Short Stories

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Chaz II

Twitch started another round on the perimeter he had set. He calculated the minimum acceptable time it would take for him to get into the room from all points in a radius, and then set a watch track so that he could keep within range and make sure everything went according to plan. “According to Plan”, Chaz snorted at that. Deirdre didn’t believe in a “plan” -- well, not as Twitch defined a plan. A well-laid plan would mean Deirdre would bring her mark to a previously prepared place where they controlled the variables, did their job, and left by any number of prearranged escape routes.
“The targets would smell a plan like that a mile away,” Deirdre had scoffed. “These aren’t idiots, you know. They need to be brought to where they think they found me, and it was their idea to take me to someplace, and their idea to get me drunk, and their idea to do what follows. If I said, “Hey, big boy, come back to my place where you’ve never been, I’ve got the key and everything prepared” they’d run and hide in their limos and send their thug bodyguards after me. Is that really what you want?”
“No,” Twitch had countered. “But no more of those “secured compound” visits. Those places kin have top-notch security that are difficult to get into, much less get around. I don’ like the idea of ye bein’ alone fer tha’ long until I can get into position.”
“But you do. You always do.” Deirdre said airily.

* * * * *

They got into that same fight tonight. Deirdre insisting she take whatever course she deemed necessary at the time, Twitch insisting on more structure.
“You know I don’ work tha’ way, lass! Logistics need to be planned down to detail, with contingency upon contingency and margins for error. I don’ just work on the fly like ye do.”
“Yes, you do, Twitch.”
“Look woman --
“When you break into a room or warehouse, you don’t have your plan of attack squared away. You have to assess the enemies’ numbers, strengths and weaknesses, decide on a course of action, and then react to their counter moves. Correct?”
“That’s entirely different –“
“You have to improvise then and there, and no amount of planning or contingencies will help you in those split seconds, am I right? You know I’m right, Twitch!”
“Point made, but it’s irrelevant –“
“When I enter a club or party, I have to work the room, find an opportunity, make an approach, decide whether or not the mark is having a good night, angry at the world, or just too drunk to care. I have to decide how intrusive the bodyguards are going to be and how I can distract them from their jobs. I can’t force him to go where I want, I have to be subtle and suggestive, and make it all seem like his idea. You do it in microseconds with guns. I do it over time, but with people. In this, we’re no different, Twitch.”
This resulted in the throwing of a few breakables, but that only meant that Deirdre had run rings around him with logic, and now Twitch had to cope a best he could. Deirdre had a gift for the big picture, although in the planning she tended to ignore details, assuming instinct would suffice. Twitch obsessed over the details, making plan upon plan upon plan, sifting out weaknesses and making counter-plans, but sometimes lost the ultimate goal in the making. They complimented each other well, and were a perfect team together, something Deutsch-Corp hadn’t missed when they groomed their two assassins. Tonight’s assignment had sketchy details and a wide allowance for course of action, something the usually strict Deutsch-Corp was not apt to do. But results were results, and their handlers had recommended that more and more control be allowed to this team, which allowed for a wider range of targets not previously approved because the bureaucracy could not decide upon an “approved plan”.

* * * * *

Twitch moved about in the apartment below where Deirdre was entertaining The Mark, quickly and silently in the dark, the soft carpet making his movements easily concealable. The window was already open, and when he checked with a hand mirror, he could see the soft light from the apartment above. Stealing along the wall, he eased the door open and slipped out into the hallway, checking with his mirror to make sure there were no surprises. He crept a good deal along the hall, back to one wall, looking, listening, smelling. He put his fingertips to the wall and spread them wide, then slowly, slowly, leaned in until his ear barely touched the wall. Reflexively, he clicked out with his tongue against his teeth, quietly.
“Patrick, don’t know where Shamus. . We’ll eat. Promise . Stay quiet.” He tapped signals quickly on the wall, stopped still, and listened again. He felt it first before he heard it. Quick pattering, then stop, quick pattering, then stop. Long pause, then more quick movements. He could feel the vibrations on his fingers, the weight of movement shaking along the floor above, then down the wall below. “Patrick, Shamus! Don’t move!” he clicked in signal with his teeth.
He recognized the well orchestrated movements of a disciplined group. He could picture in his mind’s eye the team as they moved overhead in the hallway above. Move and cover, signal. Move and cover, signal. He could count them moving in pairs, two, four, six, eight – strike force strength. They would have general issue automatic rifles, short burst fire, sweeplights under the barrel, possibly a specialist in the group for close in-fighting tactics with short-hafted martial arts weapon, or just killing hands. They would have in-unit command and control by a squad leader orchestrating the approach, no doubt.
Tap, Tap, Tap. “Mick, I’m scared…”
“PATRICK!” Twitch hissed through his teeth and tore himself away from the wall. With inhuman speed and silence he streaked down the hallway, calculating the motion of the strike force above. Nerve paths treated chemically with superconductivity, putting muscles to motion as instantaneously as thought. Bursting through the apartment still silent and undetectable he vaulted towards the open window before him, and sprang up to the floor above. Deutsch-Corp’s doctors had pushed the limits with their augmentations, it was said not one more scrap of refined flesh or body metal could be crammed in without total system overload, but it was considered worth the risk if all the refinements meshed together and the mind and body could take the stress. So far DC’s experiments had paid off, and this subject was already predisposed to mind-on-the-edge dementia required to function in this manner.
None of that mattered to Twitch as he swung himself up to the ledge of the apartment above, and just as he had timed, tumbled through the open window just as the strike force crashed through the apartment door. There was that moment of hesitation in the lead man’s reaction. There was always the hesitation, the uncertainty, there always was. Speed and surprise, speed and surprise are the weapons of those who live in the dark.

