Back in Black

It was crisp and cold outside. Unusually cold. -10, and it was only December. She would get if it was, say, January or February, but there was snow on the ground. Coming from the south, it was no small thing to Jessica. On the other hand, she might be experiencing her first White Christmas, so there was always that to potentially look forward to. Jessica was currently wearing full combat uniform, minus her armour and headwear. Combat boots were tightly laced up, with the so-dark-they-could-be-black navy combat trousers on. She had strapped her kneepads on as well, even if they were a tad uncomfortable- since she was going to take the troops to the killhouse. There were a lot of people from a lot of different sources. Lots of soldiers- marines and rangers. She wasn’t intimidated though. LAPD was no cakewalk.

She opened her mouth, ready to welcome in this new crew, and then the department phone went off; one that was only to be used for when the S-SWAT team needed to be called out for a mission. She raised an eyebrow and picked up the phone, saying “ACPD S-SWAT Division here, what’s the emergency?” There was the faintest noise of surprise in her voice- she certainly hadn’t expected a callout within two minutes of opening the door for the first time. Not that she was complaining.

“Oh thank every goddamn different kind of deity. The department weren’t given your number and we needed you half an hour ago; there’s been an S incident* at a warehouse dockside, seems a sorcerer got their hands on some corpses and were stashing the zombies in a shipping container. They started banging on the crate, some cretin of a worker opened the door and was killed. The rest evaced safely, and police have established a cordon, and the door’s locked. Perfect for the S-SWAT is what I believe force commander Grady sad.” Jessica listened to the panicked 911 operator on the other end of the phone. Zombies, warehouse, one casualty. Not brilliant, but certainly not awful.

“Aright, thanks for the info. The team’s all here, so we’ll get suited and booted. ETA half an hour, give the boys on the ground the good news.” She was grinning into the phone, not caring about the department cock-up with the phone numbers.

“Alright. I’ll pass the news on that Alpha Team will be incoming. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

She clicked the phone down and turned to the assembled troopers, raising her arms out wide. “Well then ladies and gents, it seems we have a tiny delay on the grand welcome speech. We’ve been called out, so let’s get suited and booted. Don’t bother with the lock picking machine or the spy camera. It’s a warehouse full of zombies.” As soon as the message had been delivered she turned and began walking over to the section that held all of their gear. She was already wearing her field clothing. This was certainly better than a killhouse when it came to seeing just how competent her new charges were, even if it was far more dangerous.

The only thing that she didn’t have on was her balaclava and her armour. The Raider would be useful, especially since she would be taking point. The suit was heavy and clanked softly, although she didn’t care. This had saved her life more than once back in the LAPD, and to have another set of the suit out here was brilliant.

As for weapons… She pulled down her carbine from the wall, before considering what to take. Pistol, shotgun and machine pistol. All of them had advantages to them, but she didn’t know quite which one. Hmm… Decisions… Serbu. She made a snap decision and picked up the miniaturised shotgun, unfolding the foregrip as she did so. She gave the gun a quick one over, before loading the shell rack up, followed by the gun herself. There was a safety, and she doublechecked that it was on, and then strapped it up to her mesh. Next was what she would otherwise take… Normally with this set up, she would take tear gas, but against zombies that would do almost nothing. Smoke, which would deny their sight and render the walking dead as stupid as the name suggested. Combined with the buckshot for the underslung launcher, and she was feeling good about her equipment. The first shots of adrenaline were running through her body. Before every mission, this would happen, and she relished it. It was a glorious feeling, and the one that gave you that capability to make lightning fast decisions on the field.

Time to lock and load people.

*S Incident: A crime committed by a supernatural, or of a supernatural nature.

Is was a nice morning, reminding Dimitri of his homeland. He opened his window, and put on some clothes. He left his uniform in his office, so he planned he would pick it up on his way. He put on a tank top, and some camouflage cargo pants, along with a coat, and head out. He parked, and could see his breath in the air. He breathed deep, and head over to his office, unpacked boxes still littering the place. His suit was on the wall and he snatched it and slung it over his shoulder. As he strolled through the offices and chairs, he recognized a few people, but disregarded it, he had seen them plenty of times before.

When he went into the room, a few people were there lined up, with the commander. He took off his jacket, and stood at attention, like the rest. Over the next few minutes, 4 more people walked in. He was ready for the briefing, and was excited, like he was for every other time. It got him a special way thinking about crashing through a door, adrenaline pumping, and neutralizing a suspect.

