by thedoctor
The man felt his ribs crack. Just twenty minutes ago, he was minding his own business and watching a Jerry Lewis movie on TV. Now, he was being pummeled into the dirt by a six-foot-three-inch-tall black man with as much muscle as attitude, all because Jean Pierre wore the uniform of an underground militia group that was protecting the most deadly biological weapon in the history of mankind. Sometimes life just wasn't fair.
Thomas brought the butt of his rifle down on the back of the man's neck and ended that skirmish. It really wasn't a fight, since Thomas was the only man to throw punches. He could have ended it a lot sooner, but this was more than business. This was personal, and that made it okay to go too far.
Jackson was busy testing his grenade launcher on trucks in the motor pool. The lieutenant was using cleaning chemicals in new and exciting ways in the lab area. Rogers was off looking for the base's commander. Dirk Bell was having fun near the armory. This was the third installation in a month. It proved all their and Pierce's suspicions correct; McKnight really was still in the game.
A guard rounded the corner and pointed his revolver toward Dirk. That was a bad move. He was too close, a childish mistake. Dirk's left hand reached out and grabbed the gun, twisting it. The guard screamed as he felt his forefinger being broken by the trigger guard and as the butt of Dirk's .45 slammed against his left eye. Still facing the guard, the gunslinger took a quick step back and kicked the guard to the floor.
He holstered his gun and stepped over the limp body and into the armory. Taking a few of the SMGs from the shelves and placing them on his person, Dirk pulled out a rectangular item from a pouch on his black-and-gray combat uniform and placed it on one of the ammo shelves. He turned around and exited the room and made his way down the hall.
Stopping in the shadows, he turned around and waited. About twenty men walked to the room. Three went in to pass out guns and ammo to the rest who waited outside. The gunslinger pulled out a small, cylindrical object with an antenna sticking out and pressed the little red button on it. A deafening blast accompanied the bright flash and flames. Chunks of concrete flew in all directions.
Thomas had caught up with Jackson when the explosion went off. "Must be Bell," the large man grinned. "He was in charge of the fireworks."
With his primary goal completed, the gunslinger made his way to join Rogers again. One of the few remaining guards tried to stop him, but quickly found out that bullets and internal organs don't mix very well.
Finally, he located Rogers in a small office. His partner had a folder in his hands when Dirk came in. Instincts were strong in a soldier. Rogers went for his gun but stopped seeing Dirk standing in front of him with his gun already drawn in response to his movement. Instincts were strong in a soldier. "What little goodies have you found?" the gunslinger asked.
"Oh... this? Can't really tell. Might be nothing. I just found it and had no time to look it over."
"Let me have a look."
"I don't know. After all, it's my responsibility. You get to blow shit up and pop people. Why don't you let me have some fun?'
"Ah..." the lieutenant said as he walked through the door. "Glad to see you two slackers found some me time while we're doing the hard work. Let me see that, Rogers." The lieutenant yanked the files from the young man's hand and looked it over. A smile crept across his face. "Good work. Looks like this is just what we came for. It tells us exactly where to find the last installation. I'm surprised it was still here. It would have been the first thing that I would have taken care of if I was the big man here."
"It might be a decoy," Rogers said, "just like all the other intel from earlier. Or maybe this is a trap that they want to get us out of the way with, like the barn."
"There's only one way to find out," the superior officer answered. "Who's up for a trip to Switzerland?"