Rebecca smith was not a very tough woman. She was driven, and focused, and decently tough. But what she was about to do was the bravest thing she had ever attempted. Even after she parked her sensible two door car in an open parking spot in a lot filled with expensive and flashy vehicles, she had to fight to keep her hands from shaking uncontrollably. The acid in her stomach had been rising into her throat, ever since she came up with this plan. Right now it was tearing at her flesh once again.
Fear was nothing compared to purpose however. So after a minute or two, she opened the door beside her and stepped out of the car. She didn't even feel the eyes of judgement on her as she passed men in suits or flashy club clothing, and women in elaborate dresses that cost more than she made in a year. The fear of the moment was just too strong. Bypassing the line of people waiting under the flashing lights of the club's signage, she went right to the five rather large men standing in front of the door. Clutching her handbag, she walked right up to the first one, who was eyeing her carefully but sharply.
"I think you are in the wrong place, miss." The lead security guard greeted her with those words, his muscled arms coiling over his black T shirt. The air around him grew in intimidation, forced down on the small woman looking up at him.
Rebecca had to clear her throat before she could talk. It came out weakly, still. But with purpose.
"I want to talk to Him." She spoke up to the security guard, meeting his eyes. He laughed right in her face, knowing who 'He' was, without even explanation.
"He doesn't want to see you." Was the man's almost immediate reply, right along with his laughter. Rebecca didn't back down though, She grit her teeth, and spoke again.
"I want, to to talk, to Him. Tell him it is a matter of life or death." Her eyes narrowed a bit, anger rolling along with her tone. Hardness filled her, and she clutched her handbag tighter. She tried to put on the best air that she wasn't going to be leaving without a fight.
The man's laughter stopped when she said it was a matter of life or death. He watched Rebecca for a long moment, just to make sure she was serious. Then he would nod slowly, bringing a finger up to his ear to push into the device hanging off of it.
"Yeah, it's me, out front. There's a woman here... Says she wants to see the Boss. Says it's a matter of, 'Life or Death'." The guard spoke up, then waited. Giving a sharp look behind Rebecca to the line of people who began to complain. Their complaints stopped immediately. The guards head tilted as he listened, then he would look back down to the small woman in front of him.
"Alright. Follow me." And that was it. It was usually pretty easy to speak with criminals, especially when you were alone. Going into such a place and speaking to the boss wasn't the hard part. The hard part was getting out again. But the guard opened the door and lead Rebecca into the club.
She followed the man in. Deeper and deeper, past the too-loud music and confusing lights. Through a metal door that was flanked by another pair of guards. Up a flight of stairs, and past another door that wasn't just flanked by a pair of guards, but rather a group of men lounging around with firearms either on them or right beside them. She steeled herself with every step, knowing what she was doing was important.
The sounds of the club began to fade away, the deeper they went. Until they were standing in front of a pair of doors, and a rather lot of sophisticated electronics. The guard that had been leading her, stopped and turned to her finally. Holding out a hand with a jut of his chin down to her hand bag. Rebecca handed it over without hesitation, the guard didn't bother to look through it. Just handed it off to one of the many men that stood around and tried to look busy while guarding something.
"Stand right here." He told her, pointing down to the ground right in front of the door. "And do not move." A light warning, as he stepped back and away. Rebecca did as she was told, stepping to the spot specified. She looked over to the guard she had followed, confused, but he didn't offer an explaination. He just watched her closely. A few seconds ticked by, and when she was about ready to ask what this was for, another guard from the side who had been looking at a computer monitor finally spoke up.
"X ray is clean. No guns on her, no electronics."
The guard she was watching, just nodded to the one who spoke up. Then he reached over to grab at the handle of the door. He opened it, slowly, and offered a single word inside while ushering Rebecca inside with a semi-polite bow of his head.
"Sir." It was an announcement, spoken to the single man in the room. Sitting behind an expansive wood desk. Old, but having the air of absolute power and control. He wore a suit much finer than anyone else in that club. Sharp blue eyes looked right at the woman entering, pinning her down. On his lips was a smile, that was not at all pleasant. It was one of a beast that had all the upper ground in the world. Rebecca moved in with a definite hunger though, she had gone this far. So without question, she blurted out her greeting and request all in one.
"Mr. Petrekov. I wish for you to contact the Lottery Crew." It dropped like a heavy rock into tranquil waters. It had the old man behind the desk busting out in a laugh.
But, then, Rebecca told him why she wanted to contact the Crew. And his laughter stopped, immediately.
************************************************** **********
It was only a small amount of time later, but Rebecca already knew she was somewhat in the clear. She sat in one of the two leather chairs in front of a roaring fire in this man's office as he went to work making a drink behind her.
"I have a few of my people on the way to the hospital right now, to check your story out." In the background of the comment, there was the definite warning of what would happen if they determined the woman was lying.
"They will see I am telling the truth." Rebecca spoke with absolute certainty. Doing her best not to look nervous and failing.
"I hope so, for your sake. I won't do anything to you if I find out... I'll just give your name to the Lottery Crew, let them sort you out..." It was a far better warning than Petrekov could come up with. He brought the drinks with him as he came to the fireplace. Handing her one, which she gladly accepted, and immediately moved to her lips. Petrekov still went on, even with her drinking.
"I'm not saying I know the Crew... But do you know what you are bringing down, here?" As if she was calling a myth rather than a group of criminals. Petrekov laughed as he took the opposite chair from her, sliding into the leather comfortably. Crossing his legs, gentlemanly. "I could have a thousand brutish men like you saw outside of that door in this club, and I still wouldn't piss off the Lottery Crew. All I would be left with is a thousand dead guards and a bullet in my head for my trouble. I'm not afraid of people, but I am very afraid when it comes to forces of nature that I am in the path in." As he spoke, he kept a constant watch on Rebecca. Evaluating her every nuance.
It was coming clear to her what as happening, even if she some what knew it before hand. She was asking one beast to call another, much worse beast. The glass came to her lips, and she finished her drink in a single burning swallow. Coughing lightly, before she spoke out as confidently as she could.
"I will do my job, Mr. Petrkov, Just as you do." Her brown eyes locked on to the older man's own blues. A smile bloomed over his lips, it was one of a light respect. It calmed her immediately, understand that the older man understood, too.
"You either are telling the truth Ms. Smith, or, you are very good at playing. I am genuinely curious to see which one. And, of course, to see what the Crew will do to you, if you're lying." Petrekov admitted this freely to the mousy woman. A light laugh followed his words, ending when the phone in his suit coat chirped. To the sound, he pursed his lips.
"And what good timing." Fingers dipped inside of his suit coat and drew out his phone. Checking the number, before he pressed his thumb to the screen and held it up to his ear.
"Yes?" A moment, of waiting, as he shifted his position in his chair. A nod, once, slowly. "Really?" Out of a half amount of surprise. Then, he would go on after a second or two. "Okay, come on back. Grab any hard evidence you can. I want to make absolutely sure of this. And good job." Then the phone was dropped from his ear. Thumb hit the disconnect button, but he would not put it away just yet.
"Well, Rebecca. I hope this isn't an elaborate hoax... Let's call down the lightning." He dialed a number that was only in his memory. Taking a slow, deep breath to compose himself before he hit the send button and brought it back up to his ear.
The Lottery Crew was being called. Mr. Petrekov couldn't remember when he last felt fear, like this. He was just better at hiding it, than Rebecca.
****************************************
Somewhere, very far away. Much farther than distance, in the span of entire realities the Lottery Crew rested. But not really. People like them, couldn't really rest like others. In the deep basement of the safehouse, with walls of thick concrete and stone, Charley stood. Behind a table of wood, looking down a long room. From the floor in front of him sticks picked out of the ground, randomly. On the tip of them, rested a single grape. But no grape rested for long, from the rifle resting against Charley's shoulder came a single bark of sound, and the fruit on each stick exploded.
The rising of the targets came faster and faster, but most of them didn't even reach the pick of their rise. Their tiny targets destroyed even as they rose. Even when it came time to reload, the man just reached down to pick up a magazine with the hand that had been resting on the foregrip. Hand on the handle giving a sharp snap to flick the empty magazine out of the weapon a moment before the new one was slapped in. The last round of the last mag still resting in the chamber... The man was counting each quick shot, in an almost zen like haze of concentration.
