The V.I.C.I. Diaries: Valley of the Damned (Part 18)

[DukeNukem 2417]

Considering the ease with which the ALPA breach teams were able to do their jobs and breach the service entrance, the idiots guarding the eastern entrance of the facility would've been better off staying home from work on that particular day.

As it stood, they were getting their butts handed to them without even realizing it---for ten minutes, at least.

Jonathan "Dash" Dashiel Cornell (who never used his real last name anymore, preferring the shortened form of Dashiel), better known to his colleagues as Saturn, had no problem choking out a guard and lowering him to the ground quietly, just as Agent Kylie Lyndon---aka Corona---had no problem removing the security cameras from the equation by way of slapping handheld EMP pulsers (aka "jammy dodgers", due to their similarity in size and shape to the popular British snack food) onto each camera, waiting a few seconds until she heard the unmistakable sizzle, and then moving to the next camera.

Of course, neither of them held a candle to the Man in Grey.

Five guards ended up being sent into a quick, dreamless sleep as the Man took each of them out in turn, with the last not even having time to blink before he sank into unconsciousness. "All clear on this end," the masked former bodyguard called out (though his voice still carried that unnerving rasp). "Check the door on your side."

Corona and Saturn managed to cross the room in a matter of seconds, each of them taking great care to not step on any of the unconscious guards or knock anything over. The two Agents then examined the door frame for any hidden traps, tripwires or recording equipment---and found none. "It's clean," Saturn stated, "but it looks like someone took something out, instead of put something in....and the frame's hollow enough to hold enough Semtex to clear out the entire room..." Corona spoke up before Saturn could continue: "I think this place was pre-rigged before Aaberg and his crew moved in, and they cleaned it out."

"Not surprising," the Man in Grey muttered. "Check in with the western breach team..."
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"DAMNIT TO HELL, I TOLD YOU TO HOLD YOUR FIRE!"

Major Tom's shout fell upon deaf ears---mainly because he, like the Field Agent he was screaming at, had one finger on the trigger of his newly-acquired Colt Commando (taken off of one of the guards) and was squeezing the trigger to unleash a shower of bullets at every non-human enemy target in the room. "When we get back to base---" He paused in his growling to smash a guard across the head with the butt-end of the Commando, sending him to the floor in a heap---"I am going to duct-tape you to a chair and---"

"Save the gun-safety lectures for later," Sarina Meston---aka Wyvern---called out. "You would've done the same thing he just did in your position, Major---" She whirled on her heel and knocked out another guard with an open-palm strike to the chest. "---and to be honest, I think you're enjoying this."

His current pissed-off state notwithstanding, the Major did find himself having a bit too much fun with what was happening around him. Training missions, sims and written exams had nothing on the real thing----and as it just so happened, the real thing felt more exhilarating than any video game, Michael Bay movie or roller coaster on the planet. Even with live fire zipping around him like gnats from Hell, the ex-NASA operative could almost honestly say that, at that exact moment.....

....he actually felt like he was having fun.

Of course, the "fun" mostly came from shooting up everything that wasn't human-shaped---at any moment, a stray shot could easily turn the whole thing into a bloodbath. Fortunately, even with the guards showing off aiming skills that would make any Imperial stormtrooper look like a Marine sniper, nobody was getting hit.

Sometimes, when the planets are alligned just right......I really love my job.

With a grin that brought back memories of arcade jaunts long gone, the Major opened fire on a Dell Inspiron.
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"East breach team has cleared their room," Jen informed her fellow Field Agents. "Also, the Man in Grey left the recon team and joined the east breach team...should we---"

"We'll thank him for it when we regroup," V.I.C.I. replied. "They need all the help they can get."

