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Act of Conspiracy, Chapter VI: Prelude Truth
Posted By: russ687<russ687@hotmail.com>
Date: 20 February 2005, 9:22 PM
Read/Post Comments
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Chapter VI
Prelude Truth
December 29, 2524
City of New Sodham, Inland City
Pacificatorius, Atropos System
Social Management District Headquarters, City Center
Jakov opened the door quickly as the truck pulled to an abrupt stop in front of the large, majestic steps leading up to the large structure. He pulled down the black facemask, then brought his sub-machine gun out from its concealed position. His comrades followed in suit, exiting from the rear of the truck and fanning out, moving with purpose towards the steps.
He could feel the rain through the mask and jacket, and took a deep breath in; the cold midnight breeze swept around him. The streetlamps illuminated the streets fairly well, and he looked up and down the sidewalks for any onlookers; they were empty. So far, so good.
But the hardened man couldn't shake the guilt over him. This was different from their last operation, since they were doing more then just kidnapping a corrupt judge, they were killing thousands. He still could not understand the logic, or rather madness behind this, and every step up these granite steps was a step closer to Hell. Not the Hell he always expected to go to after death, but the inner-turmoil that would eat him alive. The demons of his past were growing with every movement towards those main doors, and he could almost hear their hideous voices, screaming at him.
As Jakov looked back, reaching the top of the stairs, he had one last reminiscent before the operation began. I hate my life...
"Comrade, don't feel down."
He turned to face the leader of this operation, a man he had known for years.
"And why is that?"
He lit a long, beige cigarette and puffed it casually, watching the men form up. "I cannot tell you, but we will be doing a just thing tonight."
"Killing innocents is a just cause?"
"Jakov, my friend, trust me. You will see shortly."
"Eyes on Dixie."
Brient quickly acknowledged the call as he crouched behind a parked car, no more then forty-meters from the trucks and men, who were now moving up the steps towards the building. Kautz and the rest of his team were waiting right behind him, their weapons ready. The shadow from the nearby streetlamp kept them concealed, but being so close to the enemy they had to kill was unsettling, at best.
Dixie was the gas container, holding the Agents that were supposed to kill off a good portion of this city. He spotted it himself as two men carried it carefully up the steps, the rest in a perimeter around it, weapons up and scanning. A dozen or so were already at the top, breaking the locks and forcing the doors open. Brient stood up a little higher, bringing his G55K up and looking through the 4x Advanced Low-Light Optical Scope. The crosshairs settled on a figure, and his team mimicked his posture, ready to go.
Their duty was clear, and their fight against these men was not clouded by second-thoughts or false judgments. Here were four dozen terrorist bent on killing civilians, for a cause he doubt many of them understood. They were not only willfully committing unlawful acts, but acts of war against the State of Atropos. They had set themselves far apart from criminals, and had escalated this once contained skirmish to a situation implicating every one that lived here. Their time to live had come and gone.
"All units, Blue Leader, standby."
Randy let his training instincts take over.
"Alpha, go!"
His rifle recoiled as a single 5.56-millimeter round exited the suppressed barrel and covered the distance in a millisecond, the high-velocity round entering the target's Cerebellum and ending the man's life before the round passed through the back of his skull. Several ounces of blood and brain fragments followed out the man's head, spraying against the steps leading to the building's entrance. The terrorist's death wasn't even noticed as seven more fell simultaneously.
Two loud cracks shattered the silence as the men carrying the gas containers fell headless to the ground, the snipers on the roof opposite to the building ending their lives with acute precision. Brient switched targets as his mission timer hit 2 Sec and pulled the trigger, sending another round into a second figure's masked head as he began walking towards the scene. The muffled shots from his team—along with Red, Green, and Gold teams—resounded as the terrorists began dropping like flies.
Brient let out one more shot, then crouched down to a low sprint, moving in as fast as he could. The reaction finally settled in on the terrorists, and scattered fire began erupting from around the trucks to his right and the top of the stairs. At least twelve bodies lay motionless on the steps, and the gas container looked very inviting to him as it sat there in the open. They needed to get that.
"Inimigos! Mate estes diabos do planeta!"
