Taking The Reins

Screeching tyres announce that Oliver and his convoy of vehicles have arrived at their destination.

Without hesitation the brown haired man flings open the trucks door, now that it is stationary, and leaps from its interior. His assault weapon, for the moment, remains lowered. The same cannot be said of all those who are counted amongst his followers, and for good reason. You see, they are to secure this rear section behind the building attached.

Before disappearing into the interior, Oliver takes a sweeping look around him. Everyone is right where they are meant to be. He never doubted for a second that it might be any different. Still, seeing this play out exactly as had been planned brings a quick fleeting smile to his rosy lips.

Right after that Oliver, and the bulk of his crew, drift inside the maintenance corridors of the towering structure surrounding them. As the group push deeper individuals peel off to serve as sentries.

There is no one to catch sight of them. This building has been evacuated. It isn’t residential. It’s an office structure over a hundred stories tall. Yet, it will not remain unoccupied. The idea is that it will be repopulated, back to normal, in a few days.

For some reason those responsible for the evacuation thought a few simple padlocks would be enough of a deterrent to keep anyone out. Whoever came up with that idea deserves committing. Bolt cutters exist, and are not a new invention. So padlocks have not been the height of security for a very long time. Then again it is almost certainly because the landlords, whether single or plural, were not willing to hand over codes for their in-built security systems.

And no, there is no fear they are active and may cause alarm for they’ve been deactivated.

You see, another part of this lockdown was the severing of all power, besides backup which the systems could’ve ran perfectly on, as well as communications for this building.

Again, it will be restored in its entirety in due course, when the building is permitted to be frequented by its workers once more.

This eerie emptiness reminds Oliver of when he’d been a child during the Coronavirus Global Pandemic better known as Covid-19.

As a result of that event, to this day it still makes him want to shudder and run when he sees a place that is quieter than it rightfully should be. He doesn’t mean like old abandoned warehouses, as they were never the height of activity. No. Oliver is thinking more in terms of buildings which clearly should have bodies in them, working or shopping. Or city streets where pavements should be packed to bursting but aren’t. Yet, he thinks public transit hubs are the worst of all to see barren. He can’t explain why. It’s just the way he feels, how his brain thinks, works.

It could be because some of them are under or raised up above the ground. Out of sight of people who might…

“Secure the rest of this floor.” Is the order which is burped out into the air that had until that point only been punctured by the steady pounding of booted footsteps.

Whatever the reason might be Oliver has made this addition, this change, to the original plan. It’s been done entirely on the fly and yet if there is any reticence or query he does not hear, feel nor see it. Though, that might in part be because he does not stop to ensure that his order is confirmed. Rather, he continues on through the interior of the ground floor space heading toward an exit on the far side which will put him and the reminder of his people, not posted about to act as sentries, close to their ultimate destination.

To be honest this is the easy part. From here on out is where things are most likely to go sideways. It’s not a definite that they will but…

Forcing the thoughts aside, the brown haired man and leader of the group looks left and right as if about to cross a road.

Not that he considers why he does what he does. Instead, he notes that this updated call for the floor to be properly secured at all access points is because something doesn’t feel right. It’s the sort of feeling which precedes an ambush. And yes, Oliver has been in an ambush. He, like others who follow him, is former military. Until he punched a rich prick, his exact words, in the mouth when he was mouthing off.

You see, the former soldier had been on security detail, and for his actions should’ve got something more serious than what he did. The intimation had been his punishment was reduced due to his, before this infraction, exemplary record.

Still, for his more than a decade and a half of service he was kicked out and left to fend for himself in the big wide civilian world he knew very little about other than it was not the life he wanted.

Quite unlike other former military personnel however, Oliver didn’t embark on a career of offering personal security. Principally because the sorts of people he would have to protect are the sorts he’d most like to see get shot. Rich, powerful, smug, arrogant souls; just like those who head nations and do very little to…

The armed band emerges from the interior of the building and steps out into a small courtyard.

The space decorated with pretty flowers, low hedges and carefully groomed box trees. The grass, greener than it perhaps should be broken only by the meandering pathways of richly coloured bricks which dissect and intersect around the area that is framed by high walls topped with wrought iron and very out of place looking barbed wire.

From the looks of things the wire is a new, very recent, addition. Oliver can guess why and when it was installed. He can also take a punt at when it will be removed. It isn’t difficult to. You’d have to be pretty brain-dead not to be capable of doing such.