Her next sentence (or intended sentence) was cut off by a throat-clearing noise from Reaver; "Ah, not that it's bothering me or anything, Agent Lawson," he muttered, "but....you've been talking in your robot voice ever since we got off the Rhino and, ah.....I was just wondering if....." He scratched the back of his head. "Are you, ah, feeling okay about all of this, or should I call HQ---"

Reaver's awkward inquiries were silenced by a very human chuckle from the brunette gynoid. "I was starting to think nobody had noticed," she teased, an oddly playful lilt to her synthetic monotone. "To be honest with you, Eric, I've been trying to keep my mind focus on the analytical aspects of what we're about to do. Talking like this helps me to distance myself from what's about to happen, to keep me from making it personal...and besides that, this voice has kind of....grown on me, even though it reminds me of my 'walking appliance' days."

The veteran Field Agent rolled his eyes. "I figured there was a reason you've been talking like that...and for the record, you sound a hell of a lot better than my answering machine."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Agent Reaves. In the meantime, we should try to contact the others and see if they've made any progress." V.I.C.I. turned her attention to Jen; "Have the breach teams reported in since moving into position?" she inquired.

"The east team's cleared their room out," the blonde gynoid replied. "As for the others..."

V.I.C.I. didn't bother waiting for an answer. "They probably tripped an alarm when they went to breach the door," she muttered, shaking her head. "I'd be surprised if they hadn't triggered something---no offense to them, but a few of them don't exactly have spotless records for entering without triggering alarms."

Jen and Reaver exchanged amused looks. "And you read their files...how?" Reaver querried.

"I asked for them before we left HQ. Took me about fifteen minutes to go through them all."

Anything Reaver could've said was drowned out by a burst of static and odd popping noises from his walkie-talkie. "That'll be the west breach team," he began, only to wince as something on the other end of the line went off like a cooler full of fireworks. "GET THAT FIRE UNDER CONTROL, DAMNIT!" Major Tom's voice screamed. "GET SOMETHING ON THAT---" A loud crash drowned out whatever he said next, and was followed up soon after by a torrent of profanities.

"Everything going okay, Major?" V.I.C.I. deadpanned.

"---have to---DAMNIT, I SAID PUT IT OUT!" An exasperated sigh registered in the brunette gynoid's hearing just a split-second before the Major spoke: "We're gonna need to have a talk with the rookies about firearm safety when we get back to HQ. One of them decided to go all John Rambo as soon as we got in---"

"Save the details for later. Is the room secure?"

A loud hiss---instantly recognizable as a fire extinguisher being emptied---was the only reply V.I.C.I. received.

"Major Tom, is the room secure----"

"Yes, the freaking room is secure. We're just finishing off all the computer equipment in here---" A burst of gunfire erupted somewhere in the background. "We're just nuking the computers," the Major continued, "so Aaberg's little operation won't be recovering any time soon after this is all over with."

"I....don't recall being given permission to 'nuke the computers', Major," V.I.C.I. countered. "You were told to secure the room, open the access gates to allow the final breach team into the building and regroup with the rest of the Field Agents. While your....exuberance is admirable---" Another loud hiss, followed by something erupting into sparks, sounded in her ears. "While your exuberance is admirable," she continued, "I'm afraid we may need to talk about handling this with a bit more...subtlety."

Her words were met with another torrent of profanity (probably directed at the other Agents) and the angry roar of a fire gone too far out of control to extinguish by conventional means. "PUT IT OUT! PUT THE G__DAMN FIRE OUT NOW----"

"Is this a bad time, Major? I can always call back...."

"No, no, we're good...." The sounds of computers going up in showers of sparks and smoke from the other end of the line made it clear that things weren't "good", but since nobody was yelling that they were on fire, the brunette gynoid decided to let the Major continue. "We just need a few more seconds to get the door open."

V.I.C.I. couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Fair enough. My team will be waiting." She thumbed off the walkie and sighed; "We may need to talk to a few of the newer Agents about firearm safety when this is over with," she informed Reaver and Hummingbird. "Apparently, one of them thought they were auditioning for a remake of Demolition Man and started shooting as soon as they entered the room---which, by no small coincidence, has basically wrecked Aaberg's customer database beyond all hope of repair."

Reaver nodded his approval. "I'm guessing even Hiren's wouldn't be enough to save those things, then?"

