Rise of the Phoenix: Act 3 Read online

  Each man is doing all they could to come out the brawl alive while failing to realize that the facility was still ablaze. Locked in a standing arm grip, a loud screeching was heard above their heads. In a moment each of them stopped to glimpse up, only to see the control room had started to fall.

  Scrambling to escape, the soldier took hold of Doom’s belt in an attempt to swing him under the collapsing structure. Using the soldier’s momentum against him, Doom countered by raising his arm and slamming his elbow into the soldier’s face. With a prompt grab of the dazed soldier’s helmet strap, Doom snapped his head down, smashing his head into the ground.

  No doubt suffering from a severe concussion, the soldier managed to sit up, and with an I told you so look on his face, Doom gifted him with a swift kick to the face and down onto his back.

  “Looks like my boot won your gun fight, friend,” he stated, looking down at the dazed man, as the last support beam holding the control room gave way. Love to stay and chat but I gotta haul ass! Doom finished silently as he made a mad dash for cover, seeing that gravity had taken over the structure above.

  With blood oozing from his busted face, the soldier laid on his back barely comprehending the control room plunging towards him. Striking the ground, the eight-ton structure exploded, sending an immense cloud of fire up in a mushroom plume. Doom dove at the last moment to make it clear of the explosion, only to be carried away by the concussion blast which hit him mid-flight, tossing him onto a nearby tram.

  ۞۞۞۞

  Edge navigated the endless twists and turns that made up the storage area. All supplies needed for the construction of the rockets were laid out in perfectly organized stacks, everything from large sheets of metal to racks of motorized parts. Edge was quite sure in an open area he could run down Quinn without breaking a sweat but knowing how to navigate the area, the man had the advantage. Quinn’s few years in the service served him no justice, as the man failed to keep his head low and every so often his head would appear above the smaller stacks allowing for easy tracking.

  Tired of cat and mouse, Edge climbed atop a stack of crates for a better view. “Okay, weasel, I’m done playing with you. Time to catch your ass,” Edge mumbled to himself as he mapped out the best path to take, taking a mental picture of which landmarks he could use.

  Quinn was running a winding roundabout path closer to the interior. Edge decided to take a path around the outside. Given all of Quinn’s twisting and turning, it probably was not much longer and, being much more direct, Edge could move quicker.

  The sound of the battle raging on the other side of the facility grabbed his attention, distracting him momentarily. He was worried. Pitch and Doom were beyond capable, but even Delta’s have their limits. He briefly wondered if bringing only three of them into this scenario, where he was expecting the crushing ambush of a very well-trained force, had been the right thing to do. No! Don’t second-guess. This is your team. They came along without hesitation, even after you told them what they were getting into. You know them. If anyone can make it, they can.

  Having set his mind at ease, Edge jumped down and set off after Quinn. He was going to get the answers he needed out of that chump, whatever it took.

  ۞۞۞۞

  “Edge!” Pitch shouted as the rockets smashed into the control room. “Well, Shit. Rice come on!” He and Rice ran towards the new team that entered. Pitch saw the shoulder mounted RPG’s and other armed men setting up a perimeter around the west entrance. Studying the flaming mess that was once the control room, he started to wonder where was his commander, his friend. You assholes. I’m going to shove those rockets up your pampered asses.

  Then his training kicked in as he focused; his mind went from uncontrolled rage to a honed razor’s edge. His mind ran through different serious of attack. His hand tapped the grenade in his pocket. “You like fire?” he asked as he looked to Rice, tossing the grenade up and down in his hand a few times.

  “I love it,” Rice replied pulling the pin on his. Counting to three they tossed their grenades at the enemy. When the grenades landed, the enemy scattered as planned, but before they could explode, another round of rockets flew towards the control room.

  The rockets slammed into the ceiling just above the control room. The explosion bent and fractured the metal. Rice watched in astonishment as the supports gave way and the whole structure fell to the ground, pulling the attached catwalks with it. Noticing the section closest to them was collapsing as well, Rice darted and encouraged Pitch out of the way of the falling structure with a hearty shove. The two of them ran as their background erupted in glass, metal, and rubber.