It all ended when the phone in his pocket began to ring. There was an immediate growl of annoyance from Charley, but he immediately stopped shooting. Slamming a fist into the big red button on the wall beside him. Stopping the mechanical motions in front of him. Weapon was placed down on the table, near empty and full magazines. Hand dipped into his pocket to pull out his phone, and take a look at the number. Hmm. Petrekov. Not a bad egg in Charley's mind, which in the manner of criminals, meant he had not tried to screw him over. He swiped a thumb over the screen, and held it up to his ears.
"Yeah?" That was what he answered the device with. Charley listened carefully. Secretly enjoying the minor tremble in Petrekov's voice. That sort of sadism ended, as the story rolled on. The explanation came quick, as to not waste Charley's time. As it went on though, the man's eyes narrowed in anger. There was a long couple moments of silence at the end, even after the older man stopped speaking across the speaker. Charley knew his decision though, even as he chewed on it.
"The Lottery Crew accepts this contract, Mr. Petrekov. Thank you, for bringing this to our attention. We will be in contact, soon." And that was it. Charley spoke, then hit the disconnect button on his phone. It went back into his pocket, Eyes a green of the felt on a pool table, were still narrowed in anger. Teeth began to grit, as well. Suddenly, he was in motion. Pacing away from the firing range, quickly.
*******************************
It was less than a day later that Charley stood in another room in the same safehouse. This one was just a simple table in the middle, with four seats around it. One by one, the rest of the crew filtered in.
Two was a giant of a man, with the psychopathic urge of a razor blade. When he walked in it was slow, but with a sharp smile over at Charley. The promise of combat, filled him with excitement. He sat in a chair, heavily, and kicked his feet up to the table without a care. This was the Crew's psychopathic heavy weapons man.
Three was much smaller than Two, and even Charley. His air was the dangerous one of intelligence. The smile he gave Charley, was a friendly one though. He sat, carefully, in his chair. Hands folded infront of him, as if he was afraid of what they might do. This was the Crew's pyromaniac explosive expert.
Four, slipped in through the door before anyone really noticed. He was tall, and lean. Each step was silent, even when he pulled his chair out to sit, it was done quietly. He sat, fluidly, leaning back in his chair and balancing with a boot to the underside of the table, arms coiling over his chest with the ease of a pair of serpents. This was the Crew's sociopathic stealth operative.
Charley looked at all of them in turn, giving them a curt nod, before he spoke.
"I already told all of you why we are here. But I have to say this. We will be going into an area that is being defended heavily by both police and military forces, on a planet we have already hit. This will be the toughest operation that we have had so far... if anyone does not want to go, I will respect that." While he spoke he looked to each man in turn. Exceptionally pleased that he didn't see a bit of hesitation among them. Two, spoke up first.
"I'm in. I think this could be amazing fun..." Spoken with a rough, brutish laugh. And a look over to the other two men. Three nodded his agreement, quickly.
"I'm in. I'm not out of this." After Three spoke, both him and Two looked over to Four, expectantly. The thin man gave a shrug of shoulders, doing his best to look like he did not care.
"I'm in." Was all Four said, while looking over the table to Charley. Who gave a slow nod, and a pleased smile before he spoke.
"Alright. Thank you for this. Now..." Spoken as he leaned off the table and paced a step back, away. "...Behold, the word of God." With a jut of his chin to the far wall. God, was spoken in the manner of the Military. Not a Diety. A Commander.
The wall shimmered, electronically, then it turned into a screen. On the picture, was a man, sitting in a chair. The lighting of the room he was in, affected the shadows over his face, making it almost impossible to get a clear view of him. He was dressed pleasantly, in a two piece suit and tie.
"Gentleman." A deep voice, slightly modified, spoke out to them with a curt nod.
"Zero." Charley, and all three of the men behind him spoke out almost as one. Light dips in their head, respectfully made.
A motion of the hand of the man on the screen. The table between the men lit up lit up with bright light. A building was created, three dimensionally, growing from the wood of the table upwards. It was quite a large, impressive place. But, it was unlike any place that the men had ever hit.
"The Mercy General Hospital." The voice on the screen explained. "At first, I thought you all were insane for wanting to hit it. But Charley explained the importance of this, so, all my resources are at disposal for this operation. And... You will need them." Suddenly, the building was filled with red dots. Hundreds of them. And even the carefully drawn outline of, a tank. Both Two and Four laughed out loud to this sudden burst of information.
"That's a tank..." Two laughed out over to both Charley and Zero.
"That's over six hundred targets..." Four was next, to laugh out at both men. Only Three was silent at all this, looking over the scene quietly.
"Yes, you are both right." Zero spoke up on the screen, behind Charley. "After you hit the United States Federal reserve on this reality's Earth, there has been a six month, planet wide hunt for you. Right now, the smallest chance they can catch you has... brought out, a lot of people."
"You can still leave. No one will say anything. We won't even be paid for this..." Charley warned both men, but Two almost seemed to be even happier about this development. And Four, just didn't seem to care. Charley nodded again, to both of them, pleased. Speaking out as he put both hands to the table top, and leaned into it.
"Then Lottery Crew... It's time to plan the impossible."
**************************************************
The hospital was a fortress by now. Outside of it, along the edges of the parking lot, men and women stood or lounged around. Armored and armored. Both in the dark colors of the police, and the camouflage of the military. Olive drab trucks rested beside cruisers that flashed their red and blues out over the area. The entire place was lit up with too-bright spotlights, turning the night into a harsh form of day.
In this organized chaos, stood a man, trying to look important. He did his best to order others around to keep them on edge. It was for good reason, as right in the middle of yelling at some people lounging around... The communications unit in his ear, chirped up.
"Commander Shepard." He spoke out, after he tapped a finger to his ear.
"Commander Shepard. This is One, of the Lottery Crew... Why are you here, Commander Shepard?" It chirped through the Comm's device, sharply. It took a moment for the Commander to push down his surprise, before he spoke up.
"I am here, to catch your Crew, One."
Somewhere in the distance, a pair of men laid down on a rooftop, over looking the defended area. One had a long sniper rifle in his grip, the other had a pair of binoculars. They did their best to keep paying attention, but after six hours of looking over the defenses, they were bored. Which was a bad thing, because on the roof behind them, another man slipped over the lip quietly. Leaving a pair of unconscious police officer's in the alleyway behind him. They heard Four crunch over the gravel of the rooftop, the spotter giving a look over... right before a silenced shot from a pistol snapped out and hit him square in the forehead with the sharp crackle of electricity, knocking him out immediately. His partner got the same treatment, without warning. Then Four would take up a spot, laying down beside their unconscious bodies. His own sniper rifle pulled from his shoulder and placed carefully down on the lip of the roof.
"That is not going to happen, Commander. I am going to give you a chance to do the honorable thing... Stand down. Tell these people to go home. There's no need for this to turn bloody." Charley spoke to the commander, calmly. Showing not the smallest amount of fear, tone filled with confidence. It got the commander laughing, dismissively.
From the front door of the Hospital, stepped a trio of men. All wearing the heavy blue armor of SWAT officers. They walked with purpose, and in a group of others that looked like them, they didn't even draw the eye for more than a second. Even with their, weirdly oversized full helmets they wore and the fact the lead one wore a heavy wool overcoat and their hands were covered in the blue of latex gloves. After a bit of walking, the trio split off in different directions. Walking a small bit quicker now,
"You won't have a chance, One. You would be hitting a defensive position, far outnumbered." The dismissive laugh of the Commander continued through his words, insulted the man would even suggest such a thing.
"I know, Commander. That's why we are already here... Turn around." The commander's laugh stopped, when Charley spoke. And unbelievingly, he slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Catching the man stepping up to him, already far too close.
Charley's blue hand came up to his helmet, and gave it a flick off. Revealing the armored mask underneath, in a mockery of a wide, dimpled grin, jutting chin, and large nose. A mockery of a human's face. The commander had enough time to open his mouth to try and yell. But Charley had already drawn back a fist, to smack right into the man's jaw sharply. The commander staggered backwards, but Charley was already on him. The hand that hit him, gripping at the front of his armor to yank him forward, and spin him around. Putting his back to Charley's chest, and wrapping his arm around his throat.
