BOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The explosion is cataclysmic. The Panzer erupts in a blinding flash of light, the shockwave tearing through the courtyard. The force of the blast sends Diaz's men flying, bodies thrown like ragdolls amidst the debris. The ground shakes, the deafening roar of the explosion drowning out the screams of those caught in the blast.
Flames lick at the edges of the wreckage, smoke billowing into the night sky. The mansion's fortified defenses crumble under the sheer force of the explosion. Diaz, watching from the safety of the mansion, can only stare in disbelief as his men are obliterated in an instant.
The aftermath is a scene of utter devastation. The once-imposing courtyard is now a smoldering ruin, the air thick with the smell of burning metal and the acrid tang of explosives. The Panzer, now a twisted wreck, lies at the center of the destruction, a silent testament to the ferocity of the attack.
The screen reflects off Cam's glasses as he snickers, looking at the disconnected screen. He talks into his earpiece, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Message delivered."
On the other side, you nod and say, "Good job," into your earpiece. "The camera security?"
"Already been dealt with," Cam replies with a smirk. "Those men of Diaz really should go back to tech school. A toddler could've done a better job with their setup."
You chuckle at the sarcasm, turning around to face your team. "Alright, let's move."
You lead your team through the shadows, sticking to the cover of the night as you make your way to the rear of Diaz's mansion. The mansion looms ahead, its opulence hidden by the darkness. The plan is to infiltrate from the ocean, a less guarded route. You dive into the cool water, the weight of your gear barely slowing you down as you swim beneath the surface.
Reaching the mansion's backside, you surface quietly, eyes scanning for guards. A lone guard stands on the edge of the ledge, his back to the ocean. You glide silently towards him, the only sound the gentle lapping of the waves against the rocks. You grab his legs and yank him down, his eyes widening in shock. He thrashes, trying to scream, but your grip is ironclad. You pull him under, his struggles growing more desperate as he tries to break free. His lungs burn for air, bubbles escaping his mouth in a futile bid for survival. You tighten your hold, feeling the life drain from him until he finally goes limp.
You let his body float away, turning to signal your team. The path is clear, and it's time to infiltrate the mansion.
You move in, silently taking down a few guards patrolling the perimeter. The night is dark, and the only sound is the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind. With precision and stealth, your team eliminates the sentries one by one, leaving no trace of their presence.
As you enter the mansion, you're surprised to find it eerily quiet. The grand halls and opulent rooms are empty, devoid of Diaz's men. A sense of unease settles over you as you wonder what's going on. Has Diaz given up? Has he surrendered? The questions swirl in your mind, but there's no time to dwell on them.
Your team follows you deeper into the mansion, their footsteps echoing in the vast, empty spaces. Suddenly, a sharp click breaks the silence. Everyone freezes, and you whip around to see Lance standing there, looking confused.
"What? What are you all looking at?" Lance asks, his voice tinged with fear.
You look down at his feet and see it—a landmine, cleverly camouflaged to blend in with the floor tiles. Panic surges through you as you realize the danger.
"Lance, don't move!" you say, your voice firm and urgent. "Everyone, help him. We need to disarm this thing."
Lance's face pales, sweat beads on his forehead. "Tommy, man, get me out of this. I can't... I can't move."
You quickly reach for your earpiece. "Cam, we've got a situation. Lance stepped on a landmine. We need your help to disarm it."
Cam's voice crackles over the earpiece. "Damn, alright. Stay calm, Tommy. I'll guide you through this. First, make sure no one else is near it. Clear the area."
You motion for Avery's men to back away, creating a safe perimeter around Lance. "Alright, Cam, we're clear. What's next?"
"Tommy, you need to keep his foot steady on the pressure plate. If he lifts it too quickly, it'll detonate. Look for a way to stabilize the pressure."
You spot a heavy bookend on a nearby shelf and grab it. "Lance, I'm going to slide this bookend onto the mine to hold the pressure steady. On my count, you'll gently lift your foot."
Lance's eyes are wide with terror, his body trembling. "I don't want to die, man. Please, get me out of this."
"We've got you, Lance. Just breathe," you say, your own heart pounding in your chest. You kneel down, carefully positioning the bookend on the mine.
"Alright, Lance, on three. One... two... three," you say, your voice steady.
You slide the bookend onto the mine as Lance lifts his foot ever so slightly. The weight of the bookend holds the pressure plate down, preventing the mine from detonating.
"Okay, Tommy, now you need to lock the pressure plate in place. Look for a locking mechanism on the side," Cam instructs.
You find a small latch on the side of the mine and engage it, locking the pressure plate. "It's locked, Cam. The mine is secure."
"Good job, Tommy. Now, slowly move Lance away from the mine," Cam instructs.
You help Lance step away, his legs weak with relief. "Thank God," Lance breathes, collapsing down the cold floor. "I thought I was done for."
You help him stand, his body still shaking. "You're safe now. Let's keep moving. Diaz is still out there, and we need to find him."
You open a door leading to a long hallway. As the door swings open, you immediately feel a sense of unease. The hallway stretches out before you, dimly lit and eerily quiet. That's when it hits you—the mansion isn't empty because Diaz has given up. It's a trap, a gauntlet designed to stop anyone from reaching him.
Laser tripwires crisscross the hallway in a deadly grid, ready to trigger hidden turrets or explosive devices. Barbed wire coils along the walls, waiting to ensnare anyone who ventures too close. Landmines are scattered across the floor, their presence betrayed only by the faintest glint of metal. Sandbags are piled high, creating makeshift barricades that conceal further dangers. And beneath deceptive patches of tile, yawning holes with spikes lurk, ready to impale the unwary.
"This is a fucking war zone," you mutter, the reality of the situation sinking in.
There are traps, traps everywhere.