It was rather short lived though. The commander got a call, he would have to wait longer than he needed to. He was starting to get bored, and started to listen to what she was saying. Was it a new suspect? He wanted to confirm his suspicions, he asked the guy to his right. He had knew him for a while, they had worked on a few missions together and had become good acquaintances. He was one of the few friends he had made through his career.

"What do you think she's talking about? It's eating me away just thinking about it." His thick Russian accent was very apparent, and he was mumbling, making it even worse.

His wonders would soon be quenched when she turned back, and said to suit up. His face lit up. It was a warehouse of zombies. Would they be affected by tear gas? Or smoke. These thoughts churned through his head, eating him up just like before. He put on his moderately heavy Raider armor and looked at his gun rack. He didn't think that zombies operated off of hearing, and he wasn't feeling like a shield, he took his ak-15 off of the rack, and cocked the bolt, cycling the chamber. He took the mag out, and but the bullet back in, It'd be a waste to just leave it. He took 4 tear gas grenades, assuming it would be useful to at least distract them. He also took more mags than usual, he needed to to pump these zombies out.

His sweet ak-15, glistening in the light of the armory. He looked over it, and aimed down the sights. It was so comfortable in his hands, yet had some weight as well. He put it down temporarily, and got his knife out, flipped it a bit, and put it into his holster. He also took his PP-200, as well as a few mags. It wouldn't be too useful for this mission, but it was a nice backup. He was ready now. He rolled up his left sleeve and looked at his dragons. He was going in fierce today, full power, no holding back.

Former Staff Sergeant William "Pegasus" Carpenter, United States Recon Marines, was the first to the staging area of their first training operation outside the resident killhouse. Five minutes after he had finished buckling on kneepads, light tactical armor, and readied his helmet and weadpons, the first other man showed up.

Some half-hour later, their commanding officer, a POGE former police officer by the name of Jessica Chang, waited for them to assemble and was just about to say something when her phone went off.

Carpenter suppressed a twinge of annoyance, remaining impassive and casually standing to throughout her phone call.

And then... came the orders.

They were dealing with a warehouse full of zombies, apparently. Join a supernatural unit, deal with zombies on day one. PEGASUS resisted the urge to facepalm, and groan from how... weird shit became all of a sudden. He signed up for this and all, but he still found it difficult to take zombies seriously. Maybe seeing the undead flesh-eaters in person would beat some seriousness into him.

He didn't allow any of his skepticism or his reservations show, however, and instead equipped his second loadout. Vector .45 with ten 25-round capacity magazines, filled with .45 RIP rounds, plus accompanying M1911. Against a bunch of undead beasties, the Vector's two-round burst and his precision reflexive aim would be more than enough to deal with them. A double tap to each head would probably do it.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to make sure he knew what they were up against.

"Permission to speak, CO," he formally requested, calmly meeting the younger, less hardened SSWAT Commander. When given permission, in whatever form, he continued. "What kind of... undead are we facing? Are these Rick Grimes shambling mindless zombies, that go down with a headshot, or what else? If all it takes is a headshot, then I'm more than equipped for that. And how many are we facing? Do we have a map of the combat zone?"

Andrew rolled over in bed and sighed. He fumbled for his alarm, hand clattering around. Finally, he got the button, rubbed his eyes and stood up. Morning routine came and went. Get up, piss, brush teeth, shower. Downstairs, toast bagel, then eat bagel. Then he looked at his radio and realised the day. His first day with the S-SWAT team. His first time interacting with supernaturals since his time with the rangers a few years ago.

---

He suited up in something simple. Black cargo pants, long-sleeved grey T-shirt, his favourite beanie, a pair of gloves, and then his jacket. Even his car was freezing cold as he drove into the station. It was early enough that it wasn’t filled with people going about their business, and cold enough that those that were weren’t much interested in the attachment to the police station.

He plipped his car shut as he walked away, and entered. A few admin staff, a few troopers... What he expected. He went to his personal locker and stashed what few items he had on him inside- phone, wallet, keys, jacket. Ooh, there was a USB port for charging his phone. He needed to remember that in future. He locked it shut and gave the tumbler a quick spin, before asking the receptionist what the armoury passcode was. Answer in hand, and he decided to give his gear a once over.