"Oh, don't pass on me yet Commander. We have work to do..." The electronic tone whispered from Charley's mask into the commander's ear. A mere moment before over the man's shoulder, a silenced pistol reached. Without hesitation, it began to snap out quiet shots to the police just a few feet away. The Commander was a shield, helpless to watch in the few seconds as Charley used him. Each shot hit someone and sent them down with the sharp crackle of electricity. If the Commander didn't watch it with his own eyes, he wouldn't believe it. In the span of a few seconds, nine people laid on the ground, unconscious. And no one even really noticed.
"I'd like you to meet someone, Commander!" After the last man fell, Charley was spinning the man around to face him. Hand gripping the front of his armor, once again. "His name is Boom Boom!" And with that, he head butted the man right in the nose. Knocking him out, much harshly than the others laying around him. Charley let him drop to the ground, uncaring. The pistol was slipped into his over coat, just so he could draw out his trademark L85 assault rifle.
"Crew. Time to break bad." It was the call to go loud, and with it Charley brought his rifle to his shoulder and began to shoot police in the back with horrendously accurate shots.
Three was almost to the tank with the shots began to ring out behind him, and it drew the attention of everyone around him. Cups of coffee were dropped, weapons were grabbed, but for the moment no one noticed that he was the only one uncaring about what was going on behind him. A momentary distraction that got him as close as he needed.
One of the military around the tank, finally took notice of the supposed police officer walking up on them. He looked confused, until Three drew off that helmet with one hand and showed the mask underneath. There was only a moment of a sharp cry of surprise before the helmet was thrown in the air to smack right into his face. Then Three was bringing his own G3 assault rifle up to his shoulder. He held down the trigger as the weapon went automatic and sprayed the area down with rounds. The lucky soldiers took a round before they even noticed, the electricity in the bullets exploded out with light mockeries of lightning. The rest of the soldiers ran for cover, falling, crawling, doing whatever they could get away from the firing man who was right on them.
It was all the time Three needed. He got to the armored skirting of the tank, and leapt on to it. Aiming his rifle down to fire a pair of rounds into the poor soldier who got a helmet in the face. He calmly walked up to the turret, even even on top of it, as rare rounds began to fire out in the air at him. The lid was still open, Three got to it just as a soldier was reaching out to close it. A combat boot was put to the metal to hold it down, as his rifle aimed into the small access point on the top of the tank. Firing a single round into the soldier, who fell down into the tank, knocked out. Three reached up to the webbing on his armor. Plucking up a pair of grenades, their pins coming loose and staying, with the motion. Both armed grenades were dropped into the interior of the tank. They went off with the sharp crackle of electricity and the smell of burnt ozone.
"Tank is down." Three announced over the comms, as he dropped from the turret and drew up his rifle to begin firing once again. Moving and shooting in one fluid combination. Soldiers began to pile up around him, but this was just the opening stages.
Two, was not as quiet as the other two. He didn't even really move when he was in position. When the battles erupted behind him, the scores of police and military in front of him looked that way, just to see him standing there, the M-240L Machine gun resting in both of his hands, and aimed right at them. A moment of fear rolled over the crowd, before the weapon began to fire off rounds. It should of been decently inaccurate, but in the giant hands of Two, it was not. It picked out people as they tried to dive over cars for cover, or as they sprinted away. The few that got their hands on their weapons, stood their ground, and fired back, were picked off first. The danger of people firing back at him was two much to not be concerned about. But even with his accurate fire, and careful consideration of tactics... when Two flicked off the oversized helmet he was wearing, he was wearing a mask that showed his mood. A hearty laugh frozen in time. It was exactly what the giant of a man was doing, right then. Laughing, as he shot police and military professionals as one.
Four was the most subtle of them. As the chaos over the lines began, and the attention in area was drawn that way, he just began move the crosshairs of his sniper rifle over the running forms. One shot, one person went down, unconscious. A new round chambered, mechanically, without even looking up from the scope of his weapon. The next target chosen, and a round was slammed right into his forehead with the sharp crackle of electricity. It opened the area around him quickly, then he was moving into the areas the other Crew was already fighting. Hitting those already behind cover, and waiting to get a shot on the three men fighting.
In that first minute, over fifty people were hit by the Crew. Laying there on the ground, uncomfortably. It was just a drop in the bucket of numbers, but in the small terms of tactics, it opened up a triangle of area between the three men. Suddenly, that was the battle line, because that is where they were pushing out from. People fled from this area, slid behind anything that could be considered cover. Aimed their weapons over it to fire, but their shots were rushed, heated, afraid. And once the middle area was cleared, the Crew turned their attention outward.
Shots from all three men began to pick off those who were fleeing outward, and those already behind cover. Charley walked through the chaos, as comfortably and as casually as could be believed. Ducking behind cover here and there, but mostly using his speed to his advantage. Rifle resting against his shoulder, bucking gently, but never stopping it's noise. Even when he reloaded, it was something that took an eyeblink, and he was firing again. Once he got the makeshift defensive line of cars in the parking lot, the soldiers and police were just starting to peek their heads up. One that had the unlucky timing to look up just as Charley was sprinting up on the line, got a round right between his eyes. Then, the man was vaulting over a car without even touching a hand to it. Sliding on his rear to plant both boots on the soldier who was taking cover behind it. Slamming him into the next car over as he landed, and turned his rifle down the line where other people took cover. Surprise quite evident as they suddenly had an enemy in their midst. The attack was devastating, Charley's thumb just tapped the selector switch from single shot to automatic, and held down the trigger. The makeshift defensive line that was just set up seconds before, was already crumbling. There was no rest or respite in this attack. It just rolled out and kept going. Even seemingly gathering up momentum, like a boulder running down a mountain.
The line shattered when Two and Three caught up with Charley, and added their fire to the mix. It was another rout, people ran around cars, or over them. Some fell, but those that tried to pick them up just going them a second later. The wave of this assault didn't seem to be breaking, the trio of the Crew just moved after them, like wolves after rabbits. Stepping on top of cars to get a better angle on those fleeing. With Four picking off the lone stragglers or those who were determined to hold the line, there was almost nothing they could do to stop the attack. It was how the Lottery Crew worked.
The area was about clear, to the defensive positions that been set up on the border of the hospital grounds. But the soldiers and police there, had turned their guns inward. Suddenly the torrent of firing was coming coming from both sides. This was kind of what Charley wanted, however. He paced a step to the side, and behind the front of a nearby car as rounds ricocheted around him. The other two men, somewhat nearby, did about the same under the force of the fire against them. Charley took this time to reload, and speak into the mic in his helmet.
"Two, Three. Pull back, attack your respective sides of the buildings, they should be trying to force us into a pinch by now." Charley already knew what was going to happen, both from his instinct and what was being fed into the heads up display inside of his mask. Both of the men nodded, and leaned back from their covered to begin moving back into the open ground they had all made. Kneeling-running as best they could, and still taking fire.
Charley sighed lightly, calmly, dispite the fact a round just splintered the metal hood inches from his head. Rifle was placed on the inside of his overcoat, and from it, he drew out a Milkor MGL. A six shot, grenade launcher. His mask calculated the distance from here to the line, the angle that would be needed, the very shot. It drew an electronic white line, which Charley lifted the heavy weapon to match. A single pull of the trigger sent a 40mm grenade from the cover of the vehicles around him, up and over, to the cover of those laying down fire. Another line was drawn in his vision, and he moved the weapon to match it once again. Another pull of the trigger. It continued, in new angles, down the line until all six shells had been fired in about the same amount of seconds.
The rounds hit the cover of the defenses and suddenly burst out in too bright lights and tendrils of electricity. Each time a grenade hit the ground, there was a localized storm of electricity that sent men and women to the ground in convulsing motions. It was devastating. The torrent of fire quickly fell off.
"Four, get ready to run across the lines to me." New white lines were being drawn, much further than before. Charley quickly snapped open the grenade launcher and stuck six new rounds in it. Snapping the weapon back together, before it was lifted to his shoulder and aimed carefully along the lines on his heads up display. Two more thuds rang out in the chaos, as two more grenades were sent down the line to electically explode. A hole was made for Four to run through.
"Now." Charley gave the order as he walked away from his cover calmly, the overcoat he wore looking not one bit damaged from all the rounds that had flicked near him, or even imbeded into the armor he wore. The man didn't seem to have slowed down from the attack, like the boulder, he was just moving faster and faster. He gave a leap on to another car, down the lot, and brought the grenade launcher to his shoulder. Firing two rounds over to where he saw Two fighting. Then with a quick turn, he fired the last two offer to where he saw Four in combat. The four explosions added to the chaos of fire that the battleground had become. But it was lessening off, especially after Charley's attack.
