Chapter 2: Friends with Benefits

They took in the name, understanding it was an established military tactic meant to display the use of overwhelming power in spectacular displays to paralyze an enemy’s perception of the battlefield and destroy their will to fight. They’d effectively done that, anticipating the advantage the media coverage of their crimes would grant them to instil fear and demoralize an already distrustful public opinion around their government’s competency to keep them safe. “Shock and Awe” she repeated with the same enthusiasm as a kid in a candy store. Max looked on, his expression a mix of sadness and pride, “please don’t try and guess who is which one”, he advised his tone half joking, half pleading, as he knew Sarah would only get a further kick out of it. “What I do suggest is deciding whether to put this building on high alert or not soon, which could trigger the sleeper agents ahead of time or might just give you the added advantage you need to intercept them”, Max advised levelly.

Clara looked over to Walter, her brows furrowed in contemplation before turning back to the duo, “And why should we take what you’re saying at face value? That you’re not just setting us up? Or that we won’t just throw you both in a cell and let whatever happens next unfold without you getting in the way?” she asked with a steely gaze. Max looked towards the ceiling intently as if he could see or even hear something no one else could, Sarah sitting beside him waited with a baited breathe, as if he’d done this a million times before and unequivocally trusted his senses as he said “were on the ground floor correct?”, he asked idly still focused on the ceiling. Clara nodded once before he added “So there are forty-one stories and there’s not just you guys here”, he said generally indicating the FBI “but also the Department of Homeland Security based in this building right? That means twice as many agents as usual running around like headless chickens if what were telling you is actually true, as their own friends and even ranking officials turn on them and basically have their way of the place. Apart from that I can also imagine the destructive capability any sleeper force could attain by access to your Science and Technology Branch probably located on the twenty-third floor where the FBI local branch works out of, barring a few rooms or even floors like this, you can burrow out of hand in an emergency I imagine”, he said.

“And like me I’m betting you can only begin to imagine what they’d do once they took control of the “Forensic Science”, “Operational Technology” and “Information Sharing”, departments you have in that dedicated wing. Including but not limited to of course, sabotage, theft of sensitive data, including information of potential future sleeper agents via an consolidated criminal record system, in-depth information on the current infrastructure including military as well political key figures they could target with information privy to their location and extended family as well as the level of personal security surrounding these figures, so to assess a plan for effective and immediate execution, along with the ability to cripple your Intel database and connection to your headquarters in Washington or any other of your field offices before anyone can press the “panic button” and send in a dedicated response team, like these ladies and gentlemen”, he said with a flourish of his hand in their direction, all whilst keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the roof. “But what should worry you the most, is that in-between here and the twenty-third floor it’ll become open season on anyone not prepared and not able to defend themselves against what...”, he tilted his head as if detecting something only he could hear “what’s sounds like the same M4A1 automatic rifles your hefting, I can hear rattling off up there just faintly like buzzing flies, unless you guys have a really noisy set of printers mowing down people up there, either way, I’d call upstairs make sure you receive your “marching orders” as it were. In case you do need our expertise, please consider us as Sarah has so kindly described our situation as “free agents”, because “mercenaries” implies a form of payment is involved, and trust us...”, he said as he stood up to his full height, still listening to the ceiling which gave back no response, no sound to indicate he was right as the SWAT members in front of him flinched back a step in anticipation of the potential violence about to explode, but found none as he finished “ ... there isn’t enough of “Caesars coin” to go around that you could offer us to participate in the “battle royale” they have going on upstairs. We’d gladly do it as a sign of good faith on our part that we are more than just ... what would you describe us as?”, he asked Sarah quizzically as if confronted with a conundrum he knew she could resolve perfectly with her particular style of wordplay, as she lit up at the challenge and without hesitation described them as “A pair of sociopaths with a vendetta and a penchant for the dramatic”, she said with a look that confirmed each and every word, the kind that could charm a snake out of its skin.

