The jet black ZR-1 Corvette coasted to a stop in the alleyway, lights off, engine off just the

sound of the tyres

sloshing through the standing water, a flash of lighting lit up the sky for a moment illuminating the magnitude of
the task which lay before Dwain.
The crash of thunder was soothing music to his ears.
Dwain sat for a moment gathering his thoughts and going over the plans of the three story warehouse in his head
that he was now going to lay eyes on for the first time. The rain pelting down with such force that it sounded
like hail on a tin roof inside the car, yet this did not bother him; in fact it would be a blessing.
Twelve or so goons, not going to be that easy he thought, just hope Nikolayev is here!
Dwain removed his blue wind breaker in the car, putting his black gloves on, and climbed out into the alley way
closing the door behind him quickly but quietly, his long sleeve black shirt drenching almost immediately. He
looked around the alleyway, the fire escape to the roof of the adjoining building was right there but the but the
car was out of sight.
Standing straight up his 6ft6 inch frame made for an impressive site, the water had soaked his short cropped
black hair in moments, but none of this seems to bother him.
He walked round to the back of the Vette, opening the trunk, he looked around again, just to make 100% sure
there were no cameras or other surveillance equipment in there, not that there should be any around these old
warehouses in the industrial area. Still military life had taught him, check, make sure, re-check and then sweep
again, you can never be too careful.
Reaching down into the truck he lifted the false floor revealing an arsenal of weapons below.
First thought was the Dragon Skin body armour, followed by a load vest over this, then the utility belt with a
mid thigh holster which was also strapped around his tight, into this went a fully loaded Colt M1911A1 Pistol
with a Para-ordinance P-14 hi capacity frame, compensated and loaded with 185grain Winchester Black Talon
hollow points with +P charges, he slipped 2 spare magazines into the holster holder for them and another 3 into
the belt mag pouches.
He placed the silenced Ruger Mk II .22lr pistol into the load vest holster, making sure that the weapon was
loaded with a full 10 round magazine and there was one up the spout as well. Dwain then made sure there were
an addition two full clips in the magazine pouches on the load vest.
Dwain kept casting looks around to make sure he was still alone, even having done this many times before, the
knot in his stomach kept it very real for him. He was not going to make this his last by making some stupid
mistake.
He reached down into the trunk and with drew the M4A1 Carbine, it was fitted with an M-203 40mm grenade
launcher and Acog sights, not that those would be any use tonight, it was going to be close quarters, that is for
sure! Holding the weapon in his right hand partly shouldered, he reached down back into the trunk, as he bent
down the water ran across his face streaming off his nose, all he could think about was that his poor car was
getting wet, grabbing a 100 round C-mag he slammed it into the weapon, immediately charging the M4 with its
charging handle, then a quick flick of the thumb to bring it to safely. Next he slid open the breach to the M-203
and slid in a M576 Buckshot round and slid it in, closing the breach behind and arming the weapon, then
slinging the M4 barrel down over his right shoulder.
Now he loaded the load vest, 10 Thirty round magazines of 5.56mm NATO ammunition, all M855A1 rounds,
good for all round use and semi armour piercing, the but what was in the C-mag was the older M193
ammunition, not much good at extended ranges but a devastating round at close quarters, in fact the United
States Army considered them to in humane to use, four M433 Dual purpose High Explosive 40mm grenades
(useless at anything less than 15 yards but you never know when they might come in handy), six addition M576
buckshot rounds and two M651 CS Gas grenades, all for the 40mm M203, all into the load loops on the front of
his load vest. Then came two M68 impact detonated fragmentation hand grenades hanging from his load vest,
two M67 fused fragmentation grenades hanging from his utility belt, two Model 308-1 Napalm grenades and
two M14 Incendiary grenades were slipped into ammo pouches hanging from the utility belt.
Then the K-bar when into the right military boot, the sheath clipping snugly between the tightly laced boot and
the now soaking cargo pants, last but not least, Dwain slipped a pancake holster into the small of his back area,
nestled up between his pants and his skin, hidden under loose but soaking shirt, in side this was Last Hope
Anny as he called her, we worn, well used Colt Pocket Mustang, a .380 ACP pistol holding 6 rounds in the
magazine and 1 in the spout, no spares for this one.
Rummaging through his kit bag, he pulled out a pair of shooting ear plugs and hung them around his next, next
a pair of protective shooting glasses and then a gas mask stuffed into his left leg hip pocket, a pair of binoculars
and two slap packs into his vest pockets finishing this all off with a carefully packed syringe in between the two
slap packs.