Charley dropped the weapon from his hands to the ground, uncaring as to what happened to it, now. His blue latex covered hands came up, to grip the tag of 'POLICE' that was on the front of his armor. It tore it off, to reveal the single word of 'ONE' underneath of it. Form dropped from the car, and began to walk back through the devastation he had caused. Moving to the front door. He should of been backing up his people, but he knew what was coming. Wasn't even a surprise, when Two came through the comm to him.
"They're falling back." He laughed out the words, disrespectfully over the sound of him still firing his machine gun. It was confirmed by both Three and Four. It was not a surprise, as was stated. Over three hundreds bodies laid around the area now, knocked out, unconscious, unmoving. And it had all happened in the span of less than five minutes. It was quite a telling blow.
"On me." Charley spoke through the sudden calm. Drawing out the rifle from his overcoat once again, and holding it comfortably in both hands as he made his way to the front door he had just walked out of a few minutes ago. He was soon joined by the rest of the Crew, sprinting to their position beside him. They all walked in through the automatic doors of the hospital, with the barrels of their weapons aimed out in front of them. Moving fluidly, as one quick unit. There were a few screams, or people running to hide, but no more fire for the immediate time. Both the police and military hadn't dared to stations troops inside. And the few security guards they passed just kept their hands up and their eyes down.
When the quartet got to the banks of elevators, Charley hit a button to go up. And then turned to join his Crew with their weapons aimed outward. When the door chimed and opened, the group moved sideways and backwards into it. Their weapons the last thing to go through the doors before their slid shut, and the elevator began to rise.
The elevator stopped and opened at a certain floor, that Charley already knew by heart. A hard study of the Hospital's schematics had been commited to memory, long before the Crew even decided to take the operation. They all turned a certain way down the hallway, and came to a certain room. Charley made quick hand motions, silent orders that the crew followed. Turning to aim their weapons down the hallway, at three seperate angles. Charley stepped up to the door, gave a quiet sigh, and clipped the rifle to the front of his armor. Gently, he rapped knuckles against the door... then slowly pushed it open.
******************************
The room was already lit up, unlike many others in this section of the hospital. Quite out of place for it being so late at night. It only held a single bed, and on it, was a young girl. Who at the moment looked more giddy, than scared. Her head turned quickly to the sound of knuckles on her door. And when she saw the masked, armored, armed man step in through it... her eyes went wide. With a happy surprise, rather than fear.
"It's you! You actually came!" Dispite her weary appearance, she was suddenly spiritful. It brought a smile to Charley's lips under the mask he wore.
"Hey, Jessica. Yeah... Rebecca Smith from the make a wish foundation got in contact with us." Charley quietly spoke, through weird modulated tones brought out by his helmet, as he walked inside the room. Shutting the door behind him. He was kind of quick, but, he did not have much time. "And I've always said I have to follow the orders of cute women." It was a pure line, but it got the young, bald, girl squeeling in happiness.
"I just, I heard about what you did... I just..." It was a mixture of elation and confusion. A young lady meeting her heroes, however unconventional they might be. Charley laughed, through his helmet. Reaching into his coat, to bring out a brightly colored back tied up with ribbon. It looked humorous in his hands, but he didn't care.
"No, I get it young lady. You know, I always tell the crew... We're supposed to make the toughest fights look easy. And that's what you do every day, isn't it Jessica? You make us look weak with your strength." The laugh that electronically came over Charley's mask, was still easily noticed as being gentle and humorous. The package was placed down beside her. And he would motion to it. "That's why, I brought you this."
The girl tore into the package, before it was placed down. Tearing through the ribbon and drawing out... a mask. Much like Charley's, but more feminine. It was still, much too large for her. But Jessica put it on, anyway. That was a full mask, as sophisticated as the one Charley was at the moment, pulling off of his own head. One the front of the girls mask, was a simple number like all the Crew. Her's, was Nine.
"You're one of us now, Nine. And we will fight for you, as such." Charley's mask, was placed down on the small nightstand beside the girl's hospital bed. His own face, blatantly in the air, against all the rules the Crew followed. His smile aimed right at her, was visable, too. "I don't have a lot of time though, unfortunately. I'm going to have to head out, and let Two come in here to bring you his present, alright. It is an honor to meet someone as tough as you, though, Miss Jessica. I look forward to the next time we meet..." Charley spoke this, as he slowly backed out.
"I have surgery, in a few days!" Jessica blurted out, underneath the mask she still wore. Charley's smile, rose up a bit. "And you forgot your helmet, Mr. One!"
"We will be here for that, Jessica. And, no I didn't... you keep that. Might want to hide it, when the police come asking around. It was a pleasure to meet you." And with one last smile offered to the young woman, he opened the door and headed out into the hallway to the sounds of quick 'Byes!' and giddy laughter. Two was already standing there, waiting his turn. He tilted his head, in surprise, to Charley coming out, maskless. But then, reached up with one hand and removed his own. Stepping into the room with a quiet tone, that did not match the giant of a man.
"Hey, Jessica... I'm Two. I made you this teddy bear..."
************************************************** *****************
It was present day, and two years after that fateful job. In Charley's bedroom, he relaxed as only he knew how to do. He read over something on his computer, for the next heist, the next operation. The electronic glow of his computer's monitor was the only source of light in the room, and it flooded over the man's features. From behind him, the arms of a woman slipped over his shoulders and across his chest. Antonia's lips pressed into his ear, before she whispered to him.
"I'm hungryyyyy~" In a light teasing tone, that drew a smile across Charley's lips. A tilt of his head against her lips, but he would still nod slowly.
"Alright, I'm done, I'm done..." He relented without even a fight, leaning back in his chair slowly, just to get Antonia moving. Soon he would rise from it, and begin to follow her out the door of his bedroom. On his computer, the time would flick over to midnight. Another day would begin, and with it, his computer would chime out to him. Along with his phone. It was something important, it got the man stopping and looking back to his computer. An announcement, of an upcoming birthday. It brought out a deep smile from Charley's lips, and he opened a drawer on his desk to pull out a birthday card he had been holding on to for anxious months, waiting for this day just like he did last year.
He would walk out of his room, and into the main living area of the safe house. Giving Antonia a lift of his chin, in a quiet request for a moment, before he yelled out to the Crew as a whole.
"Hey! I need you all to sign a card!"
"Screw you!" Came the immediate reply from both Two, and Four, almost as one. Both men neither willing to stop what they were doing to stop a card.
"It's for Nine." Charley laughed out, lightly. He could hear the immediate scattering of motion from the men's respective rooms. Two was the first out, and plucked the card from Charley's grip as he passed. Immediately taking it to a kitchen counter, to begin writing on it.
"Call for Three." Charley would speak on over to Four, as he came out of his room, a step or two behind Two. He gave the other man a look and a furrow of his brows, but he would yell out Three's name over whatever music that man was listening to in his room. Both men were soon walking down the hallway, towards where Charley and Two were standing, the latter still writing quickly.
"Uhhh, Charley... We're gonna need another card." Two spoke up after another second, holding up the card, which was filled with writing. Charley looked over, and laughed. Nodding, as he walked on over to Antonia who was laughing lightly at the display of the four men.
"I'll pick up some more on my way home. Think of gifts, too. Non-lethal ones, this time too Crew... Nine's parents yelled at me for like, two hours the last time." A hand wrapped around Antonia's waist, and they would walk down the stairs to head out to dinner, and apparently, picking up more birthday cards on the way home.
********************************************
It would be a week later, when a package would arrive on the door step of a rather nice house in a rather nice neighborhood. All paid for, by the illgotten gains of a certain Crew. In that house was a single room, much too pink for it to be safe, but still, it was.
In that room, a young woman danced in front of a mirror and sang into the handle of a hair brush. Her brown hair, long to the point of reaching the small of her back.
Above her bed, hanging on the wall, were five masks. Below the four of them, were wanted posters. Faces of men that had terrorized her world, two years ago. They were actually, pretty accurate, based on eye witness accounts and video recordings of when the men left the hospital, maskless, in a blaze of fire and glory.
Out of the hundreds of Earths through the Multiverse that the Crew hit, there was only one that knew their faces. That plastered wanted posters up, all over the place, in an attempt to find them. It might have made others look for them constantly, but to one young woman, it always told her that she was always surrounded by those four men who had her back.
