My Only Plea

-1-

Darkness surrounded me like a shroud, but I wasn't complaining; in fact it made feel more in control.

My boots crept along the wood flooring and my hands flexed their hold on my rifle. I had managed to stay my breathing to a mere shifting of the air, meaning there would be a small chance of being discovered.

A misplaced step caused the floor to creak. I froze and brought my weapon to a ready position.

After counting to forty, I decided it safe to continue my search.

I went four steps forward before my earpiece crackled with a message from the men waiting outside.

"Have you found her yet, sir?"

Scowling at the agent's impatience, I pressed the mic on my wrist and whispered as quietly as possible, "Shut up, Rookie."

I grabbed my semi-automatic rifle with both hands again and started walking to the door at the end of the corridor.

"For the sixth time, my name is Elmo!"

I almost laughed at the kid's attempt to be snarky. Rookie was a compliment in comparison to that name, I mean what were his parents thinking?

Smirking like a cat finding a trapped mouse, I placed a hand on the doorknob in front of me. Before considering to turn it, I crouched down out of line of immediate fire.

One. Two. Three.

At the precise second I turned it and pushed the door open.

That's when everything erupted into chaos. A female screamed, the target, and multiple goons yelled orders while pulling the triggers of their M16s.

I barely had time to dive into the room for cover without being riddled with bullets.

My earpiece went crazy as well with agents shouting for a report; what on earth are they thinking asking for a report at a time like this!

I gritted my teeth and popped up from behind sofa, quickly returning fire. There were five heavily armed men surrounding the chair in the center of the room. I caught a flash of dark hair thanks to the dim light above.

I hated hostages. They were always in the way, and the reason I couldn't do my job properly.

My first array of bullets caused the guards to scatter, except for one foolish lad. He fell to the ground with blood pouring out of the hole in his forehead.

My knees dropped to the ground in time to miss a marksman's precise aim for my skull.

Heart beating like a caged animal, I rolled out from my cover and let my finger press hard against the trigger of my own gun. Which I affectionately call HER.

A cry of pain cut through the sound of shots, which confirmed a successful hit. The fact made me grin in confidence, only three more to go.

I surged to my feet and jumped over the fallen table that I had been using as my second source of protection. It took the enemy by surprise and gave me the advantage for only a moment.

I let HER bury a slug into the first man's heart, but I cast it aside soon after. It would be too close of quarters to use it any further, the other two men realized the same and abandoned their rifles.

The second man pulled out a large switchblade and lunged. I rolled my eyes and easily sidestepped the attempt, my right hand chopped his wrist to make him release the blade while my left foot swept his legs out from under him.

My hope to do away with him was spoiled by the third fellow. Most likely the only trained one of the bunch. He hooked his left arm around my throat, using his other hand to punch my side effectively.