, the soldier's hand, along with the taser, exploded into a fountain of blood.
"Thanks, dude," T said into his radio before turning around and sprinting towards the door on the opposite side of the room.
As he flung the door open, the sound of B's voice echoed in his ear: "Don't mention it. Although, you could have just killed him yourself. Your wearing a vest. Taser wouldn't do shit."
"My mission doesn't require killing," T responded. "You're more compassionate. I knew you wouldn't shoot to kill."
"I didn't shoot to kill because that was the only shot I had."
"Sure it was," T chuckled, as he reached the last room along the south side. In front of him was another window.
Swinging the AK-47 down from his back, T fired several rounds ahead of himself, shattering the glass, before returning it to his back.
"Stop!" cried out a voice from his right. The door was located just out of the window's line of sight. Standing in the doorway was General Miles. In his hand was a small handgun.
"Sup' Mr Parson!" T grinned.
"Tufail...?"General Miles gasped, squinting his eyes somewhat. "You're part of this!?"
"Part of what?" T grinned.
"The terrorist organisation!" the General persisted, thrusting the gun forwards. "I knew that they probably had an inside man, but I never could have guessed that it was a former member of the Weapons Development Institution."
"I wouldn't exactly call us a terrorist organisation," T chuckled, removing his face mask. His skin was dark, in accordance with his parents' originally coming from southern Asia. His hair, shining with sweat, stuck out in several directions, almost as if it were styled.
Suddenly, a loud roar echoed through the room, coming from outside the shattered window. It was the sound created by rotating propellor blades.
Taking this as a signal, T jumped.
As he sailed into the sky, something came into view in front of him. It was a rope ladder.
Grabbing hold of it as he fell, T was soon dragged away from the side of the building by the helicopter that the ladder was attached to.
Looking up towards the chopper, while simultaneously clipping his fastening straps to the ladder, he shouted: "You took your time, didn't you, D?!?!"