First off was his revolver. He was glad to see it had made it over fine, and he picked it up, going over it. As one would expect, it had heft behind it, Andrew turning it over in his hand. The light barely glinted off of it, whilat the handle had been specially made to fit comfortably in his hand. The cylinder made a click as the latch that kept it sealed was unlocked, and he span the cylinder once before clicking it back shut. Then came the suppressor. It was almost as long as the barrel itself, although part of that was his own doing. Screwing it on- the addition stopping just before the porting started, he gave a peek through the ironsights. All in good condition. Wonderful.

He gave his stake a once-over, making sure the blade was nice and sharp, and then moved onto the ballistic mask. The cernaic face stared back at him, and he rapped it once, hard. It all looked good.

Perhaps fifteen minutes later, and Alpha squad had been established. Just as their new commander began to talk, the phone went off. Seemes like they had a job, and as she turned around, his suspicions were confirmed. Zombies. Alright, that was a lot better than what they could have gotten for their first operation.

One of his new colleauges asked an... interesting question, considering the job he was in. Perhaps he’d been fast tracked from a police role? “If I may. Zombies are... Revived corpses. Rotting is halted whilst they’re reanimeted, but rigor mortis makes them stiff, but they also take a lot of gunfire to bring down. Real danger comes from their fists, and if the necromancer who revived them is nearby, they can be quite clever. As long as we have range though, we have the advantage. Handily, their eyes glow when they’re active. Just pump lead into them until they no longer glow. Oh- and they use most of their senses to hunt. Eyesight is most important for them however.” He shrugged

Once that was done, he got suited. The cargo trousers he was wearing right now were close enogh to regulation, but he would need to change a bit. The raider armour, unlike every other piece of equipment, could be worn underneath his jacket, and over that he put his carrier. Revolver in his thigh holster, and he picked up the Bernelli. Reloading the shotgun came easy to him, and he filled the side rack up next. He racked the slide back, making sure it was all nice and clear, before hooking it up to the strap.

He picked up his face mask and sat down on one of the benches, gauging the rest of the crew.

Ralph wiped sweat from his brow as he felt the last drops adrenaline leaving his body. His muscles seemed to be standing at attention. It was almost a ritual for him to hit gym just before he was due at work. He'd been doing it for years since he was a teen, and when a spanking-clean bench wasn't even plausible, in the zones he visited, he'd improvised. Luckily in those days all of the ships he had the pleasure of stepping foot on had at least a few pieces of equipment on board. As he grew closer to the building that - in his mind - he took as just another station, another, temporary place of work, he tapped against the wheel while reminiscing on how he felt the first time such a place got slapped down on him.

Of course at that time it wasn't within his control and seemed to be isolated from the rest of the world. After a few moments he reached his destination, parking his car before walking into the ACPD. He gave a soft smile to anyone who passed, accompanying it with brisk hello's. Though many of them he only vaguely remembered or had a few bouts with in the fairly recent past, he knew better than anyone what a little courtesy could do to someones day. He went over to his designated within the S-SWAT department before changing into the underlayers of his uniform. The only added 'armor' he had with him was his famed helmet and buff, deciding that if push came to shove and they actually did have a mission, he'd wait till briefing to decide on the type of protection necessary. He double checked everything; assuring himself that his kneepads fit correctly, boots were properly laced, and trousers weren't sagging down.

He got into the area in which his squad was set to meet-up just as his new superior began to speak. He let out a breath of fresh air before falling into rank, taking the opportunity to size-up a few of the other candidates in his peripherals. Most of them were faces he remembered from training with that all too familiar sternness placed upon their faces. Then his eyes found themselves raking over the woman in front of him. Though he could definitely see her as coming off as... Less experienced, he knew a natural leader when he saw one. The true question was whether or not she'd be a good one, or the types that boasted oh-so-often but would attempt to mop a swamp with a duster.

The sound of a phone ringing interrupted his impromptu evaluation of her. The woman walked over to the department phone, picking it up with an evident look of surprise on her face. Ralph heard a few murmurs pass over his new teammates, but couldn't exactly make himself break rank for the life of him. He continued to stand with an emotionless look on his face - even when she strolled back over, relaying their first mission. As soon as she was done one of his mates asked a question that would've gotten a quirked brow and a cocked head had he not taken the position so seriously. In fact, Ralph thought the man was joking. From the way he talked he could at least decipher he'd taken up arms before, or at least was one of those gung-ho enthusiasts that dreamed of doing so... Obviously he should've known that such questions usually led to more than an ear-full, and that was if you were lucky. And lucky seemed to be on the man's side as one of the other's filled him in before the commander was able to.

