“How long do you go before they give you another dose?”
“I’m due for a dose in two hours.”
“We need to get you to a hospital because the detoxing of Scopolamine is not a pretty sight, and some people have died trying to come off of it.” I turn to Agent Munroe. “I want him under guard around the clock. I don’t want suits guarding him. I want a TAC team protecting him.
She nods. “Sure, I can set that up.”
We slide out of the booth, and an eerie silence washes over the bar, jaws slacked eyes wide with fear staring at the front of the pub. I reluctantly turn to the front and see 12 men decked out in matching black BDU’s and ski masks armed with SMGs and AA12s. We draw our guns. “Everybody down!” I scream just before leaping over the bar.
Munroe draws her Glock and shoves Drake and his sister into the men’s bathroom. The commandos raise their weapons and unleash a deafening storm of lead. The glowing rounds disintegrate the glass and strike three of the customers setting them on fire; the agents’ frantically crawl across the floor, entangled in flames screaming.
“Fuck! No!” Munroe cries in rage, blazing her firearm. I shove her toward cover.
Goddamn Dragon’s Breath rounds.
I close my eyes, trying to block out the sounds of the screaming, and the smell of burnt flesh that stains the air. I stick my hand over the bar and fire blindly. Munroe belts off a few rounds and tags one of them in the neck. He falls to the ground clutching his throat gagging.
The death squad advances and unloads their SMGs into the bar blowing out the wood floor and clouds of drywall explode from the walls. Glass bottles shatter soaking the shelf with liquor and littering the floor with glass. They stop to reload, and I yell out. “Everybody run to the back of the bar!” I raise up and fire off a few rounds, forcing them to duck for cover. The customers who were still alive jump to their feet and run like hell to the backdoor. One of the assholes rush through the door shouldering his weapon, and begins to fire, but I put two in his chest and one in the head… a Mozambique.
One of the soldiers lobs a frag into the building. “Grenade!” I say, ducking behind the bar. The grenade explodes, turning the furniture into kindling and blowing a dent in the floor, filling the bar with smoke. I begin to reload when one of the shooters leaps over the bar knocking the gun out of my hand. He yanks a blade from his sheath. “After I’m done with you, I’m going to gut Agent Drake.”
“Don’t write a check your ass can’t cash.”
He lunges with a flurry of slashes. My hands deflect his strikes, and I put him in a wrist lock. He screams as his wrist lets out a snap I then drive my foot into his knee, buckling his leg. He collapses to his knees, shrieking. I yank my Karambit and jam the blade into his trachea and pick up his MP5 and check the magazine.
A full mag.
I grab my service weapon and slap in a fresh mag and shove it in my holster. I leap over the bar and crouch behind a booth. I hear feet shuffling through the debris on the floor. I peek around the corner and see a soldier with an AA12 checking under the stalls I ready my blade. He stops next to me, and I wrap my arms around his neck, putting him in a rear choke. I drag my knife across his throat, and a gusher of blood sprays my face when the blade slices his carotid. I line up the sights on my SMG and hose three of them checking the other row of booths. I advance through the bar and gun down two more of them. One of the soldiers blindsides me and elbows me in the jaw knocking me off balance. I try to follow up with a butt stroke, but the commando catches the MP5 and rips it out of my hands and hurls me across the pool table.
I need to get my shit together, or this mountain of a man is going to rip me apart.
I draw my sidearm, but he kicks it out of my hand. He throws himself on me, wrapping his fingers tightly around my neck, cutting off my air. I frantically feel around for a weapon while fighting to breathe on the verge of losing consciousness. He leans down in my face. “You’re gonna die, you fucking whore!” he growls.
I didn’t come all this way just to be strangled to death in a goddamn pub.
My hand finds a shard of glass; it cuts into my flesh as my fingers firmly wrap around the shard. I jam it into his eye. “Not to-fucking-day, asshole.” He rolls off me wailing and writhing in agony. My hand throbs with pain as I scramble away from him and grab my MP5 spraying his brains across the floor.
Munroe sneaks over to me while keeping low. “Lobos, SWAT, and EMS are inbound. Let’s fall back to the restroom and let SWAT handle this.”
My eyes burn with hot rage. “No. I’m going to put these assholes in the dirt.”
A round strikes Munroe in the arm.
Damn it!
She slumps against the booth clutching her arm. “Son of a bitch!” she cries. I grab Munroe by the collar, firing off rounds to force them to duck for cover. I drag her behind the condiments station. Flaming bullets pelt the condiments station exploding the containers of ketchup and mustard. I pull off my belt and tie off her arm to stop the bleeding. “Stay here.” I rush across the dining area, strafing the soldiers with automatic fire. One of my bullets rips through a soldier’s knee. Another round strikes another between the eyes. A cacophony of
