Otherworld Squad

Well, so much for a calm and measured approach. Deciding that it was safe enough to assume the Barman was no longer an immediate threat, Alter spun to face the three men who had come charging into the room. The three bouncers were dressed for the outdoors, long colourless jackets disguised most of their large frames allowing weapons to be concealed with ease. In this case, said weapons were thick wooden cudgels with lengths of dark leather strapping wrapped around the lower half. Their confused and frantic expressions were quickly exchanged for those of fury and grim purpose. Their eyes spoke gleefully of the broken bones they would soon conjure into existence via the time-honoured tradition of blunt force trauma. There would be no talking them down, the shouting of the patrons and the sight of their injured or expired colleagues had put paid to that idea. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

The first bouncer was a giant of a man, standing at a minimum six foot five and carrying enough bulk to give a rhinoceros a run for its money. The sheer momentum of his arrival was carrying him towards the point where Pavejack stood covering the stairs. From the look on his face Alter could tell he was intending to use that gargantuan kinetic energy to send his friend crashing into the banister with enough force to shatter his ribcage against the solid wood and unforgiving metal of his LMG. With his gunner’s attention focused solely on the stairs, it was apparent he wouldn’t spot the danger until it was too late. Alter sighted the man’s near-side leg as he tracked his progress across the room and squeezed the trigger twice. The first shot barely skimmed the front of the bouncer’s left calf, but if he felt any pain or discomfort then he made no show of it. Thankfully, the second bullet struck true, burying itself into the thick muscle of his thigh. The impact threw his trajectory off slightly but after a pair of limping, stumbling strides he was soon back to making dangerous progress with renewed determination. Adrenaline. Hell of a drug.

Alter’s attention was forced away from the bull-rushing figure as the second bouncer, perhaps recognising the threat he was posing, sought to close the distance. Fortunately, Walross was able to step in to prevent the oncoming impact. The man had not yet taken any offensive actions, having previously been content to watch his partner’s back, shooting disapproving looks at his squad mates for their quick resorting to combat. This did not mean the man was incapable of such acts though, especially when it came to Pavejack. As the oldest member of the group, Walross would sometimes joke that the age difference between them would occasionally cause his parental protective instincts to kick in. Today was no exception, the German moved to stand squarely in the bouncer’s path and, upon receiving no response to his halt order beyond a wordless snarl, let fly with a five-round burst into the centre of his chest. The impact of his body hitting the floor was enough to send tangible vibrations across the room.

His falling signalled a clear shift in the tones and attitudes of the remaining locals. The second bouncer had a flash of realisation that an identical weapon to the one that had just put down his friend was pointed squarely at him. Not wanting to take Alter up on the offer of a free demonstration of the latest in exit-wound technology, he dropped his cudgel and backed away with open hands stretched out to either side. The third bouncer had not shared in his compatriot’s eagerness to break skulls and had lingered skittishly by the door. Now that their defeat was all but confirmed, he spun on his heel and made to escape but quickly found himself frozen in place, his passage blocked as the exterior doors opened. While he lacked the bulk of the bouncer, Winslow certainly matched him for presence as he pushed his way into the Last Flourish at the head of his guard cohort. With a sharp bark he ordered his entourage to secure the space, sending guards in all directions to gather the shaken patrons and wounded employees.

“This is not what I was hoping to see.” He muttered to Alter as he moved deeper into the room, planting his hands on his hips as he surveyed the carnage.

“Yeah, well they attacked us before we got a chance to explain the situation.” Alter grumbled with more than a hint of defensiveness. It was their first time ever holding up a legally ambiguous criminal enterprise, they deserved a break.

“Well, we can’t change what's already been done. Do we proceed as planned?” Winslow relented, his eyes continuing to rove the scene.

Alter nodded. “We do. There was a hefty amount of movement upstairs when things first went south, but few people attempted to come down here. Did you see much movement from the outside?” He asked before signalling Riptide to check up on Whim and Vangroover at the back stairwell.

“There were a handful of men on the terrace looking for a way to climb down when we first broke cover, they fled back inside once they spotted us. I’ve got men stationed all around the outside of the building with eyes and bows on the windows. Our targets of interest are still here. Except one.” Winslow turned to face him as the injured and deceased were moved out of the room.

“Care to explain?” Alter tilted his head slightly.

“The Foreman will have his own escape route. He’s the type to flee at the first sign of trouble, and I’ve bumped into the man enough times to know he will have gone alone.” Winslow frowned in disapproval.

“Lord Oliver has his own plans for him, we can let him slip through the net for now. As for who we’ve already secured.” Alter examined their current haul of scared individuals. “The customers can be interviewed and released. As for the staff, they need to be taken for questioning.”