The black rifle in Brient's hands shot up and spat out two rounds, killing a figure that ran around from the back of the truck, screaming in a language he couldn't understand. Yelling began erupting like the gunfire had, and their enemy tried quickly to maneuver for the surprise attack. Randy spotted Red Team coming around from the third truck, moving towards the stairs with their black G55K's up. Another loud crack split the air, shattering the windshield of one of the trucks as a driver tried to escape.
"Red Team, secure the trucks."
"Wilco."
The team altered course and began moving for the third truck farthest from Blue Team. Brient slowed his pace as he stepped up onto the sidewalk and oriented his rifle to the top of the stairs. His ALOS mounted on the G55K gave him superb night time vision, but even with the sight he could see no one up by the open doors. They must have gone inside.
"Green Team, secure the main entrance to the building."
"Roger."
"Gold Team proceed inside the building a secure the main lobby."
"Copy, moving now."
The two teams appeared from around a parked car and moved towards the steps. Brient hadn't gotten a good view, but at least a dozen terrorists, possibly more like twenty, had remained at the top while they engaged the ones carrying the Nerve Agent. For the most part, they had neutralized everyone on the steps and by the trucks, all quickly and with extreme accuracy, but maybe half or more had made it inside the building. 28 Sec.
He quickly moved up the steps and motioned for his team to cover the area around him as he knelt down by the gas container. It was painted green, and had a skull with bones across it. Amazing, these guys have safety precautions. He inspected it quickly, looking for leaks or possible failure points. The device looked intact and safe, though a peculiar red light blinked on the top.
"Call in the chemical hazard—" His transmission stopped mid-sentence.
His third teammate fell back, blood spurting on Brient's goggles.
The G55K went up scanned the buildings facing them on the opposite side of the street. He looked intently through the scope, knowing exactly the type of threat he was looking for.
"Snipers, check fire!" Randy yelled into the radio.
Kautz slung his rifle and leaned over to look at the fallen teammate. "Damnit! Man down!" The blood pool was forming fast around their fallen comrade's neck. "We need medical now!"
"Blue Leader, Brown and White Snipers did not fire, I say again, we did not fire."
Brient cursed loudly, scanning quickly through the windows. They were out in plain side, and if this hadn't been fratricide, somebody else was looking at them in crosshairs. "Get him up and out of here, I'll cover!"
The fourth teammate and Kautz picked up their fallen comrade as Brient stood up, his rifle shouldered and still scanning for the sniper. They started moving off down the steps towards the trucks for cover.
"Green Team, I need cover on the opposite buildings."
Brient kept his weapon up as they moved down the steps. Damnit! How could I have missed this? Enemy snipers was a factor he had not anticipated, for obvious reasons. We are the ones on the ambush, not them! They weren't even expecting us to attack!
Or were they?
They quickly set the fallen specialist down by vehicles. Red Team was scanning up into the windows from behind the trucks, and Green Team was doing the same at the top of the stairs—behind cover. Whoever was sniping at them wouldn't do it twice without finding plenty of return fire.
Brient cursed again, looking down as his teammate tried to find the wound. He slung the rifle and knelt down over the fallen trooper, ripping off the helmet and facemask. "Where'd he get hit?"
"I don't know," Kautz replied instantly, his voice thick with infuriation.
He looked over the body, but blood was everywhere, and it was running fast. He felt around, desperately grasping to find the wound to apply pressure. The younger man's face was turning pale fast, and his hyperventilating was slowing down—the very reactions before the body shut down from blood loss. The specialist's hands trembled and his body began shaking, his eyes fixated straight up into the black sky.
"Stay with me," Kautz coached as the wounded teammate coughed up blood.
The empty hands began to grasp at anything. Randy grabbed them with his own, feeling the tensions and trembling of pain; they were cold. The group's medic was assigned to Red Team, and shuffled over quickly, ripping out bandages hastily and trying to save the man's life. It was far too late.
Brient looked into his teammate's eyes, gripping his hands tightly. The convulsions grew more violent, the shaking testimony to the final seconds this man's heart would beat. He began to stutter words; words of fear and pleas. The breathing slowed more, and the shaking finalized. The grip began to ease.
"Damnit!" The team's medic yelled. "C'mon, stay with me!"
The sounds of sirens filled the area around them as the first response teams showed up. Local law enforcement and Special Weapons And Tactics teams disembarked quickly from the vehicles and moved out, securing the area. Paramedics ran in to take over, noticing the body, but they would only see the final breath of the paramilitary operative.
