Merc | Foreclex Office (Part 2)
The 4 of them stood out front of the warehouse, standing in the barren, concrete car park, not a car to be seen. The massive garage doors gave a contrast to the tiny, human sized door beside them, the walls were painted white, scraped after long years of wear and tear. Smith stood beside the human sized door, leaning up against the wall, with his arms crossed, his gun held in one hand, the stagnant, stubborn frown looking over to the group. “So...We have 12 minutes to defend for, or...They’re coming in 12 minutes?” Laina asked, standing beside a faded yellow pole, resting one hand on the pole, one leg crossed over the other as she bleakly looked to James, holding the gun at it’s most forward grip in her spare hand. Sam stood about 6 meters away from the door, glaring at it, one arm crossed, one leg crossed over the other, one hand up against her lips, her teeth scraping along her thumb, her other arm holding her gun, akin to Smith’s. James stood just beside Sam, though directed at Laina, he placed his hands on his hips and licked over his lips looking to the door, his gun shoved up against his hip with his right hand. “Ahh…” He stammered out, confused, before looking to her. “Probably...Coming in 12?” He asked, a querying tone in his voice, balanced with uncertainty, yet an eager expression nonetheless. “Lets get it done then.” Sam snided, letting out an uneasy sigh before she stormed to the door, grabbing it’s cold metal handle with one hand. The crew’s eyes trailed her, watching her pause at the front of that door, before giving it a tight push down, hearing the mechanisms click, and the hinges start to whine. “Did you check for hostiles?” Smith advises coldly, his eyes half lidded in an angered, disappointed frown. And Sam stood still, scared to the bone, as she held the door knob in her hand, she anxiously, slowly creaked her head back around to look at James and Laina, her eyes wide, and her lips held stiff, she glared at Laina, before settling back to James. “..do you--wanna, maybe.” Sam meekly whispered to James, her finger clutching at her guns polyester handle, her thumb anxiously resting on the safety, slowly and carefully pressuring against the safety, feeling the tension in her thumb build as she slowly clicked the gun off of safe, to fully auto. James’s lips turned to a wide smile, and he let out a cocky chuckle, before he pulled his shotgun hold, clenching the wooden grips with both hands, his forehand fingers lightly dragging against the wooden ribs of the pump action on the gun. “Yeah, lets go.” He vibed aloud, not a sense shocked as he stormed to Sam in a fast, cocky gait, she glared down to the floor, moving her body off to the side, her hand still on the door knob, before James’ brought his forehand to the door knob, their fingers grazing for a minute before Sam plucked her skin away from the warming metal, and she took a jolt back, staring up at the door with wide eyes and tiny pupils, raising her gun to the door. James let out a high, slow whistle as he pulled the door slightly ajar, leaving an inch of space to peek through, before he tilted his head to the side, glaring through the slight peephole. The lighting inside was meek and low, the faint silhouette of jagged bits of random trash were raised high, above head level, what could be a set of shelves was placed daintily just in front of the door. James took a slow breath in, feeling his spit dry up in his mouth, before he looked down to the bottom of the door, his left sneaker jamming inside the peephole, before he looked back up and he cleared his throat, letting go of the doorknob to grasp his gun with both hands. “YO!” He yelled aloud, as he pulled the door open with his foot, quickly taking 3 stomping steps inside, his head locked from side to side, looking over at every place inside. His voice echoed inside the warehouse, a long drafty echo, carried by the wind of industrial fans stirring. “Mother fuckers.” James casually shouted aloud again, hearing his voice echo. Smith let out a quiet, disappointed huff of air from his nostrils, as he pushed himself off the wall, and followed James inside. The scuttling of their shoes could be heard, as Laina and Sam watched from outside, their sneakers danced on the concrete, and James let out a quick gasp, with a sudden frantic dash of short footsteps, before a loud grunt was heard, and an anxious scoff. “You big fuck. Don’t scare me.” James snided from inside. Sam tilted her head away from the door to look back to Laina with a worried, upturned brow, big baby blue eyes gleaming with shock. Laina’s brown eyes dully drifted from the door, to look at Sam, her shoulders raising in a lazy shrug. Sam quickly turned her head back to the door, “Are you guys being babies, what’s in there?” Sam said loudly, her voice carrying into the warehouse even from outside. James let out a confused grunt, before Smith moved from the dark warehouse back to the door, his eyes glaring at both of the girls as he stood in front of the door way stoicly. “It’s fine. Hurry in.” He commanded, 4 simple words that led to another realisation to them all. They were going to be killing again. Smith ducked back inside, and Sam anxiously jogged inside, her medical bag bouncing along her hip with her running steps, hair swaying as she ran inside. Laina stood outside and stared, giving herself one second to breathe. Feeling the wind brush along her skin, waving against her thick mounds of hair. The cold metal of the pole she leaned on, compared to the grainy, warm