The inquiry prompted an elbow to the side from Hummingbird and an eye-roll from V.I.C.I.; she'd used Hiren's Boot CD on several of her own PCs over the years, and Ted had pulled a dozen or so "Lazarus jobs" on various Lawson family machines with it as well...but not even Hiren's could restore a bullet-riddled hard drive.

A remark to that effect was nearly formed on V.I.C.I.'s lips, but interrupted by the telltale static "squawk" of her walkie; "THE DOOR'S OPEN!" Major Tom bellowed. "WE GOT THE DAMN DOOR OPEN, BUT THE FIRE SUPPRESSANT SYSTEM---TURN IT OFF, MCGINNIS!" Someone in the background sputtered, and a quietly-muttered oath could be heard even through the row on the other end. "We were able to get the door open," the Major continued, "but the damn stupid fire suppressant system kicked on, and now we're all knee-deep in the foam! Get the other breach team to meet up with us in the central access corridor so we can all breach the main---G__DAMNIT, MCGINNIS, I SAID TURN IT OFF, NOT TURN IT UP! WHAT THE HELL---"

"Guess that means we can go in now," the brunette gynoid deadpanned, thumbing off the walkie again. "If anyone wants to be the first to meet the Major at the door and ask why the fire suppressant system kicked on after the door controls were activated...." Hummingbird and Reaver exchanged amused looks, but said nothing. "Thought so. Reaver, call the east breach team and tell them we're ready to move in when they are."

As Reaver retrieved his own walkie-talkie, V.I.C.I. couldn't help but wonder how Björn Aaberg was going to feel in a few minutes' time. Two security checkpoints had just been disabled, his entire customer/product database had been utterly ruined, and a team of highly-skilled Field Agents was about to kick in his door for reasons that, more than likely, he could never comprehend. If it had been anyone else, at any other time, the brunette gynoid might have felt sorry for them. Seeing as how Aaberg had literally handed Hannsen the weapon he'd used to murder Sharon Wilson, however....it was just a bit too difficult for V.I.C.I. to come anywhere close to feeling sympathy for the man.

"Agent Lawson? The breach teams are in position."

The words of her fellow Field Agent snapped V.I.C.I. out of her reverie. "Then let's not keep them waiting."

With one last glance back at the Rhino---and the San Jose skyline behind it---V.I.C.I.'s team were on their way.
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Within the deepest recesses of his "borrowed" compound---which, all things considered, weren't as "deep" as the erstwhile owner of the place would've preferred---Björn Aaberg tried to pull hiomself out of the feeling that had risen up, like a churning tide of bile, in his gut: sheer, unfettered, indescribable panic.

Audio/visual feeds from the east and west checkpoints near the front of the facility were down. Explosions had been resounding throughout the compound for well over thirty minutes. Several of his troops still hadn't called in at their usual check-in times. On top of all that, two of his best operatives were still missing after their "little jaunt" to San Jose State University, and a third might've actually been killed during the attack on the central headquarters of that damned ALPA organization.

Even worse, there was the fact that someone had plowed through the front gates of the compound.....

Somehow, despite all signs that he was more than likely about to be either arrested, executed or buried in the rubble of his so-called "fortress", Aaberg was ready. He'd been ready ever since Stahl's little "visit" to him earlier, ever since the naked threat had been unsheathed like a blade at his throat.

Björn Aaberg knew he was expendable....and this knowledge allowed him to slough off his fear like dead skin.

He had guns---two Benelli M-95E pistols, a pair of Uzis, a Steyr AUG, two Taurus 608 revolvers and an Ithaca Model 37 shotgun. He had traps---more than enough hidden explosives to utterly bury anyone stupid enough to come looking for him. He had body armor---enough to protect all vital areas of the human anatomy.

More importantly than that.....he had a plan.

In his mind, that fact alone would be his salvation.

Had he known how the night would've ended, he would've been better off just shooting himself instead.
------------------------------
None of the guards in Aaberg's compound had expected to see anything remotely resembling "action" that day, or any other day of the week. It was, therefore, somewhat surprising to them to see the doors leading into the main storage area blown off their hinges, followed soon after by what looked like a dozen or so steel baseballs hitting the ground and bursting open into plumes of colored smoke. Had they been properly trained or even halfway decently taught how to not fall prey to distractions, they would've sent one man to investigate.