The hands went limp in Brient's own. The eyes glazed over.
And death washed over the motionless body.
Mahler let out a long, exacerbated sigh.
The DIS helicopter circled at three hundred-meters, watching the entire ordeal from the air. Aside from giving the counter-terror team's commander a strategic view of the operation, the large helicopter also housed electronic equipment to give the teams on the ground better information and real-time intelligence.
The technician in the back quickly responded to the situation. "Blue Leader, this is Romeo One, secure Dixie, I say again, secure Dixie."
It was painful for Mahler to watch. One of his own had just met a violent end. The entire, bloody death was caught on one of the low-light cameras, and the blood pool around the specialist was easily visible from this altitude. Even the initial shot that took the man out was seen, seemingly up close and personal, but their angle didn't give them a good view of the shooter—who was hidden away in the large apartment building opposite to the Social Management headquarters.
They were not unaccustomed to casualties, but it did not happen frequently, and every loss was a tragic one. However, they had accomplished their objective so far, and the Nerve Agent sat safely away from those terrorist hands. Mahler watched the digital display as two figures in full black body-armor moved tactfully to retrieve it; that thing could have claimed thousands of lives.
"Blue Leader to Romeo One, we are reforming and moving in to secure the building. My snipers reported that at least eighteen made it through."
The technician in the back responded immediately. "Copy that, the perimeter is now fully secured by local law enforcement, you are cleared to sweep the building. Be advised that IR support is available and currently being transmitted."
Mahler closed his eyes. Don't do anything stupid, Randy.
Brient was furious, though he would never let anyone see it. How could they, anyways? The mask and goggles covering his face effectively hid any visible emotion. For that he was thankful, since the death of his teammate—in my own hands!—had no doubt caused him to respond in a very negative way. He had never reacted calmly to a teammate's death, and how could he? His veins pulsed strongly as the large rifle came into his firm grasp.
The dark red blood was still on his gloves, and now his weapon's grip shared the lifeless reminiscent of a deceased team member. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and began moving up the stairs towards the entrance; this would fuel his fight inside this building to end these terrorist's lives.
Green Team kept him and Kautz covered as they made it to the top, passing around the large pillars; only the two of them continuing on from Blue Team. That sniper was long gone, and had inflicted its single act of hatred against them without playing his luck. It didn't matter, since one day that man would meet his own death, and Brient envisioned it being at the business end of his rifle.
He went up to the open door, which had been broken using a crowbar, and peered in. Gold Team kept the large entrance lobby covered from inside, and had waited patiently while the entire sniper attack had unfolded outside. Brient didn't take the time to inform them on their deceased comrade, but rather went to work.
Doing what he trained for.
"Gold Team and Red Team, sweep the entire first floor. Green Team and Blue team will move to the second floor. Watch your flanks and going through doors, and use the IR support whenever possible. We're looking at no less then eighteen Tango's in the building, so keep your eyes peeled." The team leaders acknowledged Brient's order with nods, only their eyes visible from behind the black armor.
"Romeo One, can you give us schematics for the building?"
The reply came back over the radio a second later. "Copy, standby."
The helicopter flying overhead transmitted the Social Management headquarters floor layout to each specialist's HUD, which would make their sweep of the building much easier and more complete. Randy quickly reviewed it and got a sense of how big this building was; it rose five stories, and each story was at least four-thousand square-meters. This is going to be a rough night.
He looked back outside the entrance as two SWAT teams entered, their compact weapons up and ready. Lights from emergency vehicles flashed continuously outside, and powerful spotlights were trained all over the building. The sound of helicopters was present, and no doubt the local media was in a frenzy to get on sight. What had started—512 Sec—just over eight and a half minutes ago as a silent ambush on these terrorists, had now evolved into a full scale response from every State emergency agency, with all the sirens and lights that came along with them.
It partly worried Brient, since this seemed far too convenient for these terrorists. While they had secured the Nerve Agent, and along with that taken out half their numbers, it all seemed a little too set up. Maybe he was overlooking something? He brushed the thought off. He would find them, end their malevolent lives, and then ask questions. This is what he trained for.
"Sir."
He turned, partly in surprise that anyone could recognize him among the others in the full-body Kevlar.