Hesitating for a moment, he looked down at the silencers for the M1911 and M4, there was no reason to take
these, if he was using those weapons then there was a guarantee that the other blokes were not using silences,
but the multi-tool, cable ties and duck take would be of use, once again there was no need for the cuffs!

Dwain packed the trunk straight and replaced the false floor leaving the other weapons in place.
He grabbed two pre-prepared lengths of heavy chain with heavy padlocks, the chain wrapped in sections of
cloth, he threw these over his left shoulder.
Dwain closed the trunk and locked the car with his remote, there was just the flash of a light on the dash board
to show it lock and then it was gone.
Dwain looked around as he took up the M4 into a firing position and started to move down the alley, slowly
crouched, one step in front of the other ducking under any window, steering way from lit areas until he reached
the end of the alley, from here it was a was short dash in the shadows up to the side of warehouse 47B.
He sat still for a moment waiting for the gaps between the lighting, and then with a burst of speed he sprinted
across the road 30 odd yards down from the warehouse.
He stopped to compose himself once again, check for movement, hiding in the shadows behind a dumpster, the
crashing thunder still roaring on, the rain pelting down as if it was the great flood all over again.
No, not a soul to be seen, but still there was a fair chance of a bum or two trying to sleep in this mess, but now it
would be a 30 yard creep up and till the front doors of the warehouse.
Dwain slung the M4 again and drew the silenced Ruger MkII pistol in his right hand, double checking that it
was cocked and off safety, he then slid down the walls of the building lining the street leading to warehouse
47B, staying low, below windows, careful not to know anything over, or slide up against any part of the
building. Progress was painfully slow, the mere 30 yards taking a good 10 minutes to cover, every sound, every
flash of lighting drove Dwain to ground.
He reached the last gap to cover a small service alley between the two warehouses, not more than 3 yards wide,
Dwain stopped short, got as low as he could and peered with his left eye around the corner, check for
movement, guards or cameras.
He took his time, carefully remembering where every box, plank and item was lying in that alley; too his relief
there were not threats. With a quick dart between lighting flashes he crossed the alley.
Pausing for a moment he listened at the metal walls of the warehouse, he could make out noise and voices
within, but none made sense, the noise of the rains and thunder drowned everything else out.
Dwain moved closer to the large double access doors to the warehouse, he slowly, quietly, carefully slid the one
length of chain through the large door handles, looping it several times till it was tight, then in slow motion he
slipped the padlock in and eased it till it clicked closed.
He slid back to the only other working door on the ground floor of the building, the office door, this proved to
be a bit more tricky as the door handle was round and nothing to loop through, Dwain improvised and looped
the chain through and around the safety fence pole and then back around the door handle forming a tight loop
when the lock was fastened, he finished this off with a couple cable ties to hold the chain tight so it would not
slip off the handle.
How with the first part of the plan in place he slipped back across the alleyway, once again he stealthier slip up
alongside the adjoining warehouse until he reached it far side.
Double checking himself that there were no lights on in this warehouse, he worked his way around the side until
he reached the fire escape, Ruger still drawn.
He scanned the area again, double checking his double check, his heart rate slow and steady, his demeanour,
focused and stern nut his mind running at a thousand mile per hour, every bit of intelligence, every picture,
every schematic running through his mind.
He scaled the fire escape until he reached the roof of the building, the rain made the surface of this metal roof
ice like, every step was slow, crouched and deliberate, the roof a mine field of rusty iron and slippery metal all
the time he had to keep his eyes peeled knowing that every flash on lighting silhouetted him, but for now the
pitch of the roof hid him from warehouse 47B.
Reaching the pitch he went prone, just his eyes peering over the top, he brought up the binoculars and scanned
the rood, looking for anything, much to his relief it was clear, it did look like there was a light shining from the
roof stair case but nothing else.
He would have to time the large step across the roofs very carefully, he would need the rain and thunder to hide
the sound of him stepping across, but right now he would have to slide down on his back towards the adjoining
building, feet first and weapon ready.
Even through the pitch was not steep he took it slow, every foot covered was slow and deliberate, every shadow
a cause for concern every yard closer an increase in his heart rate.
It took a few minutes but to Dwain it felt like a life time, in his 30 odd years on this planet, the better part of 12
of them has been spent being shot at or doing dangerous things, one would think you would get used to it but
nothing seems to change.
Reaching the edge, Dwain again cast his eyes around, making sure nothing had changed he looked up at the
stormy clouds above as the rain pelted down onto his face, all he could think was that the rain washed away all
ones sins, it is one of the great cleansers. He steadily gathered himself up into the crouching position, his eyes
transfixed on the flashes of lighting, the ledge a few yards away, his ears straining for the most opportune time

to set his body to pounce across this gap, his right hand fixed to the Ruger in his hand and his thumb making
sure that the safety was off.
