Piltover - Raul Menendez's Safehouse - [Continued]

At the main entrance, Mason gave a quick nod, his tone urgent but steady. "Williams and her team are moving in. Let's go."

Woods, ever impatient, grinned with anticipation. "Alright, about fucking time," he muttered, gripping his weapon as his eyes flicked to the entrance, ready to storm through.

Mason turned to Johnson, his voice carrying a sense of command. "Let's light up that entrance."

Johnson smirked, his enthusiasm unmistakable. He turned to a nearby Marine, calling out, "Marine! You got the goods?"

The Marine rushed over, gripping a Rocket Launcher and passing it to Johnson with a confident nod. "Give 'em hell, sir."

Johnson took the launcher, his smirk widening as he positioned himself, aiming directly at the main entrance of Menendez's fortress. "Consider this an invitation," he muttered, pulling the trigger.

The rocket streaked forward, a trail of smoke following its path as it zeroed in on the entrance. The loyalists inside barely had time to react, one of them glancing up as the sound of the rocket filled the hallway. "Oh shit!" he shouted, scrambling for cover as the rocket made impact.

The explosion ripped through the entrance, shattering the doorway and sending a shockwave through the interior. Dust and debris billowed out, forcing loyalists deeper into the compound. Johnson lowered the launcher, satisfaction clear on his face as he turned to the team.

"Door's open, boys. Let's make this quick," he said, his voice filled with determination. "Marines, haul ass! On me!

Johnson led Woods, Hudson Mason, and the rest of the Marines through the now-destroyed entrance, weapons at the ready. With Bangalore's team closing in from the rear and Caitlyn providing cover from above, they pushed forward, advancing deeper into the stronghold, each step bringing them closer to Menendez.

As Mason and his team advanced through the smoldering entrance, Woods shouted, "Contact!" The air filled with the crackle of gunfire as loyalists engaged them, firing from makeshift barricades and hallways to slow their approach. The team returned fire, pushing forward under a barrage of bullets and energy blasts, each step a battle to close the distance.

From a nearby tower, a loyalist leveled his Zaun-tech rifle, aiming with deadly precision. With a sharp hum of energy, he fired a single, concentrated shot that struck one of the Marines squarely on the chest, sending him to the ground. "Damn it! He's down!" another Marine shouted, his voice strained with urgency as he knelt to check on his fallen comrade.

Woods quickly assessed the situation, his gaze snapping to the distant tower. "Sniper! Far tower!" he yelled, frustration evident in his voice. "Shit! I can't get a shot!"

Without missing a beat, Mason went on comms, his voice steady but urgent. "Caitlyn, we got a sniper trained on our position on the far tower, delaying our push. Take him out."

Caitlyn, positioned high above, immediately responded. "Copy that, Mason. I've got him in my sights."

She adjusted her aim, her Hextech rifle gleaming with a soft blue glow as she tracked the loyalist in the tower. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her sights, calculating the distance and adjusting for wind. With a sharp exhale, she squeezed the trigger, sending a precise shot directly at the loyalist.

The bullet cut through the air, reaching the loyalist in the tower in seconds. The loyalist barely had time to react as the shot struck him in the head, sending him collapsing against the railing before slumping out of sight.

Caitlyn's calm voice came over the comms. "Target neutralized."

Mason acknowledged, "Copy, moving forward."

As the team pressed forward, gunfire erupted from both sides, loyalists emerging from hidden positions to rain bullets down on the advancing group. Suddenly, a sinister chuckle cut through the noise—a loyalist on the second floor hoisted a Zaun-tech rocket launcher onto his shoulder, aiming directly at the team below. He squeezed the trigger, launching a deadly, crackling missile straight toward them.

The projectile exploded on impact, taking down several Marines in its blast radius. Mason shouted, his voice echoing over the chaos, "RPG! Second floor!"

Woods ducked for cover, his eyes scanning the area. "Damn it!" he cursed, firing off a quick burst in response. "Multiple enemies, ground level of the main entrance!"

With loyalists swarming from every angle, the team found themselves caught in a deadly crossfire. Mason instinctively went on comms. "Caitlyn, we're pinned down! We need you to neutralize that RPG operator!"

From her vantage point, Caitlyn responded immediately. "I see him. Targeting now."

From her vantage point, Caitlyn zeroed in on the loyalist wielding the Zaun-tech rocket launcher, her scope perfectly aligned. She steadied her breath, letting the world around her fade as she focused on her target. With precision born from years of experience, she fired a single, precise shot.

