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Interlude: A small strike team hired by Humanitech infiltrates an AISEC facility...

Sergeant Peters walked calmly through the automatic doors on the ground floor of the towering skyscraper. The cavernous lobby was brightly lit, with natural light cascading in through several stories of windows. The massive concrete support pillars that broke up the space were clad in sweeping waves of steel filigree that worked their way up each column until they met several stories up in glittering chrome sculpture.

Peters gave the artwork only the slightest glance as he strode through the massive lobby. He didn’t pay much mind to such things. To him it just looked like a random spray of liquid metal, or a strange shiny wasps nest.

He swept his gaze across the huge space and located Daniels, Taylor, and Brandt. They were dressed as he was in civilian outfits, though he didn’t need his genetically enhanced vision to pick out the hulking men in the crowd. Peters had been worried that they’d be spotted by security based only on their size, but three other squads had already infiltrated the building in the same way Peters and his men were about to.

Strength enhancement mods were common enough now that their entrance didn’t attract unwanted attention. Most people got them for cosmetic reasons. Peters and his squad had received the treatments only days ago at the behest of their employer, Griezmann-Bauer. In their case, the modifications would be put to a far more practical and violent use.

Their contract required them to take on whatever modifications they needed to carry out their duties. The problem was that Peters had signed that contract over a decade ago when the most extreme modifications available would be used to fix genetic diseases or correct eyesight. He never imagined that crazed sorts of things people would do to themselves just a few short years later.

Daniels and Taylor were talking quietly just ahead of him, with Brandt loitering a short distance away, trying not to draw attention to the squad. Peters walked past them without looking and joined the queue for the elevators. His men followed after him, mingling with the rest of the business types waiting their turn to start their work days.

There were a couple men in the line with similar physiques to Peters and his men. They were probably just executives with more money than sense, but he made a mental note of them anyway in case they were operatives disguised the same way he was.

Peters had to make a conscious effort not to scratch at his arms as he waited for the elevator. The mental effort wasn’t hard, he’d been working in the private military sector for years now and knew how to keep control of his faculties. The thick, armoured scales that covered his newly thickened limbs still itched like hell though, regardless of his efforts to keep his mind off of the sensation.

He silently cursed his decision not to disappear to another continent the moment these sorts of mods started rolling out amongst PMCs across the country. Forging a new identity was expensive though, and while he was well paid, he didn’t relish the idea of having to start over nearly from scratch. Joining up with a smaller corp wasn’t an option either with how aggressive GB’s non-compete clause was. Peters knew of more than a few guys who had joined a competitor and disappeared shortly after.

The queue finally admitted Peters and his men into one of the large elevators. This one served floors 30-60, and he and his men selected floors a few away from 57 so they wouldn’t be seen as moving in a group, with their forged ID cards admitting them to the more secure upper floors. Each of them also carried lock picking tools and hacking devices with preloaded software that could handle the simpler locks on the doors leading to the fire escape stairwells. Getting into the laboratories on the 57th floor wouldn’t be so easy though.

Brandt disembarked on the 54th floor. He’d make his way up to the rest of them after spending a few minutes in the washroom to look less suspicious.

The elevator slid into motion for the short ride up to the 56th floor, and Peters found himself scratching at the thick scales on his forearm. He forced himself to stop, and took a slow calming breath as he stepped out into the corridor. Their intel said this floor was mostly administrative offices and IT.

Peters made his way down the corridor past potted plants, abstract paintings, and LED lamps recessed in small cavities spaced evenly along the dark walls. He strode into the washroom, the same as the rest of his squad was likely doing at that very moment.

Nobody else was inside, and there were no cameras that he could see. He took a moment to pull back the  sleeve on his suit jacket, exposing the newly formed scales there. They were a ruddy orange colour, as if the pigments in what used to be his skin had gone berserk. The rest of his skin was leathery and tough, and was somewhere between the orange colour of his scales and it’s former lighter tone.

