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Sinfulwolf

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An experiment more than anything else. More may come of it, but no promises. Please leave comments here in case I do add more to this cyberpunkish tale.

Distorted Fire

01​

June 3rd, 2032
Toronto, Ontario, Canada


Looking down at the city passing beneath her, feet dangling out into the open air, Constable Sam Braddock idly drummed her fingers along the hand guards of her assault rifle. In her ear she could hear the chatter of her team mates even over the muffled sound of the Police Tactical Helicopter.

“So tell me again why we’re deploying in Toronto. What’s wrong with their tactical teams?” came the voice of Constable Deckard Sheppard.

“Drug war in Scarborough is heating up, and all the teams are currently deployed across the city. Something big is going down so as the Provincial bad asses, TRU gets the call to help out,” Sergeant Thomas Carter, the team leader, said, and laughter came over the head set.

“Alright. So uniforms got this building cordoned off already?” Constable Ed Parker called out.

“Yes. And the last of the local ERT teams is inserting from below, while we fast rope onto the ceiling and clear downwards. Meet in the middle, toss the bad guys in the paddy wagon, go home for a pint,” Carter replied and Sam smirked.

“Any evidence of explosives so far? Or just the automatic gunfire?” Constable Michael Li asked.

“That’s your department. Make sure you have your gear on you.”

“Always Sarge.”

“Lorenzo. Yer staying on the chopper and dropping down onto the building to the west. Keep the grapple with you in case you need to change position.”

“Roger,” came Constable Jon Lorenzo’s accented voice over the radio.

The helicopter pitched and turned out over the next street, and Sam got a peek at the target building; a three story office complex that had reportedly been abandoned years ago, and had been rumoured to be home to squatters and drug dealers now. Red and blue lights flashed all around it, and she could see muzzle flash from the windows, and even from this distance sparks shooting off from the police cruisers formed up.

“Christ. These guys aren’t fucking around,” she said.

“Exactly, stay on your toes, weapons shouldered. Could be an us or them day boys and girl. Much as I hate em,” Carter called out.

Sam glanced over her shoulder at her team, all their expressions locked now in concentration, save Lorenzo’s; she couldn’t actually see his face. A black balaclava and dark tinted goggled obscured the entirety of his face, much as it did her own. He was the only other one on the team that was like her.

Sparks shot out near Sam’s head, and she instinctively ducked despite being too late to do anything. A few more bullets pinged off the side of the helicopter, but it was armoured enough to take the shots easily. Soon enough they were above the first building, and outside the arcs of the subjects within.

“Alright, ropes, lets go! Braddock, get the roof secure now,” Carter shouted out.

As the others on the team pushed out their rappel ropes and fixed themselves to descend, Sam clutched at her rifle and leapt out from the helicopter. The rooftop quickly rushed up towards her, and she tensed her legs for the impact.

Landing on her feet she heard the snap of bone as a brutal flash of pain flared up through her leg. Pushing the pain aside she pushed towards the single doorway leading down into the structure, feeling bones readjust and knit themselves back together in her ankle as she walked. Soon the pain was nothing but a memory and she was by the door. As the rest of the team roped down safely, their own bodies unable to take the fall, she listened through the thin metal to see if she could hear anything on the other side.

Soon Li was beside her, checking the hinges. He flexed his hand in its fingerless Kevlar glove before peeling the skin off the tips of his fingers, revealing glimmering metal with small blinking blue lights. The iris of his right eye turned from its natural brown to a light blue that seemed to spin around as he overlooked the door. He ran his finger tips along the doorway until they turned to a solid green, and he promptly pushed the skin back into position with a nod towards Sam as his eye went back to normal.

“In position. I have joy on three subjects,” Lorenzo said over the radio.

“Weapons free Lorenzo,” Carter ordered.

“Clear,” Sam and Li said one after the other as Carter had the team form up, while three loud snaps sounded through the air as Lorenzo took his shots.

“Alright, nice and quiet then, let’s go,” he ordered, and Sam reached out, slowly opening the doorway with one hand, while Li peered into the staircase bathed in emergency lighting, his sub machine gun in his shoulder.

“Braddock, you’re on point,” Carter hissed, and Sam rose to her feet once more and started to make her way down the stairs, rifle in her shoulder. The stairs ran all the way to the ground floor, but Sam stopped at the first landing that held the door leading out to the third floor offices.

A single body was slumped in a corner, a single bullet hole to the side of the man’s head. Dressed in grubby tatters that looked as if they hadn’t been washed in years, Sam guessed this was one of the squatters. Apparently the subjects didn’t want them around anymore. She didn’t bother checking for vital signs, the splash of brains across the wall he was slumped against was a good enough indication of his vital signs.

“Sheppard, cover the stairs, let’s go team,” he said, and Sam kicked out with her booted foot, crashing near the handle. Splinters flew out into the hallway and Sam followed through, moving over the garbage and discarded needles from years of neglect. She felt some crunch beneath her boots as she moved down the hallway. Drywall was starting to rot away from the studs in the wall, leaving gaping holes through the walls.

“Shoddy fuckin construction,” Li muttered from behind Sam, and she nodded. Her sense of smell was thrown off by the reek of this place, and something metallic lingering beneath the rot and spilling of blood.

The rattle of AK fire caught Sam’s attention down the hall, to her right. She knew Lorenzo had the left side covered with sniper fire from the next building. So she split to the right, she heard Li move left. Sliding up to the door she flicked her gaze over her shoulder, saw Parker stacking up behind her, and Carter do the same on the other side of the hall.

“Quick and fast people,” Carter said.

It was another kick, another broken door. Like so many houses before, Sam stayed back, saw the flashbang flying over her shoulder into the room, turned her head as it went off.

What surprised her was the lack of shouts from within, especially when she stormed in and saw two men struggling to get their cohesion back. The two men, wearing hoodies covered in holes and stained with God knows what didn’t scream or even shout.

“Police TRU, put your guns down!” Sam yelled out at them as she moved into the room, assault rifle trained on the first man’s chest.

Of course he didn’t, he probably couldn’t even hear her demands. But Sam’s movements were fast, and smooth. She grabbed the barrel of the man’s ancient Soviet era rifle, twisting it from his hands and tossing it away, before catching his throat with her forearm.

The man was knocked clean off his feet, smashing hard onto his back, and Sam put her boot hard into his chest as she looked up at the second man who Parker was fast approaching.

The subject recovered faster than expected from the flashbang and raised his rifle, his finger on the trigger. Sam and Parker didn’t hesitate, and both fired two carefully controlled shots that hit him in the chest and head.

His body spun as the bullets tore into him, and blood sprayed out across the wall. Sam took a deep breath as she saw the scarlet spray, and ran her tongue over her teeth behind her mask, before bending down and flipping her own subject onto his front and wrenching his arms behind his back.

“East clear. One subject in custody, one VSA,” Parker said as Sam snapped her handcuffs onto the hooded gunman’s wrists.

Grasping him tight by the collar of his shirt she yanked him up to his feet, and Parker’s face lost some of its colour.

“What the fuck?” he muttered, and suddenly Sam was afraid of who she was grasping. Pushing his back to the wall, bits of drywall crumbling down over his shoulders, she now saw why he wasn’t shouting back at them throughout the entire arrest.

Where his lower jaw should have been, was nothing but a jangled mess of metal and gears. It almost looked like crab legs jutting out from his throat. Patches of skin were peeling off from his cheek, and underneath Sam could see mechanical parts moving as if they had a life of their own.

“Uh Sarge? I think we got a problem,” Sam muttered into the radio.
 
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