In a brilliant flash of light a bolt of lightning crashed to the earth a couple miles away, he marked the spot
knowing its rough distance from here, Dwain counted down the seconds knowing that roughly for every mile
away, the sound would take about a second to get to him.
One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand he counted........
Then with grace that did not befit a man of his size, he leapt to his feet and took a mighty stride across, his foot
and weight landing in almost perfect unison with the thunderous crash of rolling thunder that rattles the very
windows of the warehouse below him.
Using the momentum of the giant step he scampered across the roof until he was clear of the ledge area.
Regaining his compos sure he resumed his crouched crawl across this roof, focused on reaching the stair well
heading down from here. It meant covering almost the full length of the 70 odd yard long warehouse as it was
on the furthest corner on the warehouse right at the back wall area.
Still this roof was flatter offering a chance to move quicker across it but affording no cover.
As he drew closer to the small shelter on top of the stairwell, the light shinning from it gave up a secret, two
shadows falling.
Dwain paused for a moment; he was barely 10 yards from the doorway,
They must be guards he thought; in this weather they would be taking cover.
Years of experience told him that the chances were their guard was down, being cold and wet up here, the most
likely scenario was they were smoking and chatting amongst themselves, no guarantees just an educated guess.
Dwain reached down to his left boot and took a firm hold of the K-bar there, drawing it slowly out of the sheath.
He slowly raised himself till he was in a stooped over position and then began to close the distance down to the
roof access, one boot in front of another, slowly, quietly all the time pistol raised and drawn on the only exit
from that area, k-bar being held down and parallel to his left thigh, the blackened blade melding into hi black
cargo fatigue pants colour.
Dwains cloth clung to his body, the water ran from his chin, but none of this mattered as his focus now lay with
getting the job done.
Cloths will dry, rain will stop but right now he had a job to do, comfort was not even an option, it was a luxury.
Dwain snuck up to the brick wall of the shelter, he was now not more than a yard from these poor bastards, with
is back up against the wall he composed himself for a moment, taking a moment to put the shooting plugs in.
While they would take the edge out of any gun fire sounds, it would still afford him the chance to hear what was
going on around him; the glasses would have to wait until he got inside.
Taking a deep breath Dwain dropped to a crouch and propelled himself around the corner in a slide on his left
shoulder, the wet roof reducing friction of the slide, pistol at the ready in the right hand and knife in the left
hand.
Chad had no more than a second to react, he was the lucky one, he was facing the door way as Dwain slid across
out from behind the walk and into sight, heat least had a slight chance to try and bring his weapon to bear, Lance
never knew what hit him.
Dwain drew a bead on Chad as he dropped his cigarette and started to go for his CZ-61 Scorpion sub machine
gun, the cigarette was still falling to the ground when the first round exited the barrel of the silenced Ruger Mk
II pistol, the second was en-route a fraction of a second later, this was to prove a waste of time as the first round
buried itself squarely in brain straight through the skull just above his right eye killing him instantly as the small
.22 calibre round sent bone and lead fragments searing and tearing through his brain tissue. The second round
tore through his throat and exited through his spine.
Dwain had fired by this time a third round; this one was meant for Lance who now was witness to Chads
demise, this round hit him on the left side of the skull stopping just short of his left hand eye socket, death was
instantaneous.
The sounds made by their bodies crumpling to the floor were hidden within the crashing sounds of thunder.
Dwain lay there for a few seconds to make sure no one poked their head up from the stairwell, after about 10
seconds he gathered himself up into a standing position and entered shelter; he cast a quick glance to the dead
men on the floor.
Hired goons he thought, that is going complicate things, willing to bet there will be more than 12 of them here.
Dwain approached the stair well with considerable caution, one never knew what was possibly waiting at the
bottom but it was a fore gone conclusion that you have to move down it.
Dwain swung the M4 briefly holstering the pistol while he swung the Acog scopes to the side giving him full
access to the iron sites of the M4, there was going to be no need for the Acog inside.
He re-slung the M4 and drew the Ruger again.
After putting his shooting glasses on, he cautiously peered over the top step looking down into the dark stair
well, leading his line of sight with the pistol.

To his relief the stair well was clear, he paused for moment, double checked his six and then stepped onto the
top step.
The spiral metal stair case showed its age, rusty and in desperate need of some repairs, Dwain crept down the
stairs to the landing below, the flashes of lighting providing and eerie back drop to his progress.
With each step he descended deeper into the bowels of the warehouse.
The one and only landing from the roof opened before him, his heart rate was now increasing exponentially, no
matter how prepared one is or how many times one steps into combat, there was no drugs like it, adrenalin!