Quietening an exclamation he can feel coming, before it has the chance to well to the forefront of his mind, he gestures for those following to spread out and take up strategic cover positions.

He need not convey more than the general instruction for this crew knows where they need to be. He has no reason to make it public. Not that any member of the public is likely in earshot.

Theoretically there should be security and yet for reasons, good ones to a limited degree, there are not.

What you get for having to change venues at the last possible second, he thinks making a b-line for a long sliding glass door which blends perfectly with the glass wall that is wrapped around this lower section of the building.

The ground floor has had a recent renovation, one which is not in-keeping with the rest of the building above it. That is Oliver’s opinion. Not that he is an architect or some other such design orientated individual. That is simply what he thinks on the matter when he looks at the building as a whole with its mass of white cladding punctured by small rectangular voids occupied by reflective glass. The structures look, for him, evoking the image of something close to a cheese grater or maybe a poorly woven basket, bar the ground floor which he has no comparison for.

Following the issuing of another gesture, a half dozen armed bodies stack up on either side of the long sliding glass door. They are offered no protection by the glass panels either side but seeing as everything is reflective and gives no indication as to what awaits them on the other side, there isn’t much choice. Still, a lack of response is a decent sign Oliver believes wrapping his gloved hand around the handle and then nodding.

A slip of metal appears in the hand of one of the armed group and is shoved between the seams. In seconds the metal disengages the electronic lock, allowing the former soldier to rip the glass backwards and out of the way.

Then without a sound the armed crew, with guns raised, pour through the opening into the space within.

Stepping through as part of the mass, Oliver learns it is deserted. Not at all what he expected, and if he were not sure they were in the right building, he would question whether they have been sold dummy info. They haven’t. He used a number of his contacts to make sure this is where they needed to hit.

A series of hand gestures taught to those who did not understand them previously conveys the orders which are to be executed next. For safety and security reasons these could not be conveyed to the mass of bodies gathered around him ahead of time.

Still, there is no objection as the doors are covered, lockdown is enabled and bodies are stacked up on doors which lead deeper into the interior of the monstrous tower.

Thankfully, their targets have partially done their job for them as the bulk of the building has already been put in a state of lockdown.

According to Intel what has been done in the remainder of the building above them is a damn sight better affair than what has been implemented in the adjacent structure, the one they passed through to gain access to the one they are in now.

Nevertheless, Oliver sniffs unimpressed on more fronts than he has time to run through in the moments prior to him bursting through into the corridor beyond.

Instantly he takes note that this corridor is lavishly decorated. It’s about what he expected, in terms of gaudy over the top pointlessness, for a visit of this magnitude by the worlds leaders.

The armed crew, having split into three, pay no mind to any of the décor such as the plush blue carpets, the mixture of busts, prints, photographs or the trinkets in glass boxes. It’s all meant to impress but none of this is their goal, their prize.

Firing weapons that are suppressed; guards in black suits with guns on their hips and submachine guns slung over their shoulders are taken down effortlessly.

As expected no mind is paid to the limited noise generated by the crumpling dead bodies as they topple over. And yes they are all dead before they meet the thick carpet onto which blood will spill and stain in due course.

With the immediate vicinity clear, the armed group split into three continue their advance. First by turning a corner, so they can eliminate more unsuspecting armed suits that are in their way, and then by continuing on once more as if they had never been there in the first instance.

“You’re coming up on the atrium.” Is the update provided to everyone by a woman who is not in amongst them.

Instead, she is based up on the roof where there are no blocks or dampeners to interfere with signals. Yet, she is not alone as a small detachment is with her. Call them overwatch if you will, with an added surveillance and monitoring component.

After all, there needs to be assurance that no local authorities are going to butt in. If something unfortunate happens, as likely it could, then all signals will be blocked across the metropolitan area.

Stacking up against the corner for yet another turn, Oliver this time finds himself taking a deep breath, casting his gaze to the woman on the opposite corner and then nodding confidently.

In a flash the pair of them round the corner, get targets in their sights and open fire in short bursts. Bodies fall, dead, for what is the third time. Alas, this time, like previous, their actions do not go entirely undetected.

Mercifully, before the suits get chance to reveal these unknown agents presence they are jumped from behind by the third group who circled the longest way round just in case.

Ultimately, it is always better to be safe rather than sorry, and this is proof of that.

“No external hostiles remaining.” Is the update provided over the closed and encrypted security channel they are conversing on.

“You heard the call. We have the perimeter. Secure as planned. The rest of you on me, we’re pushing inside.”