Nate tightened his grip on the Rattler rifle.
They’d been discovered.
Not completely, but someone had already grown suspicious.
Footsteps came from the right.
At least two people were heading his way.
He quickly scanned the area.
The second floor was spacious, with plenty of cover he could use.
The problem was that once the shooting started, the gunfire would alert everyone in the building.
A suppressor could muffle his shots, but their guns didn’t have them.
He needed to take these two out before the others had time to react.
Nate moved diagonally across from the stairwell and took cover behind an abandoned industrial boiler.
The stairs were an open steel-frame structure leading down from the second floor, and the footsteps were getting closer.
Two figures appeared on the stairs.
The man in front carried a submachine gun.
The one behind him had a sawed-off shotgun.
Nate waited until they stepped off the last stair and onto the second floor.
Then he pulled the trigger.
The Rattler gave a muffled thump, like a fist striking a pillow.
The first .300 BLK round hit the lead gunman in the chest.
His Body Armor stopped the bullet, but the remaining force knocked him backward into the shotgunner behind him.
Nate immediately fired again, this time aiming for the head.
The bullet entered through the eye and blew out the back of his skull, spraying a mist of blood beneath the lights.
The shotgunner was pinned beneath his companion’s body.
He struggled to shove it away and raise his weapon.
Nate stepped out from behind the boiler and fired the Rattler twice.
The first round struck the shotgunner in the shoulder.
The second hit his neck, sending blood spurting out.
The two bodies collapsed at the foot of the stairs, one on top of the other.
But the noise had already carried.
The shotgun had slipped from the man’s hand and struck the metal stair railing with a sharp clang that echoed through the entire warehouse.
Nate heard frantic shouting from upstairs.
“Everyone, grab your weapons! Weapons!”
Then came a rush of heavy footsteps, converging from both the second and third floors.
Nate cursed under his breath and quickly moved back down to the first floor, taking cover behind a concrete pillar.
The overhead lights came on, flooding the warehouse with light.
Nate heard a chaotic rush of footsteps, along with urgent commands crackling over the walkie-talkies.
“Second floor’s clear. Nothing here.”
“We’ve already lost a lot of men!”
“Get to the first floor!”
“Copy.”
“Third floor, stay alert. Keep an eye on those two hostages.”
The hostages.
Lily and Henry were on the third floor.
Nate clenched his jaw, shouldered the Rattler, and aimed straight at the staircase on this side.
But his advantage was gone.
Darkness and cover had been his only allies, and the enemy’s superior numbers were rapidly turning into superior firepower.
He heard footsteps to his left.
Someone was coming down the staircase on the other side.
Nate went still, pressing his back against the concrete pillar and holding his breath.
The footsteps drew closer.
Two men, one behind the other.
The tactical flashlight mounted on the lead man’s rifle swept a white beam across the floor.
“I don’t see anyone.”
“Keep searching.”
Nate waited until the first man passed the pillar, then suddenly swung out from behind it, pressed the Rattler against his head, and pulled the trigger.
The muffled shot was followed by the crack of breaking bone, and the man’s body toppled backward.
The second man reacted instantly, bringing up his rifle.
Nate sidestepped, grabbed the barrel with his left hand, and shoved it aside.
Then he jammed the Rattler under the man’s chin and pulled the trigger.
Blood sprayed as the second body dropped, but the man’s finger still clenched the trigger as he died.
“Bang! Bang!”
Nine!
But the gunshots and the sweeping beam of the tactical flashlight exposed Nate’s position.
“He’s over there!” someone shouted.
Nate immediately crouched low and moved.
A barrage of bullets tore across the warehouse from the opposite side, slamming into the wall beside him and spraying debris everywhere.
Assault-rifle fire thundered through the cavernous warehouse, deafening in the enclosed space.
Nate dropped behind another concrete pillar and used it as cover, raising his rifle to return fire and keep the enemy pinned down.
Bullets whipped past both sides of the pillar with sharp, vicious cracks.
