[Duke & Hopkins, 332 Poly Street | 1220 Central Time, Day 1]
La Mutilar was wholly trained on the receptionist's face, ready to draw first blood.
Her user though, not so much. At least not now.
"Lady, we both know neither of us is going to lower our guns," started Mendez. "So allow me to skip the niceties and ask you this: what did they tell you over that phone?"
One second...
"Sir, please drop your gun," answered the receptionist. Her tone was firm and unwavering, and yet Mendez figured it didn't deviate too much from her earlier 'front desk lady' persona he'd encountered. It was almost as if she was capable of using her polite receptionist voice and attitude at all times, even during a standoff.
"Afraid not, even if I'm alone," replied Mendez. "Unfortunately I'm not. Becks?"
Becks circled Mendez's back to his left, looked at the standoff situation like a child looking at a brand-new superhero action figure, and then finally asked Mendez, "What's up?"
"Kindly take the gun from the lady's hand, please."
"Oh shit, yeah," he said as he snatched the black Beretta of the receptionist's hands, forcing her to assume a hands-up position.
Now there are two guns pointing at the receptionist lady.
"So, backup huh?" asked Mendez. "You mind telling me when they're gonna show up?"
No answer.
"Ah, figures," said Mendez. "Onto the next one then: how many of them are there?"
The elevator next to them made a 'ding' sound.
The doors opened, revealing its passengers.
Four men, each holding something in their hands.
"Hoo boy," muttered Mendez as he completely registered what the four elevator passengers were holding.
Sub-machine guns.
All four passengers have them, and they were pointed at Mendez's direction.
Mendez looked at Becks, who also took a glance at the elevator, and then to the receptionist's desk.
He then sprinted for the desk.
And that's when the bullets started to fly.
The entire front office was torn apart by gunfire. Rounds chip through the oaken wall behind the desk, the front part of the tall receptionist desk, rattling and whizzing by Mendez's ears as they went through. If the sound of bullets ripping through the office wasn't enough, there was the relentless sounds of machinegun fire exploding in the room as if fourteen thunders striking all at once.
"HOLY SHIT!" shouted Becks as he dove under the tall receptionist desk just beside Mendez. "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" he shouted again.
The tall receptionist desk in front of them provided solid cover thanks to the thick oaken material, but Mendez figured they can't hold on for too long. Sooner or later the machine gun bullets are going through pierce through, and that's when they are truly done for.
While looking at Becks, Mendez caught a glimpse of what happened to the receptionist lady, the lady that held him gunpoint earlier.
Dead.
Bullet holes was peppered throughout her body, which lied lifeless right behind Becks by the front desk.
Such a shame, thought Mendez. She might've pulled a gun on his head, but at the end of the day, she's just doing her job. And in all due honesty, quite fantastically at that. Obviously not what she had in mind when going to the office today. In as a receptionist, out as a... casualty.
But now, onto the situation at hand.
"Becks!" Mendez called out. "Shoot back!"
"Fucking hell, shoot at what?!" yelled Becks. "I get my head out, I'm dead bro, DEAD!"
"Just shoot at them!" yelled Mendez through the gunfire. "They aren't gonna reload anytime soon, so we need to stop their fire!"
"Ah, shit!" exclaimed Becks as he turned and stuck his gun from behind the desk, rapidly pulling the trigger.
Becks' pistol discharged five times.
For a split-second, Mendez can hear the bullet rain diminishing in intensity. At first it was four sub-machine guns firing at once, now it's two. Becks' counter-fire clearly worked, even if it didn't seem like it hit anyone. Some of Becks' bullets probably near-missed the shooters, which caused them to flinch and stop firing for a split-moment.
That's when Mendez made his move.
In a quick motion, Mendez dove to the desk's side and lied in prone with his head popping out from the desk's left-hand side, La Mutilar in hand. From that stance, Mendez swiftly took aim at the shooter closest to him, who was momentarily distracted from Becks' returning fire.
Once he's zeroed in, Mendez pulled the trigger.
Headshot.
Blood splattered across the wall behind the shooter. A pretty sight, as far as Mendez was concerned.
But Mendez wasn't done yet.
He then aimed for the next nearest target: the chest of the shooter next to the previous one.
Mendez took the shot. Another hit. Square on the shooter's collarbone.
Mendez took aim at the third shooter, but noticed the latter already turning his attention to him, MP5K in hand.
He rolled to his right.
