Chapter Thirteen
But none of them looked like this one.
The large metal building housed what had to be the largest course he’d ever seen, not to mention a rather impressive simulation center, which, according to Atticus, was like a real-life experience.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, Marine,” Atticus joked as they stood in what could’ve passed as a warehouse with the stacks of metal box containers scattered throughout.
“I’m game if you are,” he told his partner with a smirk.
Atticus quirked an eyebrow and flashed a smile. “You’re on. Let’s get the equipment.”
He followed Atticus. “What equipment are we getting?”
“We’ll do the virtual reality scenario. Not quite as impressive as the simulation room, but pretty damn cool. The gear is set to measure body temp, heart rate, and whatnot while you’re in it. Plus, in the event you get shot, it’ll let you know.”
Interesting.
While they were getting set up with the gear—which included a dry-fit, long-sleeve shirt like the ones he wore to work out in and half a dozen sensors that were secured in strategic places to measure every move and every shot they took—RT and Z arrived.
“Good,” Z said by way of greeting. “I was hopin’ to get a demo of your skills.”
“If you really want to see his skills, you’ll have to put him in a perch a few thousand yards away,” RT said, looking impressed.
Archer had never been interested in bragging about his shooting skills.
Although Uncle Sam had trained him and honed his natural abilities, it wasn’t something he was particularly proud of.
While in the employ of the Marine Corps, he’d done the job they asked of him, and he’d done it well.
Regardless of who had commanded him to take the shot, every kill was forever ingrained in his brain.
And they weren’t moments he relived if he could avoid them.
“Let’s run the hostage drill,” Z said, looking at Atticus. “You’re in the lead on this one.”
Atticus nodded.
Archer had to admit, he was impressed with Atticus’s attitude. Didn’t seem to matter to him who held the control in the situation; he was good at acclimating. According to the few stories Atticus had shared with him, that hadn’t been the case until recently.
“Good luck,” Z said before disappearing into a glass-enclosed control room, RT right behind him.
A moment later, Z’s voice sounded through the earpiece Archer had inserted.
“The hostage is a twelve-year-old girl. Intel tells us she’s bein’ kept in a small room on the south side of the building, second floor. Heat signatures show three guards near the room, two making rounds on the exterior of the building, and five throughout.”
“Exterior?” Archer asked.
Atticus pointed toward the large shipping containers that split the building in half. “This side of the containers is considered the exterior for the sake of the exercise.”
“North, I presume?”
“Correct.”
“Okay, then, team leader, what’s your plan?”
Atticus walked over to a glass-topped table and tapped it. A blueprint of the “building” appeared, so he figured it wasn’t a table, but rather a computer.
“If she’s back here, I think our best bet is to move in from the east. As soon as this guard makes his next round, we’ll slip in through here. We’ll keep it quiet for as long as possible, so we don’t alert them all.”
Archer kept his attention on the screen as Atticus outlined exactly what they would do once inside.
“It’s all virtual reality,” Atticus explained, passing a pair of goggles that resembled the night vision ones he had at home. “And it’s high tech. They will see you. They will shoot you.” Atticus smirked. “And when they do, it hurts like a motherfucker.”
“Roger that.”
Once they were set to start, Archer found himself grinning. It had been a long time since he’d done anything like this outside of a video game.
A buzzer sounded overhead, signaling the start of the exercise.
Atticus started moving instantly, keeping close to the outer wall, ducking down behind several rows of metal barrels that were stacked three high.
Archer watched as a soldier passed by. He had an assault rifle propped against his shoulder, and he was puffing on a cigarette as he scanned his surroundings. He looked so real, Archer expected to smell cigarette smoke.
When the soldier continued his patrol, Atticus’s voice sounded softly in his ear. “Three … two … Go.”
Without hesitation, Archer moved with Atticus.
He went on full alert, years of training kicking in.
He kept an eye on Atticus, looking to take direction from the lead, while watching their six, ensuring no one was sneaking up from behind.
When Atticus stopped, he stopped. When Atticus moved, he moved.
They weaved their way through rows of storage containers set up to look like various rooms. They cleared them one at a time, encountering two soldiers.
