The night lit up with the red glow of strontium nitrate tracer rounds. Otter Voss cared little for the chemical composition of the lethal projectiles coming at him. His main concern lay in evading the trajectory of those bullets; hitting the wall behind him with reverberating cracks; spraying bits of concrete and dust. He took cover behind a dumpster.
Heists rarely go as planned. Chances are that shit can, and will, hit the fan. Like tonight. Otter checked the time, a semi-transparent ticking timestamp overlayed in his lower field of vision thanks to his TriCom cybernetic optical implant. Minutes into the op and it was already a clusterfuck of ginormous proportions. He checked the stats on his AG62 assault rifle, the wireless connection was functioning, and the ammo count popped up on his optics. Two bullets left; one extra mag on his plate carrier. He had to make them count.
Otter had obtained the plans, guard schedules, floor plans - and all other intel - from his usual contact, Khayos Brewster. A dubious informant whose moniker provoked anger in Otter's mind. Fucking stupid name. Otter and Brewster had met at their regular place, a run-down tiki bar-meets-Eastern Bloc in the busy Little Albania district.
"Good luck, mister Voss," Brewster had smiled as he handed over the thumb-sized cryptex drive with all the info. "This will be an easy mission for you."
"Brewster was wrong," Otter muttered. It wasn't one guard; it was a whole battalion of men. I have done several missions for Khayos, he always pays well. This time something felt wrong. That smile. I'll bring fuckin' chaos to your ass, Khayos Brewster. I swear to the Gods.
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With adrenaline pumping, Otter crouched behind the dumpster. The situation was dire, but his training taught him to adapt, improvise, and overcome. He weighed his options. The clock was ticking.
”Fuck it,” Otter slammed the loaded mag into his assault rifle and set the selective-fire switch to automatic and jumped out from hiding and started shooting and two of the armed guards fell to the ground. Otter sprinted to his van.
Otter jumped in the van and drove away at full speed, banging on the steering wheel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck." It was a set-up, I know it. But why?
He took a shortcut through the desolate Nulltown, a dead zone on the northeastern fringes of the city. Rows of forsaken factories and warehouses blurred past him, silent sentinels guarding the memory of a vanished industrial era. Amidst eerie electrical interferences that cloaked the area in mystery, only a handful of resilient squatters dared to call this desolate enclave home.
Twenty minutes later, Otter knocked hard on Khayos' apartment door. He wanted me dead. I know it.
“Calm down, what’s the blitz about," Otter heard footsteps and voices from the other side of the door.
The door opened and Khayos Brewster stood in front of him. Behind Khayos stood Otter's girlfriend, Alkemy. "Otter... I can explain!" she clutched a towel in her hands and hid her naked body.
“Fuck you.” Two shots rang out in the silent night.