The shooter fired.
Bullets ricocheted off where Mendez was milliseconds ago.
Now noticing that the shooter's view of him was effectively obstructed by the receptionist desk, Mendez turned his attention to Becks...
...or at least where Becks was supposed to be.
Mendez caught a glimpse of a figure flying over the desk to the other side where the shooters were.
Becks had just vaulted over the desk towards the shooters, firing his pistol as he did so.
Standing up, Mendez saw the ruckus following Becks' daring move: he'd tackled one of the shooters while the other was slumped against the wall with blood gushing from his right forearm. Apparently he was hit by one of Becks' five stray vault bullets.
Not out yet, though. Mendez saw the shooter raising his Uzi at Becks, who was still wrestling with the other shooter...
Mendez' gun went off, and the shooter went down.
He then turned to Becks' struggle with the shooter, who was already down on the floor with Becks repeatedly pistol-whipping him on the head.
After bashing the shooter at least 10 times, Becks stood up and pointed his gun at the shooter's head.
Nothing.
Becks didn't fire. Why? wondered Mendez.
Then it hit him. Some half hour ago, the same thing happened. When Becks pointed a gun at Mendez.
Becks won't look at a person in the eye and pull the trigger, Mendez deduced.
"Don't pull the thing out if you're not planning to shoot," said Mendez, assessing the situation. "And don't shoot if you're not planning to hit something."
A second passed. Two seconds.
Becks lowered his gun.
"I was planning to cap him square on the head," Becks said at last. "But... shit."
"Eh well," shrugged Mendez, who is now standing beside Becks opposite now unconscious shooter. "He's done for anyway, that would've been a waste of bullet--"
Mendez' monologue was interrupted by a loud noise coming from the duo's side.
The two separate doors leading to the space beyond the front office swung open, revealing gunmen coming from each of the doors!
BANG! went La Mutilar, and down went the gunman coming from the right door.
BANG! BANG! BANG! went Becks' Beretta, and the gunmen fell backwards into left door.
Lowering his gun, Mendez looked at Becks again. "Seems like you're having none of the problems you had earlier now...?"
"Man, that was reflexes," replied Becks. "Happened in the heat of the moment, not during a time when my conscience was in the way."
"Well, plenty of time to talk about it later," said Mendez as picked up a Uzi and a MP5K from the floor, tossing the Uzi to Becks. "Right now, we gotta take care of dear Mr. Wedelton's friends first."
The two men rushed towards the office with Becks entering the left door and Mendez entering the right.
From where Mendez was standing, the office space looked like a run-of-the-mill corporate office with three parallel rows of long desks lined with computers, laptops, and stacks of file folders. Located on the far left side, to Becks' side, was a row of office rooms complete with their own tall, aquarium-like windows. In total there were four of these separate office rooms spanning the entire length of the office space itself. To Mendez's side, a row of large windows. The desks themselves didn't have dividers separating each of the rows, however the trench-like layout of the office will still allow for ambushes from henchmen hiding under the tables, which calls for an exercise of caution on Mendez's part.
So in went Mendez and Becks, slowly walking through the office checking their corners and occasionally underneath the desks, when--
--suddenly a gunman popped up from one of the rows on Mendez's side with a pistol!
Mendez squeezed the trigger, then--click!
The gunman went down, but Mendez's MP5K ran out of bullets--as another gunman popped out of cover with a shotgun!
Think fast, Mendez thought.
Without missing a beat, Mendez threw his MP5K at the gunman--hitting him square on the face--all while dashing at the gunman, pulling La Mutillar out, jamming it against his stomach, and pulling the trigger.
Blood shot out of the gunman's back as La Mutilar claimed another victim.
Mendez snatched the shotgun as the gunman collapsed with his left hand, which is the reason he made that quick dash earlier.
Looking to his left, Mendez saw a henchman creeping on Becks from behind, with Becks completely unaware of his presence.
Clear shot. The ambusher went down.
Looking at Becks, Mendez saw that the hooded accomplice is now aiming at Mendez's direction. Specifically, to Mendez's right.
A burst came out of Becks' submachine gun.
Mendez heard a solid thud to his right. When he turned his head, he saw another henchman lying on the floor, bullet wounds dotting his right side. It would appear that he'd climbed up the desk to finish Mendez off when he wasn't looking, but turns out Becks sprayed on him before he got the chance to do the same to Mendez.