The apparent leader of the SWAT unit stood before him. These local law enforcement teams were good, trained to handle threats of the same nature, but took second place when Aegis was called in. These Police officers resembled his own team; laden down with heavy black armor, but they wore no face mask—their identities weren't as sensitive as his own. They carried smaller weapons, the trade off between maneuverability and power, and didn't wear the protective goggles.
Brient sighed as the man stood there, willing to help. These Police teams weren't basics, and could easily hold their own. Hell, if Aegis hadn't been deployed, these men would be making the sweep themselves, and it couldn't hurt for some backup inside this large, silent building.
A quick nod gave the SWAT commander the answer, and the man turned to give out orders to his teams.
Randy turned to face the building. It was old; vintage was more of the term, and held a certain royalty about it. The main lobby area had a vaulted ceiling reaching up three stories, with majestic chandeliers hanging from a mural painted ceiling. The walls were covered with portraits of former politicians, and the floor was tiled perfectly with dark-green tinted ceramic plates.
To the left, closed double doors, and to the right a pair of open doors; there was the first place to search. Ahead of them was a wide stairway leading to the second floor, with a large receptionist's desk at the top. The walls were lined frequently with low-powered lamps, the only source of light in the dim building, and the main hanging lights above them remained cold and dark. It was almost ideal for night vision, but he thought against it. Depth perception may be valuable when searching the office rooms.
His teams, covering all entry ways of attack, waited for him to authorize their move-out. Brient looked once more at the schematics; he would move up the main stairs straight ahead to the second floor and begin the search. There were so many hiding spots that it concerned him, not for his own life, but for the safety of his teams. These SWAT may be more helpful then he had thought.
"Move out."
Standyle, Department of International Security, City Center
Branson pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the first floor lobby of the large government building. Since this global terror threat had blown up in their faces, extra security was passed around, especially at high-value targets such as DIS headquarters. Armed guards stood ahead of him, and metal-detectors waited idly for anyone to enter, their operators reading the newspaper.
The midnight hour made the lobby nearly empty and peaceful, which was nice, since the ordeal earlier in the day had left its mark on Mitchell. He still winced at the wrong movements, and the large bruises left by those two rounds would be around for quite a while. Some of the law enforcement officials who responded to the scene had joked around with him after he was treated, pointing out he would need a new vest. Getting shot was never part of Branson's ideal career, and he hadn't laughed at the joke, but this sort of stuff came along with this position in the DIS.
Ryals had been a little more understanding, and didn't bring it up repeatedly like everyone else seemed to. The two agents approached the guards and showed them their badges, then proceeded through the metal detectors, ignoring the loud beeps. It had been a long day, and both men refrained from making small talk with the security guards.
The two moved for the elevators, and waited patiently for one to open up. Branson slowly reacted to the vibrating phone in his pocket, and pulled it out on the third ring.
He looked annoyingly at Ryals, he looked back meekly. "Yeah?"
"Ever heard the term 'incompetence', Branson?" The voice was deep and distorted.
"Who is this?"
There was a slight chuckle on the other end. "My identity will remain secret, since you intelligence spooks need something to work for. But this is beside the point. It is clearly evident that you and your people find this new terror threat light and maybe even 'easy' to handle. Do you know why I think that, Branson?"
Mitchell looked questionably over at his partner, who stared back with curiosity. Who is it? Ryals mouthed. Branson responded with a shrug, shaking head.
"Why?"
"Because you snitches didn't read between the lines. You didn't pick out the right motives. You can't even find the sources of these terror strikes. It's like this new formidable threat is actually out-pacing the much vaunted government of this System. Do you think that would be an accurate assumption?"
"It depends on your perspective. Who is this?" Branson started moving for the front information desk in the lobby.
The man laughed. "Surely you can't be serious! Perspectives have nothing to do with this war, Branson. You are failing to contain this threat, and it is showing."
"We are taking considerable measures against these terror groups."
"Then it comes down to our definition of measures. To you, 'measures' are deploying a counter-terror team to stop a proclaimed release of a Nerve Agent, when something else would have been the right 'measure'."
Mitchell froze. How could this guy know about that?
"Your supposed 'measures' are nothing more then playing along with their plans to annihilate you and your kind."
