Nick Stephenson - Panic

Leopold noticed movement just behind the printing press and kept his head down. There were at least three of Stark’s team standing just a few feet away, and the only way to the stairwell was right under their noses. Both Jerome and Mary drew their firearms silently, checking the chambers for ammunition.

“There’s maybe a fifty percent chance these guys know we’re on the move,” whispered the bodyguard. “But if we wait much longer and their buddy doesn’t check in, we’re one hundred percent fucked.”

Leopold always hated it when Jerome swore. It usually meant they were thirty seconds away from a near-death experience.

“Mary, I need you to flank to the right,” hissed Jerome. “I’ll take the left. Leopold, Albert, I need you both to crouch behind that desk in the middle and wait for my signal. The element of surprise is all we’ve got right now.”

Mary signaled her agreement, and the bodyguard slid forward silently and pushed open the glass doors into the reading room. He disappeared off to the left and Mary to the right, using the desks as cover. Leopold took Albert by the arm, slipped through the doors behind them, and crouched on the floor as directed, under cover and out of sight.

“Wait here,” said Leopold. “I’m not in the mood for hiding today.”

Albert nodded and didn’t try to argue. Leopold left him sitting under the desk and headed after Mary, keeping low and trying not to make any noise. As he passed a large cabinet he caught sight of the police sergeant ahead of him, also low to the ground with her weapon drawn. Pushing back the tingle of fear, he pressed ahead and caught up as she stopped to check her target’s position. As he approached, she whipped around and raised her gun, eyes wide and jaw set.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mary whispered, lowering the gun.

“Albert doesn’t need a babysitter, and I’ve already nearly got you killed once already today. I can help.”

“That’s bullshit. Albert definitely does need a babysitter.”

“Well, I’m here now.”

“Fine. Just keep quiet and stay behind me.”

Leopold nodded and focused his gaze ahead as he noticed a shadow crossing the floor about ten feet from where they were hiding. He pointed it out to Mary, who nodded and raised her gun in both hands. The two of them moved forward in a crouched position until they reached the end of the row of desks.

Leopold strained over Mary’s shoulder for a view of their target, who was facing away from them with both hands resting on his submachine gun. Like the other, he was wearing dark body armor and a helmet, meaning his hearing would be impaired. Leopold glanced at Mary, who seemed to be thinking the same thing.

The seconds crawled by, dragged out interminably by the clawing silence of the library. Leopold could hear his own heartbeat thumping. He could hear Mary’s breath beside him, coming in shallow whispers. The man in the armor turned and paced back toward them slowly, stopping just short of their hiding place. He turned around again. Surveying the room.

Rising quickly and silently, Mary brought her gun around and pressed it hard against the armored man’s exposed neck, just underneath his ear. At the same time she brought her free arm around the front of his chest, pinning his arms. Leopold saw the man stiffen as he realized what was happening, and then Mary brought her foot down on the inside of the man’s knee joint, forcing him to the floor. She coaxed the weapon away from him and hissed for him to lie face down with his hands above his head. He complied. She pulled off his helmet and brought the butt of her gun down on the back of his head and the man fell unconscious. She removed his radio and fished a plastic cable tie from her pocket and zipped it around the man’s wrists, behind his back.

A scuffling sound came from the other end of the room, and Leopold turned to see Jerome walk toward them, unharmed.

“Area secured,” said Jerome, brushing himself down.

“Let’s keep moving,” said Mary. “There are probably others on the way.”

The group turned to make their way back to the corridor that led to the stair wells. As they passed by the printing press near the center of the room, Leopold heard the crackle of a two-way radio. A voice spluttered on the other end and three other voices replied, checking in with the team leader.

“Four more,” said Leopold.

“In the building,” replied Jerome. “There may be more outside waiting.”

Leopold heard a rustle from the far end of the room, near the exit, and froze. He sensed the others do the same. The noise grew louder, followed by the sound of something hard hitting a wooden surface.

“Ow!”

Albert stood up at the far end of the room, his head and shoulders just about visible above the desk partitions, and rubbed his forehead.

“Hey, guys, I’m sorry I missed all the action!” he called out.

Leopold hissed at him to keep quiet, but before Albert could register what was going on, four dark figures burst through the doors behind him. Leopold leapt to the side as the bullets began to fly. He saw Mary and Jerome do the same. He landed hard and felt a sharp pain in his side, probably a cracked rib, but he summoned enough strength to push back the pain and made his way to the edge of the room, sheltering behind the desks. He saw Mary and Jerome do the same, on the opposite side, mostly hidden by bookshelves. The antique printing press obscured the rest of his view.

He kept low and heard the shuffle of footsteps hurrying in his direction, making out two distinct pairs heading his way. As the footsteps neared, he peered out from around the corner of the desk to get a view of his attackers.

Two men stood in single file in the tight gap between the desks and the wall. They were dressed in the same armor as the others, both carrying the same weapons. He noticed them glance to the side, momentarily distracted by the sound of a muffled grunt from the other side of the room.

Leopold seized the opportunity and attacked, aiming low and slamming his palm into the side of the man’s knee joint where there was no armor. Leopold felt the cartilage crunch as the impact forced the patella out of place. His target dropped like a stone, too surprised to make a noise. Without wasting a second, Leopold stood and unclipped the man’s helmet, swinging it hard at the second attacker’s shoulder.

The helmet was heavy enough to knock the second assailant off balance, and Leopold used the momentum to swing the helmet back around, slamming it hard into the back of the first man’s skull where the bone was weakest. He felt the impact through his arm and heard a wet smack as the base of the disabled soldier’s skull caved in and he fell forward, gurgling. Leopold brought the helmet around once again and aimed for the second man’s head. He connected, and forced the helmet down over the man’s eyes, blinding him. In retaliation, the armored soldier kicked out with a heavy boot and caught Leopold in the gut, doubling him over and sending him crashing into a nearby desk. The boot’s owner grunted in frustration, before he finally wrenched off his helmet and threw it to the floor, exposing a scarred face and a shock of white-blond hair. Leopold recognized his attacker from his visit to the senator’s home several hours earlier: Dolph .

Leopold fought back the pain in his chest where the boot had landed and forced himself forward, shoulders low. He connected before his opponent could fire, knocking him off balance. He kept pushing until they hit one of the bookcases, slamming Dolph’s back against the shelves and shattering the glass. The submachine gun fell to the ground, and Leopold kicked it away. No good for close range.

Dolph punched Leopold’s chest and stomach with quick, short jabs designed for maximum impact. Leopold bunched his arms, shielding himself as though he were boxing. The jabs came fast and hard, and Leopold twisted so that some of the force was absorbed by the softer tissue in his upper arm instead of his neck or face. Still hurt like hell. Dolph pushed back, using his larger frame to drive Leopold toward the center of the room. A final hard shove and Leopold went over one of the desks. He landed with a thump on the other side, which sent a searing flash of pain across his body as the impact jarred his damaged ribs.