He removed his black leather glove next, revealing similar thick scales on the back of his hand. Each of his fingers now ended in a thick, sharp claw with a faint metallic sheen to it. Supposedly they were strong enough to cut through some of the strongest body armour. He understood the tactical value, but couldn’t quite suppress the feeling of revulsion at having his body changed so dramatically. While he enjoyed the increased muscle mass and the immediate feeling of strength and power that had brought, he felt like he was looking at something alien in the mirror now.

Peters felt he understood the anti-modification ideology that had steadily become more prevalent throughout society the past few years. Prior to having these modifications forced on him by his contract, he believed in letting other people do whatever they wanted with their bodies. Now though, he’d been turned into a living weapon by his corporate masters against his will. The process was reversible, so he put up with it under the assumption that he’d be able to move to an office job somewhere down the line and go back to normal.

Ordinary humans being turned into armoured assault troops felt like it crossed a line somehow. Technology could enable a single soldier to inflict massive damage, true. But coupled with genetic modification, he and his squad had become one of the most dangerous special forces groups literally overnight.

Protests had started cropping up across the country against extreme modification. Humanitech and their ilk shut them down quickly, of course. They couldn’t allow something like freedom of expression to affect their bottom line. Sergeant Peters wasn’t about to slap some marker on a square of cardboard and go out into the streets expecting that their corporate overlords would deign to listen to the likes of him.

He would protest this rampant twisting of humanity the only way he could. By doing his job. By employing shock and awe so thoroughly and effectively that AISEC, their allies, and even Griezmann-Bauer would stand up and take note that this sort of modification was not something to trifle with.

Taking a breath, he removed his other glove. If it came to hand to hand combat he’d be better off not wearing them. He’d spent enough time in the restroom simply collecting himself before the operation began in earnest. Frowning at his reflection in the mirror one last time, he stepped back out into the corridor and made his way to the fire exit.

As expected, it was locked and would only open in an emergency. That was absolutely against fire code, but AISEC’s secrets obviously trumped safety. Peters reached under his suit jacket to his low-profile tactical vest, opening one of the pouches. The lockbreaker it contained appeared to be little more than a flat metallic rectangle, smaller than even a common thumb drive. He didn’t understand how it worked, and didn’t need to. He simply held it against the card reader next to the door and waited for a few seconds.

The indicator light on the reader turned a solid green, and the door gave an audible click. The stairwell beyond was square and open in the middle. Peters was tempted to look down at the dizzying drop, but refrained when he saw Brandt making his way towards him. He heard footsteps on the stairs above, likely Daniels and Taylor.

Peters lead Brandt up to the entry to the 57th floor, meeting up with the rest of the squad. They took a moment to check their weapons while they waited for the signal to engage. Everything they carried was, by necessity, compact and easily concealed. Even so, Westech had provided the best. Strangely, they had even left their branding on most of what they carried. Were they trying to send some kind of message in the event his team was captured?

Peters put that thought out of his mind as he checked his pistols. He had several clips of high velocity  armour piercing rounds. The good stuff. The kind that cut through the armour on most automated security devices. He’d need that.

He’d also been issued shock rounds. These things were nasty. They embedded themselves in their target, deployed metal prongs, then delivered a shock close to what stun gun could deliver, only from inside the body. They were lethal if you weren’t careful. But they weren’t here to be careful.

He checked a few more of the pouches in his vest, taking small canisters from each one. Some of these were miniature electronic warfare packages, designed to hack into nearby devices, or overwhelm local radio signals with a massive burst of electromagnetic noise. Others were small grenades that carried a surprisingly potent dose of nerve gas. He and his squad had received modifications to be immune to the stuff. He only hoped they worked as intended…

Anxiety crept it’s way into Peters’ mind. Despite dozens of operations over the course of more than a decade, this part never got easier. The tension immediately before an operation went hot. He slowed his breathing, performing breathing exercises that were almost automatic at this point.