Clara’s eyes narrowed, and she could feel the tension in the room tighten like a noose, “Exactly”, Max said simply, as if agreeing with something as basic as the law of attraction or more appropriate to their case the law of cause and effect. “The only thing we’d request in return is resupply after we’ve established and achieved our objectives as a whole and a way during to identify ourselves as “friendlies” in case one of your fellow agents misinterprets our actions as outright hostile instead of helpful. You wouldn’t have a whole bunch of FBI decals we could attach to our armour would you? It would be self-explanatory and eye catching”, he offered. “That and obviously we’d need a safehouse to rearm and maintain our equipment and fill you in, in greater depth afterwards, something you’ll need more time for than you can spare right now”, he offered as he sat back down, easing a small amount of tension out of the room with his nonchalance.

As Clara took out her phone and called her superior, the room remained eerily quiet, as she got hold of the assistant director, the chatter of machine guns on his end in the background filling her with dread as she asked for a clarification on what was happening to him, as she saw Sarah’s smile widen, even as he Max gestured with his hand gently that she ease up, knowing how she could have this affect on people around her easily and often without really intending it, with just an emotive stare and a knowing smile. The SWAT team was visibly nervous, glancing around as if expecting the walls to crumble around them. Clara hung up her phone after a brief conversation stating in broad strokes that they’d “captured” both suspects they believed responsible for the rampant loss of life all across of New York’s boroughs collective criminal underbelly and that they had potential Intel on a much larger operation that threatened the very fabric of national security. Along with their obvious eagerness to provide their unique “services” in exchange for a level of leniency in the face of their past crimes, with further terms she obviously wasn’t authorized to make on her own. The assistant director promptly asked her if she was being coerced to which she replied with a firm no, the only coercion she felt was the weight of her own curiosity and fear for what was happening in the very building she was standing in.

The end result was punctuated by automatic weapons fire in the background that seemed to be completely taking up the directors focus before he managed to come back to end his phone call, “Can they be trusted to follow your direct orders without deviating”, the sounds of screaming and suppressive fire filled the calls background as Clara asked them both “Can you?”, knowing they’d probably both heard the assistant directors question perfectly, considering the lengths gone to enhance their physiologies if they were to be believed, to which Max nodded as he turned to Sarah who simply said “this’ll probably be the best job I’ve ever had, why would I want to give it up now?”, she said with a devious smile, as she lightly pricked her finger on the edge of her combat knife, applying a fresh coat of “lipstick” on her lips perfectly after wiping away the dried layer that had begun to crack, showing she was ready to move, as if this was just another day at the office for her.

The SWAT members looked on, their expressions a mix of scepticism and fear. Clara knew she and her partner Walter had to make a decision quickly. They both concluded with a nod to the team, signalling to them to stand down. The SWAT leader looked relieved but also equally concerned. “Alright, we’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” Clara said her voice firm but strained. “But if you betray us, we won’t hesitate to take you down.” It was a gamble, but Clara knew that sometimes the most dangerous pawns on the chessboard had to be played. As she watched them re-arm, donning their helmets with practiced ease, Clara noticed each had a Latin inscription roughly marked into them as if by the edge of a knife as Max’s read “Tremendum” meaning “awe-inspiring” and Sarah’s “Impulsa” meaning “driving force”, essentially describing them as shock troops and dually their designated code names, as they more than looked the part. Max slung his rifle over his shoulder, despite it not having any straps, it somehow clung to his back firmly, instead of clattering to the floor, as if an invisible magnetic sheathe was wrapping around it and enviously holding it in place flush against the armour plating, as did his pistol on his upper thigh plate on his hip that only served to add credence to their story.