One last tribute, to a young lady, that was stronger than the entire Lottery Crew put together. Someone who had fought tougher battles, then they have, for longer.
Respect, to Nine. The toughest member of the Lottery Crew.
Fear was nothing compared to purpose however. So after a minute or two, she opened the door beside her and stepped out of the car. She didn't even feel the eyes of judgement on her as she passed men in suits or flashy club clothing, and women in elaborate dresses that cost more than she made in a year. The fear of the moment was just too strong. Bypassing the line of people waiting under the flashing lights of the club's signage, she went right to the five rather large men standing in front of the door. Clutching her handbag, she walked right up to the first one, who was eyeing her carefully but sharply.
"I think you are in the wrong place, miss." The lead security guard greeted her with those words, his muscled arms coiling over his black T shirt. The air around him grew in intimidation, forced down on the small woman looking up at him.
Rebecca had to clear her throat before she could talk. It came out weakly, still. But with purpose.
"I want to talk to Him." She spoke up to the security guard, meeting his eyes. He laughed right in her face, knowing who 'He' was, without even explanation.
"He doesn't want to see you." Was the man's almost immediate reply, right along with his laughter. Rebecca didn't back down though, She grit her teeth, and spoke again.
"I want, to to talk, to Him. Tell him it is a matter of life or death." Her eyes narrowed a bit, anger rolling along with her tone. Hardness filled her, and she clutched her handbag tighter. She tried to put on the best air that she wasn't going to be leaving without a fight.
The man's laughter stopped when she said it was a matter of life or death. He watched Rebecca for a long moment, just to make sure she was serious. Then he would nod slowly, bringing a finger up to his ear to push into the device hanging off of it.
"Yeah, it's me, out front. There's a woman here... Says she wants to see the Boss. Says it's a matter of, 'Life or Death'." The guard spoke up, then waited. Giving a sharp look behind Rebecca to the line of people who began to complain. Their complaints stopped immediately. The guards head tilted as he listened, then he would look back down to the small woman in front of him.
"Alright. Follow me." And that was it. It was usually pretty easy to speak with criminals, especially when you were alone. Going into such a place and speaking to the boss wasn't the hard part. The hard part was getting out again. But the guard opened the door and lead Rebecca into the club.
She followed the man in. Deeper and deeper, past the too-loud music and confusing lights. Through a metal door that was flanked by another pair of guards. Up a flight of stairs, and past another door that wasn't just flanked by a pair of guards, but rather a group of men lounging around with firearms either on them or right beside them. She steeled herself with every step, knowing what she was doing was important.
The sounds of the club began to fade away, the deeper they went. Until they were standing in front of a pair of doors, and a rather lot of sophisticated electronics. The guard that had been leading her, stopped and turned to her finally. Holding out a hand with a jut of his chin down to her hand bag. Rebecca handed it over without hesitation, the guard didn't bother to look through it. Just handed it off to one of the many men that stood around and tried to look busy while guarding something.
"Stand right here." He told her, pointing down to the ground right in front of the door. "And do not move." A light warning, as he stepped back and away. Rebecca did as she was told, stepping to the spot specified. She looked over to the guard she had followed, confused, but he didn't offer an explaination. He just watched her closely. A few seconds ticked by, and when she was about ready to ask what this was for, another guard from the side who had been looking at a computer monitor finally spoke up.
"X ray is clean. No guns on her, no electronics."
The guard she was watching, just nodded to the one who spoke up. Then he reached over to grab at the handle of the door. He opened it, slowly, and offered a single word inside while ushering Rebecca inside with a semi-polite bow of his head.
"Sir." It was an announcement, spoken to the single man in the room. Sitting behind an expansive wood desk. Old, but having the air of absolute power and control. He wore a suit much finer than anyone else in that club. Sharp blue eyes looked right at the woman entering, pinning her down. On his lips was a smile, that was not at all pleasant. It was one of a beast that had all the upper ground in the world. Rebecca moved in with a definite hunger though, she had gone this far. So without question, she blurted out her greeting and request all in one.
"Mr. Petrekov. I wish for you to contact the Lottery Crew." It dropped like a heavy rock into tranquil waters. It had the old man behind the desk busting out in a laugh.
But, then, Rebecca told him why she wanted to contact the Crew. And his laughter stopped, immediately.
************************************************** **********
It was only a small amount of time later, but Rebecca already knew she was somewhat in the clear. She sat in one of the two leather chairs in front of a roaring fire in this man's office as he went to work making a drink behind her.
"I have a few of my people on the way to the hospital right now, to check your story out." In the background of the comment, there was the definite warning of what would happen if they determined the woman was lying.
"They will see I am telling the truth." Rebecca spoke with absolute certainty. Doing her best not to look nervous and failing.
"I hope so, for your sake. I won't do anything to you if I find out... I'll just give your name to the Lottery Crew, let them sort you out..." It was a far better warning than Petrekov could come up with. He brought the drinks with him as he came to the fireplace. Handing her one, which she gladly accepted, and immediately moved to her lips. Petrekov still went on, even with her drinking.
"I'm not saying I know the Crew... But do you know what you are bringing down, here?" As if she was calling a myth rather than a group of criminals. Petrekov laughed as he took the opposite chair from her, sliding into the leather comfortably. Crossing his legs, gentlemanly. "I could have a thousand brutish men like you saw outside of that door in this club, and I still wouldn't piss off the Lottery Crew. All I would be left with is a thousand dead guards and a bullet in my head for my trouble. I'm not afraid of people, but I am very afraid when it comes to forces of nature that I am in the path in." As he spoke, he kept a constant watch on Rebecca. Evaluating her every nuance.
It was coming clear to her what as happening, even if she some what knew it before hand. She was asking one beast to call another, much worse beast. The glass came to her lips, and she finished her drink in a single burning swallow. Coughing lightly, before she spoke out as confidently as she could.
"I will do my job, Mr. Petrkov, Just as you do." Her brown eyes locked on to the older man's own blues. A smile bloomed over his lips, it was one of a light respect. It calmed her immediately, understand that the older man understood, too.
"You either are telling the truth Ms. Smith, or, you are very good at playing. I am genuinely curious to see which one. And, of course, to see what the Crew will do to you, if you're lying." Petrekov admitted this freely to the mousy woman. A light laugh followed his words, ending when the phone in his suit coat chirped. To the sound, he pursed his lips.
"And what good timing." Fingers dipped inside of his suit coat and drew out his phone. Checking the number, before he pressed his thumb to the screen and held it up to his ear.
"Yes?" A moment, of waiting, as he shifted his position in his chair. A nod, once, slowly. "Really?" Out of a half amount of surprise. Then, he would go on after a second or two. "Okay, come on back. Grab any hard evidence you can. I want to make absolutely sure of this. And good job." Then the phone was dropped from his ear. Thumb hit the disconnect button, but he would not put it away just yet.
"Well, Rebecca. I hope this isn't an elaborate hoax... Let's call down the lightning." He dialed a number that was only in his memory. Taking a slow, deep breath to compose himself before he hit the send button and brought it back up to his ear.
The Lottery Crew was being called. Mr. Petrekov couldn't remember when he last felt fear, like this. He was just better at hiding it, than Rebecca.
****************************************
Somewhere, very far away. Much farther than distance, in the span of entire realities the Lottery Crew rested. But not really. People like them, couldn't really rest like others. In the deep basement of the safehouse, with walls of thick concrete and stone, Charley stood. Behind a table of wood, looking down a long room. From the floor in front of him sticks picked out of the ground, randomly. On the tip of them, rested a single grape. But no grape rested for long, from the rifle resting against Charley's shoulder came a single bark of sound, and the fruit on each stick exploded.
The rising of the targets came faster and faster, but most of them didn't even reach the pick of their rise. Their tiny targets destroyed even as they rose. Even when it came time to reload, the man just reached down to pick up a magazine with the hand that had been resting on the foregrip. Hand on the handle giving a sharp snap to flick the empty magazine out of the weapon a moment before the new one was slapped in. The last round of the last mag still resting in the chamber... The man was counting each quick shot, in an almost zen like haze of concentration.
It all ended when the phone in his pocket began to ring. There was an immediate growl of annoyance from Charley, but he immediately stopped shooting. Slamming a fist into the big red button on the wall beside him. Stopping the mechanical motions in front of him. Weapon was placed down on the table, near empty and full magazines. Hand dipped into his pocket to pull out his phone, and take a look at the number. Hmm. Petrekov. Not a bad egg in Charley's mind, which in the manner of criminals, meant he had not tried to screw him over. He swiped a thumb over the screen, and held it up to his ears.