Dwain watched the shadows on the floor; they soon gave up their owners, judging from that he drew the
conclusion that there were two targets just outside the door way, one appeared slightly distant and the other
appeared to be close to the door.
Not the perfect situation but whatever was, if anyone ever told you that they had the perfect operation where
everything went exactly according to plan, they were lying!
Dwain acted fast, his first motion was to move the K-bar parallel to his fore-arm, the second was to ready the
pistol, then he stepped out, quickly taking stock of the situation he saw one man leaning against the wall maybe
two feet from him and a second about 5 yards down the passage.
Win one fluid motion he snapped his left for-arm up and across the mans throat, throwing his body weight
behind it, pinning him to the wall with the k-bar buried deep into his throat, at the same time he let loose with
two rounds from the pistol at the man down the passage.
While not as clean as normal, the two rounds found their target, the first going through the mans left cheek and
out the right embedding itself into the concrete wall, the second was near perfect finding his left temple area and
ending in his grey matter, the lifeless body slowly slid down the wall until it was sitting on the floor, looking
rather de-jected.
He now turned his attention to the squirming, gargling, frothing mess to his left; Dwain brought up the pistol to
his temple and ended his misery with a single shot.
Doing a quick mental ammo count, he knew he still had 5 rounds in the pistol and there were 4 of these
assholes down. Well he would just have to make it count it was too early to change the mag yet, no point with
still 4 rounds in and one up.
Dwain slowly lowered the corpse to the ground and set off skirting the left hand wall to the passage, knowing
the right hand turn would take him to the over head crane operators office, he doubted very much any one
would be in there but reminded himself to take a quick glance before proceeding down the left hand one.
His cloths still dripping wet, slowly he inched down the wall, when much to his surprise he heard a man call out
Hey Fred, where the hell did you get to you asshole!
Before he could even act, two men turned the corner into the passage, followed by
Oh SHIT!
The first man fumbled for his firearm, while the second tuned to run.
Dwain fired two round quickly from the hip, striking the first in the chest and stomach, unfortunately the .22 had
virtually no stopping power except when used for kill shots and he stumbled back screaming in agony, in so
doing shielding the other until he disappeared around the corner.
Dwain knowing that stealth was up levelled stepped forward levelled the Ruger to the mans face and ended is
life with a single shot to the forehead.
He holstered the weapon immediately and pushed the k-bar into the holster behind the weapon, he could already
hear screaming and shouting from below, he knew they would be coming up the stairs from the ground floor in a
matter of seconds, and they would be packing.
He started a count down on his wrist watch, it beginning counting from 5 minutes and 30 seconds backwards
towards zero, he then reached down and shouldered his M4 with is right hand while removing an M68 Grenade
with his left, grenade in hand he used his left hand to steady the weapon.
Dwain moved the selector from safe on the M4 to full auto fire. With the 100 rounds in the magazine and the
weapons rate of fire of around 900 rounds per minute he had around 6 second continuous fire time, a life time if
you were on the receiving side but a mere heart beat if you were dishing it out.
Right now there were no prizes for pretty or neat, it was just get the job done!
Dropping to his left knee, he pivoted around the corner in a low crouch waiting for the first men to top the stairs,
he did not have to wait long as the first mans head that came into view was that of the man who ran from the
fight, sort of fitting he would now die first.
He waited for a split second has he could see a hint of recognition in the mans eyes as his head crested the top
of the stairs and then he squeezed the trigger sending a hail of lead towards the stairs and a man to his death as
the top of his cranium was torn open in a volley of 5.56mm hits.
Almost immediately a Uzi sub machine gun drew into view, instinctively Dwain fell prone as the weapon
exploded to life firing wildly down the passage.
The rounds were high and poised very little danger to him other that the bits and pieces flying about in air,
splinters of wood, bits and pieces of concrete and god knows what other materials.

Dwain waited a moment, the Uzi disappeared as quickly as it appeared and was replaced by another Uzi , this
was to the right of the stairs, it looked like it was there to provide cover fire as one or more men moved up.
Sure enough it started firing blindly in short bursts.
Dwain kept his head down still focused on the stairs, staring them down through the iron sights of the M4
carbine.
In the middle of this three heads drew into view, the only thing that was pissing him off more now than that
fucken Uzi was the fact that he had killed 6 men already and there were only supposed to be 12 here.
He waited a second or two, until the first man was showing full torso to him and the other two were now just
breaking cover.
The man reaching the top of the stairs was slightly hunched over, the Uzi while covering him was also blaring in
his ears; the surprised look on his face was plain to see when he realised that the target was lying flat to the floor
half way around the corner of the passage, nowhere near where they were shooting.