Max turned to Sarah once before turning back to the room filled with understandably tense agents. “We advise on putting us in front to take point with Sarah as the forward scout, we have no idea how far we need to go, she can speed ahead and alert us of any traps, chokepoints or ambushes their likely setting up ahead of any kind of organized response they might encounter. Also our armour is of a higher grade so if we stand in front of you the worst you have to look forwards to is making sure you don’t get hit by a ricochet”, he offered them. At this point their bodies were completely submerged in their thoroughly sealed armour, leaving nothing exposed except for a few well placed machined holes along their facemasks mouth sections, no doubt doubly acting as filters for anything they didn’t want to unwittingly inhale, like tear gas or any other form of breathable, non-lethal agent, aswell as a way to verbally communicate. Clara and Walter shared a look, knowing that if they were wrong about Max and Sarah, their careers would be over at the very least, and likely so would everyone else’s lives in this room. “We’re on the same side, for now,” Clara said through gritted teeth. “Don’t worry”, Sarah said, the obvious enthusiasm in her voice not lost even through the helmets filter. “We know what we are”, Max said softly, as Sarah added “Were the monsters in the basement”, she said with a smile they could hear in her voice “And right now you’re the one’s holding the lock and the key”, Max said “So why would we ever want to go back?”, Sarah finished, her voice a low chuckle that sent shivers down Clara’s spine.

“You might wanna’ step out of the way, no one ever blames the car for turning the random squirrel into road kill for good reason”, Max said indicating towards the crowded door of the interrogation room, as the SWAT members shuffled aside, the tension in their movements belying their understandable fear. Clara nodded and watched Sarah become a black blur, cackling like a dark spirited creature gliding on unseen thermals as she barely seemed to touch the ground with each fleeting step, despite the obvious weight of her armour as Max by comparison took to an easy pace, simply stating on his way out “Maintain radio communications through frequency ninety-eight point six, she likes to talk, and knows to report back regularly, until she starts having fun, then it’s matter of following the blood trail, so trust her to keep you in the loop and watch out for pools of blood, their much more slick and prone to make you slip than you’d believe”, he said as he started off at a steady march in the general direction Sarah had disappeared through. They all switched to the radio frequency, noting it was obviously the same as the standard human body temperature in Fahrenheit, which Clara found a dark sort of humour, as the SWAT members followed them out of the room, as a rearguard along with Walter and Clara herself in the middle, with three behind and three in front, keeping a steady pace behind Max, as they made their way to the stairwell, foregoing the usage of the elevators in case internal power supplies were compromised within the building and they were left trapped within.

She flew, like some dark raven of death, over desks and chairs, her legs projecting her forwards like some form of human ballistic missile homing in on her enemies, the blade flashed like a kind of hissing, natural talon through the air before it sank into unwelcoming flesh, armour, ribs and muscle seemingly ignored as she stabbed upwards diagonally aiming for the heart as if receiving not resistance and cutting through paper instead, hugging the body of the first tactical SWAT member to her with one arm draped behind his back as she levered his body towards her peeking over his shoulder for her next target. Her other hand already sealed over his mouth to muffle his screaming in his last moments alive, whilst simultaneously preparing to use the body as a meat shield if necessary, as she spotted her next two targets. Their backs were to her, one fifteen meters to her left panning his rifle for potential targets from the opposite direction in case anyone came down the stairwell from the upper floor. There were bodies everywhere, blood soaked the carpeted floor and desks around her, as bodies slumped in awkward positions, turned into so much shredded, human cannon fodder. The second was to her right, panning towards her as she slowly let the body drop soundlessly, before she leapt again towards her right. She looked like some kind of armoured macabre horror, her body covered in scarlet patches where she hadn’t been able to avoid the effects of blood splatter. She connected with a booted foot to the lower jaw first, placing it just right to connect with his manibular nerve, dropping him instantly like a sack of bricks onto his knees, before her blade whispered through the air again and his throat was laid bare, spilling crimson in the air and down his chest plate before he had chance to scream or call out. She crouches behind a table, peeking over the edge, spotting the last sentry, before she lobbed an incendiary grenade across the floor, its speed and oscillation calculated to attract his attention at the familiar sound, as it stops just in front of his feet, as he turns in the opposite direction, rushing directly towards her unaware of her ambush position. The pin removed, a crooked smile sliding over her lips as, as she can feel the cruel melody of her heartbeats sweet rhythm pulse in her head alongside her growing excitement.