The bullet tore through the air and struck the rocket launcher itself, causing the loyalist to stagger slightly. He glanced down, a look of bewilderment crossing his face as he muttered, "What the—"

In that instant, the rocket launcher exploded in his grip, sending a fiery blast across the second-floor balcony. The loyalist was thrown backward, engulfed in the force of the blast.

Caitlyn allowed herself a small, satisfied smile, quickly scanning for any remaining threats. "He's down," she reported, her voice calm and collected, back to business.

Below, Woods saw the explosion and let out a cheer. "Hell yeah! That's how you do it, Caitlyn!"

Hudson didn't waste a second, shouting to the team, "Let's go! Move up!"

Mason, his focus razor-sharp, glanced over at Johnson. "Johnson, get the Marines to push forward. We need to keep the pressure on them."

Johnson nodded, immediately turning to his squad. "Marines! Move up and apply pressure. Let's push them back and break their line!"

With Johnson's order ringing in their ears, the Marines rallied, surging forward with renewed intensity. The loyalists tried to regroup, but the relentless advance of the Marines combined with Mason's team was too overwhelming. Under the sustained assault, the loyalists' defenses began to buckle, their formations falling into disarray as they scrambled to find cover.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Amidst the thunderous exchange of gunfire, Mason pressed his comms, raising his voice to cut through the cacophony around him. "Caitlyn, Williams, this is Mason, in the blind. Main entrance is clear. Check your fire—we are entering through the Hot Zone."

Bangalore's voice came back over the comms, clear and assertive. "Solid copy, Mason. We're pushing up from the rear—our team will cover your flank. Keep moving forward."

Caitlyn's response followed immediately, her tone calm and focused. "Understood, Mason. I'll keep eyes on any stragglers from above."

The team pressed forward through the cleared entrance, advancing into the heart of Menendez's stronghold with precision and purpose.

Amid the relentless gunfire and chaos, Hudson's voice cut through the chaos, firm and insistent. "Mason, Woods, Johnson—we need to split up. We'll cover more ground and find Menendez faster this way."

Mason responded swiftly, "Copy. We'll fan out and converge if we get a location."

Woods, gritting his teeth, shot back, "You find that bastard, and I'll kill him myself."

Johnson gave Woods a hard look, his voice a calm but pointed reminder. "Stick to the mission, Woods. We're here to apprehend him, not kill him."

Woods let out an irritated grunt, reluctantly nodding.

Mason gestured for them to move out, directing each of them toward different paths within the stronghold. "Let's go. Stay sharp and call it in if you spot him. Woods, on me."

The four of them split up, each moving swiftly and methodically through the maze-like corridors. The building echoed with gunfire, but they kept focused, eyes scanning every shadowed corner, determined to locate Menendez and end this mission on their terms.

As they cleared the next hallway, Mason could see the entrance to Menendez's inner sanctum looming just ahead. The team moved with a single-minded determination, eliminating any loyalist who dared to stand in their way. With the loyalists pushed back, the path was finally clear, and they closed in on Menendez's final refuge, ready to bring the mission to its ultimate conclusion.

Meanwhile on the rear end of the area, Bangalore gripped her R301 Assault Rifle, firing controlled bursts at a loyalist who had taken cover behind a crumbling wall. Beside her, Sova wielded his Vandal rifle with precision, each shot punctuated by the distinct crack of the weapon. Danse stood at their flank, his Laser Rifle unleashing sharp beams that cut through the enemy line with deadly accuracy. Behind them, Enforcers moved in formation, providing support as the group pushed forward.

Through the comms, Bangalore's voice was clear but laced with focus. "Lena, what's your status?"

In a nearby room, Tracer darted from side to side, her pulse pistols blazing as she took down a loyalist at one end of the hallway. She spun on her heel, spotting another loyalist attempting to flank her. With a quick blink, she zipped behind him, her movements so fast he barely had time to react before she brought him down with precision.

Once she was clear, Tracer tapped her comm, slightly breathless but upbeat. "Doin' just fine, Captain! Took down a few of 'em—cleared my side for now. Keepin' an eye out for more surprises."

Bangalore nodded faintly at Tracer's response, her steady focus unwavering. "Good. Stay sharp, and call it in if you need backup."