Atticus took one out with a knife, while Archer got the other in a choke hold and sent him to sleep it off for a bit.
He couldn’t believe how real it felt, as though he’d actually met resistance when he was choking the guy out. How they did it, he had no idea. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know because then it wouldn’t be quite as cool.
Back in the hallway, they found a set of metal stairs that led up to the second floor.
With hand signals from Atticus, Archer remained on the lower steps, keeping his eye out for anyone approaching on the first floor while Atticus ascended slowly, weapon at the ready.
As soon as Atticus reached the first landing, a shot rang out.
Archer spun around in time to see Atticus take a bullet in the shoulder, knocking him back and down. He knew the blood was only a special effect from the virtual reality, but it was so fucking real, it caused Archer’s blood pressure to increase.
From there, he went on instinct. He was up the stairs, positioning himself to protect Atticus, weapon aimed at the second floor. They were blown, so stealth was no longer an issue.
Mindful of the amount of ammunition he had, he traded gunfire with the man at the top of the stairs. He managed a shot to the guy’s right leg, dropping him. As the shithead was falling to the floor, he got another shot to the head.
Then he was helping Atticus to his feet.
“I told you it hurt like hell,” Atticus said, grunting.
“Don’t take any more, ’kay?”
Atticus chuckled. “I’ll do my best. Go on. Lead the way.”
Archer headed up the stairs to the second floor.
He followed the sight of his weapon, clearing the area.
From somewhere nearby, he heard shouts and arguments, figuring it was the bad guys trying to figure out what to do next.
Checking that Atticus was behind him, Archer continued forward, pausing at doorways, scanning the two rooms they bypassed for more baddies.
Before they reached their destination, they encountered another soldier, this one armed with a knife.
Archer learned what Atticus was referring to when that knife sliced his right arm.
He knew instantly that it didn’t cause real damage, but the shirt he wore was designed to send a shock that simulated the pain he would’ve endured if it had been real.
To be honest, he would’ve rather taken the slice from the knife.
Ignoring the pain, he focused on taking the guy out.
He was dodging and weaving to avoid another stick and lost his rifle in the melee.
He spent far too much time entertaining the bastard before snatching his Sig from its holster and firing a shot to the guy’s kneecap.
Once he was on the ground, he put another in his head to end him once and for all.
With the threat eliminated, Archer holstered his Sig, picked up his rifle, and stepped over the body, continuing forward.
He had the door in sight, but another soldier was standing in front, firing random shots in rapid succession and shouting obscenities.
It would’ve been comical had Archer been watching it on TV.
“I’ll distract him,” Archer told Atticus. “You go low.”
“Ten-four, good buddy.”
It took effort not to laugh, but somehow he managed. He shouted at the soldier, surprised when the man stopped hollering incessantly.
“We’d just like to talk,” Archer lied. “Do you think we could do that?”
“No!”
He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. It never was.
“What if I talk and you listen?”
“No!”
“All right. Don’t say I didn’t try.” Archer leaned out of the doorway, flashing a grin at the soldier. The guy was surprised by the movement. Enough that he couldn’t get his weapon raised before Atticus slid out into the hallway and took a shot that hit the guy center mass.
“Nice,” Archer praised, wincing because his arm was still hurting from that virtual slice. He figured the shirt was continuing to send electrical pulses to simulate what an untended wound would feel like. He couldn’t imagine what Atticus was going through.
When Atticus got to his feet once again, they hurried to the door of the room, flanking it on both sides.
Archer met Atticus’s gaze, waited for his instruction.
When he got it, he reached down and turned the knob, shoving the door open.
They took fire from inside the room. When it died down, the only sound was that of a girl screaming.
Because he didn’t have eyes in the room, he couldn’t take out the bad guy without risking hitting the girl. He needed a location to know where to aim.
Nodding his head toward the room, he silently urged Atticus to take a peek since he was in a better position to do so without taking a headshot. With his eyes on Atticus the entire time, he waited for a signal, informing him where the bad guy was.
Atticus used two fingers, signaling that he was on the right.
“And the hostage?” he mouthed.
Atticus signaled to the left side, then straight back.