Even though the firing pin had been removed the grenades “spoon” was still firmly in place, the metallic curve of metal extending over the top of the grenade itself and curling around the main, pineapple shaped body, normally acting as its safety lever, which would then “bounce” allowing the “striker” mechanism within to hit the primer causing the spark that would burn through the material of the fuse, leading to the explosive detonator within. Except for the fact that the spoon itself was caught fast by a magnetic mechanism on the underside of the grenades body, discretely making it cling and therefore retaining the striker in place from striking the fuse, at least unless she felt like manually detonating it, through the handheld, wireless transmitter within her utility belt. The reason for this being simple, she knew the act of seeing a grenade by itself would suggest instantly to anyone who saw it, that it was already armed prior to being flung in their general direction, forcing them to panic and giving her precious moments to capitalize on their fear and instant shock, as they tried to get away from the source of potential death lobbed at them.

In her darkest of moments she realizes she was built for this, but at the same time she knew the only relish she could draw from it, was only during the battle itself, not the aftermath. She takes flight once again, the last guard rushing towards her unwittingly, even as she’s gliding with her blade drawn. The surface is eerily clean despite the lives it’s taken with no need to ever maintain it herself, almost as if the metal itself is repulsed by the very substance it craves. She timed her lunge perfectly, the blade cutting through skin, meat and bone under the force of her projected leap, carrying her through the lethal stroke that rung metallically through the air, as she sliced through armoured neck guard of the SWAT members armour as if they were paper, his head falling away like a rotten apple, as she lands by the grenade, pull-pin in hand as she slid it back in and recovered it slotting it over in place over her tactical harness. Standing she reports “minimal resistance eliminated no survivors”, she reports into her helmets built-in radio looking around. They’d used the bodies as makeshift barricades in front of the elevators, pilling them on top of each other like so much dead meat in preparation for any kind of lethal response, as she watched, for any shallow breathes, any living or injured amongst the dead, trying to blend in amongst their friends, co-workers maybe even loved ones to avoid getting caught and killed just like them, by playing possum until help arrived, as she felt part of her heart begin to break, seeing no one move or respond to gentle prodding. She hated standing still like this, in the aftermath, the criminals they’d slaughtered during their spree through the boroughs had been easy pickings, not a single, innocent soul existed amongst them to bring a tear to her eye, as she felt an armoured hand on her shoulder, her instincts taking over, as her arm, dagger in hand snaked out in the general direction of the chest the arm would be connected to.

She felt a hand reach out and restrain her own, impossibly fast or just enough to catch her wrist, as she looked and into Max’s own mask, the eye slots, not wholly reflective to reduce chances of unwittingly catching a stray ray of light and exposing his position, allowed her a small glimpse of his true eyes, as they searched her own with a knowing look even as he let go of her wrist tapping the blade just as its tip was about to stab point first into his chest, directly over his heart. A gloved index finger caught the edge of her chin and raised it before she heard the calming rasp of his filtered voice

“I realize it’s...” he started but then caught the look in her eye through her own rectangular lenses that told him she wasn’t looking for a pleasant words to sugar coat what was happening around them “it’s terrifying and you don’t know how effective the psychological buffers within our reprogramming will be, now that were no longer just brainwashed agents”, he said as he took a pause to collect himself too, after looking around at the carnage “I imagine it will get harder before it gets easier, but that’s why we’re here, to make it less frightening and give them the same fighting chance we we’re never afforded”, he said, knowing how she felt about killing the innocent which had urged him to bring her into his idea of bargaining for their lives initially, knowing if they didn’t it would hollow not only her but him out completely otherwise in the long run as reprogrammed agents under “their” control. The tactical team now coming into view along with the two agents now fully armoured and equipped themselves with bullet-resistant vests and rifles, after a quick stop to the armoury had also outfitted Max’s and Sarah’s armour with FBI decals, placing them over there back and top left portion of their chest plates for easy recognition, proceeded to examine the remains of the room around them, noting Sarah’s quick and efficient style over the wanton murder of the bullet riddled corpses, that had been their fellow agents, perpetrated by the SWAT members turned sleeper agents, now just slumping corpses themselves. She lowered the blade, and began making her way towards the nearest stairwell without a word.

