ASCENSION: THE SYSTEMIC SERIES (20 page)

Meanwhile, Steel Will’s Stryker launched several grenades at the closed front entry doors, which were quickly blown open and blasted off their hinges.

As soon as these doors were open, Jake turned his Stryker’s machinegun towards the entrance, spewing forth additional fire that he hoped would clear out any remaining defenders immediately inside the area.  His bullets cracked through the exterior stucco of the building and ripped into the lavishly appointed lobby, obliterating tables, shredding chairs, and ripping huge hunks of wood from the front desk, behind which several defenders dove for cover.              

Jake was having a great time, loving the destruction he was reaping and the revenge he was taking for the failed assassination attempt. 

He paused in his shooting and moved his fire pack to the hotel’s surrounding windows to allow a group of about 20 of his men to rush from in and around the armored SUVs and up towards the hotel entrance. 

In what quickly became the first miscue of the day, just as the men approached the front of the building, Steel Will’s Stryker launched another grenade directed at an upstairs window behind which sheltered a particularly pesky machine gunner.  The lobbed projectile went slightly wide though, and instead of passing through the now shattered glass of the window, it hit the side of the building and ricocheted down and to the side.  It landed about 20 feet from the steps leading to the hotel’s main entry and exploded a second later, sending shrapnel flying in all direction and taking out about five members of the assault team’s first wave. 

Jake didn’t like mistakes, but he recognized that his men weren’t trained soldiers, they were just guys with guns, and he was prepared to break a few eggs in the process of making an omelet.

The explosion slowed but did not stop the frontal assault as his men sheltered in place for a moment, waiting for the smoke to clear before picking themselves up off the ground where many had thrown themselves and continuing towards the entry steps.

Suddenly, Jake heard a hissing sound, and from the corner of his eye, caught a trail of smoke snaking through the air just down the street from him.  At almost the same instant, there was a massive explosion and a huge ball of fire that erupted right behind Steel Will’s Stryker. 

“What the hell was that!?”
Jake yelled, swiveling in his seat to follow the trail of smoke in the sky.  It led to the rooftop of one of the buildings across the street opposite the hotel.  Near the rooftop’s edge, Jake could see a man standing, a rocket launcher perched atop his shoulder.  A man directly behind him was helping to reload the weapon.

Jake maneuvered his Stryker’s machinegun to take aim, but by the time he’d got the gun positioned, it was too late. Jake watched from what moments earlier he had considered the impenetrable confines of his own Stryker as there issued another hissing sound and a wispy trail of smoke shooting through the air from the rooftop.  Suddenly the trail stopped and transformed into a huge ball of orange in a direct hit that decimated the other Stryker.  Jake watched in stunned disbelief as burning men came pouring out of his destroyed steel baby.

He gritted his teeth in anger and sprayed fire at the men with the rocket launcher, sending them diving behind the rooftop’s ledge.  He could now see more men lining other building rooftops in the area, firing down upon him and his troops, and in the process, pinning his assault team down and keeping them from making their way inside the hotel.  Worse yet, his reserves were going to be coming into what was fast becoming a debacle, and he had no way to contact them as he had made the poor decision to issue the pre-set five-minute rendezvous time rather than make direct radio contact with them.  And for as pissed as he was about the loss of the Stryker, the realization hit home hard that had he brought Ava along for this assault, she would have been inside the now burning armored vehicle, and most likely dead. 

The realization that it could have been
his
Stryker that was blown to smithereens, rattled Jake even more though. 

Jake realized, as he looked at the number of weapons trained upon them from the rooftops around him that he’d led his men directly into a deadly valley of fire, and now they were being burned for this lapse in judgment.

* * *

Kill King – Jake’s sniper and self-proclaimed “best shooter” – enjoyed his work, and he liked having his skills put to the test.  What he didn’t like however, was unforeseen issues.  Getting to the stairwell’s rooftop exit only to realize that it was chained shut and that he and his men didn’t have a set of bolt cutters with them was one of those issues that really pissed him off.  Not only this, but when Jake had radioed him back at their vehicle to see if he and his men were in position, he’d answered his boss in the affirmative, assuming they’d cover the few floors to the rooftop in under a minute.  He didn’t want to be the one to delay Jake’s big attack.  Worse yet, he’d left the radio down in their car, so there was no way to inform Jake.  It didn’t matter now anyway, as the attack had already begun.  

Without the bolt cutters, Kill King now had to wait while two of his men ran back down the building’s multiple flights of stairs to the ground level, out across the street to where they’d parked, and dig a set of cutters from the trunk.  And such a delay had certainly not been integrated into Jake’s hurried pre-attack timeline.

The King and his best shooter waited impatiently while the two other men he’d selected for his tiny, yet deadly team made the trip back downstairs.  The seconds seemed to pass like minutes, and as the shooting erupted outside, the Kill King felt his heart start to pound harder and his hands start to sweat.  Not only would his boss not be happy, but he was missing out on all the action.

So when he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs below him, he was relieved. 

“Finally,” he breathed aloud, listening, counting the steps as they neared.  But as he listened, he sensed trouble, and when he heard words in Spanish being uttered by the approaching footsteps, he knew instantly something wasn’t right.

With lightening quick reflexes, and just as four Hispanic men turned the corner on the stairwell landing below him, the King nudged his best shooter.  He nodded wordlessly at the approaching men and drew a pistol with attached silencer from behind him.  His shooter followed suit and they both starting plugging silenced rounds into the four men just as they started up the stairs towards them.

