The apartment building contained some of the most advanced security systems ever devised. Elaborate scanners, sharp sensors, layers upon layers of security barriers, and an extremely powerful supercomputer to run the show.
And at the moment, it was all useless.
Phil and Leslie were being followed through the building by six well-armed MAW agents led by Special Agent Steve Fisher, and unpowered security devices weren't of much use to them at the moment. Phil thought about using the panic room and decided against it - the air tanks weren't pressurized yet, and there weren't enough supplies inside to hold out for long.
Time to improvise.
Phil stopped at the weapons bin and grabbed his .44, an MP5, and an ammo belt for each. He gave Leslie a pair of Ingrams and two 9mm ammo belts, and they both grabbed all the flashbang grenades they could carry - no high explosives inside the building.
Phil looked at Leslie. "Right about now there would usually be some cheesy cliched line having something to do with making fireworks, rocking and rolling, the presence of a full metal jacket, or getting funky, but since the team is away right now, let's just cut to the chase and kick some ass. You okay with that?"
"As long as I can make my flight on time," Leslie said as she slapped a cartridge into each Ingram. "Where are they?"
"Just around the corner," a voice called. "Phil, we don't have to go through this."
"Save your breath, Fisher," Phil shot back. "And if you even hint at quoting some cheesy fascist cliche or even a catchy comic-book villain, I'll blow your brains out myself."
"There's still a chance to deal here, Smith," the agent replied. "Don't throw it away."
"If I had any intention of negotiating with you," Phil said, "I wouldn't be sitting back here with a shitload of heavy weaponry, now would I?"
"Fair enough," Fisher said. "But you know, being stubborn about this is only going to get your friends killed faster. You can lead us on a wild goose chase if you want. We'll just kill anyone and everyone who gets in our way, that's all." Fisher paused. "We're not here to kill you, Phil, but I have no moral compunctions whatsoever about wasting anyone who gets in the way."
"Then by all means," a familiar voice chimed in, "let me in on this. I want a piece of the action too!"
Fisher whirled around. A cold grin slowly spread across his face. "I figured you probably weren't in that Explorer on the bottom of the Hudson either." He turned. "Your Gabriela is out here, Mr. Smith, and she's got guns. At the Academy they told me that that's enough of a reason for me to shoot her right now. I would hate to see anything happen to her on your account."
Phil froze.
"That's right," Fisher said. "She's standing twenty feet from us right now, and nobody misses within twenty feet."
"I know I don't."
Fisher whirled around, trying to find the source of the unfamiliar voice. Something whistled through the air and ripped into the shoulder of his suit coat, pinning him to the wall behind him. Fisher's men spun around, searching for this new shooter, which gave Gabi all the time she needed to disappear - and gave Phil and Leslie a chance to sprint down a maintenance corridor and slam the heavy door shut behind them.
Fisher pulled the object out of the wall. It was, in fact, a #12 construction nail. The kind you'd find in any high-powered nail gun.
From her perch on the catwalk overlooking the basement level, Charlene Montoya took in the whole scene and smiled. She emptied another pouch of nails into her nail gun and headed for an exit.
"They're gone, sir," one of Fisher's men said.
Fisher spun around and slammed the agent against a wall. "Thank you, Captain Obvious," he snarled. "Why don't we go find them?" He released the man and stormed off toward a stairway. "Split up," Fisher ordered.
