Mike opened the unpacked cigarretes to find twenty sticks inside. It was a classic Winston. He pulls out one stick and studies it.
This is probably stale now... But better than nothing, I guess...
He raised his visor and put the stick in his mouth and checked his possessions if he had anything to light it with.
That's right! I left my laser rifle back there... Damn it...
Mike left the stick in his mouth as he straightens his posture. He ponders whether find something to light it or not. He turns his head towards the stairs, the Ragers had long passed through but he still could hear the footsteps and growls from above.
There should be a laser rifle there... Or maybe even a match or a lighter.
He carefully scans the area for any threats before he started sneaking by the wall. He carefully climbs up the stairs, occasionally stopping to assess the surroundings. When he reached the second floor, he saw the blood puddle by the Fiddy Soda flyer ad.
The man must have turned...
He caredully walked around the puddle and arrived by the door way. The door was knocked down by the scuffle of the man and the Rager earlier. Inside the room there are several desks with each with computers riddled with bullet holes, and piles of files. A graph of sales was plastered on the whiteboard, detailing the sales made in May 2044.
I wonder which company office is this...
At the center of the room was a desk with a laser rifle resting on top of it. There were bloodstains on it. Whoever wielded it earlier must have turned too. Mike walked up to it and inspected it. It had two missing cells, which means it now only has a few rounds of shot before it powers down. He reaches unto his pockets, took out some cells, and replaced the current cells while adding new ones to the empty slots. He primed it to 'Contact' before firing. The muzzle emitted a reddish glow as it heated up. He places the tip of the cigarette on it, lighting it up. Then he powers down the laser rifle and switched its prime to 'Burst'.
Mike takes a deep puff of the smoke, the taste of stale tabacco flooded his senses with a hit of slight dizziness. He exhales deeply, a long drag of smoke comes out of his mouth and nostrils. He sits on a chair by the table and looked up to the ceiling. He leaned back on his chair and a folder got caught by his shoulder and it fell. He looked down to see what it was. The folder was opened and he saw the title.
Horizon Limits Laboratory
I could've sworn I've seen this somewhere.
He picks up the folder and reads it. It detailed a massive payment for the ARCS company. Mike whistled when he read the amount. $300,000,000 for one cargo. Whatever it is, it sounded important. Curiosity got the better of him and flipped the folder over. He saw two pictures of one freight container. Just one. He briefly skimmed over the details of the shipment and it was through the Suez Canal. From East Coast America, stopping by Valencia, through the Suez Canal, and finally Tianjin. It was a round trip. It detailed to whom the cargo must be dropped off, and what cargo must be picked up to be returned to the United States. The contract was marked completed at 17 July 2043.
Wait, aren't China and America basically at war at this point in time?
Mike turned to the last page and his eyes caught two organizations associated with Horizon Limits Lab. The Biological Zoonotic Behavior Block of the CDC, Center for Disease Control, and Department of Defense. His mother worked at CDC as a Virologist, and his father worked at an independent research team as a Genetic Engineer.
Mike took out the last piece of paper, folded it, and tucked it inside his jacket. He wasted too much time there already. For all he knows, Richard and Alan were already at the lobby waiting for him. The chaos above had gone quiet, and he felt the wind of the night grew even colder. He snuffed out his cigarette and closes his visor. As he exits the room, he saw two shadows downstairs, it was as if they were looking for something.
Mike waved his hand while walking towards them. One of the shadows snapped its head towards him, and it gave a lazy two finger salute. It was Richard and Alan.
Alan started to pat his own body, "Check your bodies for any wound, be it scratch or bite before we head out."
Mike checks his own body. His jacket is mostly intact along with his pants and boots. The pads were scratched but its not deep enough to be concerning. He looks over Richard and he had no bruise nor wounds.
Mike asked, "What happened to the Ragers?"
Richard replied, "The guys from before might have gotten their attention. Nothing really bothered us when they passed by."
Alan stepped in front of them, "All good?"
Mike and Richard nodded. They all went through the door and exited the building. The outside greeted them with a crisp cold gust of wind. The wind whistled as it picked up its pace, a storm was coming. Richard shivered in his shirt. He wore improvised armor but abandoned to flee. Now he is wearing nothing but casual t-shirt and jeans.
