Marriott Rive Gauche Hotel and Conference Center - Paris, France
20:05 Local Time, Wednesday, 11 April 2012
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“I have a visual on Niigata and Andreyev, are the other targets located?” questioned von Bohman.
"We have visual on all targets except for Fields," Krylenko confirmed from his walkway perch.
Scouring the floor, Othmar attempted to lock his eyes onto the distinguished scientist Dr. Burton Fields. This attempt was to no avail. The obstreperous yakking of the intellectual hoard of scientist and businessmen erupted as the reception continued. Over the noise, von Bohman heard Ishikawa Kazuyoshi, call sign “Rain”, speaking his native tongue to a guest that engaged him in a conversation. Quickly turning his gaze to back to Niigata and Andreyev, he was stunned to observe that Niigata was the guest speaking to Kazuyoshi. Not only was this a golden opportunity for Rain to keep a constant visual on both Niigata and Andreyev, it also provided Othmar a chance to search for Dr. Fields.
Walking slowly away from the pillars and into the prattling crowd, von Bohman exerted even the most basic movements into a casual stride, striving to appear as a curious businessman leisure strolling to get some delicacies at the food tables. Shortly after entering the crowd, a loud voice barged through the air from the tables. They voice cleared above all the other chatter.
“Come here often?”
This bombasterous cackle belonged to the fourth member and designated marksman of the Division. Jack Bolten, call sign “Reaper”. Shooting a look to his left, Othmar winced to behold Bolten dressed in a poorly ironed and dreadfully stained white shirt, slacks exuding there well-worn quality, and a clashing brown suit coat that made the his imagine nothing less than ridiculous. Reaching under his arm, Bolten scratched his armpit without much care, seeming almost aloof to the situation at hand. The theory of being exceedingly overt to be secretly covert seemed to be back firing. Othmar realized that Bolten’s actions would cause a stir in hotel security, turning the focus on him and not on the possibility of a kidnapping.
Out of the corner of his eye, von Bohman caught Dr. Karl Werner jogging down the hallway leading to the ballrooms. Dr. Werner then picked up his phone and walked out of sight. Briskly walking away from the raging racket caused by Bolten, von Bohman engaged his entire being in an all-out chase to follow Dr. Werner. His brisk walk turned into a jog, which then in turn changed to a fully-fledged sprint towards the one place his team had not kept an eye on this entire time: The back hallway leading to the St. Michel’s ballroom. Upon reaching the doorway of La Sorbonne B, von Bohman hooked a left and charged down the hallway. Surveying the hallway in front of him, he was relieved to find Dr. Werner engrossed in a cellphone conversation near the open doorway of the ballroom called St. Germain de Pres B.
Slowing his pace to a walk, Othmar continued down the hallway, approximately 200 yards from Dr. Werner, who was still heavily engrossed in his call. As he observed the doctor, two men from hotel’s decoration and preparation crew exited St. Michel’s ballroom and passed into St. Germain de Pres B. The two disappeared from sight as they entered the room. Continuing his walk down the hallway, Othmar heard the doctor give his finishing comments to the person on the other end of the call and hang up. Suddenly, the two men from preparation crew sprinted across the carpet, grabbed the doctor and pulled him into the emergency stairwell at the end of the hallway with a white cloth over his face. Chloroform extraction. Directly before the door closed, one of the crew members locked eyes with Othmar. He without a shadow of a doubt was a Nezak .
Time seemed to slow to a lethargic tempo as von Bohman charged towards the stairwell. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. A euphorically supernatural focus washed over him as he stampeded down the ornate hallway. Arriving at the stairwell entrance, Othmar pressed his back against the wall, left of the doorway. He speedily took off his outer suit coat and detached one of his KX9 Knives from his sleeve. Sliding slowly towards the door, Othmar reached across the door for the handle and nudged the door open. A series of rounds then tore through the metal door, nearly missing Othmar retracting arm.
Listening closely, Othmar could hear the swapping of pistol magazines. He had to move quick to catch the Nezak off guard whilst he changed his mags. While flinging the door open with his left hand, he released his knife cleanly, placing it in the stomach of his tan skinned opponent, standing at the base of the staircase. The man screamed and doubled over in pain. A tip von Bohman once received in military martial arts was commit to the fight, be fearsome and brutal, without any mercy, yet wise in victory. Carry home your shield, or be on it. These were the words flashing through the mind of the martial arts expert as he engaged his enemy in combat.
Flying through door, Othmar jumped horizontally and tackled the Nezak to the ground in the bear hug position. After wrestling for a moment, Othmar found himself in a firm frontal head lock with the Nezak. Firmly grabbing the man’s unguarded loins, von Bohman placed his other hand on the Nezak’s neck, twisting the man upside down, over his shoulder, and flat on his back. The Nezak shrieked again in pain as he thudded to the tile flooring. Slamming both hands against the opponent’s ears, Othmar complemented this final attack with a double handed jolt to the neck, snapping the man’s vertebrae instantly. The other Nezak could be heard carrying a burden, most likely the limb body of Dr. Werner, up the stairs. Pulling out his SIG-Sauer P229, Othmar scaled the stairwell four steps at a time. Just from estimation, he guessed the second Nezak was three flights up.
The ascending footsteps of the second Nezak abruptly stopped. A noise that could only be described as a body crashing down onto tile flooring sounded loudly through the deep stairwell. Stopping his movement, Othmar stepped back to the corner landing, waiting for the Nezak to make his move. A roaring volley of bullets imbedded deep into the tile flooring about 2 inches away from Othmar position. Swiftly, Othmar skipped around the oncoming rounds and aimlessly returned fire as to provide him time to scale the steps up to the Nezak. As the exchange of bullets ensued, von Bohman finally reached the floor directly below the Nezak position. Out of nowhere, the Nezakjumped over the guard rail, grabbed the rising tile platform, and swung himself down on top of his enemy. The nimble attack disarmed Othmar leaving him stumbling backwards with his hands raised high, with a gun pointed directly at his head.
The Nezak exclaimed with a devilish smirk as he cocked his pistol, “Any final words?”
“No… ” pronounced von Bohman as he slapped the gun away from his face and viciously sent a glaring punch towards the man’s face.
The Nezak fired the off target pistol, barely missing Othmar left ear, but soon found himself on the ground being pummeled into the tile by one of United States finest martial arts combatants. Othmar finished his foe again with a firm twisting of the neck. An almost distant sounding crackle echoed in the stairwell. His opponent was dead. Releasing his grip from the Nezak’s head, he rushed over to Dr. Werner, checking to see if the dirt bag treatment the Nezak delivered had incidentally killed the scientist. Putting one hand close to Dr. Werner mouth and the other under the man's right cheek bone, the lite throbbing of his pulse and the detection of air exhaling from his lungs dubbed him breathing and alive.
Thank God, he’s only been chloroformed. Hopefully no body decides to check out the stairwell
"Two Nezak down. Dr. Werner is safe for the time being…" Othmar breathed into his throat microphone heavily.
The attack of the Nezak had only just begun.
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