Before he had time to react, Dwain fired a long burst again; the cartridges streaming out the ejection port of the
M4 and send hot brass all over the passage.
With this burst he knew that the first two were dead, the first man up the stairs took at least a half dozen rounds
and he saw the man to his left take two or three, the third man dropped from sight before he could confirm any
hits on him. The Uzi still burped way in short bursts, to stay that this was now getting irritating was an
understatement, Dwain now shifted his focus to that irritation and sent a short burst down there as well, the
weapon disappeared from sight either from being hit by rounds or hitting the hand and arm of the owner, and
how that did not matter now.
In the lull of fire, Dwain got that creepy feeling that he was being watched, happened every now and then, never
one to rest on him lorals; he rolled onto his back only to see a slightly bloodied figure sneaking up towards him
carrying a rather large wrench, the size of the man was impressive as well, he must have been well over 6ft tall
and better part of 300 pounds, his face was dripping with blood, looked like he had been showered with broken
glass.
Dwain did not harp on the situation any more than that, weapon and aggressive action was all he needed, he
squeezed the trigger again, a short burst ensued and the giant of a man crashed to the floor with little grace.
Dwain was brought back to reality with the sound of bullets striking around him, executing a perfect combat roll
to his left he rolled back into the passage firing wilding in the roll.
Wasting no time he brought himself back to a standing position, back to the wall, knowing they were getting
closer with every second, he stuck the M4 around the edge of the wall and fired wildly down the passage, he
knew he was doing damage but to what effect remained to be seen.
As the last round kicked free from the weapon and the M4 burped to silence Dwain released the now empty 100
round C-mag with his left, as it fell free he stuck the thumb of his left hand through the pin of the M68 grenade
in hand and in one rapid but smooth motion popped the pin while lobbing the grenade in a back hand motion
down the passage all in the process of drawing back to cover.
The M68 being an impact detonated fragmentation grenade need a second to arm in the lob, if he was right it
should land right near the top of the stairs but that all seemed a life time away right now the only priority was to
get a 30 round mag out of the vest and into the weapon.
All these thoughts were drowned out as the M68 showered the area in hot metal fragments just as Dwain
slammed in the 30 round mag and readied the weapon to fire again.
Even with the ear plugs in the noise was stupendous, dust and debris showered him, his glasses protecting his
eyes but even with the plugs there was a feint humming in his ears.
Back down to his left knee while selecting three round burst from the weapon.
With a twist of his torso Dwain checked down the passage to the left making sure there was no surprises, all he
saw was the mangled remains of what were human beings, Dwain reached down and picked up the empty Cmag laying on the floor by its D shackle and then swept back to the right double checking that passage too.
He could hear feint shouting coming from what must be the ground floor but even with the ear plugs his ears
had taken a pounding from the grenade and automatic weapon fire.
He quickly fastened the mag to a waiting clip on his utility belt.
They would come again; there was no doubt of this so he made a quick duck around the corner walking in the
crouched position towards the stairs.
These were not trained combat soldiers; yea some might once have been but now they were nothing more than
hired thugs, when they come again up these stairs they will be more cautious.
He moved his left hand to the trigger of the M-203 readying the weapon to fire.
There is one thing to be said for a shotgun, in close quarters it is a fearsome weapon and the M-203 loaded with
a round of M576 Buckshot makes a normal 12 gauge shotgun look like a pop gun.
Slowly picking his way through the mangled bodies laying in the landing, keeping a low silhouette he crept
forward towards the stairs going down, his ears tuned to any sound, slowly voices started to come into hearing
range, men speaking in fairly hushed tones.

There was no way of knowing where they were, but an educated guess would be that they were on the stairs and
around the area at the base of the stairs, they will be nervous and without question there would be some
covering those climbing the stairs from positions of cover.
Dwain kept the weapon shouldered as he stopped short of the top of the stairs, his eyes transfixed on the top of
the stairs, finger on the M4 trigger, with his left hand he reached down to his utility belt and took hold of a M67
fragmentation grenade.
Dwain hesitated for a moment, he had no way of knowing if there were any civilians down there, he released his
grip on the M67 and placed his left hand squarely back onto the trigger of the M-203.
Taking a second to bring his heart rate back down he contemplated the next move, in one determined motion he
dropped to his left knee peering straight down the stairs, the M-203 straight down the stairs.
He wasted not a milli second; as soon as the weapon was pointed in the right direction he squeezed the trigger
disgorging the M576 buckshot round down the stairs.