The three of them walked the streets of Magnolia. The once a peaceful and warm neighborhood full of people, was replaced with a concrete jungle of skyscrapers, and turned into a Rager's nest.
Alan sighed heavily, "I grew up here. Watched my childhood friends leave one by one as corporate greed took over the lovely Magnolia."
Alan looked to Richard over his shoulder ane asked, "What's your story?"
Richard shivers in the cold, "Believe it or not, I actually met Mike here pre-bombs."
Alan smiled, "Really? You two don't look like peers to me."
Richard replied, "This young chap drove an Ironhead! He must be an old soul."
Mike interrupted, "Speaking of which, what happened to your BMW? It was nuclear powered right?"
Alan was surprised, "Nuclear? Does it still work? Anything that ran on gas has gone kaput."
Richard boasts, "Yes, and it's good as new too!... Apart from a few scratches, cracks, and dents."
Alan shugged his shoulders, "Hey, you're one of the lucky guys who still rocks a bike."
They arrived infront of their building. There was quite a commotion at the lobby. People have gathered there, surrounding someone. They could hear his voice but they couldn't make out the words. The three entered the building, a few people at the very back of the crowd saw them and stepped to the side. One by one they stepped to the side, until the center was revealed.
At the center was an olive skinned woman with a curly hair, it was Nora. She was on a front leaning rest position, it is a push-up starting position. Sweat drips from her forehead and to the floor, her body was too hot that it emits a faint steam. There was also a man standing beside her. The man wore a camouflage jacket on top of a moss green t-shirt with 'Army' written on it. The man was clean shaven and rocks a flat top blonde haircut. His body was bulky and he has an almost seven foot frame. He presses his combat boots on Nora's back.
"Lower."
His deep voice echoed through the lobby.
"I specifically ordered you to check out what was going on. Yet here you are."
He presses even harder. Nora grunts and struggles to maintain her front leaning rest position. Veins on his neck bulged, the sound was like springs coiling under stress.
"Snoring while your colleagues are risking their lives."
Nora whimpers with tears welling in her eyes, "Yes, Sir..."
Mike saw all this happening. Part of him was delighted to see Nora getting what she deserves, but part of him is also pained to see his Sentinel buddy be punished.
The man lifts up his boots and walked away from Nora, approaching Alan. The veins on his neck slowly faded. Alan snapped into attention, and gulps down his own spit. Richard slowly stepped behind Alan.
The man places his heavy hand on Alan's shoulder. The hand is big enough to hold Alan's head like a ball. The dogtag dangled on his neck showing its insctiption.
EISENBERG
ARTHUR SIEG V.
B NEG
Alan nervously says, "Big Boss... We-"
Arthur asks, "Details?"
Alan says, "We encountered quite a lot of Ragers back there. There was a group on that building. Heavily armed, we don't know the exact numbers."
Arthur pauses for a while before asking again,
"Did these people have any symbols? A banner or a sigil."
Alan answers, "They have this banner. It was an eagle perched on top of a globe."
There was a small hint of surprise and familiarity on Arthur's eyes. He turns around and walked away from Alan. He leans over to a man standing by the counter and whispered something. The man quickly ran away and entered one of the restricted rooms of the ground floor lobby.
Arthur turns around and says in a loud and clear voice, "Listen up! It will freeze tonight and I need everybody to enter the basement and start preparing. You will not receive any support or reinforcements for the next three days."
The crowed burst into murmurs. There was a clear sign of anxiety painted over their faces. The statement warranted this valid response.
Arthur continued, "Furthermore, once the blizzard passes by, you are to evacuate this area immediately. Abandon this operation and avoid any contact with the United States Marine Corps. I repeat, avoid contact with the United States Marine Corps by any means necessary."
Alan raised his hand and asked, "By that you mean-"
Arthur continued, "Yes, anyone who bears the symbol of an Eagle perched on top of the Globe. Anyone who wears Marine uniform."
The crowd looked at each other. Clearly confused on what's going on.
Arthur shouted, "Move out!"