Floor ten. The gunfire failed to penetrate but rattled his armour regardless. They were well aware of them now, or at least aware of the affectivity of a mounted resistance working its way up from the lower floors, in conjunction with the any resistance offered from above from the twenty-third floor, obviously coordinated by the assistant director if anyone, in a makeshift pincer movement. Although judging by recent reports the going was bloody for the director and his organized group. He ejected a casing quickly from the bolt rifles ejection port, as he pulled back the handle to reload another round, his movements mechanical and precise, honed from endless practice. The gun was almost like an old friend, a modified Mondragón rifle with a custom suppressor, it had been painted a dull black to match the rest of his armour, the internal stabilizers from the suppressor not only reducing the muzzle flash to a flicker of light and the sound of the gunshot to a whisper but also making the recoil almost non-existent as he shouldered and fired the weapon at will. The resistance they were meeting proving too dangerous to allow any single operative to work alone, as he drew the attention of the majority of them whilst Sarah carefully flanked and struck from unsuspecting angles, before resuming cover again. For every thirty casings they wasted trying to hold him in place with automatic fire he used up only one methodically, to punch through each individual target mortally, with the slowness of some kind of intolerable metal giant, slinging death at them, unhurried, unworried, as they soon began to regroup and retreat in a disciplined and organized manner. Some had been daring enough to throw grenades, which he quickly smacked away from both him and Sarah’ current position or barring that clenched in his fist as he gritted his jaw as he did with the latest one. The explosion rocked the room, even as Sarah used the distraction of the explosion he willingly provided, to leap out from behind cover. Her blade flashing out as she struck the first of five SWAT members, his knees buckling as she cut through his hamstrings before emptying a controlled burst into the space between his neck guard and helmet from behind his throat exploding outwards, even as she was leaping at the second one who was already turning to meet her.

Her booted feet met his chest as she stabbed downwards with her gun into his mouth, and emptied a burst of automatic fire, before leaping off him in a mid air flip like a coiled spring, landing squarely on the shoulders of the third, punching in a downwards stab of her dagger through his helmeted head, as his body gave way below her, falling limp and lifeless to the floor next to the one before him. She casually stepped off his shoulders with perfect timing, not losing her step even as she dropped to the ground with him, landing nimbly on her feet, remaining absolutely still as she watched the last two with a crooked smile she knew they couldn’t see behind her mask, but didn’t have to, to feel the coldness of it, as the smoke cleared and a gloved hand emerged through the smoke debris at the heart of the explosion that had rocked the room to stabilize an emerging rifle as it level at them both whilst they were distracted.

Max emerged slowly, as undaunted and stoic as ever, his armour only barely marred by the impact of the explosion, the scratches scraping its paintwork had been so numerous and overlapping even prior to engaging them that it could barely be discerned if the grenades had, had any actual effect on him now, seeing no obvious or distinguishing signs of damage to the armour he wore, even as he swung his rifle barrel to level it against them within the swirling smoke. The suppressor intact, undamaged, he’d slung on his back magnetically at the same time he’d reached for the lobbed grenade with his clenching fist, the remains of which slipping through his fingers, even as he released a single armour penetrating round, angled to punch through both the heads of the reeling SWAT members at once in a concentrated line, lining themselves up in to face Sarah with overlapping suppressive fire to combat her agility, thinking he’d already been turned to human shrapnel. As both bodies dropped to the ground, he emerged fully from the dispersing smoke, sensing Sarah smiling as she whispered over their private comms “show-off”, with an amused tone, as she turned to face the next wave “In all fairness”, he said “you make it hard to resist”, with smile she could hear on his lips before she replied “I do, don’t I?”, she said teasingly, as she launched herself forwards, as he provided suppressive fire. Her armour was just as durable as his but the point was not to make this a war of attrition, eventually the right amount of shock to the system could defeat them even with their suits and knock them out if they didn’t keep an eye on themselves. The initial shockwave alone had only been weathered through by the use of his magnetized boots, keeping him stabilized and rooted to the floor. The grenade he’d crushed in his hand and sent a jarring torrent of kinetic energy up his arm and into his shoulder joint, but the suit absorbed most of it, leaving him with only a bruise and a grimace. Too much of this and they wouldn’t be able to walk out of this on their own power by the end of it and this was only the opening skirmish, in the long war they suspected would progress well beyond their capabilities or natural life spans.

