Rainbow Six: November Sun

43: "AN EYE FOR AN EYE"

14:13

UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE
FALLBACK POINT

The joint-security force underground was already prepped for hostile contact, and so they waited.

It was excruciating.

Warden angled his MPX at the underground corridor access. "Ural, Jade - we're covering the fallback point entrance. Warn us when you're near."

"En route. Twenty seconds," came Kapkan.

"Are the packages secure?" asked Blitz.

"Affirmative. Knife, Dragon, and Stone are with us. Three tangos down. Watch your asses."

A muffled boom sounded suddenly, causing Warden and the others to look around. It was faint, but they all knew the sound of an explosion when they heard it.

"Fuck was that?" Dodd asked.

Communications Chief Kate Harvell was suddenly in their ears. "Alert. Explosion reported at Mount Vernon Metro Station, north. Shots fired. Police officers on-scene."

"Jesus," murmured Blackbeard.

"We're coming through!" announced Lesion. "Blue-on-blue. Don't shoot!"

Seconds later the underground corridor door burst open. Security agents fanned out at the ready as others escorted the three national leaders through the doors.

"Cars are ready," Warden called, signaling them forward. "Six Actual, we have the packages. Moving to extract."

"Roger," came Harry. "Maintain your current—"

A deafening explosion rocked the parking garage. Warden stumbled into Alibi, who grasped him by the vest to steady him on his feet. A second explosion erupted. Car alarms on vehicles above ground sounded off, triggered by the blasts.

Secret Service agents near the garage exit ramps were engulfed in thick clouds of debris and smoke. Rubble buried the parking garage checkpoint, and a massive chunk of concrete from the level above fell with a thunderous cry. Parked vehicles from one level higher fell through the hole, rolling this way and that on the ruins beneath.

Then the screams came. Agents were pinned underneath debris, wedged between concrete.

Jäger cursed when he saw a spear of rebar impaling one officer through the hip. He dashed for the man without a word, drawing one of Doc's supplies STIM shots from his vest. The Bosaks followed.

Warden whistled shrilly and waved his hand about in the air. No verbiage was needed.

The remaining operators began digging in defensive positions. Castle and Blackbeard set about cranking the levers of deployable wall reinforcements. Moving metal rang out as the contraptions clamped securely in place.

Alibi jogged to one of the remaining armored cars. She unfastened a Prisma orb, clicked it to life in her palm, and dropped it to the concrete as she continued on. The holographic image shimmered to life.

Security Chief Dodd stared in awe.

"Get those corners reinforced!" called Warden. "We need a spot to anchor."

"Already ahead of you, Chief," answered Blitz. He and IQ moved to the reinforcements waiting in place at the walls.

Warden took a deep breath. "Six Actual, what the fuck is going on? We're blocked in by two explosions. Impassable debris. Taking defensive positions."

"Don't know yet. We're on it. Over."

* * *

Across the street south of the Washington Convention Center, two men in ski masks stood amidst clearing plumes of smoke on the roof of the Carnegie Library, overlooking K Street. Two discarded FGM-148 Javelin launchers sat on the concrete at their feet, steam still rising from their barrels.

One of the men stepped forward and lifted an AK-74 leaning on an air condition unit. He handed it to his comrade before picking up a worn RPD light machine gun.

It was an old weapon, but it would do.

The man with the AK took out his radio. "This is Sergei. Good hit on the launches; the columns collapsed. We think they're holding the VIPs underground. Over."

His comrade cocked back the bolt on his LMG's receiver. "How long do you think we have? Few minutes?"

The other shrugged. "We're dead men either way, Adrian. Let's make it count."

They both leaned over the edge of the library roof high above the street and pulled the triggers on their weapons. Automatic gunfire echoed wickedly through the streets below. Dust and debris kicked up with the impact of their shots.

A woman pushing a stroller in the crosswalk fell. A street vendor cowered behind his hot dog stand, only to be killed by a burst of 7.62 rounds that raked across the cart.

Police sirens wailed through the surrounding neighborhood, mixing with the horrified screams of hundreds of innocent bystanders.

As his light machine gun rattled in his hands, Adrian Fetisov began crying beneath his mask. It was most unexpected; but he felt the weight of years of torment being lifted from his shoulders, one bullet at a time.

His weapon roared, and Adrian opened his mouth to roar with it. His scream was drowned out by their gunfire, but he let it loose like a caged lion, freed at last.

The people below were innocent. But wasn't he an innocent as well, when he was a child at Beslan School Number One and suddenly at the mercy of Chechen extremists? Were his two sisters, and uncle - a teacher - not innocent when their own countrymen hit the school with incendiary rockets?

He knew he would be struck dead soon, and so the man continued to sweep a stream of gunfire down at the scattering masses below.

The only way to experience the sorrow he and his comrades had faced was to experience it for oneself; an eye for an eye.