Finally, the signal came. Two clicks over the audio channel. Subtle enough that they might be dismissed as random noise, but the timing was right.

Peters held his lockbreaker to the reader next to the door marked 57. After a few seconds… Nothing happened. He was warned that might happen. He signalled to the rest of his squad with hand gestures that he was about to breach the door, and they should follow.

Taking a step back, he raised his leg and kicked the door with all his strength. The door crashed open, bowing inwards towards the impact as concealed mag-locks at it’s corners held it for just a moment longer than the now shattered latch.

Beyond the door, two stunned technicians in white lab coats screamed and dropped the mugs of coffee they were holding. Peters didn’t bellow orders at them, or point his guns. He simply surveyed the room, ensuring it lined up with the layout he’d been briefed on. His modification package included enhancements to his cognition and spatial awareness. Lining the memorized floor plan with what he saw before him was trivial, and told him exactly where the squad needed to go next.

Brandt came through the door after him, and shot each of the two technicians with a shock round apiece as he was surveying the space. Peters had armour piercing rounds loaded, and had been told not to inflict unnecessary civilian casualties. The two techs now thrashing and spasming on the floor would likely survive.

Peters’ ocular display lit up with the space he was in and indicated Daniels and Taylor were right behind him. He couldn’t spare the time to monitor their positions though, their intel told them that…

Two circular cutouts in the ceiling slid open quickly, and small turrets sporting an array of short barrels swung towards him. Or at least, they tried to. Peters’ arms snapped into position and fired a single armour piercing round into the exact spot that would cause the motors to seize up and stop the turrets from tracking them. The hours he’d spent memorizing hundreds of different models of these devices, coupled with his enhanced cognition negated a threat that would have cut down four ordinary soldiers in milliseconds.

With the turrets neutralized, Peters gave the lobby one quick glance, searching for any missed threats before proceeding in the direction of the primary objective. He strode quickly down a corridor on the south side of the room, keeping his weapons trained on each corner as he advanced. The rest of his squad moved with him, checking each corner as they followed close behind.

Occasionally they stumbled across terrified office workers and technicians. Each one got a stun round, and the squad quickly moved on. They couldn’t afford them relaying their position to the security forces that their intel told them was stationed near their objective. Fortunately, being inside of a skyscraper meant they didn’t have very far to go.

They quickly came to a set of large, metal double doors. This wasn’t something they could kick their way through. Taylor was already moving to the door and retrieving the compact high explosive charges from his vest.

Peters and the rest took positions behind him, watching the three approaching cross corridors for threats. He noted three more of the circular panels above him that indicated concealed turrets above him. They were likely waiting from a signal from the security forces to open fire in tandem with their assault, which he knew would be coming any second now.

Or at least, the intel said should be coming. There were several other attacks going on at this very moment on other floors within the tower, preventing security across the structure from mounting a coherent response. Even so, the security detachments on each floor were supposed to engage the closest target in these situations… So where were they?

After a few tense moments, Taylor signalled that the charges were armed, and the three of them ducked into a nearby supply closet, covering their ears before a blast shook the room around them, and showered smoke and debris into the corridor beyond.

Peters took point again, charging through the smoke into a huge room beyond the ruined doors. It spanned three stories, with windows looking into offices, meeting rooms, and labs on three different floors.

In the centre of the room was… Nothing.

Computers, tools, cables, hoses and all manner of other technical detritus was scattered throughout the massive space. Huge gantries ran the length of the upper reaches of the room, meant to support something quite large that was conspicuously absent. Several large somethings by the look of the hooks.

There was also a huge door open to the outside on the outer wall of the building. That seemed very strange, but the operation had to move forward. It became just another detail that was added to the tactical situation in Peters’ mind.

Civilian personnel were already fleeing the room, and his squad dropped them with precise shock rounds. The absence of the primary target didn’t matter right now, he had to move on to secondary objectives.