He levelled the rifle, its digital scope connected to his masks HUD picking out targets by passive pinging sweeps routed through his rifles additional sensors locked into place besides the main opening of the suppressor’s barrel. They had five more bodies to reduce to ash and bad memories, as they trudged on.

Floor fifteen, he suspected the agents and even the tactical squad members couldn’t support much more, as they watched as floor after floor of friends and co-workers littered the packed whole storeys. Some they even managed to recover and form a fighting spear tip with Max and Sarah at its head. Sarah’s quick layout analysis of the floor plan of each floor and it’s combating elements helping them formulate working in situ plans as they watched out for C4 explosives triggered by anything as delicate a motion, heat and even sound sensitive triggers, before either disabling or working around them to alternate routes. At one point Max had burst a wall height window through with his shoulder and allowed Sarah to climb on it as he braced himself against the inner wall and she launched herself up into the next room, using a few well placed automatic rounds from her suppressed pistol to burst through the upper floors identical wall height window, tumbling through it in a practiced roll, before levelling out into a projecting leap, as she hammered fresh rounds into her first target that had witnessed her reckless entry and turned to lock her firmly within his gun sights, as she seemed to float weightlessly through the air, her armoured form seemingly unhindered by its obvious burden. The rounds found their mark slamming into his balaclava covered face through the mouth and then the cut out eye slots as he tumbled back, knocking off the aim of the SWAT member behind him, as she attempted to regain her balance and failed just long enough for Sarah to land her full armoured weight on the female SWAT member, as she fell back and was effectively pinned under it. Sarah slammed her blade simply in a downward thrust impaling it between her eyebrows, just above above the nose, watching as the room came alight with activity, as gunfire echoed and fresh rounds slammed into and around her, only barely throwing off her balance, as she leapt. Her body twisting mid air into an overhead flip that ended in her landing atop another SWAT member before she retrieved a small adhesive pad from her booted feet along the ankle, magnetized to cling to her much like her pistol and blade, before sticking it beyond his reach down his back, as she leapt off the sleeper agent and onto the next one. The fierce snap of a “Penetrator” round slashing up through concrete and smacking wetly into the sleeper agents body soundlessly, before he fell lifelessly.

The immediate effect purposely timed to make it all the more surreal and macabre in nature, as the casual onlooker saw her only making brief bodily contact before leaping off and switching to another sleeper agent, before the body fell with another metallic snap, almost like a round going off with no source in sight, as her own pistol was locked curiously to her thigh with no signs of a tactical holster or otherwise in sight, as they she simply leaped like a demonic jackrabbit from hell, from one agent to another, with the touch of death passing from one victim to the next, as she twisted and turned in mid air, like a born acrobat, even in a fully armoured suit of ballistic wargear, which made it all the more unsettling. It was a dance of death and destruction that quickly forced them to regroup, even as she landed amongst them, the tip of her combat knife pulling free a pin from one of their secured grenades along the bandolier draped across one of their team members chests, before she leaped off with it in her hand with a cackle that echoed through the mask as perfectly human but also cruelly so, as she hammered fresh rounds from her pistol snapping to her upraised fist from her thigh plate without her having to reach for it, her gloves magnetic contacts coming into full effect via an electric current quickly draining back into the suits main battery, to no longer demagnetize them when she opened her palm flatly. As the pistols handgrip snapped cleanly into hers, as she levelled it and cleanly punched a controlled burst through the air, hammering fresh rounds into their knees, as armoured padding exploded outwards before the grenades explosion catalyzed in a furious series of chained explosions from the additional grenades from the collective bandoliers in groups possession.