Something New

Connor turned around so he could lay on his back while Abigail did reconnaissance on the Scorpions building a few blocks off. The incredibly long skyscraper they had been dispatched to had an excellent look out on just about everything in a good ten kilometres' radius. Unlike his partner, Connor hated the fact that they were on the move every other week, but unlike her he loved the fact that most of their days existed out of doing not much of anything.

            "Get off of your ass and get that rifle ready, Cross," Abigail said as she walked up to him, kneeled beside him and put down a pair of military grade binoculars.

            "Oh, I do love it when you call me by my last name," he said mockingly and turned around to lay on his belly again. "How many?" he then asked while setting up the yet-unclassified antipersonnel Sniper Rifle, building it piece by piece.

            "Four," she answered, "two more on the roof, taking a smoke break, and six inside, centered mostly near the fourth floor briefing room. Various others here and there, but nothing we wouldn't be able to handle."

            "Oh talk dirty to me some more," Connor said in acknowledgement. He knew that she hated when he teased her, though he was also aware of the fact that technically he was outranked by her, as he was on land, and him being a formal naval operative gave his rank a sweet zero on the hierarchy as opposed to her special task forces rank. Not that any of that should have made a difference with their new careers as, basically, mercenaries.

            "We are to wait until 7 -- that's when most agents change duty. We are to strike silently. See her, take her out. Clean and simple."

            "Yeah, cool. Tell me though, have you ever thought of, you know, just what if we don't see her? What if they have her locked up in some room somewhere below ground, not to come out for another eternity?" Connor asked as he finished setting up and loaded the first bullet of the rifle's limited capacity of three.

            "According to recent intel the large male, Devon I believe, are to escort her out of the building and to a yet-unknown location."

            "Great intel!"

 

As they were informed, Devon arrived later that afternoon, some time before six. Abigail had been marking targets in order of execution. The two on the roof first -- they hadn't left since they were up their and it was ultimately decided that they would only get in the way, so they should be taken out quietly before the order is even given to execute the girl. Followed by that was the two guarding the front doors, including the camera above them, which in the angle that they had positioned themselves, would cost only a single bullet. After that, someone would be bound to check out what had happened to the front camera, so he would have to be taken care of, and then they were to move as quickly as they can to the building next door, which they had carefully planned out the be a simple three-floor drop and roll, then position themselves so in order to have free reign over the back doors where Devon would be escorting the girl into a protected van that had been parked for about an entire hour before.

            "You're sure about your intel?" Connor asked, and readied his weapon.

            "Affirmative," she answered and marked the first set of targets with her binoculars, which caused two little dots to appear over their heads in the Rifle's experimental augmented reality scope. "Fire, quick succession, then reload and aim near the door."

            "Yes, ma'am," he replied, focused on his kills, took a quick, short breath and pulled the trigger twice. In a blur, both agents, who stood a few feet apart toppled over on the roof. No alarm had been sound.

            "Fire, the camera and the one on the left, then the one on the right."

            "Got it," and both agents fell, as the camera made a quick little shortage sound.

            "Wait for it. Okay, fire," she said as an agent made his way outside to check up on the agents a few away from the door, and then saw how he, too, toppled over and fell onto one of the others.

            "Lets go," Connor said and got up as fast as he could.

 

They packed their things in a matter of seconds then hurried to the edge of the building where they slung their equipment over their backs, hooked into a shimmy, and dropped quietly down three floors and onto the building next door thanks to their brand new spring-heel boots the lab had manufactured mere days before leaving for South Africa.

            "Okay set up, ASAP," Abigail said as she ran to the designated spot, kneeled, and started recon on the back of the building. "They are sure to discover the bodies any moment now. Devon would be making his way out the back along with the girl."

            "Yeah, right," Connor replied and started setting up the rifle. As soon as he was done, and fell down onto his belly in order to be ready, Abigail marked the first agent who had come out of the building. "No."

            "What?" she said, demanding elaboration.

            "Wait for priority target. Her first, then, only maybe, the others."

            "Good idea," she said and unmarked the target.

            Seconds later more agents came out of the back. It seemed safe, as no one had been shot yet. After four agents stood outside, deeming it "alright" to carry on with the extraction, one pressed on his ear. A few seconds after that, Devon made his way out, along with Melisa, who's hands had been cuffed just in case.

            "Okay, marked," Abigail whispered, eager to finish the assignment successfully. "Fire as soon as they open the door to the van. Then we hurry the hell out of here," she finished. And shot a quick glance in Connor's direction, who said nothing in return.

 

The moment Devon slid the van's door open, Melisa toppled forward. Without thinking, he ducked into the van instead and pulled a pistol from one of his holsters. He peered out and saw that no other agents had been dropped, so got out, hit the van so hard that it created a small dent in the door and cursed at the top of his lungs.

 

Connor packed up as soon as he had pulled the trigger. In mere moments, he had his gear in a backpack, slung on his back. Abigail had already headed toward the door that had stairs leading down one floor. She arrived at the floor below, kicked the door open and entered a long fancy hallway of some private business company. When Connor rejoined her, she shot a quick glance in both directions down the hallway, and when deeming it safe, turned a quick corner and pressed the button for the elevator to come and fetch them, which had fortunately been only a floor away.

            Once inside the elevator, Abigail got a brand new top out of her backpack and pulled it over her black skin-tight suit that they wore on most assignments. She then put the backpack back on. Connor, who had done the same, now stood with a wry smile on his face.

            "Finally," he said.

            "What?" she asked sternly.

            "We finally got that bitch," he answered, "and everyone would probably think of it as just another Others assassination," he then added to clear things up a bit more.

            She allowed herself to smile, "Indeed. I bet it would also send a little message to the Agency. It's about time we finally made a mark -- one that would actually be recognised as ours and not just one of our many fronts'."

            Connor nodded in acknowledgement, as the elevator came to a halt in a busy lobby. The two of them then walked out the building and into the street where they would vanish into the crowds of Johannesburg's busiest streets. But not before Connor got his cellphone out, dialed, pressed the phone to his ear, and said: "The Illuminati will rise again."