[ THIRD PERSON POV ]
Legion was taking point in the back. He and Sarge were bookends to Cat and Low, both of whom had miraculously stopped bickering as soon as they'd stepped foot in the building. Their trek was a slower one, and purposefully so. The plan had been set so that they would be working from the ground up, making sure that there were no extra surprises sneaking into the building as everyone else did their jobs.
Catatonic and Low were moving side by side, their shoulders brushing with every step they took. Cat's typically proud smirk was smoothed off into professional apathy, while Low looked relatively the same — detached but aware, her jaw currently still.
Their little squadron made it through over half of the building before they encountered a problem.
Said problem came to them in their former instructor, LASAR's former second in command. The expression Gray wore was one each of them knew well. A stern face with hardened eyes and rigid posture; Gray came toward them in eerie familiarity.
But this time, unlike last, none of them felt any relief at his presence. This was in part because of his betrayal — that alone would make any set of already murderous individuals furious — but it was also because of the dozen Kinetic agents standing behind him.
They spotted each other with several yards of hallway between them, and to the surprise of each, neither fired immediately. Each came to a pause, weapons directed unwaveringly at the others, and for a moment there was only silence. In that moment, Cat's expression morphed to one of silent rage, and Sergeant flashed a wicked grin. "Still got residual feelings for your old agents, Gray?" Sergeant asked, green eyes dark.
"You could've joined us," Gray said in answer. His head tilted toward the young man who stood beside him. Bravo both recognized him as Walski, the one whom Alpha had been interrogating in Germany when everything went so horribly wrong.
"LASAR failed, sure. But what we did ... that doesn't have to end."
Low scoffed, her eyes sharp as knives as she stared down Gray. "What we did? Since when did you do anything except run around as Boss' lapdog?"
"Last I checked, those of us standing on this side of the hall had all the fun," Cat agreed. His voice was low and dangerously even, completely lacking its usual mischievous tone. "We were out there making the changes ... we were the ones doing."
"Kids are right," Legion said coolly. "But then, I'm guessing you knew that. You are the one who decided joining up ranks with Team Charlie was a good idea."
"Poor judgement skills," Cat quipped.
Gray scoffed and gave a slight shake of his head. "Do you hear how immature you sound? I made a choice for the better. Boss didn't have an endgame. We had the resources to be doing so much more than we were. When Aim and Gambler decided they'd had enough, I took advantage of that. And in just a few short hours, I'll also be able to take advantage of the powers of multiple world leaders." He gave a nearly apathetic shrug before looking between each of them with careful precision. "You could be a part of that."
"You killed half of LASAR," Sergeant said. Though his voice was flat, there was something undeniably acidic about the look in his eyes.
"And you're forgetting what you're trained to do," Gray retorted. "You're trained to be more objective than this."
Low chuckled, the typically joyful sound coming out with dark undertones. "We aren't forgetting anything, Gray. Though it seems you are."
Gray sighed as he looked to her. "And what would that be?"
Low grinned devilishly. "Actions have consequences." She nodded toward the Kinetic, "Action," then shifted her aim just to the right of Gray, and with one well placed shot dropped one of the agents, "meet consequence."
The shock effect caused by Low's sudden shot was impressive. It took several seconds for any reaction on behalf of the Kinetic agents, and as a result Cat shot down two more of the men before everyone else burst into action. The other Kinetic agents were a flurry of motion as they tried to adjust their aim to focus on the four, whom were already storming toward them.
A moving target is harder to hit.
Legion full on tackled Walski, taking him out by his legs and sending them both into a brawl. Sergeant went for Gray at the same time, disarming him with a speed that would've impressed Snag. Meanwhile, both Catatonic and Low got up close and personal with the remaining nine agents, Low just a step behind Cat and covering her back — quite literally. Anyone who got too close with a gun ended up either having it used against them, or they were taken out at the knees.
Guns aren't as useful in close combat as you'd think. They're actually fairly easy to disarm.
"Question!" Catatonic shouted as he elbowed one agent in the face.
"Not really the time, Cat!" Legion barked before he head-butted Walski.
"No, but—" Cat paused to deck the same man he'd just hit in the face, this time dropping him like a bag of rocks, "--is lethal force—?"
Legion rolled his eyes and glanced over at Cat just long enough for Walski to stumble back to his feet. "If necessary!" Legion barked at the younger man before he turned back to his opponent.
"I can't believe you had to ask," Low muttered, examining one of the guns she'd stolen before emptying it of its magazine and tossing it.
Cat rolled his eyes before he flashed Low a charming smile, dimples making a short appearance as he knocked out the last of the dozen Kinetic agents. Immediately after that he pulled his gun out from its holster, cocking it before he looked back to where Bravo was fighting. Legion had an arm wrapped around Walski's neck. When Cat's gaze flickered to Sergeant, he was just in time to see him deliver a solid hit to Gray's face — with a gun in hand, the effect of which immediately drew blood.
Low nudged Cat's side, looking at him instead of their teammates. Her dark eyes were hardened in determination. "We need to move."
