There was a slight pop, followed by a pinhole of light. That pinhole grew into a tear. The tear into a split, and from that opening a man stepped out into the empty warehouse and looked right, then left, making sure the intel had been correct. The place was as empty as promised.
"Command, this is Trace, I'm in position. Send the others."
"Copy, Trace. Relaying location and setting the perimeter. Your house is about to get loud."
The man shook his head. Things were always too loud. In a matter of seconds, the warehouse was coming to life with new rifts and equipment filling the space. Voices shouted in different languages, competing with others doing the same thing, and that was ordering their people how to go about the set up they'd all done before.
Trailers filled with equipment, everything from weaponry to computer banks started to come to life as they connected to the building's power supply.
"Command, FOB is coming online now." "Copy, Trace. We are following progress." There was some static through the earpiece, the sound of breathing digitized. "Sorry for the delay, Trace. Programs are connecting, and we are getting sit-op online." "Why the delay, this time?" Trace ran his hand over his dark, bald head. He hated set up. His specialty was the hunt, but someone found out he was deadly efficient with set up, and as with any Government work, if they find out you're good at something they want you doing it every time. Saves time and training, is what they always claim.
"Patience, Trace. It could be the distance, the weather. Any number of unknown factors." "Bullsh....You're already running the programs searching for her." "Confirmed, Trace. We merely want success this time." "I would have had her last time if you hadn't sent out the idiot brigade." "Trace, you forget your place. Primary is our Op, not your vendetta." "Command, Trace out. The FOB is operational. Time is of the essence. Expect my report filed in the AM." Trace reached up and jerked the comm from his neck and tossed it onto a desk just as it appeared beside him. "Handy." He murmured. He turned on his heel and headed for the exact spot he knew his trailer would be just as it appeared. They were getting better at placement. A dark hand reached out and pushed the code to unlock the door to allow entry. The screen on his desk was flashing red. He knew that Command had more to say, and he knew that he didn't want to hear it. The steel door to his weapon case opened, and he geared up. Tac-vest with the ammo and tranq darts. Sidearm, knife, and a new addition to his kit, fire retardant. He wasn't sure how much more powerful the Primary had become.
"Trace, we know you're there. Scan indicates it." Command's voice came through the speakers near his screen. "Primary is still being tracked as on the move. We may need to follow up with Delta."
"Is Delta still sifting through the ashes of the last place?" "Confirmed." "Let them do their job, while I do mine." "She is asking for you." Trace stopped in his preparation that had gotten his attention. "God, what does she want?" "Command is uncertain, but before the op, she wants you in her office, personally." Trace grit his teeth. "Affirmative." "Repeat, Trace?" "Tell her; I'll be there." "Roger."
Trailers filled with equipment, everything from weaponry to computer banks started to come to life as they connected to the building's power supply.
"Command, FOB is coming online now." "Copy, Trace. We are following progress." There was some static through the earpiece, the sound of breathing digitized. "Sorry for the delay, Trace. Programs are connecting, and we are getting sit-op online." "Why the delay, this time?" Trace ran his hand over his dark, bald head. He hated set up. His specialty was the hunt, but someone found out he was deadly efficient with set up, and as with any Government work, if they find out you're good at something they want you doing it every time. Saves time and training, is what they always claim.
"Patience, Trace. It could be the distance, the weather. Any number of unknown factors." "Bullsh....You're already running the programs searching for her." "Confirmed, Trace. We merely want success this time." "I would have had her last time if you hadn't sent out the idiot brigade." "Trace, you forget your place. Primary is our Op, not your vendetta." "Command, Trace out. The FOB is operational. Time is of the essence. Expect my report filed in the AM." Trace reached up and jerked the comm from his neck and tossed it onto a desk just as it appeared beside him. "Handy." He murmured. He turned on his heel and headed for the exact spot he knew his trailer would be just as it appeared. They were getting better at placement. A dark hand reached out and pushed the code to unlock the door to allow entry. The screen on his desk was flashing red. He knew that Command had more to say, and he knew that he didn't want to hear it. The steel door to his weapon case opened, and he geared up. Tac-vest with the ammo and tranq darts. Sidearm, knife, and a new addition to his kit, fire retardant. He wasn't sure how much more powerful the Primary had become.
"Trace, we know you're there. Scan indicates it." Command's voice came through the speakers near his screen. "Primary is still being tracked as on the move. We may need to follow up with Delta."
"Is Delta still sifting through the ashes of the last place?" "Confirmed." "Let them do their job, while I do mine." "She is asking for you." Trace stopped in his preparation that had gotten his attention. "God, what does she want?" "Command is uncertain, but before the op, she wants you in her office, personally." Trace grit his teeth. "Affirmative." "Repeat, Trace?" "Tell her; I'll be there." "Roger."