wood of her rifle. The warehouse was tall, and big. It had no shame in it's blocky shape, mass produced like everything the warehouse would make. She pulled her hand off the pole, and grabbed her rifle, clicking that small lever of safety off, with a satisfying ‘click’ She took slow steps to the warehouse door, as the flights flicked on. Dead in front of the door were 2 oddly placed metal shelves, lined and stacked with bits of furniture trash. Broken wooden doors, old washing machines and computer bits, hiding the rest of the warehouse from the doorway, a nice set up for an ambush already. The ceiling was high, ending up in a rusting sheet metal roof, bolted all together, with a set of fancy skylights above, industrial glass smogged and dirtied with the likes of dust and dirt, rarely seeing a clean. The concrete floor was lined with little chips and cracks from the misuse of heavy machinery, the whole warehouse gave a residual coldness to it, a freezing aura leered off of the walls and the floor, from the metal shelves and all furniture inside. The smell was faintly metallic, with a hint of grease. The air felt polluted by industrial grade oil and lubricant, you could feel it hang thinly on your skin, threatening to condense it's self. The aura in the warehouse was unforgiving and cold, what would be a work place filled with coworkers, with crude jokes from blue collar workers, turned to an empty slaughter house today, it’s products would be mass produced death, sold to the highest bidder. Laina walked around the 2 metal shelves, and saw the full warehouse. Lines and lines of metallic shelves, placed side by side, then a big spacing for machinery to go through, then it would repeat. The shelves repeated like this, making up a total of 8 lines of shelves, stacked up to the ceiling. In the middle of the line of shelves, there was a large gap, where a set of conveyor belts and work tables were placed, old tape guns laid haphazardly on the sheet metal tables, unmade cardboard cutouts stacked on each other, wooden pallets laid messily across the floor, thrown underneath each other to make room for forklifts to pass. 3 forklifts messily scattered across the warehouse, left in a hurry, some with the keys still in. To the right of the building, the lining of shelves stopped, giving space for a shoddily made set of computers, for supervisors and package trackers, and a long set of cold sheet metal stairs lead up to supposedly the office, with a large washing machine in the way of the door to the office. Boxes of materials and fabrics were stacked on the shelves, everything from faux leather to vinyl, cloth to silk. Foreclex, a major fabric shipper. The crew spotted themself around the warehouse, looking around and investigating, finding the entrance points and places of cover. Smith closed the door, and the tight sound of a lock snapped into a place, echoing throughout the facility. James walked around the perimeter, mumbling to himself, the echoes carrying his voice to the crew, yet undecipherable what he was saying. Laina took one look at the warehouse, and shrugged, moving herself to the set of stairs as she calmly climbed them, mumbling a theme to a song as she climbed up to the washing machine. Sam stood at the front most set of shelves, inspecting the boxes, one hand anxiously on her gun, the other pushing at the cardboard boxes, discovering their weight, trying to see if they were easily pushed or not. Beside the front most set of shelves were 2 large doors, a fire escape, painted in cob webs and rusted hinges. Sam took one look to the door, and her mouth opened, before she turned around, looking for anyone else in the ware house. “Uhh...Fire escape, over here.” She spoke aloud to the warehouse, letting her echoing voice carry it to the rest of them. Smith stayed at the front door, feet planted and dug into the slippery concrete as he shoved his palm roughly into the door, hearing the inch thick wood creak and groan at his solid pushes, before he squinted and stood up properly with a sigh of breath. “This one’s weak.” He mumbled out quietly, though his voice was unheard, as he typically went. James walked along the series of computers, taking long, exaggerated, bored steps as he clicked his tongue, inspecting the walls. “Man I got nothing over here.” He replied outloud, before turning around to find Smith, only instead, staring at the big garage doors opposite him, the same ones next to the door. “Could they get through that?” James yelled aloud, pointing his finger at the garage doors. “What?” Sam yelled back, turning her head around, trying to find James, before she started to walk out between the set of first most shelves. “The doors. The garage ones.” He followed up with, as Smith walked around the corner from the oddly placed shelves in front of the front door, looking to the garage doors beside him, he frowned. Sam stood at the end of the metal shelves, now closer to Smith, she looked to the collosal doors. “Uhhh...What, they’re gonna blow it up?” She chided, though, a very real set of confusion in her voice. It could very well be possible. Laina sat at the top of the stairs, sat firmly atop of the laundry machine, watching her coworkers move around like ants, she could see most things from up here, save for anything behind a shelf. The cardboard boxes that were stacked on the shelves get Laina little view of anything beyond the shelves, but anything else looked fair game. Laina mumbled quietly to herself, mumbling the theme of some song underneath her breath.
