There were plenty of targets that never made it outside. The Commander moved through the entire house with a precision that could only be called robotic, mechanical. He locked any window and barred any door he came across, barring those leading towards the front yard. He checked every crawl space that could feasibly hide a human-sized body, no matter how tightly curled up. But when the sound of movement, any movement caught his attention, he turned from a methodical machine to an unstoppable nightmare. Anyone he could catch went down with crushed skulls or slashed throats, broken windpipes or bullets to the head. Anyone he couldn't, without letting his current target get away, he allowed to run right into the Soldier's bullets.
When all was said and done, the house was no less a ruin than the yard - furniture broken, blood on the walls, bodies laying where they'd died with wide, terrified eyes. The last thing they'd seen had been the masked, unstoppable weapon coming at them at a run.
But at last, after what might have been moments or hours - it didn't matter - all was quiet, but for the drip of blood, the whisper of wind, and the house settling. It was quiet enough that he could hear the Soldier humming through his earpiece. A tune that meant nothing to him, but caught in his head easily all the same. In the back of his head, there was even the echo and the whisper of words - gonna save the American way...
He didn't emerge immediately. He did a full, methodical sweep of the house once more, top to bottom. He checked every room and possible crawl-space, no matter how small. But it was all, ultimately, to no purpose.
Their mission had been accomplished. Given what a spectacular team they'd proven to be, perhaps it had even been accomplished sufficiently within their designated schedule that the two weapons could sit and watch the stars for a time, while they waited to be extracted.
It was this thought that finally prompted him to speak aloud to his companion, through the earpiece. "Commander here. The house has been cleared. How do things look out there, Soldier?"
no subject
When all was said and done, the house was no less a ruin than the yard - furniture broken, blood on the walls, bodies laying where they'd died with wide, terrified eyes. The last thing they'd seen had been the masked, unstoppable weapon coming at them at a run.
But at last, after what might have been moments or hours - it didn't matter - all was quiet, but for the drip of blood, the whisper of wind, and the house settling. It was quiet enough that he could hear the Soldier humming through his earpiece. A tune that meant nothing to him, but caught in his head easily all the same. In the back of his head, there was even the echo and the whisper of words - gonna save the American way...
He didn't emerge immediately. He did a full, methodical sweep of the house once more, top to bottom. He checked every room and possible crawl-space, no matter how small. But it was all, ultimately, to no purpose.
Their mission had been accomplished. Given what a spectacular team they'd proven to be, perhaps it had even been accomplished sufficiently within their designated schedule that the two weapons could sit and watch the stars for a time, while they waited to be extracted.
It was this thought that finally prompted him to speak aloud to his companion, through the earpiece. "Commander here. The house has been cleared. How do things look out there, Soldier?"