After that whole ordeal they seemed to be dismissed, though the woman in charge made no effort to excuse them. Ralph stayed in his place for a few more moments before deciding to follow in line with the rest of his squad, venturing over to his locker.

"Zombies," He allowed the words to slip out of his mouth as he began to remember the facts about them from training. Their overseers had made sure to stress that they were strong as hell, but happened to be dumber (and slower) as a brick. An entire warehouse full of them couldn't be anything good. He needed something that was far beyond protective, but still enough to allow him to haul ass if he were to get into a tight situation.

He began to strap on the various pieces of Raider armor before donning his helmet accordingly. He put on his helmet and shield, making sure the latter was pulled just below his chin, yet allowing enough of the decal to peek through. Next was his favorite part:

The guns.

He allowed for the cold steel of his PT92 to slip into it's holster before applying his S.T.A.K.E, as well. Next he attached all of his extra equipment, double-checking the amount of flashbangs he had. Next up was the prized M4A1 which he made sure to check the scope of before slipping ammo into his belt. He smiled to himself as if he'd just won a medal, turning around to observe the other's and what they had chosen to carry. There was quite a variety among the group. From the weapons they carried to the way they chose to carry themselves, or some - the tidiness of their areas.

Heigo stared up at the ceiling from his bed, head pounding slightly in a familiar and not entirely unwelcome way. He sat up, one hand brushing at his hair as he glanced around his studio apartment, furnished with little more than the necessities.

Heigo spent a few moments waiting for the drumming in his skull to settle down, but it wasn't anything Heigo hadn't grown accustomed and nearly immune to over his years. Nothing a shower in the morning couldn't clear up, and just as good too because he had to be in the office early that day. He wanted to make sure he had his range time in, knowing that most of his time that day was going to be taken up a speech to officially kick off the S-SWAT program.

he paused halfway through brushing his teeth, before shaking his head and resuming.

He still couldn't wrap his head around all of this supernatural stuff. In a funny sort of way, it made him realize that he'd taken everything for granted. Sure, apprehending someone who was on PCP was difficult, but nowadays a perp could be a part-time wizard who could just as easily pull a gun on you as he could melt your eyes with a wave of his fingers.

The times, they were a-changing.

Not too long later, he was at the range, having been fortunate enough to secure an apartment just a mile away from the police station. That day, he was practicing with an M110 SASS with an adjustable sight, trying to get comfortable with the weapon at about the range SWAT snipers usually engaged targets from. He'd already practiced like hell with his other weapons, so he wanted to stay versatile and start practicing with a new weapon.

When the call came to form up, he suited up in his blue combat uniform joined his fellow Alpha Team members to receive Jessica Chang. He had to admit, he was disappointed that none of his friends from his regular SWAT team made the cut for S-SWAT except for him. He noted, however, that one of his fellow officers, Dmitri, was Russian.

He was mostly quiet throughout the whole thing, but when Dmitri asked him a question during Jessica's impromptu phone call, Heigo just shrugged his shoulders.

"Must be important. Maybe a call, even."

When his suspicions proved right, he smirked slightly. Zombies in a warehouse. All that time playing Resident Evil as a kid was going to start paying off.

It came time to lock and load and he was indecisive about many things. Overall, he decided he wanted to take his first loadout, but with a few differences He looked at his own neat section of the armory and decided his custom USAS 12 was definitely coming along. He shouldered the strap of his gun before loading up on magazines, deciding he was going to take 3 magazines of silver slugs and only one of buckshot just in case. He had a feeling a spread of small pellets was going to be less effective as a slug against something so unnaturally durable.

Then, he slipped his USP Tactical into its holster, checking the sight and to see if the flashlight was in working order. he gave himself three magazines for his USP. As a side addition, he replaced one of his flashbangs with another stinger, leaving him with 2 stingers and a flashbang in case the sorceror ever showed their ugly face.