Instead, just like countless enemy guards in countless movies, TV shows, books and video games, they all opened fire at once---before the smoke even cleared. Within seconds, the cavernous storage room echeoed with the sounds of gunfire and screaming.

After every guard in the room had emptied a full clip, the smoke finally cleared....

.....revealing that the guards had hit nothing.

Seconds later, one of them felt a stinging sensation in his left quadricep...then dropped unconscious.

It was while every other guard in the room was distracted by their teammate falling to the floor that the 17 ALPA Field Agents---accompanied by the Man in Grey, a figure clad head-to-toe in white, and another figure in what could only be described as a feminized and slightly less bulky version of Darth Vader's suit---entered the room, taking up strategically-viable positions while waiting for the shock of their distracting tactic to finally wear off.....which, a full ten seconds after the last Field Agent was in place, it did.

The unlucky sod who chose that particular moment to turn away from the sight of his colleague apparently asleep on the floor found himself staring into the eyes of a 20-something brunette girl, clad in an oufit trimmed with red and white. For some reason, she was smirking...

....though the guard in question lost interest---and consciousness---soon after he noticed.

Apparently, the sound of a second guard dropping to the floor was enough to finally alert the rest of the men (and women, most of whom were remarkably in-shape compared to their male colleauges) to the presence of intruders in their midst.

Not that it did them a damn bit of good, in the end....

The Field Agents squeezed the triggers of their own weapons in a much more controlled---and, quite honestly, more delicate---fashion than the guards had done moments earlier, resulting in far more controlled bursts of fire. None of the Agents were screaming their heads off like kamikaze gunners, either, which made it so much easier to hear the sounds of their targets running around the room trying to "get the high ground" or flank them (tactics that, thanks to the guards' lack of training, completely and utterly failed).

When the Field Agents eventually stopped shooting (not because they were out of ammo, but simply because there was no longer a need for them to go the Rambo route), any guards who hadn't already been dropped by a well-placed bullet to the kneecap found themselves engaged in close-quarters combat. Sadly for them, all the Metal Gear Solid replays in the world couldn't have taught them how to counter properly; many of the under-paid and un-trained men and women simply didn't have the stamina to match the Field Agents. Within the span of a few minutes, the last of the guards had been rendered unconscious by a palm strike, leaving the ALPA's best to their task.

"Now that is how you clear a room," the white-clad figure of Oberon declared, pulling off his full-face helmet (a replacement for the one he'd lost at SJSU) and shaking his head disdainfully at the fallen guards. "Did Aaberg even let them read a single martial arts manual before employing them?"

"If by 'martial arts manual' you mean this," V.I.C.I. called back, holding up a thin book with the ambitious (and misleading) title The Book of the Ninja, "then I think I just figured out why they lost---every technique in this book is stupid....and be glad they didn't get close enough to try out 'Monkey Stealing Peach' on you, sir." She handed the book to Oberon, who thumbed through it and broke out in a giggle fit. "I'm guessing these guys were just temps," the brunette gynoid continued.

Jen Larssen nodded her agreement. "Aaberg wouldn't have let his best people be taken down first---he lost enough of his people at the university and the ALPA HQ. These guys were just cannon fodder....paid to stand around and put up enough of a fight to dissuade anyone stupid enough to get this far."

"Fortunately for us, we're a lot stupider than Aaberg thinks," Oberon replied. "And yes, that's intended as a compliment. Aaberg thinks we're just like every other military organization or law-enforcement division he's dealt with in the past....and he's halfway right. However, unlike those esteemed entities, we have a distinct advantage---and I can tell you're just about to burst at the seams if you don't get to say your piece, Agent Lawson, so let's hear it---"

"Thirty more. Heading our way from the loading bay doors." V.I.C.I. glanced at two massive doors, one on each side of the room. "Aaberg probably gave them the signal while we were finishing off the red shirts...." Saturn nudged one of the downed guards with his foot. "They're lucky we have a 'no kill' policy," he mused, "otherwise they'd be in the same boat as every redshirt from---"

Reaver held up a closed fist, signalling for Saturn to shut up.