“We can handle that.” Winslow nodded before turning to issue instructions. A moment later Riptide reappeared through the kitchen door with an apple in hand.

“Seven and Eight are all good.” He reported through a mouthful of fruit. “There are two hostiles down on the staircase and a bunch of knives stuck in the floor. Whim says someone threw them at them before running away when they shot back.” He swallowed. “We goin’ up?”

“Momentarily.” Alter leaned in and lowered his voice. “Listen, this got out of hand way too quickly. These were just the local winos and front of house staff, and look at the trouble they caused. I wager the more experienced and troublesome characters are all upstairs, they know we’re coming and they’ve had plenty of time to turtle up. I know they don’t have firearms but I want you to be treating every door like there’s a shotgun waiting behind it. Clear?”

“Sure, sure. Caution, Siege gameplay ahead.” Riptide took another bite. “Anything else?”

“Just one thing. I know you’re only looking after your health but getting your five-a-day can wait, can’t it? We need to prove our professionalism here, and we’re already off to a shaky start. Two minutes.” Alter swatted the apple away from Riptide’s mouth.

His lieutenant grumbled as he stalked away, the remains of the apple deposited in a half-full glass on the bar top. Alter shook his head as he watched him leave before rejoining his team at the foot of the stairs. Such nonchalant behaviour would surely be mentioned in their allies’ reports. Having finished directing his own forces, Winslow moved to join them with a group of six guards in tow, stating that some recognisable faces could help encourage some of the upstairs brigade to surrender peacefully. Alter was happy to accept the offer, and soon enough the timer ticked to zero.

“Moving up.” He reported into the radio and mounted the first step.

The staircase spiralled gently to the left to pass above the bar. Alter hugged the right-side banister as he moved, his rifle following the arc of the opposite railing as he progressed. Every three steps he paused and listened, attempting to tease out any clues that could point to a waiting foe. Immediately behind him came Boats who kept his weapon trained high, followed by Pavejack and Walross who kept low and ready to cover any emerging odd angles. Eventually, the first floor rounded the corner, revealing a lobby area with plus looking red fabric sofas and elegant side tables interspersed with neatly trimmed indoor shrubs. A pair of corridors provided passage deeper into the building while the stairs continued their winding ascent. There was no one in sight, the only oddity being a pair of dropped glasses slowly staining the carpet halfway along the lobby floor. With a quick hand signal the four-man team moved to secure the lobby. Alter and Boats nestled themselves among the furniture and pointed their guns down the space. Pavejack set up his LMG at the top of the stairs with a line of fire down the closer corridor with Walross moving a short distance further up the staircase to cover that approach.

“Team Two has arrived on the first floor. We’ve emerged in a small room used for furniture storage. Single door, holding position until further.” Riptide reported over the radio.

“Standby.” Alter responded quietly and looked over to Winslow as he squeezed past Pavejack’s position. “We need to encourage anyone willing to surrender to come out peacefully before I start knocking down doors. Suggestions?”

Winslow nodded before stepping out into the lobby, straightening his back and taking a deep breath.

“Hear me! This is Sergeant Winslow of the House Guard! Under the orders of Lord Oliver Masserlind, Duke of Grenveine and Cereloss, we have been authorised to raid this premises! You are hereby ordered to stand down and surrender yourself to our custody, by my word and honour all who come peacefully shall remain unharmed! Resist, and you will be subdued with what force we deem necessary to protect ourselves!” He roared, sending flecks of spittle flying from his mouth.

Once they had all finished wincing from the sudden noise, an uneasy silence fell upon the scene broken only by each individual’s heart beating in their own ears. Ten seconds passed and there was movement. A door halfway down the near corridor crept open, a pair of frantically waving hands poked out from the room. A young man in well-made but poorly kept clothes stepped anxiously into view, a moment later he was joined by a similarly aged and dressed man who still clung to a half-finished bottle of wine. Together they sheepishly scuttled towards them to be gathered up and shepherded downstairs by a pair of guards. Even though they passed a few metres away, Alter was still able to smell the alcohol on their breaths.

Again, they waited, hoping that the sound of the two drunks exiting would encourage others to do the same. Much to their disappointment though, the remaining doors stayed closed.

“Anything on your end, Two?” Alter asked over the radio.

“Nothing major.” Riptide whispered back. “But we heard movement and voices through one of the walls. A bunch of guards are here to guard the stairs now, want us to move up?”

“Give them another couple of minutes, then you're cleared to move.”

“Understood.”

Alter settled back down as time passed. Nothing, not a peep. Disappointed, he ordered his team to gather and began to creep towards the first closed door. If these men wanted to play whack-a-mole then he had one hell of a mallet for them.