[desc]He leaned against a wall, inches from the door. He dressed in exactly the same garb as the rest of the black ops units in the facility, right down to the weapon. The problem was, he did not come in with SIG, and he was not leaving with them. At times like this, he likely would have smoked, but smoking gave off a particular scent, and he did not want to alert anyone to his presence prematurely.
He had taken a peek at the lay of the land before his intrusion. He knew this to be the most likely course for the survivors of the suicide mission. He had always been lucky, he just had to pray his luck would hold out enough that his old training protocols were still in place. The intrusion of the facility had been disappointingly easy, especially given the importance of the arriving shuttle. It had taken little more than an override of the CCTV systems and the disabling of a few electronic locks, and he was free to move as he pleased.
A sound paused his thoughts. Footsteps, hurried, coming toward the door. He heard no voices, only feet. His finger slid down to his weapon's safety, disabling it without a sound. The footsteps paused directly outside the door, signaling the man to avert his eyes merely out of training; his sunglasses would automatically polarize as needed. Without a sound, the door flew open, barely avoiding crushing the imposter's arm between the wall and the doorhandle. A handfull of men dressed to match and one representetive, General Chamberlain, burst through the doors; the lack of a precautionary flash grenade concerned the intruder as to the quality of the mens' training.
Without a spoken word, he cut loose. It was not difficult, and it did not take long. The group was at near point-blank range, and his weapon was set to full-auto. Its rattle echoed through the room for only perhaps fifteen seconds, and this was far more than needed; merely a precautionary measure, using the full capacity of the modified clip to ensure the death of each and every man in the room other than himself. As the dust settled, he took a pair of steps toward the only body in the room that didn't match his own dress. Reaching down, he hoisted the figure up, not entirely sure as to the location of the audio device or if it was even still active.[/desc]
[ic]This's Iko. I'm returnin' home.[/ic]
[desc]At that, he exited. There had to be a shuttle capable of making orbit somewhere in this shithole.[/desc]