Catatonic gave her a cheeky grin before he nodded. He risked one more glance at Bravo before taking a half step further down the hall. "I'm ready when you are."
Low scoffed and blew a bubble before snapping it with a sharp pop. "Let's go, Cat."
They disappeared without another word, moving swiftly through the hallway and leaving Team Bravo in their wake. Legion was the first to notice their absence, but he wasn't remotely concerned — this was part of the plan. He was just glad they were finally getting going.
Or rather, he took point-three seconds to be glad before Walski threw him over his shoulder and he landed on the ground with a dull thud. The groan that would've escaped Legion morphed into a growl, and when Walski went to make a kick — dirty move — at Legion's face, he slammed a fist into Walski's other calf, felling him like a tree.
A howling tree, but a tree nonetheless.
Legion scrambled to his feet as Walski attempted to regain a sense of balance, his leg no doubt screaming in pain from the blow that had been delivered. Walski's dark eyes narrowed, anger morphing his features before he stubbornly stood on both feet. Legion took note of the way his opponent's jaw clenched in pain. It was all he could do not to smirk. "You're better off walking away now," Legion said, "while you still can."
Walski scowled at that, baring his teeth. "Or you could run," he retorted, "just like Team Alpha did when I confronted them in New York."
Legion gave a bark of a laugh at that, his crystal blue eyes alight with droll amusement. "Dang, you're a conceited one, aren't you?"
"Hardly," Walski said. "All I know is if I can run off LASAR's best—" he spat the words, the mocking tone impossible to ignore, "—then you're hardly a challenge." They began to circle each other slowly, Walski attempting to act as though he wasn't limping, while Legion kept his hands loose and open, held up between them.
"Hate to break it to you, buddy," Legion said, a wry smile on his lips, "but only half of Team Alpha ran from you in New York. And the thing about that is, she could've killed you by blinking."
Walski rolled his eyes, readying his own hands between them. His mistake was forming his hands to fists, rather than staying relaxed. "For some reason, I doubt that."
"Or maybe you're just too prideful to connect the dots," Legion said. "So allow me to connect them for you: Risk let you live. And you'd better hope, for your sake, that I allow you the same kindness."
That was apparently all that Walski could handle hearing. In the next second he lunged toward Legion, attempting to return the tackle made earlier. He was far from successful, however, and all Legion had to do was shift his own stance, readjust his arms, and then utilize the strength that rested in his bones. Walski went flying into the wall with a throw that would've impressed any Olympic athlete, accompanied by a loud smack.
Walski slumped down face-first on the ground, unmoving. Legion sucked in a deep breath before he stepped across the hall to check for his pulse. "Yup," he muttered to himself, "still there." Though when he woke up, he was going to have one horrific headache, and no doubt a concussion to boot.
Legion turned his back on the fallen young man just in time to catch the exchange that was happening between Sergeant and Gray.
They too were circling each other, though the ferocity in their stances was evenly matched. Where Legion had acted as serene as he ever did, Sergeant had no issue with utilizing his lost temper — and somehow, in doing so, he'd managed to make Gray lose his lid, too.
"—just a puppet on a string, no better than a lapdog," Sarge snarled, forest green eyes having fallen into shadow.
That seemed to be all it took for Gray to snap, which was exactly what Sergeant had been waiting for. Gray may have had more years on him, but Sergeant had something else — Sergeant had learned early on how to direct all of his anger in a way that wasn't thoughtless or imprecise. A feat that many individuals struggled with, not excluding Risk. That was what Sarge was counting on.
And that was exactly what he got. Gray took a combination of wild swings toward Sergeant, and after ducking one of them, Sarge grabbed Gray's wrist and diverted the other in a manner that caused Gray to lose balance. But he didn't let go as Gray began to stumble. Instead he bent Gray's arm at an awkward angle, and brought one hand down on his forearm — hard.
The crack of bone breaking was loud, and Gray's shout of pain was almost louder. Sergeant released him as soon as he'd delivered the blow, sending Gray face-first onto the floor. As Gray managed to flip himself over, venomous hatred glinting in his steely eyes, Sergeant gave him a fiery glare. "If you enjoy living, you're going to stay down," Sarge said. "And that isn't a warning you're going to hear twice."
Gray glared up at Sergeant with a clenched jaw and reddening eyes, one hand still clutching at his arm in a way that revealed the pain he was in. He didn't say a word, though his eyes said everything for him. He was in tremendous pain, and he was furious. He made no move to acknowledge what Sergeant had said at all.
Sergeant wasn't about to be deterred by that. He twisted lightly on one heel to look back at his partner, making casual note of how Walski was also on the floor (and appeared to be breathing). Sarge was about to make a smart aleck remark to Legion when he saw his partner's brilliant eyes turn dark.
Behind Sergeant's back, Gray reached with his good arm for his gun. His fingers wound around the handle, and he was lifting his arm to make a shot ...
When Legion drew his own gun and squeezed off one lethal shot. He didn't so much as flinch, watching Gray's head hit the floor with a muted thud. Blood immediately began to stain the carpet, and as Sergeant turned to look, both he and Legion knew that Gray wouldn't be getting up again.