The men climbing the stairs had no time to react, try as they may; their actions were to slow and too late for
what was en-route to them
The 24 heavy pellets spread out rapidly over the 20 to 30 feet before slamming into the lead slob climbing the
stairs; the effect of a half dozen or more of these mini meteorites hitting you was to say the least catastrophic.
A couple pellets tore through his abdomen, one in the right hand blowing his pistol from it, another through his
left should, one in the right leg pretty much severing it and the coupe de grace was a lone pellet through his
chest stopping his heart.
His colleague was not much luckier his death come quicker with the four pellets that buried themselves into his
body all being upper chest and head areas.
Dwain was not waiting for any invitation, knowing he had them surprised for the moment he set about picking
targets out in and around the stairs, much to his surprise he found only one covering the two men who were not
slowly sliding lifeless down the stairs, this poor asshole was still busy ducking behind a barrel to cover himself
from the buckshot that he never knew what hit him, Dwain aimed, squeezed the trigger and sent three 5.56mm
projectiles at over 3300 feet per second over to him. His aim true, death was inevitable!
Dwain quickly scanned the ground floor of the warehouse, this giant area two stories tall was packed with rolls
of paper and plastic, at the main doors stood two men straining to open them, a third man was standing at large
Buick limousine, the engine running.
Dwain could only make out the drivers hand jesters but they were frantic and that of a desperate man.
The two men struggling with the door worried him, they bother were carrying AKSU-74 compact assault rifles,
the best was on that there at least another guys like this fetching Nikolayev right now!
This made the decision for him, the guy with the AKs first than worry about the driver.
Dwain took a bead on the first guy and loosed three rounds towards him, two striking him square in his head and
pretty much creating an exploding water melon effect, the crimson haze from this mess left a blood halo on the
white walls of the corrugated steel doors of the warehouse. The third round landed slight above and to the right
of the corpses head.
Dwain immediately shifted his aim to the second man but he was a moment to slow, the professionalism of the
second man showed over all the others he had met here tonight in his actions. I a blink of an eye he had dropped
down behind a roll of news print paper, the glint off the AKs barrel was tell tale that he had a very good idea
from where Dwain was shooting, the muzzle flash confirmed this.
Training told Dwain to go prone, this would mean losing the angle needed to return fire and affording this target
the opportunity to move and change position.
Stubbiness and experience kept Dwain kneeling there as 5.45mm Russian made hell exited the AKSU-74.
Knowing it was not very accurate over long distances combined with the fact that the man firing it did not have
the shoulder stock extended and therefore braced into his shoulder meant he was firing it as a submachine gun.
This told him that he had not accurately located Dwain but rather was trying to suppress the area.
Dwain took his time as the rounds from the AK crawled up the stairs and onto the landing, taking quick aim, he
centred the mans head and upper torso in the iron sites of the M4 and squeezed the trigger.
The M4 gave a gratifying shudder as it sent three 5.56mm rounds down range, ending this mans life as well just
as the angry bees started to buzz around Dwain; he felt one round tug at right pants leg.
The AK kicked wildly for a fraction of a second more in the dying mans hands sending rounds all round the
warehouse.
Dwain reprimanded himself for his brazened act of stupidity, knowing how lucky he had got but maybe it was
just the simple fact he had been doing this for such a long time that the fear of death was just no longer there, he
reminded himself that complacency gets one killed. On the other hand, he had now been you for almost 48
hours without sleep tracking this asshole down.
Being tired was just as likely to get you killed as being sloppy!
Dwain turned his attention back to the driver, immediately he noticed the guy was missing, not wanting to leave
anything to chance, the best way to rule out a position is to clear that position.

Switching the M4 to full auto fire again, he drew a bead on the drivers area of the limo and then proceeded to
empty what was left in the magazine into that general area.
The M855A1 5.56mm ammunition tore into the limo making short work of the thin metal roof, the rounds
tearing right through the car an exiting through the floor boards in areas sending hot copper and lead fragments
ricocheting out from under the car. The bottom line effect was simple if anyone was in the front two seats, they
should now be dead!
Dwain released the empty magazine and let it fall to his feet, replacing the empty one now with a full one he just
removed from his load vest, and then he readied the weapon for fire again.
Before moving on, he reached down and collected up the empty mag, putting in an empty ammo pouch on his
utility belt.
Dwain slid open the M203s breach and removed the empty 40mm casing, he replaced it with M576 buckshot
round, closed the breach. He then reached down into his pants pouch and pulled his gas mask out, with his left
hand he pulled this over his head, adjusting the straps after it was fitted.
A quick glance to his wrist watch showed him a mere 35 seconds had gone by, he quickly scanned the
warehouse for movement to make sure he was still alone.