For his armor, he decided to take a suit of Raider. Zombies mostly sensed with their eyes, and he was already good at being quiet in the suit so he was confident it'd serve him well. putting everything back where it was, he turned from his station and started to wrap a small Estonian flag around the area just below his right elbow.

The stereo sang with the vigor of such a dated device. The CD spun and looped, until it reached Austin's favorite song. Twisting the volume knob, the music blasted and echoed inside the vehicle. He continued to drive, one hand on the wheel, the wheels on his 1997 Ford Ranger turning and skipping along the pavement of the city. He took in the sights, a Pall Mall Red stuffed between his lips and glowing red at the end.

He banked a left, and came to bear outside the large department building, and swiftly took an empty spot at the curb. He finished out the cigarette, the ash dropping off into the black plastic ashtray on his dash. He snuffed the remainder in the tray and shut off the engine, retrieving the key and popping the door. His boots crunched against some remainder of snow, but his thick tan coat hid the cold from his torso. Unfortunately, his blue jeans didn't quite do the same. It wasn't horrible, in Appalachia he experienced the worst of the Northern and Southern climates, the freezing winters and blistering summers. He adjusted the worn olive green Tractor Supply Co. hat, the face marked with a tab below the TSC logo, reading "Greene Co. TN".

He briskly walked into the department building, being directed to a room. Slowly, others trickled in and they stood for the greeting. Yet, their commander answered the call not two minutes in. Briefed and directed to the armory, he began suiting up. Uniform first, the navy blue undersuit, and now the Raider armor. First came the plate carrier, with steel plates coated by ceramic and anti-spall rubber, followed by the kevlar pauldrons and collar. Finally the groin plate of ceramic, and the kevlar and ceramic MICH 2000 helmet w/ tinted ballistic goggles and black balaclava stayed off, the goggles and balaclava stuffed into the helmet which hung from Austin's webbing.

Onto the weapons. First, the 416. He removed the lens covers on the RCO, giving the rifle a once over before retrieving a 30-round PMAG of 5.56x45, stuffing it into the mag well but leaving the bolt open, not yet chambering a round. He followed it with a string of modular magazine pouches, four double stacked holding eight 30-round magazines in all. Next, the underbarrel M26, which he loaded a magazine into as well, not yet chambering for it either. He stored the two extra M26 magazines in a pocket of his webbing. He moved onto his M45, the massively improved M1911 variant, hooking his holster's retention lanyard to the grip of the pistol, then inserting a magazine of .45 ACP before racking the slide, chambering a round. He shoved the M45 into its holster, fixating the level III retention clip over it, and stringing the four .45 ACP magazines in pouches across his right thigh, just below his holster. Lastly, the KABAR, which went into its sheathe on his left hip, grip protruding and blade facing down for optimal drawing efficiency.

Only now did he fit the balaclava, now placing on his MICH 2000 helmet, fitting the goggles atop the helmet for now. He dusted off the scrawling on his helmet, it reading "WARNING: CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE!". He attached the 'THIS MACHINE KILLS MONSTERS' patch to his plate carrier, and topped everything off with the Copperhead patch. "Copperhead, reporting."

Well, well, well. First day on the job, and already, they had a case to work with. The morning, despite his anticipation for it, had mostly been uneventful up to now - get up, prepare for the day, dress in travel clothes with work uniform packed, take the train to work a little bit early in order to have the time to re-dress in work uniform, complete with ballistic mask in one pocket just in case... and then, of course, waiting for a few minutes before the official greeting and welcome from the head of dewpartment.

He was enthusiastic, to say the least. Enthusiastic about protecting America from the Supernatural threat. If that meant starting with some Zeds... well, who ever said people had to start big? No soldier started big, as he knew well, though some wound up bigger than others; despite her miniscule frame, he could tell quite easily that Jessica was one of the bigger soldiers. After all, she was the head of this city's S-SWAT! It was difficult to get much bigger than that without actually being in the army!