"Yeah?" That was what he answered the device with. Charley listened carefully. Secretly enjoying the minor tremble in Petrekov's voice. That sort of sadism ended, as the story rolled on. The explanation came quick, as to not waste Charley's time. As it went on though, the man's eyes narrowed in anger. There was a long couple moments of silence at the end, even after the older man stopped speaking across the speaker. Charley knew his decision though, even as he chewed on it.
"The Lottery Crew accepts this contract, Mr. Petrekov. Thank you, for bringing this to our attention. We will be in contact, soon." And that was it. Charley spoke, then hit the disconnect button on his phone. It went back into his pocket, Eyes a green of the felt on a pool table, were still narrowed in anger. Teeth began to grit, as well. Suddenly, he was in motion. Pacing away from the firing range, quickly.
*******************************
It was less than a day later that Charley stood in another room in the same safehouse. This one was just a simple table in the middle, with four seats around it. One by one, the rest of the crew filtered in.
Two was a giant of a man, with the psychopathic urge of a razor blade. When he walked in it was slow, but with a sharp smile over at Charley. The promise of combat, filled him with excitement. He sat in a chair, heavily, and kicked his feet up to the table without a care. This was the Crew's psychopathic heavy weapons man.
Three was much smaller than Two, and even Charley. His air was the dangerous one of intelligence. The smile he gave Charley, was a friendly one though. He sat, carefully, in his chair. Hands folded infront of him, as if he was afraid of what they might do. This was the Crew's pyromaniac explosive expert.
Four, slipped in through the door before anyone really noticed. He was tall, and lean. Each step was silent, even when he pulled his chair out to sit, it was done quietly. He sat, fluidly, leaning back in his chair and balancing with a boot to the underside of the table, arms coiling over his chest with the ease of a pair of serpents. This was the Crew's sociopathic stealth operative.
Charley looked at all of them in turn, giving them a curt nod, before he spoke.
"I already told all of you why we are here. But I have to say this. We will be going into an area that is being defended heavily by both police and military forces, on a planet we have already hit. This will be the toughest operation that we have had so far... if anyone does not want to go, I will respect that." While he spoke he looked to each man in turn. Exceptionally pleased that he didn't see a bit of hesitation among them. Two, spoke up first.
"I'm in. I think this could be amazing fun..." Spoken with a rough, brutish laugh. And a look over to the other two men. Three nodded his agreement, quickly.
"I'm in. I'm not out of this." After Three spoke, both him and Two looked over to Four, expectantly. The thin man gave a shrug of shoulders, doing his best to look like he did not care.
"I'm in." Was all Four said, while looking over the table to Charley. Who gave a slow nod, and a pleased smile before he spoke.
"Alright. Thank you for this. Now..." Spoken as he leaned off the table and paced a step back, away. "...Behold, the word of God." With a jut of his chin to the far wall. God, was spoken in the manner of the Military. Not a Diety. A Commander.
The wall shimmered, electronically, then it turned into a screen. On the picture, was a man, sitting in a chair. The lighting of the room he was in, affected the shadows over his face, making it almost impossible to get a clear view of him. He was dressed pleasantly, in a two piece suit and tie.
"Gentleman." A deep voice, slightly modified, spoke out to them with a curt nod.
"Zero." Charley, and all three of the men behind him spoke out almost as one. Light dips in their head, respectfully made.
A motion of the hand of the man on the screen. The table between the men lit up lit up with bright light. A building was created, three dimensionally, growing from the wood of the table upwards. It was quite a large, impressive place. But, it was unlike any place that the men had ever hit.
"The Mercy General Hospital." The voice on the screen explained. "At first, I thought you all were insane for wanting to hit it. But Charley explained the importance of this, so, all my resources are at disposal for this operation. And... You will need them." Suddenly, the building was filled with red dots. Hundreds of them. And even the carefully drawn outline of, a tank. Both Two and Four laughed out loud to this sudden burst of information.
"That's a tank..." Two laughed out over to both Charley and Zero.
"That's over six hundred targets..." Four was next, to laugh out at both men. Only Three was silent at all this, looking over the scene quietly.
"Yes, you are both right." Zero spoke up on the screen, behind Charley. "After you hit the United States Federal reserve on this reality's Earth, there has been a six month, planet wide hunt for you. Right now, the smallest chance they can catch you has... brought out, a lot of people."
"You can still leave. No one will say anything. We won't even be paid for this..." Charley warned both men, but Two almost seemed to be even happier about this development. And Four, just didn't seem to care. Charley nodded again, to both of them, pleased. Speaking out as he put both hands to the table top, and leaned into it.
"Then Lottery Crew... It's time to plan the impossible."
**************************************************
The hospital was a fortress by now. Outside of it, along the edges of the parking lot, men and women stood or lounged around. Armored and armored. Both in the dark colors of the police, and the camouflage of the military. Olive drab trucks rested beside cruisers that flashed their red and blues out over the area. The entire place was lit up with too-bright spotlights, turning the night into a harsh form of day.
In this organized chaos, stood a man, trying to look important. He did his best to order others around to keep them on edge. It was for good reason, as right in the middle of yelling at some people lounging around... The communications unit in his ear, chirped up.
"Commander Shepard." He spoke out, after he tapped a finger to his ear.
"Commander Shepard. This is One, of the Lottery Crew... Why are you here, Commander Shepard?" It chirped through the Comm's device, sharply. It took a moment for the Commander to push down his surprise, before he spoke up.
"I am here, to catch your Crew, One."
Somewhere in the distance, a pair of men laid down on a rooftop, over looking the defended area. One had a long sniper rifle in his grip, the other had a pair of binoculars. They did their best to keep paying attention, but after six hours of looking over the defenses, they were bored. Which was a bad thing, because on the roof behind them, another man slipped over the lip quietly. Leaving a pair of unconscious police officer's in the alleyway behind him. They heard Four crunch over the gravel of the rooftop, the spotter giving a look over... right before a silenced shot from a pistol snapped out and hit him square in the forehead with the sharp crackle of electricity, knocking him out immediately. His partner got the same treatment, without warning. Then Four would take up a spot, laying down beside their unconscious bodies. His own sniper rifle pulled from his shoulder and placed carefully down on the lip of the roof.
"That is not going to happen, Commander. I am going to give you a chance to do the honorable thing... Stand down. Tell these people to go home. There's no need for this to turn bloody." Charley spoke to the commander, calmly. Showing not the smallest amount of fear, tone filled with confidence. It got the commander laughing, dismissively.
From the front door of the Hospital, stepped a trio of men. All wearing the heavy blue armor of SWAT officers. They walked with purpose, and in a group of others that looked like them, they didn't even draw the eye for more than a second. Even with their, weirdly oversized full helmets they wore and the fact the lead one wore a heavy wool overcoat and their hands were covered in the blue of latex gloves. After a bit of walking, the trio split off in different directions. Walking a small bit quicker now,
"You won't have a chance, One. You would be hitting a defensive position, far outnumbered." The dismissive laugh of the Commander continued through his words, insulted the man would even suggest such a thing.
"I know, Commander. That's why we are already here... Turn around." The commander's laugh stopped, when Charley spoke. And unbelievingly, he slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Catching the man stepping up to him, already far too close.
Charley's blue hand came up to his helmet, and gave it a flick off. Revealing the armored mask underneath, in a mockery of a wide, dimpled grin, jutting chin, and large nose. A mockery of a human's face. The commander had enough time to open his mouth to try and yell. But Charley had already drawn back a fist, to smack right into the man's jaw sharply. The commander staggered backwards, but Charley was already on him. The hand that hit him, gripping at the front of his armor to yank him forward, and spin him around. Putting his back to Charley's chest, and wrapping his arm around his throat.
"Oh, don't pass on me yet Commander. We have work to do..." The electronic tone whispered from Charley's mask into the commander's ear. A mere moment before over the man's shoulder, a silenced pistol reached. Without hesitation, it began to snap out quiet shots to the police just a few feet away. The Commander was a shield, helpless to watch in the few seconds as Charley used him. Each shot hit someone and sent them down with the sharp crackle of electricity. If the Commander didn't watch it with his own eyes, he wouldn't believe it. In the span of a few seconds, nine people laid on the ground, unconscious. And no one even really noticed.