Looking down on the now-dead henchman, Mendez holstered his revolver and held the shotgun with his two hands.
Suddenly, a single gunshot rang through the entire room.
That wasn't Mendez. For starters, it stings on Mendez's part.
He'd been shot. Pain surged through his body, causing him to stagger.
"Ah, fucking--" he muttered as he fired his shotgun to where he heard the gunshot came from.
Followed by the shell ejection. Two meaty clicks.
No one's firing at him anymore. At least, that's what he thought. He could have taken cover before I took the shot, thought Mendez.
The pain was nothing like the bullet that clipped his shoulder earlier, since it was stopped by his rainjacket. However it does still hurt for Mendez, as if he'd been thumped by a pool cue times a hundred.
While still contemplating his pain, Mendez saw movement to his near front, from the side of the desk.
Without hesitation, he fired at the direction of the movement.
BANG!
He saw a figure getting knocked backwards.
It was the gunman that got him earlier.
As he approached the downed gunman, Mendez felt that critical shot wasn't enough. This man did not just hurt him, he hurt his pride. Not only physical pain, but he felt humiliated getting cheap-shot like that. Why did he let his guard down like that? Why did he get hit? Why didn't he hit the gunman the first time? There was a great deal of frustration going through Mendez now, and he felt like taking it out. And who better than taking it out on the guy that caused it in the first place?
Mendez pumped his gun, and let loose a round.
And another. Followed by a pump.
Now that's better.
Suddenly the door on wall opposite of Mendez swung open, and in went three more henchmen with guns!
Another burst of bullets, followed by a loud click!
That was Becks using the last bullets of his magazine at the door, and down went the forefront henchman that kicked the door down. However there were two more to go, both leaping over their dead comrade with a pistol in hand.
As Mendez took aim at the henchman going his direction, he caught a glimpse Becks leaping on top of the desk close to the door, trying to kick the other henchman shooting at him from an elevated position. Guess that's taken care of, he thought.
Meanwhile, the henchman going after Mendez fired at him repeatedly, forcing him to duck as he return fire.
Mendez blind fired once. None of Mendez's pellets hit since Mendez didn't have a clear enough shot due to him ducking from the henchman's bullets.
After Mendez pumped his shotgun, he saw the henchman circling the desk, dashing at him. All he needs is to pull the trigger--
BANG!
No hit. The shotgun was parried upwards by the henchman.
Now Mendez is wrestling with the henchman with the shotgun being the grand prize.
This shouldn't take too long, Mendez thought.
Left knee. Hit. Headbutt. Hit.
That should be enough to release the shotgun from the henchman's clutch, and it did.
Still grabbing the shotgun, Mendez launched the shotgun's wooden stock against the henchman's stomach.
"Oof!" he went, as he staggered and fell down on his right knee.
It was a strong enough stun to buy Mendez some time. Some time to take aim at the henchman, that is.
The shotgun clicked. Out of shells.
Isn't that just convenient, Mendez thought to himself.
Mendez saw a jolt of movement from the henchman. He was charging at Mendez--again.
But this time Mendez saw it, and stuck his sole against the henchman.
The henchman was knocked back against the window, the glass cracking as his body made the impact.
As for Mendez, he shifted his grip from the shotgun's trigger to the shotgun's barrel, turning the shotgun into a bat with the wooden stock on the other end.
Before the henchman can make another move, Mendez swung--hard.
The henchman flew and crashed through the glass window, falling off the office building and onto the alleyway below with a scream.
His side of business done, Mendez turned to Becks' scuffle.
Or lack thereof, anyway.
There stood Becks, drawing long breath from slight fatigue, apparently amused by what he just saw.
"You done?" he asked nonchalantly.
Weighing the shotgun-bat on his shoulder, Mendez let out a sigh. "I don't know Becks, you tell me. I assume you're done, too?"
Becks cocked his head at the direction of his scuffle, gesturing Mendez to check out his handwork. As Mendez peeked his head to check the site of Becks' dust-up, he saw the dead (or unconscious?) body of the henchman Becks fought earlier.
"Tomahawk kick; hundred percent of the time, works every time," said Becks cockily.
"Hah, good thing you didn't pull that on me earlier," replied Mendez.
"Otherwise I would've beaten your ass?" asked Becks.
"Otherwise I would've killed your ass."
"Eh, point," concluded Becks. "So what now?"
"Now," instructed Mendez as he started towards the closest desk, "We dig up what they got."