He cast his gaze around the room for a computer as the last of the civilians were subdued. A cart nearby held a keyboard and monitor, along with over a dozen random tools and other objects that Peters couldn’t identify. He slid another object from his vest, similar to the lockbreaker he’d used earlier, only slightly larger. He inserted it into a port on the monitor, then ducked into cover behind a stack of crates and equipment nearby while the device worked.

The rest of his men took up similar positions around  the room, training their weapons on the exits, while Brandt sighted on the ceiling where several more circular cutouts sat dormant.

Peters removed one of the small electronic warfare cylinders from his vest and held down the button on the side, holding the small device at the ready in his fist, waiting. They should have been attacked by now… They’d seen a couple dozen civilian staff, where was security? He strained his hearing, trying to listen for any indication of where the inevitable attack would come from.

A faint chime sounded from the device he’d plugged into the nearby computer. It had finished breaching the system and obtained the data they’d come for. Peters swiftly ducked over to the computer and retrieved the device, then selected a second, larger square of metal from a pouch on his vest. He attached the first, smaller device to a socket in the second, then tossed it up into the air.

Four tiny propellors snapped out from it, and the tiny drone buzzed out of the huge open doorway on the side of the room, quickly vanishing from sight.

With the secondary objective achieved, Peters signalled his squad to move on towards the final objective. He glanced up at one of the windows two stories up to where one of the other squads was supposed to be. He spotted Sergeant Davis quickly, and signed to him, no enemy contact. Davis nodded and returned the same message to him.

Davis was turning to leave, when a something bright and impossibly fast slammed into the glass and exploded. The blast wave threw Peters to the floor, and shards of debris pelted everything in the room, Peters included.

Tiny pieces of concrete, glass, and metal sliced into his suit jacket. The sophisticated material stopped some of the shards, but others cut through the fabric. Fortunately, the scales concealed beneath did their job, and while some of the burning fragments lodged themselves painfully in his toughened skin, none did any serious damage. The same couldn’t be said for his face, however, which was still ordinary human skin - he wouldn’t have been able to infiltrate the building otherwise.

Adrenaline pumped through Peters’ body in a sudden rush, another product of his recent modification. The painful ringing in his ears cleared, and he surged to his feet, looking for the source of the attack and cover simultaneously. At that moment, his enhanced cognition kicked into overdrive. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he was granted a preternatural ability to assess his surroundings and act.

Outside the huge door in the side of the building, a massive drone hung in the air.  It sported four compact tubes, three of which contained rockets, ready to fire. It also had a gimbal mounted gatling cannon on it’s underside. It was borne aloft by six large propellors that made it sound like an enormous angry insect. Judging by the way it was bobbing up from below the floor, the damn thing had dropped from above and fired into the building before engaging it’s engines, preventing Peters and his squad from reacting to it.

Peters’ eyes moved unnaturally fast across the room, taking in more details. There were exactly ten round cutouts in the ceiling. Three of them had half opened and were twitching madly. On the floor nearby was the E-War cylinder he’d unintentionally dropped when he’d been thrown to the ground by the explosion. It had already deployed twin antennae from it’s ends, which explained the turrets malfunctioning. The huge drone, unfortunately, was unaffected.

No, not just one drone. Three drones. Two more of the huge thrumming machines were hovering up into view to the sides of the first. The gatling cannons on each drone began to spin up, slowly to Peters’ enhanced senses, but more than fast enough to kill him and his squad outright if they didn’t get to cover.

Peters’ senses began to return to normal as he dove for a pile of equipment nearby. As he sailed through the air, he thought he might have been hallucinating as he saw a fourth drone descending from above the opening.  No, not descending. Plunging.

This new drone was a simple passenger quadcopter. Little more than a steel and glass bubble around a comfortable seat held up by four propellors. The man inside was clinging desperately to the plush chair, screaming a scream Peters couldn’t h