"I'd like you to meet someone, Commander!" After the last man fell, Charley was spinning the man around to face him. Hand gripping the front of his armor, once again. "His name is Boom Boom!" And with that, he head butted the man right in the nose. Knocking him out, much harshly than the others laying around him. Charley let him drop to the ground, uncaring. The pistol was slipped into his over coat, just so he could draw out his trademark L85 assault rifle.
"Crew. Time to break bad." It was the call to go loud, and with it Charley brought his rifle to his shoulder and began to shoot police in the back with horrendously accurate shots.
Three was almost to the tank with the shots began to ring out behind him, and it drew the attention of everyone around him. Cups of coffee were dropped, weapons were grabbed, but for the moment no one noticed that he was the only one uncaring about what was going on behind him. A momentary distraction that got him as close as he needed.
One of the military around the tank, finally took notice of the supposed police officer walking up on them. He looked confused, until Three drew off that helmet with one hand and showed the mask underneath. There was only a moment of a sharp cry of surprise before the helmet was thrown in the air to smack right into his face. Then Three was bringing his own G3 assault rifle up to his shoulder. He held down the trigger as the weapon went automatic and sprayed the area down with rounds. The lucky soldiers took a round before they even noticed, the electricity in the bullets exploded out with light mockeries of lightning. The rest of the soldiers ran for cover, falling, crawling, doing whatever they could get away from the firing man who was right on them.
It was all the time Three needed. He got to the armored skirting of the tank, and leapt on to it. Aiming his rifle down to fire a pair of rounds into the poor soldier who got a helmet in the face. He calmly walked up to the turret, even even on top of it, as rare rounds began to fire out in the air at him. The lid was still open, Three got to it just as a soldier was reaching out to close it. A combat boot was put to the metal to hold it down, as his rifle aimed into the small access point on the top of the tank. Firing a single round into the soldier, who fell down into the tank, knocked out. Three reached up to the webbing on his armor. Plucking up a pair of grenades, their pins coming loose and staying, with the motion. Both armed grenades were dropped into the interior of the tank. They went off with the sharp crackle of electricity and the smell of burnt ozone.
"Tank is down." Three announced over the comms, as he dropped from the turret and drew up his rifle to begin firing once again. Moving and shooting in one fluid combination. Soldiers began to pile up around him, but this was just the opening stages.
Two, was not as quiet as the other two. He didn't even really move when he was in position. When the battles erupted behind him, the scores of police and military in front of him looked that way, just to see him standing there, the M-240L Machine gun resting in both of his hands, and aimed right at them. A moment of fear rolled over the crowd, before the weapon began to fire off rounds. It should of been decently inaccurate, but in the giant hands of Two, it was not. It picked out people as they tried to dive over cars for cover, or as they sprinted away. The few that got their hands on their weapons, stood their ground, and fired back, were picked off first. The danger of people firing back at him was two much to not be concerned about. But even with his accurate fire, and careful consideration of tactics... when Two flicked off the oversized helmet he was wearing, he was wearing a mask that showed his mood. A hearty laugh frozen in time. It was exactly what the giant of a man was doing, right then. Laughing, as he shot police and military professionals as one.
Four was the most subtle of them. As the chaos over the lines began, and the attention in area was drawn that way, he just began move the crosshairs of his sniper rifle over the running forms. One shot, one person went down, unconscious. A new round chambered, mechanically, without even looking up from the scope of his weapon. The next target chosen, and a round was slammed right into his forehead with the sharp crackle of electricity. It opened the area around him quickly, then he was moving into the areas the other Crew was already fighting. Hitting those already behind cover, and waiting to get a shot on the three men fighting.
In that first minute, over fifty people were hit by the Crew. Laying there on the ground, uncomfortably. It was just a drop in the bucket of numbers, but in the small terms of tactics, it opened up a triangle of area between the three men. Suddenly, that was the battle line, because that is where they were pushing out from. People fled from this area, slid behind anything that could be considered cover. Aimed their weapons over it to fire, but their shots were rushed, heated, afraid. And once the middle area was cleared, the Crew turned their attention outward.
Shots from all three men began to pick off those who were fleeing outward, and those already behind cover. Charley walked through the chaos, as comfortably and as casually as could be believed. Ducking behind cover here and there, but mostly using his speed to his advantage. Rifle resting against his shoulder, bucking gently, but never stopping it's noise. Even when he reloaded, it was something that took an eyeblink, and he was firing again. Once he got the makeshift defensive line of cars in the parking lot, the soldiers and police were just starting to peek their heads up. One that had the unlucky timing to look up just as Charley was sprinting up on the line, got a round right between his eyes. Then, the man was vaulting over a car without even touching a hand to it. Sliding on his rear to plant both boots on the soldier who was taking cover behind it. Slamming him into the next car over as he landed, and turned his rifle down the line where other people took cover. Surprise quite evident as they suddenly had an enemy in their midst. The attack was devastating, Charley's thumb just tapped the selector switch from single shot to automatic, and held down the trigger. The makeshift defensive line that was just set up seconds before, was already crumbling. There was no rest or respite in this attack. It just rolled out and kept going. Even seemingly gathering up momentum, like a boulder running down a mountain.
The line shattered when Two and Three caught up with Charley, and added their fire to the mix. It was another rout, people ran around cars, or over them. Some fell, but those that tried to pick them up just going them a second later. The wave of this assault didn't seem to be breaking, the trio of the Crew just moved after them, like wolves after rabbits. Stepping on top of cars to get a better angle on those fleeing. With Four picking off the lone stragglers or those who were determined to hold the line, there was almost nothing they could do to stop the attack. It was how the Lottery Crew worked.
The area was about clear, to the defensive positions that been set up on the border of the hospital grounds. But the soldiers and police there, had turned their guns inward. Suddenly the torrent of firing was coming coming from both sides. This was kind of what Charley wanted, however. He paced a step to the side, and behind the front of a nearby car as rounds ricocheted around him. The other two men, somewhat nearby, did about the same under the force of the fire against them. Charley took this time to reload, and speak into the mic in his helmet.
"Two, Three. Pull back, attack your respective sides of the buildings, they should be trying to force us into a pinch by now." Charley already knew what was going to happen, both from his instinct and what was being fed into the heads up display inside of his mask. Both of the men nodded, and leaned back from their covered to begin moving back into the open ground they had all made. Kneeling-running as best they could, and still taking fire.
Charley sighed lightly, calmly, dispite the fact a round just splintered the metal hood inches from his head. Rifle was placed on the inside of his overcoat, and from it, he drew out a Milkor MGL. A six shot, grenade launcher. His mask calculated the distance from here to the line, the angle that would be needed, the very shot. It drew an electronic white line, which Charley lifted the heavy weapon to match. A single pull of the trigger sent a 40mm grenade from the cover of the vehicles around him, up and over, to the cover of those laying down fire. Another line was drawn in his vision, and he moved the weapon to match it once again. Another pull of the trigger. It continued, in new angles, down the line until all six shells had been fired in about the same amount of seconds.
The rounds hit the cover of the defenses and suddenly burst out in too bright lights and tendrils of electricity. Each time a grenade hit the ground, there was a localized storm of electricity that sent men and women to the ground in convulsing motions. It was devastating. The torrent of fire quickly fell off.
"Four, get ready to run across the lines to me." New white lines were being drawn, much further than before. Charley quickly snapped open the grenade launcher and stuck six new rounds in it. Snapping the weapon back together, before it was lifted to his shoulder and aimed carefully along the lines on his heads up display. Two more thuds rang out in the chaos, as two more grenades were sent down the line to electically explode. A hole was made for Four to run through.
"Now." Charley gave the order as he walked away from his cover calmly, the overcoat he wore looking not one bit damaged from all the rounds that had flicked near him, or even imbeded into the armor he wore. The man didn't seem to have slowed down from the attack, like the boulder, he was just moving faster and faster. He gave a leap on to another car, down the lot, and brought the grenade launcher to his shoulder. Firing two rounds over to where he saw Two fighting. Then with a quick turn, he fired the last two offer to where he saw Four in combat. The four explosions added to the chaos of fire that the battleground had become. But it was lessening off, especially after Charley's attack.