“You could charge that with a vehicle.” Smith spoke coldly to himself, before he turned to look at Sam, then James off in the opposite corner. “IT CAN BREAK.” Smith yelled out, his voice boomed along the walls, that constant hint of fierceness buried in his voice. Sam placed a finger on her chin, looking between James and Smith. “SO...WHAT ARE WE DOING THEN?” James yelled back out into the echoey chamber of the warehouse. Laina watched timidly, her eyes looking between the two that were talking before her lips parted. “WE DON’T HAVE TOO LONG, GUYS.” She yelled back, the yell had the most tone that her voice shared for a long time, just that slightest hint of condescension. She had already found her cover.
James looked up to Laina, then to Smith, clicking his tongue, before back to Laina. “ARE YOU GOOD UP THERE?” Laina turned to James, leaning closer to him, looming her head over the stairway handrails. “YEAH.” she shared. James quirked a brow up to Laina, though the height difference made the expression of his face invisible to her. “YOU GONNA BE SHOT THERE?” He asked out, turning to the rest of the warehouse, seeing as how a majority of it was wide and open, save for the shelf lines. The sheet metal desks he stood at were a bit above waist height. Laina could feel her eye balls slink down, growing more tired of her having to banter everyday. A similar battle between her and mother, convincing her she was fine, now convincing James she was fine. What a future. “Yeah, I’m gonna SHOOT up here.” She yelled back, her voice growing more and more sarcastic as she spoke, feeling her stomach rumble beneath her top, before she pulled her head up, no longer looking to James, no longer interested in the conversation. Sam walked up to Smith, and she licked over her molars, digging her tongue against one of the spikes of her tooth in an anxious move. “So...Where’s...Like, what are we doing?” She asked, looking up to the 6’2, bald headed giant that was Smith. He turned away from the garage doors, and glared down to her, before looking over the warehouse once more, and he crossed his arms. “We have to cover fire exit and here.” He spoke bluntly. “Laina will stay. James will do whatever he wants. You cover by these shelves, I’ll move a forklift near the garage door, and I’ll cover fire exit and the garage doors. You watch where we came in from.” He settled the plan, his voice low as he spoke, pointing his fingers at the different places he ordered, glaring down at her with his unmoving stubborn eyes. “Mhm. Right.” She acknowledged, with a nod of her head, before she looked to the oddly placed shelves, and took a few short steps to get there, beginning to push some of the trash away to be able to stick her gun through the shelving. Smith stormed his way to one of the forklifts, just beside the garage doors before he crawled inside, and turned the key, looking over the controls and grasping them, his hands found the levers and the wheel like a second sense, easy and familiar. James drifted along the different computer benches, before glaring to those big garage doors, and biting his lip, before looking to the fire exit by the shelves. He shrugged, and started to walk beside the shelves, until he reached the 2nd shelf, just one shelf away from the fire exit. “ALRIGHT, YO, I GOT UP HERE!” He yelled out, raising his shotgun high into the air to signal everybody where he was, before he pulled his gun back into 2 hands, and slumped his shoulder up against the corner of the shelf, allowing himself to peek his head around and watch the fire exit up close, like a hawk. Meanwhile, Smith drove the forklift into place, before he took himself out of the seat, and stood on the opposite side of the garage door, leaving his back exposed to the fire exit, though his gun trained on the garage door. Sam shoved away random bits of trash and junk and lodged the front half of her gun inside the shelf, barrel pointed straight at the wooden door, leaning her head against a plank of wood to peek through and watch the door. Laina sat at the top of her staircase, humming to herself, wasting time… The time slowly ticked from there. They stood in those crouched