"Everybody clear on the plan?" Unit Leader Fox made deliberate eye contact with each of us. "Adams? Armstrong? Davenport? Masters?" He nodded to each of us, a slight nod back in understanding. "Good." He shook his head once, then scanned the field. All of us were lined up behind Fox, our backs against a large steel wall, concealing us from the field. "On my count."
I could feel Derek's eyes on me for a moment, but I'd pretended not to notice. I knew what he was thinking. I just hoped he wouldn't lose his mind out there. We both know that this isn't real. But that doesn't stop the little fight or flight sensors from triggering in our broken minds. And for some reason I really did not feel like reassuring him right now. Not that he would say it helped any, he'd just ignore it pretending that he's fine. Which I didn't want to feel like I'm the sappy one. I had bigger fish to fry.
"Three." Fox's voice broke into my brain. Shit, three!
I watched Adams scurry around the left corner of the metal structure, concealing the stairs upward to the top of what resembled a two level parking structure. The rest of us took off across an open strip of unconcealed territory. We ran from complex to complex for cover. We hadn't been spotted thanks to Grigs.
"Hold up." Unit Leader Fox commanded, holding up his hand to us behind him. "Adams, are you in position?" He spoke into his cuff.
"In position, Sir."
"Let's go!" Fox spit. We broke into a dead sprint along the backside of an enemy structure. So far there had been no enemy fire. We were still undetected. Adams would pick off whoever came onto us. Since he was in position, that meant he had taken out the existing sniper in this region, replacing him for our benefit.
"Up, up, up!" He barked, banging his open hand against the fence. Armstrong lead the pack, vaulting over the eight foot fence. I jumped up hard, catching the lip of it, then the unexpected. An arm of aid appeared over the top of the fence. Armstrong helping me out? Definitely unexpected. I grabbed her forearm, her hand locking around mine. I swung my legs over then extended my arm to Derek. Of course he didn't grab it. Wasn't his style.
Then Fox, holstering his weapon grabbed the top of the fence with both hands, and swiftly somersaulted over the top, landing firmly on his feet.
We slammed our backs against the wall, pausing briefly to listen. Unit Leader Fox nodded to Derek.
"You're up, Masters." He came under his breath. Derek replaced Fox as the lead, and slid open the wide-framed metal door. Armstrong aiming down the hallway. Empty. Derek ran ahead, we followed. Taking two steps at a time we scored the short staircase.
"You've got 'em. They're following you." Griggs came over all our wrist bands, his voice calculating.
"Cattle are headed your way." Adams clocked in.
"Okay, let's move, Masters." Fox pushed. "Engage in 5." We picked up the pace, scoring another flight of stairs. Guns tucked close, crouched positions, heads down.
Fox slid the dull gray door at the top of the stairs, Derek poured in followed by Armstrong, then me. He spewed "bullets" in all directions, taking down 6 players.
"CLEAR!" Derek shouted. My eyes swept the red teams control room. The players all groaned and one threw down his weapon in disappointment.
"Damnit." I heard one say under their breath. The "dead guys" filed out sluggishly.
The rest of our team entered the room, and we all lowered our weapons. From the control panel looking out, you could see the whole field. Each team had a Control Room, where they could see the field and talk to their team via radio (i.e. wristbands). These Control Rooms were the tallest complex's in the Sector. There were two, and they were on opposite ends of the field but right across from each other.
What we were doing was the exact reason that we didn't use our tower as an aid to guide us. They apparently get hijacked on the daily. So we didn't stock ours with more than a few players. Knowing that unless there was an emergency, we wouldn't be listening to the chatter on that frequency. We communicated to the other units directly.
So, unless this team was smart enough to alert their players that, we controlled them. Like cattle, we were gonna herd them into a kill pen and open fire. Even though its fake, that still makes me cringe.
We watched the door in silence, as Unit Leader Fox gave the orders, and rounded up our troops to carry them out. All we had to do was get the orders out before reinforcements met us at the door.
We were waiting for the code word, before evacuating the red teams communications tower. No longer than 10 minutes went by and the red team listened to the orders thinking it was a battle strategy from their teams players.
"Moo!" A male voice came over the intercom.
"Let's move out!" Fox ordered. We snapped to attention at our UL's voice. Back in formation, we made our way back the way we first came.
"How're we looking, Adams?" Fox came under his breath.
"All clear, Sir." He answered.
We continued on cautiously, one after the other, eyes scanning our paths. My eyes kept playing tricks on me due to the darkness and the vibrant lines of electric green outlining paths or edges of compounds. The shadows from the brilliant lights, kept my vision shifting, not knowing if what I saw was just spots in my vision or a player moving soundlessly.
There was sound of sudden gunfire, and a lot of it. But it was far away. That must have been the kill zone. We all looked at our wristbands pulling up the map, seeing all the red lights begin to go out. It was working!
But then five little red blips caught our attention on the map, headed for us.
"Move, move, move!" Fox barked, and we hauled ass.
"There they are!" We heard a female voice call after us. Without missing a beat, I aimed my gun behind us, holding up the tail end of our formation. And let rip the last of the bullets in my chamber. About 12. Only taking down two players of the five. Shooting steady while running, is not my strong suit. I slapped my hand on the complex we were running along, sliding maybe three bullets off the wall. I dropped them down the shoot of my C-11.
Fox stopped just short of the fence, allowing Armstrong to hurl herself over the top. Fox popped off a few rounds, another one down. Derek jumped catching the top of the fence, keeping his body close flipped himself over the top, landing on his feet, his fingers grazing the ground upon landing. Seemed easy enough. Derek whirled, poking the nose of his gun through the fence and taking out another.
We were in luck. Since the bullets are magnetic, and everything in this place is also magnetic, the bullets instead of passing through the fence, redirected maybe half an inch and clung to it. So everyone on the other side was safe.
"Go! Davenport!" Fox ordered. He was bent over, hands clasped together in front of him next to the fence. He was gonna boost me up.
There was only one player left. And I had three tries.
Instead of fleeing to safety behind the fence, I spun and hit rapid fire. There was the sound of a spark, and the last players gun was disabled. He stopped running, his heavy feet slapping the cross-hatched rubber flooring.
"Great game." A familiar voice came, the final player stepping out of the darkness. It was Ranger!
Then the lights to the arena came on abruptly and the sound of the buzzer echoed loudly in all our ears. I tried not to wince.
"When I give an order, Davenport, it is to be obeyed!" Fox's harsh voice busted my eardrums. "Not to be taken under consideration!" I flinched away from our Unit Leader, his face nearly blue. "This was on the front lines, not only would you be dead, this unit would be dead!" He continued on busting my ass.
"We clear, soldier?!" He spit. No, I mean literally spit. I didn't wipe my face. He'd probably take offense then bust my ass some more.
"Clear." I cast my eyes down, embarrassed. Fox turned abruptly on his heal, and scaled the fence.
"Damn greens don't belong out here." He all but muttered. And he wasn't wrong.