  “Ahhhh, motherfucker!” Rice screamed as he looked at a piece of metal lodged in his quadriceps. “This is so not cool.”

  Pitch crawled over. “I would have to agree. But we have bigger problems.”

  “I have a piece of metal in my leg, what could make it worse?”

  “Five men survived the grenades. Three have riot shields, and they don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen.” Bullets flew by their position. “And I think they know where we are,” Pitch added, swirling around and firing at their position. His bullets crackled off their shields, ineffective. The other four soldiers remained some distance back. “I’ve got an idea, stay here,” Pitch said as he took off running.

  “Like I can do something else?” Rice replied sarcastically, removing the strap from the gun to use it as a tourniquet.

  In full sprint, Pitch raced towards the shielded soldier firing his weapon. The soldier dropped to one knee and allowed the shield to absorb the bullets with. With each impact, the shield cracked slightly but failed to break it. Once the firing had ceased, the soldier stood back to his feet, as Pitch planned.

  The small Delta let his gun drop to his side as he jumped into the air and, with both legs out, dropped kicked the shield. The impact sent the soldier to his back, his gun sliding across the floor. Kicking up to his feet Pitch prepared to fire, but the soldier was equally fast, grabbing a piece of metal and batting the barrel of his gun away. With his shield up and the piece of steel in the other hand he charged at Pitch with the shield.

  He came in too fast for Pitch to pull his other sidearm. Instead, he let his assault rifle hang as he dropped back to avoid the swing that nearly came into contact with his head. The soldier was relentless with his attacks. Each swing of the jagged piece of metal would have gouged out a piece of Pitch’s flesh if it had come into contact with him. Every swing that Pitch dodged the soldier counter with a charge of the shield knocking him back. In only a few steps, the soldier had him backed against the rubble, and sure that his next attacks would have contact with the enemy.

  Attacking again with the metal object the soldier had found that Pitch had disappeared. Dropping flat on his back, Pitch watched as the arc of the swing carried the metal into a large power cable, the jagged edge sliced through the casing, making contact with the conductor inside, sending a steady current of electricity into the soldier’s body.

  The soldier continued to convulse until two shots from Pitch’s gun knocked the soldier back, releasing him from the cable. “Man, talk about ‘shock trooper,’” Pitch could not resist saying. He picked up the soldier’s shield as the remaining soldiers closed in on him, one of them was barely twenty yards out. “Oh for the love of Vishnu,” he remarked firing at the shield carrier.

  Doing as he was trained to do the man dropped and took cover behind his shield. Two seconds later one of his buddies popped up behind him like a terrorist jack-in-the-box. Oh shit! The Delta thought as he spun out of the path of the gunfire to head back for the wounded Rice.

  Rice was already to his feet, his gun in hand by the time Pitch returned. “Here, take the shield and give me your gun.” Pitch put Rice’s arm over his shoulder, and the two started moving as fast as they could.

  “Where are we going?” Rice asked

  “We’ve got to get to the emergency exit. At least that way we can try and link
up with Trident.”

  “What about your friends?”

  Pitch inhaled as he thought about Edge and Doom. Not even sure if they were still alive. If they are then, they’ll be fine. I mean they have to be, right? “They’re… they’ll catch up,” he said through gritted teeth when bullets started flying and ricocheting off the shield. “Make sure you hold that up good and strong like.”

  “Yeah, but what about you?” Rice asked.

  “Me? I’m short; they'll shoot over me and hit you,” Pitch replied.

  “Ain’t that Fan-fucking-tastic,” Rice replied.

  ۞۞۞۞

  Quinn moved slowly and carefully through the storage area, making his way into the testing area. The situation was a total mess and not at all what Keeast had promised him. The tracking device they gave him was supposed to enable a team to run in and extract him quickly. Instead, he found himself hiding from a bunch of military grunts while Keeast’s men engaged in battle with the security teams they should have steamrollered.

