Chapter 2 : Midnight Hell

Allan centered his scope on Domingo Sanchez's shoulder, and followed him around his office from a perch about a hundred meters away on the building next to Sanchez's. Their task was to bring him in, wounded if necessary, but killing was the last option. All of his men were in full body armor, stationed at various strategic points in the warehouse. They were carrying M-16s and P99s, with the exception of Allan, who had the sniper rifle and a P99. Everyone's helmet had a sound activated mic, and they were all on the same channel, able to all talk at once.
"All units, this is Bluestreak; report." Allan smiled behind his infrared scope. They all had unique call signs, as if they were hotshot pilots or something. The only drawback was it was harder to remember the order in which they reported back to Allan.
"Spades reporting. Am holding position on south side, everything's quiet."
"Jackal reporting. Have managed to gain entry to garage area, and am holding position awaiting 'go'."
"Cain reporting. Not a sound by the west entrance, Blue. Waiting for your signal."
"Lion here. All I can see from the air ducts is two goons playing cards outside the suspect's office. Let us loose already, sir."
"Hack reporting. The balcony is absolutely boring, as per usual."
"Ace, this is Bluestreak, report now!"
"Quiet gov'nuh. I'll get to you in a sec."
"Ace, you have approximately thirty seconds to report or I'll--"
"Bloody Hell! There are eight, I repeat, eight goons at a table in the main warehouse. They must be right under Hack."
"Get your ass out of there, sergeant."
"Shit! One's seen me. I can't get out, Rourke, I need backup NOW!"
Three things happened almost simultaneously. Sanchez got news of the intruder via walkie-talkie and sent his two bodyguards to join the two playing cards. A black helicopter swooped in to hover just above the warehouse. And Allan set his squad in motion.
"Move your lazy asses, boys! Go, go, go!"