After her description of the mission, he took a few moments to consider what he'd need to use for this mission. His classic Sig Sauer P226 TacOps, of course, one of the best guns ever made by the US, and perfect for missions of this sort, especially for firing one-handed when necessary; a quick check to ensure all was in order took just a couple of minutes, and left him feeling satisfied that his weapon was fully functional once he had the right rounds in hand. Likewise, his KA-BAR S.T.A.K.E. was given a once over, the blade given a couple of sharpenings and polished to gleaming before being returned to its sheath. And after that... the Mk 48 would be overkill for a mission like this, he felt, and the Ironman and Brimstone combination left him underequipped to actually kill the rotten bastards, never mind overly slow even with his substantial lifting ability. That left the M4A1 carbine, an easy enough weapon to use, maintain, and check over prior to the mission, especially with the grenade launcher on the underside and a few flashbangs to blind the zeds with if necessary, and the Raider body armour, which ought to be more than sufficient to withstand a few hits from mere zombies.

As he prepared himself, he overheard one of the other team members, William as he recalled, ask what exactly made the zombies tick, how they acted and so on, only to receive a formal explanation from Andrew about how to deal with them. As this short speech ended, he began to chuckle loudly, moving to clap William on the shoulder once he'd pulled the body armour on. 'My fellow American,' he uttered casually with an oversized grin, 'you have no reason to worry. I'd compare shooting a zombie to shooting an unarmed civilian, if I'd ever been heartless enough to do that - I've not, don't you worry, but unless the sorcerer who made them comes back for a check-up, this mission shouldn't be a problem at all. Just gun 'em down, my friend, just gun 'em down.'

Having said all of that, he finally donned his ballistic mask, the wolf's snarl covering his face before itself being covered by the helmet. That, he believed, constituted full battle readiness. He snapped to attention, his time in the military coming back to him briefly, and patiently waited for his next order to come in.

@OfWindAndRain

She was a little surprised that one of her new troopers wasn't clear on the nature of zombies, but luckily someone stepped in before she started to chew them out. Apparently he had paid attention in S training. Fine fine. When everyone was ready, she cleared her throat, trying to get their attention. "It shouldn't take long to get there. Most likely, they'll be a crowd of people. Ignore them. Just do your job." No grand speech after that. It was true. They had a job, and they were there to do it.

The one member of the group that hadn't suited up was their driver. No armour, and just a thigh-holstered pistol for him. The group moved to the garages and entered the van- a Lenco BearCat armoured vehicle. Inside was spacious enough for the whole team, plus extra room for gear and potential civillians. All in all, it was perfect.

Now they just had to set off.

---

It took perhaps ten minutes, with the lights flashing and siren screaming, before they arrived. A police cordon had been set up, and the crew filtered out, a few gasps and noises coming from the crowd. Breifing with the highest ranking officer on the scene, she got almost the exact same briefing. The only thing new was that they were facing a locked door into an office. The layout was very simple, supposedly, and that was all she needed.

"Breach time."

The drive, naturally, was rather boring. Filled with anticipation for what was to come, most certainly, but boring nonetheless. It was therefore almost a relief to Marcus when they finally arrived at the location, adrenaline pre-emptively pumping through his veins as he listened in on the briefing given to Jessica. Zombies were being stored in shipping containers, were let free and killed a worker, and are now spreading all over the warehouse. Shoot them until they stop moving. Cake.

The worst part would be the civilians, though. If they got in the way at some point... well, if Silver FMJ rounds could pop a zombie's skull, he'd hate to see what they did to a regular human's head. And Jessica had just announced that breach time was closing in... hrm. His specialty was by no means charisma. Still, he made an effort: to the civilians nearest him, he simply said 'You should leave the area, as we cannot otherwise guarantee your safety in the near future,' repeating himself as necessary whenever more came close.

Heigo spent the ride over to the warehouse in quiet contemplation. In a way, he was steeling himself for what was going to happen. He stared up at the lights in the BearCat's passenger compartment before looking back down to his feet.

He had a gut feeling that tonight was going to be messy. He didn't want to say it out loud, but at the station, a few of his team members had expressed an almost lax attitude towards the mission. Overconfident, in a sense.

Fortunately, Heigo intended to walk out of that warehouse without a casualty over his shoulder.

When the truck arrived, Heigo slipped a magazine of slugs into his gun, checking the safety before they started walking. The crowd of civilians was an unexpected touch, but it was nothing he wasn't used to. He found it rather amusing that one of the team members peeled off to start reminding people to stay away from the warehouse while it was being stormed by SWAT officers. These people might seem curious, but Heigo was confident that once the bullets started flying inside, the civs would all clear out.

"Ready to get started, Ma'am," Heigo said, giving Jessica a smile from under his balaclava when she said it was time to breach.