He drew a deep breath and pulled a rifle magazine from his system Backpack.
The Rattler was running low.
More than half of its thirty-round magazine had already been spent in the previous exchanges.
“He’s behind the pillar!” someone yelled.
“Go around! Flank him from both sides!”
Nate heard scattered footsteps closing in from both left and right.
He was surrounded.
He quickly glanced to his right.
Two figures were weaving through gaps between the pallets as they approached from farther away.
He could also hear footsteps behind and to his right, but those stopped instead of advancing.
Someone was probably hanging back to provide covering fire.
Nate switched the Rattler to full-auto, closed his eyes, and listened to the rhythm of the approaching footsteps.
A little closer.
Then he moved.
He dropped into a crouch and thrust the barrel around the left side of the pillar, firing first.
Three rounds struck the nearest enemy square in the face.
At the same time, Nate swept the rifle farther left, spraying .300 BLK rounds through the darkness and into another man.
Blood burst from the enemy’s body.
His Body Armor protected his vital areas, but several rounds tore into his arms and legs.
Nate could see that one of his arms had been shattered by the bullets.
“Fuck! He’s here! He’s here!” the wounded man screamed, clutching his mangled arm.
Eleven!
Nate was about to finish him off when the enemy covering the rear opened fire.
Nate didn’t linger.
He immediately moved left, using pallets and machinery for cover as he constantly shifted position.
The men across from him stayed behind cover and poured out suppressive fire.
Bullets tore overhead in such numbers that Nate didn’t dare raise his head.
He could only stay low, stick his rifle over the cover, and fire back blindly to keep them occupied.
His rifle ran dry.
With a thought, a spare magazine from his Loadout appeared in his left hand.
He was about to reload when an enemy suddenly emerged from behind a shelf ahead, his submachine gun already raised.
The man had switched off his weapon light.
He had clearly been hiding there deliberately, waiting for Nate to come to him.
There was no time to draw a throwing knife.
Nate hurled the magazine in his hand instead.
A fully loaded magazine had plenty of weight behind it, and it struck the enemy square in the face with a solid clang.
The force sent the man stumbling backward behind the shelving unit.
Before he could recover, Nate drew his pistol and fired several times.
The enemy was right in front of him, less than five meters away.
At that distance, there was almost no way to miss.
The man dropped.
The pistol wasn’t suppressed, but the shot didn’t seem quite as deafening anymore.
Nate was apparently starting to get used to the gunfire.
Twelve!
Nate still had the Rattler in his left hand.
He quickly transferred it to his dominant right hand and, with slightly awkward movements, pulled out the empty magazine and reloaded.
But while he was doing so, an enemy behind and to his right opened fire.
A burst of rounds struck the metal shipping container beside Nate.
After punching through the sheet metal, the bullets destabilized and broke into irregular fragments that tore past him.
Several fragments buried themselves in his right arm.
His sleeve ripped open, and blood began to seep through.
His Body Armor had stopped most of the fragments, but his arm had no protection.
Nate gritted his teeth.
With the Rattler reloaded, he twisted around, dropped onto his side, and fired a three-round burst to the right before immediately rolling back behind the concrete pillar.
The rounds struck one enemy in the thigh, abdomen, and neck.
The man screamed and collapsed.
Thirteen down.
Four left!
“Suppress him! Keep firing!”
Someone shouted, and the gunfire intensified.
Nate was forced back behind the pillar as bullets chipped chunks from the concrete around him.
He ducked lower to avoid the flying debris.
The two layers of Body Armor he was wearing had already taken two rounds during the firefight.
One had struck below his chest.
The two layers absorbed most of the kinetic energy, but the impact still left his ribs throbbing with pain.
The other had hit his abdomen with even greater force, nearly knocking him backward.
Without those two layers of Body Armor, he’d already be on the ground.
Nate gasped for breath, sweat and dust running down his forehead.
Damn.
This was a hell of a lot more intense than the movies made it look!
The enemy had his position pinned down now.
Nate needed a different strategy.