weapons † hs

13. unprofessional

I had never been in such danger, where I didn't have any idea the end result.

My parents were so against me doing this. I just wanted to prove them wrong, that I was cut out for this job. But their disapproving frowns when I told them what new mission I was trying was an image I couldn't get out of my head.

"Forbes!"

"Yes, sir!" I backed away from my mind, seeing that we're parked now at the artillery base, everyone huddled close in the van.

"As I was saying, if it gets bad, backup will be by helicopter, so be prepared. You two newbies are in for a tougher mission than we expected, be prepared. Chiefs from the base have only informed that he's seized the explosives area and shows no signs of resisting. He's not alone, but there's no clear number of how many he has with him. Ready?"

"Yes sir!" The rest of the group, including Ryan and I, all shouted in unison before rushing out of the back of our van, guns in hand as we entered protocol and walked into the artillery.

Ryan and I stuck by each other, in the eerie, quiet explosives containment area, already having had moved past the firearms area, a little taken a back at the number of casualties lying around that we had already seen.

"Babe, I love you. We'll be okay," Ryan whispered into my ear when we were at a pause, grabbing my armor-clad shoulder, his gun in his other hand.

I nodded at him, trying to keep my mind off the gore I just witnessed as we continued.

Military troops joined with us as we slithered through the much larger containment area, moving cover to cover. Our surrounding had us ultimately more cautious then ever, since multiple types of explosives were quite literally stored everywhere. We grew from ten of us to I think over twenty, and I prayed we were enough. It was too quiet for the amount of guys supposedly here with the main criminal. We knew something was wrong, or about to go wrong.

Dust could be seen in the air from the amount of light shining in from the high windows. It looked abandoned. It smelled of sweat, metal, and gun fire. People had been in here not long ago, if that. My body felt stuffy, claustrophobic in the thick tension-filled air.

A light dink noise sounded a few feet away from me, echoing in the building, and every single quiet footstep from each of us stopped in their tracks.

Every one of us looked around before Agent Grant up front shouted, "Grenade!"

Not even a second passed until it exploded, starting an uproar of crossfire shots between us and them, a few men on our side who were hit from the blow taking a breather before joining in, no one really hurt from that blast.

But that was only the first one.

Overwhelmed, I kept strong by shooting at the multiple men aiming at me and my fellow agents, focusing my assault rifle on the two most in front of me, the deafening thundering from all the shooting an easy distraction, making it difficult to pay attention. No shooting range I was in the weeks prior to this mission could've prepared me for the real thing.

My aim, when practicing, had always been spotless, but that perfection deteriorated almost instantly when I had seen, out of the corner of my eye, our men getting shot or knocked out to the ground.