The only sounds now to be heard were the idling motor coming from the limo and the crashing of thunder.
Dwain sized up the piles of paper and plastic in the warehouse; they would burn easy but would need a couple
minutes to really get going.
There is nothing like fire and water to wash away ones sins.
Keeping an eye on the warehouse office down below and keeping the M4 squarely shouldered aimed right down
that way; Dwain reached down with his left hand and pulled out a Model 308-1 Napalm grenade, popped the pin
and then popped it over the railing into a large pile of combustible materials.
Not wasting any time he pulled the second as well, popping its pin and lobbing it under hand as far as he could
towards the other side of the warehouse, his left hand retracing it way back to the underside of the M203 to
again provide stability and support for the M4 carbine.
Both burst into flame with an audible woof.
Dwain then walked over to the stairs, weapon tracking each corpse on the way, check for signs of life but there
were none.
A quick scan of the landing area below revealed no further threats as Dwain cautiously descended the stairs, all
the time the weapon at the ready, the stairs themselves were slippery with blood and he took the extra few
second to make sure his footing was sure.
Dwain performed a flawless three hundred and sixty degree sweep as he reached the floor area, there was no
movement to be seen, the rising smoke and flames from the fires were now becoming noticeable, while the gas
mask did hinder his visibility it would be vital in the next few minutes as the acrid smoke would start to fill this
building.
With deliberate action he moved silently towards the offices in the front of the building, as he got closer to the
door leading into the office complex he could hear frantic efforts to open the front door, the ratting of the chain
of the metal walls of the warehouse was a dead giveaway, the shouting in hushed tones a sign of desperation.
Dwain slid up against the dry boarding of the warehouse offices, the door closed that lead into the passage way
which in turn lead parallel to the only two offices in the building out down on out to the only door leading to the
street outside which was not chained fast.
He slipped the selector switch on the M4 from three round burst to full auto once again with a carful movement
of his right thumb, trying to reduce what little noise it did make.
Dwain slowly stepped away from the wall to try and get obtuse view through the only window in the passage or
the door area, hopping that the heavys were still struggling with the door.
Inch by inch he peered further out, his breathing heavy and slightly laboured in the gas mask, the M4 carbine
leading the charge, gradually the window came into view and with it the sight on a man struggling with the door,
it also brought a fleeting glance of another dropping to the ground.
Dwain did not hesitate, with the fact that there was only dry boarding between him and them, the risk of being
shot was too great to wait, the M4 barked again.
He fired of a spray of rounds all centred in and around the door area, fired through the dry boarding, making
sure to spread the rounds out as much as possible to cover the entire area, he worked them from the floor up
until round about chest height, only releasing the trigger when about half the magazine had been expended in
this manner.
Not letting moment waste, he stepped to the door, kicking with all his might and adrenalin; the lock offered little
resistance and the door swung open inwards.
At the same time he allowed his momentum to carry him prone on the floor, he awaited the expected return fire,
yet none came, gradually he leopard crawled over to the open door and peered round with his weapon leading.

The scene that met him was one of two shattered bodies both men lay slumped in front of the door, riddled with
rounds. For a fleeting moment he felt some pity for them, they looked so pathetic and desperate in their last
actions.
He steadied the M4 is his right hand and brought himself back to his feet with the aid of his left as he pushed
himself up from the floor, again he glanced at his wrist watch, the stop watch had now run down to 4 minutes
and 12 seconds.
Better get moving he thought to himself, the cops could be here any minute.
He moved on the first door, knowing there could be a man with a gun behind it, knowing that it could be the last
thing he ever does but also knowing it had to be done.
With grittered determination he stepped to the side of the door, reach over to the door handle with his left hand
and steadying the M4 with his right, a quick flick of his wrist and the door opened inwards, with in this motion
he dropped to his right knee and regained control over the weapon with his left hand.
Using the weapons barrel he forced open the door and carefully peered in.
Much to his surprise this room did not contain what he expected, it was a plain white painted room, with a large
expensive double bed in it, there were relatively inexpensive decorations around the room, a desk top computer
with two monitors and what appeared to be licked to surveillance cameras in the room, he could see from his
angle that they were on and the door was not covered at all.
The largest surprise was they scantily clad lass laying spread on the bed. Even with this quick glance he could
tell she was out cold.
Dwain rounded the corner of the door still kneeling, and drew a bead on the computer, judging from the various
sex toys and such this mush have been some on line show or other, but right now it was just another liability, he
squeezed the trigger of the M4 and made it all go away.
A short burst from the weapon destroyed the computer and the monitors, the lady did not even stir, and he was
not beginning to wonder if she was dead.
Still she was not the priority at the moment and did not pose an immediate threat.