"Arms to bear," Oberon intoned, drawing a two-foot long trench sword from a scabbard on his belt. "These will be fighting to wound, even to kill....and we must all be prepared to do the same." Throughout the chamber, every Field Agent reloaded their weapons, their gazes set on the loading doors.....

V.I.C.I. gripped the Beretta Auto-9 she'd used in Dawley, thumbing the safety off......

Major Tom gripped the hilt of the sword he'd wielded at SJSU....

The Man in Grey simply took a deep breath, as if the oncoming assault was nothing but a strong wind....

A low, droning creak sounded as the bay doors opened on either side of the chamber......

.....and then the real fight began.

V.I.C.I.'s initial estimate of thirty was off---way off. The actual number of black-clad, armored attackers was somewhere around 75; there had been thirty gathered around the doors---fifteen on each side---but the reserve troops were filing in as those initial fifteen fought their way into the chamber.

Needless to say, it wasn't long before first blood was drawn.

Oberon's trench sword cleaved through a black-clothed bicep, prompting a scream of pain from the masked figure who'd just drawn a combat knife from a boot holster. Five feet away, V.I.C.I. drove her elbow into the shoulderblade of another attacker, forcing him to drop the sawed-off shotgun he'd just aimed at the ALPA Chairman. Even Major Tom, with his wounded leg, was getting in on the action---in the span of twenty seconds, he'd bashed ten armed and armored thugs in the foreheads with the pommel of his sword.

Unlike the fembots, these men knew when to stay down.....

....not that it made the fight any easier.

Kylie Lyndon came away from her tangle with one 6'3" attacker with a vicious gash across her cheek, the result of a slash from a Sykes-Fairbairn combat knife. Johnny Dash found himself missing a centimeter off of his left pinkie finger after blocking a bayonet strike with his bare hand, and even Reaver ended up spitting out a few teeth after eating a heel kick to the face---but still, even with their injuries, the Field Agents never gave ground against Aaberg's men...and they were all men this time; apparently, the arms dealer preferred to leave his life in the hands of his own gender, rather than depending on the "fairer sex" to protect him from the wrath of the ALPA.

Of course, that logic didn't exactly do him any favors in the end.

75 shrank to 50, 50 was cut down to 30 and 30 was diminished to 15 in the span of half an hour---leaving the last of Aaberg's elite guard outnumbered by the bloodied but unbeaten Field Agents. Oberon, his armor and uniform amazingly unblemished, leveled his trench sword at one of the thugs. "I take it you're the leader?"

"Simms was the leader of this outfit---"

"And I'm guessing Simms is one of the many individuals who's currently unconscious on the floor?"

".....y-yes, he is."

Oberon sheathed the trench sword, smiling broadly. "Splendid. I assume you're all willing to give us terms of unconditional surrender, then? That is to say, you let us pass without any further bloodshed, and we go our merry way without mowing any more of you down....."

The guard glared at Oberon, as if seriously considering trying something----

"You're going to want to make up your mind soon," Vicki Lawson advised. "He hates waiting."

Something about her voice---combined with the entirely-inappropriate cheerful mood Oberon was displaying at the moment---put the man on edge. "We.....we were just told to secure the parameter....we were all hired out from KnightWind---Aaberg had us all on retainer! I've never even met the guy---" "Then let's keep it that way," Oberon suggested. "You and your friends are free to leave." With that, Oberon and the other Field Agents strode towards the north entrance, leaving the surviving guards stunned.

Well, that was fast, Vicki realized. Now, it's Aaberg's turn.....and I have a feeling the easy part's just ended.

Even with her optimistic mood still holding strong, the brunette gynoid knew she was all too right.....
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[DollSpace]

These smaller installments are higher on suspense and action....and it keeps the story moving at a faster pace, which I definitely like, too.

[Uhoh]

Great action in this one, hope there aren't too many traps ahead of them