positions, some more comfortable than others. James gun rested dormantly in his hands, his hand clenching the gun again and again in pulses, as the tension started to build up. The distant sounds of cars passing by the business park roads didn’t help. Any of those cars could be the one that’ll pull up now, and bust down one of these doors. In just one flick of a moment, any second that wasn’t fully prepared for, one of them could be left with half a brain. James tapped his foot anxiously, glaring up to the dirty skylights, before he sighed, shaking his head, feeling the cold wind of the warehouse breathing down his neck, his hairs rising in goose bumps before he stared back to the fire exit. His leg bounced up and down anxiously, and for once, no one could comment on it. Left in the solemn silence of watching, fingers on the trigger, waiting anxiously to squeeze and feel the gun kick back into their shoulder. One word spoken too loud could give their aggressors any advantage if they heard. And like that, they played the dangerous game of no communication. Watching and waiting. The foot bounced again and again, and James winced, shaking his head. “What a fuckin awful time to take a piss.” he whispered beneath his breath. The sound of the industrial fans at the top of the warehouse were louder than his whispers. Then, a sound of a car came closer. The sounds of loose rocks crunching under tires, drifted slowly on the outside of the car park, just beside the fire exit. James’ eyes slowly grew wide, and he slowly brought his gun up to the door, digging his fingers into the grooves of the wood, his fingers growing white from the pressure. The mechanical whir of a car’s brakes followed, then the sound of the engine flicking off, before suddenly voices came to life. Muffled, muffled by the dense concrete walls, only a few voices could be made out. “Secure perimeter.” A loud, and clear director voice. A slight southern twang to his voice, youthful in his expression, but calm. The sounds of car doors shut, and more voices came alive. Some words were undecipherable, but the voices quickly grew to a halt as that southern voice came back. “Rangers left, Scout on Me, rendezvous in the middle of the building.” James’ eyes grew wide, and he turned his head away from the fire exit, glaring to Smith as he watched the garage door...Looking to Sam as she poked her head through the odd shelving. His teeth lightly chattered together, he could feel his bones locking coldly into place, his ankles building up with that thick film of tension, trying to hold him in place. He looked to Laina, trying to find someone who could see him, though the shelves blocked his view of Laina completely. He anxiously turned back to the fire exit, feeling his feet start to quietly tap again. Smith squinted, resting his elbows on the seat of the forklift, gun raised as he watched the garage. He could hear something, muffled English, they were loud, almost confident in whatever they were doing. Though he couldn’t comprehend a single word they said. Smith glared to Sam, her face disappeared in the shelves, the lovely locks of flowing blonde hair the only part of her head visible from his angle. He grit his teeth and squinted, before grumbling quietly to himself, moving back to watching his angle. They waited, quietly. Sam couldn’t hear anything, feeling the cold metal of the shelf on her skin, building up goosebumps, with her arms starting to ache from holding the gun up, she started to pant to herself, to push through that steady ache. Anxiously, James tapped his foot, again and again. And Smith heard the voices disappear again. Then, the voices came back, around the fire exit. “Alright...Breach protocol, find your cover and report back. No hostiles, we’re free to clear. Simple fetch mission, got it?” The southern voice carried on again, calmly. It wasn’t his first mission. A collective, muffled chant followed after, before the realization set in James head, and he held his shotgun tight in his hands, raising it up to the door, pressing the wooden stock into his shoulder, hanging his head onto the stock and glaring at his barrels point, waiting for those doors to open.