He may have been a lot of things but he was not a cold blooded murder.
He swung back into the passage, checking the last door, it remained closed.
Dwain stood up again, this time he slung the M4 and drew the M1911A1 from the thigh holster, flicking the
weapon off safety as he drew it.
As much as he lived his M16 and M4 series weapons, right now he wanted close range accuracy and a round
that would not over penetrate the target.
The smoke from the ever increasing fire was now starting to waft through and into the office area. It had now
become noticeable enough to compare it to the smoke hanging in a sleazy bar and gambling establishment, he
knew he only had a fee minutes to get out of here before the fire would take hold properly so he needed to act
fast.
He strode over to the sole remaining door and simply applied a size 11 boot to it, once again, the door offered
little resistance, the dry boarding around the lock shattering out, the door was sent flinging in on its hinges.
Dwain instinctively carried forward into a forward roll into to the room as a round buried its self into his chest,
the Dragon Scale body armour doing what it was designed to do, stopping this pistol calibre round dead in its
tracks, but as with most body armour doing very little for the pain that was inferred to his chest from the transfer
of energy, while the sensation was not a stranger to him there was nothing that could properly prepare you for
being shot, no matter how many times this had happened before.
Dwain forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand and completed the roll coming up on his right knee
weapon braced in both hands aimed at the man sitting behind the desk with a .38 special revolver aimed in his
direction.
He did not hesitate as soon as the weapon was steadied , at pulled the trigger of the M1911A1 sending a
185grain Winchester Black Talon hollow point +P charged round down the barrel and on its way to the hapless
target on the other side.
Nikolayev, while ready was still taken by the speed and brashness of this intruders actions, he knew that he had
landed a round square in his chest area yet he had continued to come regardless, his hand started to quiver
slightly the weapon losing its bead on this angle of death barrelling through the door.
Now he was staring down a mad man who had just destroyed his warehouse.
Dwains aim was true, the round smashing into Nikolayevs right hand, the round striking his index fingers
knuckle as it held the handle of the gun severing the finger immediately, the bullet fragments tearing into the
rest of the fingers leaving only a mangled mess.
Nikolayev register the pain as he screamed out in agony as the gun tumbled from his now useless left hand,
dropping the cel-phone he had in his right hand, he clutched the shattered remains of his left hand.
Dwain took the moment to scan the rest of the room for any further threats, to his relief there were none,
however the fire in the waste paper bin told him that this man had not sat idly by while he had been working his
way through the warehouse, the burning lap top in the bin was tell tale to this.

Still that was not what he was here for, he kept the weapon trained on Nikolayev and reached into his pocket
with his lefty removing the syringe.
With purpose he then strode over to the desk where Nikolayev sat still crying out in pain, he removed the needle
cover and jabbed Nikolayev in the shoulder with it, empting it contents into his system.
Nikolayev sat there staring at this mad masked man as he walked over and jabbed the syringe into him before he
could do anything, he could not help but wonder as to what the hell he wanted, and he voiced this
What do you want to son of a bitch, what the hell!
Dwain stepped back just leaving the syringe stuck in him,
Who is the Puppet Master?
Nikolayev looked at this man in total disbelief
Go to hell, i have no idea what you are talking about!
Dwain simply repeated again and Nikolayev reached around and pulled the syringe out from his shoulder
The Puppet Master, who is it?
Nikolayev started to feel a little queasy and slightly disorientated but he remained of sound mind and again
stated
Go to hell!
Dwain looked over at the man, he was well dressed in what must have been a $5000.00 tailor made black suit,
only the finest white silk shirt, a red silk tie, the watch was a Rolex, the cufflinks gold but the blood running
from his left hand priceless.
He kept the M1911A1 trained on him and glanced down at his watch again; it was down to just over 3 minutes
left
I do not have time to waste, that cocktail I have injected you with will take effect in a couple seconds more and
you will tell me what i need to know.
I do not care about whatever was on that lap top or the files that you have burned; all i want to know is who the
Puppet Master is?
You are going to die, but i will know before i leave here!
Nikolayev started to struggle to focus on the man in front of him; his voice sounded further away and slightly
gargled as well
Who sent you? I have money, i can pay you, just let me go!
Dwain watched the man fumbling around; he knew that the drug had now taken effect
You do not have enough money to pay me! Now who the fuck is the Puppet Master?
Nikolayev slumped back into the office chair as he listened to his words, he could feel a numb sensation over
taking his body, his eyes blurry, his mind hazy , his mind kept telling him to keep quiet yet his voice seemed to
have a mind all of its own, try as he may he could not resist, he mumbled out
Demetrio Stavious