With large strides, Jonathan sprinted up the stairs. Miller was a few steps behind. The sound of steel-toed military boots on metal drowned out their heavy breathing. The pursuers were not far behind.

They reached the top of the stairs and emerged onto the rooftop, greeted by the noise of the city: sirens blaring and the unrelenting flow of traffic that persisted 24/7. Skyscrapers stretched towards the sky, as far as the eye could see. A vector jet zoomed past high above their heads. Despite the distance, Jonathan felt the pressure from the pulsating jet engines.

Miller slammed the door shut behind them and they sprinted towards the helicopter. The pilot was waiting for them. Engines were running; rotor blades roared; debris swirled up in the air. They stopped halfway to the chopper, panting after a sprint up ten flights of stairs. Muscle memory kicked in. Jonathan turned, crouched, and aimed the automatic rifle at the door - all in one smooth, well-trained movement. He waited. The ammo indicator showed the magazine was full. A bead of sweat trickled down Jonathan's temple and continued down his cheek and neck; he could taste blood in his mouth. His nose was most likely broken. Miller also stood ready with his rifle, the laser sight projecting a small dot, visible on the infrared spectrum, in the middle of the door.

Jonathan glanced at a night sky illuminated by the city's advertising signs. How could it go so wrong? Hausmann had said it was a simple mission: like stealing candy from a child. They waited. The door swung open and two men in suits armed with compact submachine guns emerged onto the rooftop. Miller fired the first shots. Bullets struck the man’s chest, causing him to collapse and groan. The other man sought cover behind a ventilation duct.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"The bag!" the man shouted from behind his cover. "Give us the bag and we'll let you live!"

Jonathan fired a controlled burst with the automatic rifle. Thud, thud, thud! The bullets penetrated the thin metal of the ventilation duct as if it were rice paper and the head of the man evaporated into a mist of blood and bone shards; the body slumped to the ground. They turned and sprinted towards the helicopter pad.

Within moments, several men appeared on the roof. By that time, they were already airborne. The helicopter's engines thundered as it rose to soar above the rooftops.

# # #

As the helicopter ascended, Jonathan couldn't shake off the feeling of betrayal. Hausmann had double-crossed them. He clenched his jaw, the taste of blood still lingering in his mouth.

"We need to regroup," Miller said over the roar of the helicopter's engines. "Figure out our next move."

Jonathan nodded. "We can't trust anyone. Hausmann set us up. We are lucky to be alive."

"We'll lie low for a while," Miller loaded a magazine in his assault rifle and racked the slide mechanism to feed a bullet into the chamber. "Then we'll come back stronger."

"We may have lost this battle, but the war is far from over."