  I made sure I picked the rejects Keeast told me to select from the military, guys who could not defend this place if they had all the weaponry in the world. What is taking them so fucking long? I did my damn part, and it’s about time Keeast does his!

  Quinn figured he had given Edge the slip or, if not; he would, at least, be close enough to Keeast’s forces to get help. Taking stock of the overall the situation, he realized that it might be in his best interest to simply make it to the escape exit himself. As he moved along he came across an area where one of the security teams had attempted to make a stand; all that remained was a crater with broken machines and their mangled bodies.

  He knew most of them, at least, to say hello, but he felt no sadness or guilt over their deaths. Sometimes, the ordinary peons had to be sacrificed so those with vision could succeed. As he continued moving, he stumbled over something. Gazing down, he saw it was the arm of one of the scientists; only their arm. He held back the need to vomit, running for the nearest door instead. “Screw this shit,” he muttered to himself along the way.

  Quinn could see the door ahead; he was almost there when a figure stepped in front of him. He came to a sudden halt and gave out a yelp until he recognized the outfit. It was indeed one of Keeast’s men.

  “Mr. Quinn, sir,” he stated as he directed Quinn away from the door towards where two other men were standing.

  “It’s about fucking time!” Quinn exclaimed in exasperation, walking in front of the men.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, sir. The floor provided your boys more cover than we anticipated.” The soldier said robotically. “Let me just radio in and we’ll be all set to go.”

  “Yeah, uh, don’t rush on my account,” Quinn replied, his nervousness showing. He could not put his finger on it, but the vibe he was getting was not one of ease. They did not seem to regard him as a valuable asset which of course did not leave a good alternative. “So when are we departing?” he asked, hesitantly.

  The one on the radio give him the hold finger as he turned his back to report in. The other two stood like statues with their guns slung in low ready across their chest. Their body armor, face mask, and goggles, were black and lifeless as coal, giving them each a soulless appearance. Freaking night ghouls, Quinn thought as he took a few hard swallows. They both glared at Quinn as if they knew deep down in his soul that he wanted to run.

  Like a lion in the long grass Edge stalked, hiding farther back as Quinn approached the soldiers, waiting for an opportunity. He observed the soldiers; their attention was entirely on Quinn as if the other battles in the facility were of no consequence.

  Man, the testing area doesn’t allow for much maneuvering, Edge noted. The inspection area had numerous machines, from wind tunnels to water tanks, all capable of holding one of the rockets. Even though the open ground between them would allow Edge to navigate closer, he would still be a good twenty or so feet away from Quinn.

  They’re going to kill him any minute. I’ve got to get closer, Edge thought, then noticing a tool box and some fire extinguishers. Or I could bring them to me.

  “You know for a second there; I thought you guys were going to leave me here.” Quinn continued, attempting to sound like he was in control of his emotions, hoping to elicit a reassuring comment.

  The soldier on the radio finished his conversation with his superior. “We would never do that sir. When we’re instructed to kill a target, we always get them,” he said as he drew out his sidearm and pointed it at Quinn.

  “Holy shit… no… this has got to be a mistake. Keeast told me…” Quinn pleaded.

  “What we needed you to believe,” the soldier coldly finished the sentence him. “You are simply a cog in the machine. Enjoy the next life.”

  Chapter 3

  As they moved from one machine tool to the next, the shield protected Pitch and Rice from hurling bullets. The impact of the rounds rocked his shield like a see-saw over Rice’s forearm until it banged against his wounded leg. He collapsed under the pain, “Arggh!” Rice winced. “Goddammit, leave me!” Rice said as Pitch looked back at the enemy soldiers closing in on them. Then he looked at the door which was still tens of yards away, too long distance to carry someone without getting shot. “We’ll be overrun before we get there, and you know it,” Rice sighed.

  “You’re right, so get your ass moving. I can hold them off. I got their game plan figured out,” Pitch said. Rice looked at him, knowing it was crap. “Okay,” admitted Pitch, “sort of…but get moving. Now!”