Twin guns came up, arms outstretched, hands turned to the side, under and over, wrists locking into one anther, butts of the pistols resting together. Electronic tracking identified the first target, lead man, Twitch recognized the armored chest plate and helmet, used the gun’s electronic eye command to target the neck and silently commanded the first shot. There was barely any noise from his sound suppressed gun, but the strike of the bullet and the short grunt was telling enough, first target down. Second target following would be vulnerable for a split second as the lead man dropped and Twitch selected his target with surgical precision, and silently commanded the second death. He would have a short opportunity before other targets were within optimum, and so he tracked the two lamps which served as lighting source in the room, and eliminated them. Time to move. Speed and surprise.
Report would come back to C and C that there were hostiles of unknown nature and number and two friendlies down, awaiting orders. Not enough information, squad leader would want more recon, still confident they had the advantage with numbers. All this flashing across Twitch’s mind as his body reacted to assessment, stealing across the room to a new position.
Third man and forth man, their plan is to charge into the room, lead man and second having secured a defensive position on either side of the door and covering the entrance for them and the rest of the squad. But lead man and second man are on the ground, third man and forth man stumble through with no cover and the plan now unsure. The hesitation again. Third man fires blind a burst in front of him, a mistake giving away his exact position in the dark. Sound targeting hones in on him and Twitch silently commands three rounds, body shots since he can’t quite track a killing spot, but he’s maneuvered to the side, and so he may pierce a vital organ underneath the arm. Third man should keep his elbows down when running with a rifle. Forth man hits the ground and rolls, he’ll be a problem to track, but for now he must draw in five and six before making his move.
“Stay down, Patrick.” Twitch’s hands shake uncontrollably f or a moment, then gathers his composure, commands a silent shot across the room, shattering a vase, drawing attention to that side. Five and six charge in and break to the right and left, clearing space for the rest of the remainder of the squad. It’s protocol, they must, or else they get bottlenecked in the doorway and get picked off one by one.

Now is the time to move.

In a tribute to Deutsch-Corp’s advancements, Twitch launched into the center of the room, and like a whirling dervish, spun in place and tracked his targets five and six to his left and right, seven coming through the door way, and a full turn to catch four before a round in return could be squeezed off. Turning quickly to the front door, he was met by a flying kick to his chin that snapped his head back and sent him sprawling. No hesitation from this one, he had a trained mind, and trained hands. Closing to press the attack, his assailant sprung across the room, to land upon the prostrate body, but Deutsch-Corp had supplied superhuman reflexes, and so his lightening recovery enabled Twitch to roll away, find his gun, re-establish targeting computers, and fire four rounds just as the would be attacker landed where the intended victim lay moments before.
“Nice recovery,” Deirdre said in a sultry voice, cigarette smoldering from her lips.
“You let someone get a crack at you. You’re getting slow in your old age. Perhaps the engineers need to give you a tune-up.” Smirk.
“What’re ye doin’ out here? Ye could get ye’self hurt!”
“Relax, will you? You take care of me, Twitch. You always do.” She breathes out a stream of smoke.
“The Mark?”
“Oh, he’s been long disposed. I heard noises in the hall and just waited. Knew it wouldn’t be you. You don’t make noise.”
“Someone knew ye’d be on the job tonight, Deirdre. Someone set ye up. I don’ like it. I don’t like it one bit. An’ when I find out who it is--”
“Well, you can only disguise a face like this so much, no matter how much biopic adjustment you use.” Grin. “Actually, it’s more likely our M.O. that’s being recognized. Someone was set out for bait and our handlers stepped into the trap. We’ll have to make note of that in our copious obligatory report. You know, Deutsch-Corp can be really anal about these reports. I’m glad you’ve got the stomach for them. I certainly don’t.
“And when you call for the Cleaners tell them they’ve got a little more work to do tonight. The night’s still young, I think I’ll go out and party.”

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