The front two men dropped almost instantly, absorbing most of the bullets the Kill King and his man fired.  The two behind them looked up in stunned surprise, lifting their automatic rifles to fire.  The King nailed the first one with two shots to the chest, but his counterpart’s gun jammed just as he took aim and squeezed the trigger to fire at the second.  As the King angled his pistol towards the other attacker below him, the man squeezed the trigger on his automatic rifle.  The spray of hot lead ripped into the King’s best shooter, dropping him to the floor.  The King clicked off three lighting-quick rounds, hitting his target in the chest.  But as the man fell, his still-firing weapon angled towards the King, sending a round into the King’s right thigh.  The King faltered and then fell.  Seconds later, his other men were back with the bolt cutter.

“
Goddamn it!
” the King yelled as he writhed in pain.  “What the fuck took you so goddamn long?” he said, grabbing at his thigh.

“Sorry boss,” they grumbled, one getting to work on the door while the other tended to the King’s wound.

“Just get it fucking bound up and get me outside!” he barked at the man assisting him with his leg.

“You’re losing a lot of blood,” the man tending him said.

“Tie it up as best you can and help me up,” the King ignored the warning.

A minute later the King was bandaged up as best as the situation allowed for and at the rooftop’s ledge.  He and his men hurriedly pulled scoped rifles from cases and rushed to set up shop upon the tallest rooftop in the neighborhood.  In the quick scan he made of the scene around him, the Kill King could see three buildings down the street from them, all with lower rooftops than the one they’d chosen for their position, all facing the hotel across the street, and all with men firing from atop them.  He figured the men they’d meet in the stairwell had been coming up to do the same.

“You two take the buildings closest to us,” he said, putting his eye to his rifle’s scope. “I’ll take the furthest.” 

There was a huge explosion in the street below them.

The King’s leg throbbed, and he could feel warm wetness from the blood he was losing trickling down his leg and into his boot, but his adrenaline was pumping and he didn’t feel the pain.  Just as he got his rifle’s crosshairs focused on two men on the distant rooftop, another huge explosion rumbled up from the street below.  Suddenly the two men, one of whom was holding a rocket launcher, ducked for cover as a spray of bullets ripped into the rooftop ledge where they stood.  As they cowered, the King exhaled slowly, squeezed the trigger, and fired.  The man with the rocket launcher keeled over in a heap.  The other man looked around, confused and then scrambled to pick up the launcher.  Just as he got it into his hands, another perfectly aimed shot from the King dropped him beside his partner.

“Report!”
the King called to his men swiveling his scope to examine the other two rooftops.

“One building clear!  One in progress!” came the responses from his men.

The King moved his rifle’s position – never taking his eye from the scoped-lens through which he looked – to locate one of the riflemen on the building upon which his men were working, and in an instant, dropped him.  A moment later, his two fellow snipers followed suit, mopping up the remaining men atop the building.

Their main mission accomplished, the King’s snipers relocated to the front ledge of the building, turning their attention to the hotel across from them.

The King gave a weak smile, content with a job well done and knowing that he’d pulled his boss out of a real shit storm.  He watched as Jake’s men down below, freed from the scathing gun and rocket fire from above, poured inside the hotel’s main entrance.   It was the last thing the he would ever see out of his solitary eye as he collapsed upon the rooftop, dead in a pool of his own blood.    

* * *

Seeing his prized armored vehicle go up in flames angered Jake, but more than that, it frightened him.  The realization that he could be cooked alive inside the steel beast in which he sheltered pushed him to action.  It wasn’t the action he wanted to take, but he felt his chances were better
outside
the Stryker than hunkering inside what had now become the biggest and best target on the street.

“Let’s go!”
he commanded his men, opening the back of the armored vehicle and pushing the men before him.  There were eight men total – including Jake – inside the Stryker.  The first three to hit the street were instantly torn apart by the gunfire from above.  Falling, they caused the two men behind them to stumble, slowing the exodus from the vehicle.  These two men quickly recovered though and made it a few more feet before they joined their dead comrades.

Jake wavered inside, wondering what he should do.  Should he stay inside the Stryker and risk being obliterated by rocket fire or go outside and be gunned down in the street like a dog?

As he hesitated, the gunfire from above suddenly lightened, and Jake saw his chance.  He followed his two remaining men out of the Stryker and towards the front of the hotel.

“Kill King,” he smiled knowingly to himself as he ran towards the hotel entrance where the rest of his assault team was regrouping and readying to move inside as well.

It was the Kill King’s portion of the assault plan that Ava had always told him was most critical.  “Ensure that you hold the high ground, wherever you are, and put your best shooters up there,” she had said. 

For as much as he hated to admit it, Jake once again recognized that Ava had been right, and this time it had really paid off.  As he dashed up the hotel’s front steps, he paused, ushering any trailing men inside ahead of him.  As he waited, he looked above him where he saw the rooftops of the buildings across the street cleared and several of his own men perched atop the highest now covering their advance inside.  On the street to either side of him, he could see approaching vehicles loaded with more men as Mad Dog and Rambo arrived with his reserves. 

Jake now knew it was only a matter of time now.  The tide had turned once again, but this time in his favor, and as he stood among the dead bodies strewn about the hotel’s front entrance, he reveled in the sense of victory and accomplishment without the aid of Ava.  While it had been her plan that he’d used, it was
his
personal victory; and this time, he could take 100 percent of the credit without anyone questioning his right to do so.

The battle raged on for almost another half an hour as various firefights sprung up throughout the hotel’s now devastated corridors.  The remaining defenders put up a ferocious defense, with Jake’s men often having to go room to room as they worked their way through the hotel’s hallways floor by floor. 

But while the hotel’s guardians fought with tenacity, it was all in vain.  Once they were out of ammo, Jake’s men dragged the few remaining defenders from around their positions within the penthouse suite and lined them up before a large wood conference table near the center of the suite’s living room.