Snippet #2290779

Silicon Valley, NetCom Securities, INC. building

The thunk of a .50 timed the beat that the god danced to, her every movement on or right between the beats of her death dealing drum. Her skin was wrapped tightly in a black and white bodyglove, devoid of armored plates and pulsing with thin blue power lines, it glowed brighter as she twisted and turned, spinning this way and that. In her left hand was Judgment, in her right Retribution. She smote down upon her enemies with righteous fury, her faith in her digital deity her greatest strength. Her long black hair flowed behind her, trailing like a black ribbon as she spun.

Judgment eviscerated a grey-fatigue clad security guard from nose to navel, and he struggled to hold the halves of himself together as he collapsed to the ground, blood pooling around him in pints. A step to her left and Retribution barked, exploding the head of another guard. Flecks of blood splatter across the skin of her too-white face and ran down onto the pulsating lights of the collar she wore.

The drum beats stopped and she turned, almost confused, as if the band had stopped playing for no reason. Data flitted across her view and she cam to the understanding that all the guards were dead. She licked blood of her lips then spat it out, it was too real, too organic. She turned and waved her compatriots to follow her. Five heavily armed men, her ensemble she liked to think, followed behind, their heavy white robes flowing over their red plated armor and white body-suits. The one carrying the .50 rested the smoking weapon on his shoulder as they passed the threshold of the large corporate tower that was the target of their assault. In the distance she vaguely processed the sound of alarms ringing and heavy doors shutting, but this did not perturb her.

The group strode into the empty, marble adorned, lobby of building and she guided the group over to the elevators, large shiny steel doors blocked their way into the shafts and a red light over top whined that the elevator was temporarily shut down. She laughed and put her palm up to the control panel, dendrites snaking their way out of the heel of her hand and piercing the wiring of the elevator. A few minutes, a sharp static shock later and the door dinged, sliding apart to reveal the empty interior of the elevator. The group stepped in and she punched the button for the 75th, the top, floor.

It was a 7 minute ride up to the top floor and the magnetically driven elevator made the journey smoothly. The override program she had injected into the command programming of the elevator system busted past any attempts to shut the rapidly rising box down, it's digital journey far more violent than the real one taking place in the elevator shaft. As they neared the 64th floor one of the men spoke into his helmet mic, the sound muffled by the full visors they all wore, “Guardian to Homeworld, we're nearing target zone, light resistance, we will have the server slate, request extract in ten.”

The crackling of the other end of the mic responded in kind, “Homeworld to Guardian, extract inbound, Father asks status of Daughter.”

The man gave a sidelong glance at the slender figure of the woman standing in front of him facing the door, the skintight bodyglove accentuating her figure in lewd ways, at odds with the gruesome display he had seen at the front doors of the building, he hesitated before responding, “Homeworld, Daughter is … good. Guardian out.” The mic went silent as the elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at their destination. A hand signal from the man who had been on the mic and the group spread to the sides of the elevator, out of view of the door, the girl grabbed the ceiling and slung herself up, bracing herself. The doors slid open to greet a hail of gunfire tearing through the small opening, murdering the back wall of elevator cabin.

After a solid 10 seconds of gunfire the sounds of guns clicking on empty resounded through the strange absence of roaring firearms. She slide gracefully down from the ceiling and flipped into the room, bridging 5 of the 20 yard distance from her to her attackers. The guards opposite her seemed unsure whether to unload on the beautiful, if eerily unreal, woman who had just appeared from the elevator. Their moment of hesitation was their death, the rest of the strike team stepped out of the small elevator and let lead fly, the first rounds killing the men at the far edges of the room. The .50 opened up on the men behind the security desk directly opposite the door, she made her way around the side and decapitated a door guard outside a blast slider with the words “Server Room” printed in small white letters.

Less than 12 seconds later the room was still again as the last guard slumped to the floor against the security desk, blood gurgling out of his mouth and running down his chin. All five men moved to the server room door, one of them affixing a small black square to the middle of it, “Clear zone, fire in seven.” They all stepped back and seven seconds later the door exploded inwards showering the room with metal fragments. The team stepped in to clear the room. Finding it vacant she walked in, striding directly to the central server cluster. A swipe of her hand across the console highlighted a specific sliver and she snapped her fingers, directing one of the men to withdraw it. He slid the wallet sized glowing piece of clear plastic, crisscrossed with tiny pulsating lines, out of the tall server frame and slipped into a small metal case, strapping it to his side. The team leader spoke into his mic again, “Guardian to Homeworld, target secure, ETA extract?”

“Guardian, Angel is on your high, extract is live, Homeworld out.”

The team leader waved his hand and they made their way back out into the main room and to the stairwell that led to the roof. The rooftop was as empty as the server room and they spread out as they waited for the whine of turbofans to near their position. The black bird's form lowered itself 5 feet from the rooftop and a small ramp slid out. The team ran out from their hiding spots, up the ramp and into the belly of the drop ship. The turbofans whined louder and the ship sped up into the darkness of the cloudy night sky.

Over Swiss airspace

The pilot came on over the Nighthawk's PA system, “Two minutes to drop, strap in, we're going straight down boys.” Deberov waved a hand and his team took their places strapped tightly into the harnesses on either side of the dropships hull.

The Warden went onto his team frequency, “Remember, no collateral, this is a grab and bag, regular ROE's.” Answer's of assent came back to him and he leaned forward giving the pilot the thumb's up for a mission-go.