Charley dropped the weapon from his hands to the ground, uncaring as to what happened to it, now. His blue latex covered hands came up, to grip the tag of 'POLICE' that was on the front of his armor. It tore it off, to reveal the single word of 'ONE' underneath of it. Form dropped from the car, and began to walk back through the devastation he had caused. Moving to the front door. He should of been backing up his people, but he knew what was coming. Wasn't even a surprise, when Two came through the comm to him.
"They're falling back." He laughed out the words, disrespectfully over the sound of him still firing his machine gun. It was confirmed by both Three and Four. It was not a surprise, as was stated. Over three hundreds bodies laid around the area now, knocked out, unconscious, unmoving. And it had all happened in the span of less than five minutes. It was quite a telling blow.
"On me." Charley spoke through the sudden calm. Drawing out the rifle from his overcoat once again, and holding it comfortably in both hands as he made his way to the front door he had just walked out of a few minutes ago. He was soon joined by the rest of the Crew, sprinting to their position beside him. They all walked in through the automatic doors of the hospital, with the barrels of their weapons aimed out in front of them. Moving fluidly, as one quick unit. There were a few screams, or people running to hide, but no more fire for the immediate time. Both the police and military hadn't dared to stations troops inside. And the few security guards they passed just kept their hands up and their eyes down.
When the quartet got to the banks of elevators, Charley hit a button to go up. And then turned to join his Crew with their weapons aimed outward. When the door chimed and opened, the group moved sideways and backwards into it. Their weapons the last thing to go through the doors before their slid shut, and the elevator began to rise.
The elevator stopped and opened at a certain floor, that Charley already knew by heart. A hard study of the Hospital's schematics had been commited to memory, long before the Crew even decided to take the operation. They all turned a certain way down the hallway, and came to a certain room. Charley made quick hand motions, silent orders that the crew followed. Turning to aim their weapons down the hallway, at three seperate angles. Charley stepped up to the door, gave a quiet sigh, and clipped the rifle to the front of his armor. Gently, he rapped knuckles against the door... then slowly pushed it open.
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The room was already lit up, unlike many others in this section of the hospital. Quite out of place for it being so late at night. It only held a single bed, and on it, was a young girl. Who at the moment looked more giddy, than scared. Her head turned quickly to the sound of knuckles on her door. And when she saw the masked, armored, armed man step in through it... her eyes went wide. With a happy surprise, rather than fear.
"It's you! You actually came!" Dispite her weary appearance, she was suddenly spiritful. It brought a smile to Charley's lips under the mask he wore.
"Hey, Jessica. Yeah... Rebecca Smith from the make a wish foundation got in contact with us." Charley quietly spoke, through weird modulated tones brought out by his helmet, as he walked inside the room. Shutting the door behind him. He was kind of quick, but, he did not have much time. "And I've always said I have to follow the orders of cute women." It was a pure line, but it got the young, bald, girl squeeling in happiness.
"I just, I heard about what you did... I just..." It was a mixture of elation and confusion. A young lady meeting her heroes, however unconventional they might be. Charley laughed, through his helmet. Reaching into his coat, to bring out a brightly colored back tied up with ribbon. It looked humorous in his hands, but he didn't care.
"No, I get it young lady. You know, I always tell the crew... We're supposed to make the toughest fights look easy. And that's what you do every day, isn't it Jessica? You make us look weak with your strength." The laugh that electronically came over Charley's mask, was still easily noticed as being gentle and humorous. The package was placed down beside her. And he would motion to it. "That's why, I brought you this."
The girl tore into the package, before it was placed down. Tearing through the ribbon and drawing out... a mask. Much like Charley's, but more feminine. It was still, much too large for her. But Jessica put it on, anyway. That was a full mask, as sophisticated as the one Charley was at the moment, pulling off of his own head. One the front of the girls mask, was a simple number like all the Crew. Her's, was Nine.
"You're one of us now, Nine. And we will fight for you, as such." Charley's mask, was placed down on the small nightstand beside the girl's hospital bed. His own face, blatantly in the air, against all the rules the Crew followed. His smile aimed right at her, was visable, too. "I don't have a lot of time though, unfortunately. I'm going to have to head out, and let Two come in here to bring you his present, alright. It is an honor to meet someone as tough as you, though, Miss Jessica. I look forward to the next time we meet..." Charley spoke this, as he slowly backed out.
"I have surgery, in a few days!" Jessica blurted out, underneath the mask she still wore. Charley's smile, rose up a bit. "And you forgot your helmet, Mr. One!"
"We will be here for that, Jessica. And, no I didn't... you keep that. Might want to hide it, when the police come asking around. It was a pleasure to meet you." And with one last smile offered to the young woman, he opened the door and headed out into the hallway to the sounds of quick 'Byes!' and giddy laughter. Two was already standing there, waiting his turn. He tilted his head, in surprise, to Charley coming out, maskless. But then, reached up with one hand and removed his own. Stepping into the room with a quiet tone, that did not match the giant of a man.
"Hey, Jessica... I'm Two. I made you this teddy bear..."
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It was present day, and two years after that fateful job. In Charley's bedroom, he relaxed as only he knew how to do. He read over something on his computer, for the next heist, the next operation. The electronic glow of his computer's monitor was the only source of light in the room, and it flooded over the man's features. From behind him, the arms of a woman slipped over his shoulders and across his chest. Antonia's lips pressed into his ear, before she whispered to him.
"I'm hungryyyyy~" In a light teasing tone, that drew a smile across Charley's lips. A tilt of his head against her lips, but he would still nod slowly.
"Alright, I'm done, I'm done..." He relented without even a fight, leaning back in his chair slowly, just to get Antonia moving. Soon he would rise from it, and begin to follow her out the door of his bedroom. On his computer, the time would flick over to midnight. Another day would begin, and with it, his computer would chime out to him. Along with his phone. It was something important, it got the man stopping and looking back to his computer. An announcement, of an upcoming birthday. It brought out a deep smile from Charley's lips, and he opened a drawer on his desk to pull out a birthday card he had been holding on to for anxious months, waiting for this day just like he did last year.
He would walk out of his room, and into the main living area of the safe house. Giving Antonia a lift of his chin, in a quiet request for a moment, before he yelled out to the Crew as a whole.
"Hey! I need you all to sign a card!"
"Screw you!" Came the immediate reply from both Two, and Four, almost as one. Both men neither willing to stop what they were doing to stop a card.
"It's for Nine." Charley laughed out, lightly. He could hear the immediate scattering of motion from the men's respective rooms. Two was the first out, and plucked the card from Charley's grip as he passed. Immediately taking it to a kitchen counter, to begin writing on it.
"Call for Three." Charley would speak on over to Four, as he came out of his room, a step or two behind Two. He gave the other man a look and a furrow of his brows, but he would yell out Three's name over whatever music that man was listening to in his room. Both men were soon walking down the hallway, towards where Charley and Two were standing, the latter still writing quickly.
"Uhhh, Charley... We're gonna need another card." Two spoke up after another second, holding up the card, which was filled with writing. Charley looked over, and laughed. Nodding, as he walked on over to Antonia who was laughing lightly at the display of the four men.
"I'll pick up some more on my way home. Think of gifts, too. Non-lethal ones, this time too Crew... Nine's parents yelled at me for like, two hours the last time." A hand wrapped around Antonia's waist, and they would walk down the stairs to head out to dinner, and apparently, picking up more birthday cards on the way home.
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It would be a week later, when a package would arrive on the door step of a rather nice house in a rather nice neighborhood. All paid for, by the illgotten gains of a certain Crew. In that house was a single room, much too pink for it to be safe, but still, it was.
In that room, a young woman danced in front of a mirror and sang into the handle of a hair brush. Her brown hair, long to the point of reaching the small of her back.
Above her bed, hanging on the wall, were five masks. Below the four of them, were wanted posters. Faces of men that had terrorized her world, two years ago. They were actually, pretty accurate, based on eye witness accounts and video recordings of when the men left the hospital, maskless, in a blaze of fire and glory.
Out of the hundreds of Earths through the Multiverse that the Crew hit, there was only one that knew their faces. That plastered wanted posters up, all over the place, in an attempt to find them. It might have made others look for them constantly, but to one young woman, it always told her that she was always surrounded by those four men who had her back.
One last tribute, to a young lady, that was stronger than the entire Lottery Crew put together. Someone who had fought tougher battles, then they have, for longer.
Respect, to Nine. The toughest member of the Lottery Crew.