Ryals was trying to overhear the conversation, but still shook his head in question. Branson ran up to the main desk and motioned for the receptionist's attention. He put his hand over the phone's receiver, and quickly whispered. "Tell the E-Com guys to track this number—" He scribbled down his cellular number on a piece of paper furiously. "—do it now."
"...You have done nothing to stop this threat, Branson. You have done nothing but played into their hands, and you have now condemned many of your likings to death because of your oversight."
"And what oversight may this be?"
The main laughed again. "My point precisely, you cannot make accurate assessments or judgments—"
"Ok, I'll play along." Branson said, interrupting the voice. "Let's just say there was an oversight. The only way that could be is if the information leading us to the Nerve Agent was wrong."
"DeVeres was a idiot, and should have never said anything."
Holy shit! Who the hell is this guy?
"Do you honestly think DeVeres was going to tell you the truth? How many people have ever defected in the GDSO? Well? None. Nobody has ever left the organization's tight grasp, since they know that to do so would mean instant death. You think DeVeres got lucky and managed to get to that mall for you to meet him?"
Branson was speechless.
"I'm sure you can answer that question accurately now. DeVeres was a dead man, he knew it, his superiors knew it, I knew it. His incompetence was intolerable, and he had two options. Either die right then and there before his disappointed leaders, or do one last act in defiance of you and your precious State."
The secretary waved at him. Branson quickly covered the receiver and leaned in to listen. "E-Com has a track on him."
"Where?" Ryals responded immediately.
The secretary looked unconvinced, but stated it anyways. "He's apparently outside the building on the other side of the street."
Branson looked over at Ryals. They turned and headed for the front door.
"So DeVeres lied to us about the Nerve Agent." Mitchell said, continuing the conversation.
"Very much so. Gas their own people? The very citizens of this planet who need to be 'freed' from your socialist tyranny? You and the Department of International Security fell for it like dogs. They were thinking for awhile that you would never buy that, given the history of the GDSO and their unmerited kindness towards citizens. Why on God's green earth would they turn suddenly and alienate themselves from the very people they are fighting to free? The GDSO never had any intentions like that, but it does have new and inventive ways at knocking off more of your likings who stand between the GDSO and their victory."
The two agents passed the guards and headed outside, stepping into the cold, midnight air. Parked cars lined the empty street, and nobody was roaming the sidewalks. The streetlamps lit the area well, but neither agent could spot anyone.
"So the Nerve Agent was nothing but a setup?"
"There you go, Branson! About time you said something right. You know, in your line of work you really need to be more thorough, since an easy set up with a fake informant and an assassin can really convince you of the 'truth'."
That's why the assailant had ran! And DeVeres had been scared for a different reason; he knew he was going to die.
"Branson, listen to me, as someone here to help. The GDSO will stop at nothing to achieve their victory, and their methods of doing so will kill every last one of you who stands between them and eliminating this so called democracy that is nothing less then corrupt and illicit."
He turned and started walking down the sidewalk, looking about. "And letting them takeover is the answer? The solution?"
"This time around, yes. You cannot win against them. In humanity's constant struggle for power someone will win, it's inevitable, and this group is winning. But they also have a pure mindset about them, which would make their victory very acceptable to the people of Atropos, even if it means eradication of the government."
There was a pause as Branson and Ryals searched for the man. He was practically right on top of them, and no doubt was watching them as well
"Branson, give it up. Only something bigger then humanity could stop this."
New Sodham, Social Management District Headquarters, City Center
The gas container was handed over respectively to the leader of the biological/chemical hazard team. The older man, shielded from any possible Nerve Agent exposure should the container leak by a large, awkward looking rubber suit, looked it over carefully. His experienced eyes examined the canister, then they settled on the small flashing light. Odd...
"Clear!"
Brient backtracked out of the office room and into the hallway. The first floor had held five of the terrorists, all of whom fell to Gold Team's armor-piercing rounds. The rest no doubt waited for them, secluded to some random room, waiting for their own deaths to befall them. Searching for these terrorists in such a large building was tedious enough, but he didn't even entertain the thought of going home until all these terrorist met fit ends for their unfit lives.
He moved up to the next door, Kautz pressing up behind him, and reached for the door knob. It felt warm.
"Estão aqui!"
The door splintered in front of him as rounds tore through the wood. He took a few steps back as the automatic fire sent fragments ricocheting off his goggles. Yelling originated from the room as the man on the other end stopped firing, his weapon clicking to the sound of an empty magazine.