  With that the Delta took off towards the outer wall, hoping to draw the enemy’s attention; and he did with their bullets. Rice got up and used the shield like a cane as he moved towards the exit. Using the shield for support while crouching behind it was a bit of a contortion but after a few steps, he got into a groove. He heard the exchange of gunfire behind him but dare not look back. The pain in his leg grew with each step; stopping was not an option as he was not sure he’d be able to start up again. Gotta keep going. The faster I get out, the faster Pitch will.

  Even when moving along at a snail pace, the pain made it harder to keep momentum. He had covered about half the distance to the exit; This is really burning. No, I can’t stop. He focused and zeroed in on the exit, doing all he can to block out the sensation forming in his leg when a noise to his right broke his concentration.

  As he bent the corner of a machine, he was hit by some asshole driving a brick wall and fell to the ground. Looking up he found one of the shield bearers walking towards him. Guess he didn’t fall for your plan, eh Pitch?

  The soldier drew his sidearm and pointed the barrel at Rice’s head. Rice recognized the gun: a Glock 9mm converted to semi-auto, a great weapon. Why was this at the forefront of his mind right now he could not understand; it just was. Then a shot rang out.

  Pitch maneuvered around the obstacles trying to keep the enemy’s focus on him. He paused behind cover to check his gun. Shit, only a few rounds. He peered out and found a few of the shielded soldiers were still on his heels. However, the other one was focused on something else entirely. He took it as a sign and moved in to exploit their move, Okay, no more games, he decided.

  Emerging from around the corner Pitch fired the last rounds of the assault rifle. Like before the shield soldier, dropped to protect himself. And like clockwork as soon as he heard the assault rifle click dry, his partner stood up to return fire but instead was greeted with two rounds to the face. His head snapped back, and his body seemed to float in mid-air for an instant before falling to the ground. Pitch held his pistol in his hand with its slide back, indicating it was empty. Played them like a violin.

  Pitch promptly dropped as the shield-wielding pulled out his Glock and unloaded a full-auto barrage at him. Barely making it behind cover, Pitch attempted to reload his pistol and realized he was out of magazines. “Of course,” sighed.

  His back was literally against a wall, the concrete side of the facility snagging his suit jacket and preve
nting him from moving anywhere but into the line of fire. Looking for a way out, he spotted Rice on the ground with one of the soldiers standing over him, pistol aimed at his head. Shit! Pitch readied himself to make a run for it. I have a twenty percent chance if I go, zero percent if I stay. God, I hate math.

  Pitch heard a shot and the soldier standing over Rice spun sideways, red matter spraying everywhere. Then another shot and Pitch heard the soldier near him crumple to the floor. Hearing more movement, Pitch stood to see the last soldier sprinting for cover. A third shot rang out, the retreating soldier head snapped sideways before he crashed into machines and down to the ground, dead.

  Pitch ran over to Rice, “You Okay?”

  “Oh yeah. Almost dying is apparently par for the course,” Rice replied sarcastically.

  “Keep that outlook and I might put you on our team,” Pitch said, lifting him to his feet.

  “I’d rather kiss a bear,” he grunted. “Who took those guys out anyway?”

  Pitch just pointed to the tall man walking over to them.

  “Well we must be in Skynet,” said Rice seeing a man with his shirt ripped, burnt and missing one sleeve while carrying an assault rifle and looking like a deadly cyborg, except he had both eyes.

  “Some people call him Doom; I call him LATE TO THE PARTY!” Pitch admonished.

  “Next time I’ll wait til they string you up like a piñata,” Doom replied with a smile. “By the way,” he said, gesturing at Pitch’s clothes, “business combat: you might start a new fashion trend.”

  Pitch looked and realized that he’d been so focused on the battle that he was still wearing the full business suit that he was dressed in when they had arrived, down to the jacket and neatly knotted tie. Of course, by now it was severely ragged, rumpled and dirty. He began to take off the tie.