"Eu estou para fora!"
Brient stepped forward, his rifle up, then strafed around so he was facing the door head on. He motioned for Kautz to move up, and his partner did so, keeping the rifle trained on the door. Randy took a step back, then kicked the door open, he leg almost going through the damaged entry point.
Several shots spat out from Kautz's G55K, then the two entered the room quickly, rifles up and scanning. Three bodies lay on the floor, pools of blood starting to gather around their puncture wounds. Brient stepped farther into the room, playing the angles to get a view behind the desks and chairs. A figure popped up from behind a computer table.
The G55K sent four 5.56 projectiles into the man's chest, sending him back first to the ground. Kautz fired at another target as they moved deeper into the office room. It was small, and obviously no more remained as they made it to the back wall.
"Clear." Brient said, moving back for the main door.
The two exited into the hallway and noticed one of the SWAT teams approaching. Kautz kept an eye down the hallway as Brient faced the leader; the man he had conversed with in the lobby earlier.
"My wing is clear."
Randy nodded. "Two more rooms here."
"We'll head back towards the receptionist desk and wait to head to the third floor—" The man stopped talking as a deep reverberation rocked through the building.
The explosive noise met their ears a millisecond later, and the windows in the hallway overlooking the front of the building—and the street filled with emergency vehicle—shattered, sending fragments into everyone.
Brient's body was thrown against the opposite wall as the bright flash filled his vision from the street. He felt the glass shards puncture his armor, but no sharp pains originated. His hearing immediately went dull, and he slumped to the floor, disorientated and blinded from the flash. The feeling was painfully similar to being on the receiving end of a flashbang.
"Damn..." It was the only world he let out as fragments fell on top of him. His vision was almost completely white, and he could hear only the constant heartbeat. What happened?
The helicopter vibrated strongly as the explosion shot skyward.
"What the hell!" The pilot yelled in anger, fighting the controls.
Mahler quickly looked out the side window down to the street. Where emergency vehicles had once been, and the location of the gas container, only a bright fireball rising into the sky remained. Smoke and flying debris clouded the air, and he couldn't see much of anything. Only the tip if the Social Management dome stuck out above the obscurity.
"Blue Leader, report."
There was no reply.
"Oh, God." Mahler looked down upon the scene as if he was seeing something fake, something surreal. He still couldn't believe it as the helicopter regained a steady flight path. Had this just happened? Had a bomb just detonated amongst all this?
Who had just attacked them?
Standyle, Department of International Security, City Center
Branson covered the phone again. "Go contact the agent-in-charge over in New Sodham. Tell them to get rid of the gas canister—tell them it's a trap!"
Ryals nodded, turning away and pulling out his own phone.
"There is nothing bigger then humanity." Mitchell said, playing with the man. "We are it, and our problems define us as a people. Generations have fought over ideals, values, territories, anything. Humanity has always been at war, and there is nothing that could possibly stop that."
"That is true. So there is no hope of ending this problem peacefully. Trust me when I say this, they are more determined then you are, and even though the technology might fall in your hands, resolve will always win. This organization is fighting for their own ideals, for their own values. There is no way to beat them."
"Well, your idea is unacceptable," Branson shot back, looking down an alleyway.
"To you, it is. Don't sacrifice thousands of lives just to delay the inevitable. The GDSO will stop at nothing, and the only thing your defensive posture does is repress what will happen, regardless of what you try."
"Not so. We aren't just trying to 'delay' this. We are trying to save an authority that is in place to lead the people."
The man laughed. "Of course, you believe in your government."
"Nothing is perfect, and there are faults everywhere. But there is also wrong and right, and there are ways to live and ways not to. We're going to be beat this off because the way of life for the citizens in Atropos cannot undergo a radical movement where tyrants are put in charge. Why are your leaders better then the ones already in power?"
"First off, they're not my 'leaders'—"
"Then who the hell are you?"
"Turn down this alleyway, and you will find out."
Fear hit Branson like a wall.
"The truth awaits freedom."
Mitchell took a single step down the alleyway, looking for anything that stuck out. Dumpsters and trash lined it, and steam rose quickly from several vents. It was not a comforting sight.
"Will you turn a blind eye?"
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