With Tracer securing her position, Bangalore, Sova, and Danse pressed forward, each of them coordinated and relentless, the Enforcers close behind. Their sights were set on pushing deeper into the stronghold, determined to close the net around Menendez from all sides.

From her vantage point, Caitlyn scanned the area, her keen eyes tracking every movement below. Spotting another loyalist, she fired, the Hextech rifle's precision taking down her target cleanly. As she cocked her rifle, ejecting the spent bullet casing onto the rooftop, her gaze caught sight of a figure in a nearby building's window—Menendez himself, standing with a smirk on his face, his expression taunting her.

Without missing a beat, Caitlyn activated her comms. "I've got eyes on Menendez," she announced, her voice steady but urgent.

Bangalore's response came swiftly. "Where, Caitlyn?"

Caitlyn quickly relayed the precise details. "Southeast wing, second floor. He's positioned just outside the window."

Caitlyn relayed his exact position, marking the coordinates. Woods, hearing her call, growled with impatience, gripping his weapon tighter. "On my way!" he snapped, already moving before Bangalore could respond.

"Negative, Woods!" Bangalore barked through the comms, her tone sharp. "Stick to the plan! We have him surrounded; we can't afford a slip-up."

But Woods didn't respond, his stubborn silence speaking volumes as he charged forward, determined to reach Menendez himself. Bangalore let out a frustrated breath, knowing his impulsive move could jeopardize the operation. "Damn it."

Woods charged through the building with unrestrained fury, his boots pounding against the floors as he tore through Menendez's loyalists in his path. His movements were swift, each takedown with his M27 Assault Rifle brutal and efficient, fueled by the anger simmering inside him. He barely paused, shooting, shoving, and slamming through anyone who dared block his way, his only focus on reaching Menendez.

"Hustle, Mason!" he barked with Mason falling behind, his voice rough with impatience. "I'm not letting this bastard escape!"

Behind him, Mason was struggling to keep up, navigating the fallen loyalists and the chaotic path Woods had blazed through the stronghold. "Slow down!" Mason urged, frustration evident in his tone as he sprinted to close the distance."

But Woods was beyond reason, his pace only intensifying as he neared Menendez's location. His relentless drive left little room for caution, his desire for retribution overpowering any sense of restraint. Each step brought him closer, and nothing was going to stop him from facing the man who had eluded them for so long.

Quickly refocusing, Bangalore switched her comms to Master Chief and Ezio Auditore, stationed strategically to cut off Menendez's escape routes. "Chief, Ezio—are you ready?"

"Ready," came Master Chief's calm, steady reply.

Ezio's response followed, smooth and controlled. "In position. Awaiting your signal."

"You're clear for breach," Bangalore ordered, her voice firm.

As the Pelican hovered over the building, maneuvering with a steady hum, Ezio leaned forward, calling out to the pilot. "Get us closer to the rooftop. We need a safer landing position."

The pilot responded immediately, bringing the Pelican lower until it was just hovering above the rooftop. Master Chief moved to the edge of the ramp, bracing himself, the wind whipping around him as he prepared for the drop.

Through his visor, Cortana's voice cut in, slightly hesitant. "Chief, are you sure this is the right spot? What if you miss?"

Without hesitation, Master Chief replied with calm finality, "I won't."

With that, he jumped, diving down through the air, his massive frame cutting through the wind. He crashed through the rooftop, debris scattering around him as he landed, the force of his impact sending a shockwave that rippled through the floor. Dust and shattered concrete settled around him, casting an aura of dominance as he rose from his crouched landing.

Four loyalists nearby flinched, momentarily paralyzed by the sight of him. One of them managed to stammer, wide-eyed, "Who the hell is that?"

Master Chief straightened, his visor gleaming, and simply replied, "Your worst nightmare."

Master Chief stared down the loyalist, his stance unwavering, a silent challenge in his visor's cold glare. The loyalist, trembling but determined, aimed his Zaun-tech rifle, the weapon humming to life with an ominous energy. But Master Chief was faster. With fluid precision, he drew his M6G Magnum sidearm, opting not to bother with the MA40 assault rifle slung across his back. A single squeeze of the trigger, and the Magnum's powerful round pierced the loyalist's chest, sending him flying backward into the wall.

Without hesitation, Chief turned and fired again, taking down the second loyalist in an instant. But as he took his next step, the remaining two loyalists opened fire with their Zaun-tech rifles, their energy rounds crackling through the air. Chief's shields flared to life, a shimmering barrier that absorbed the brunt of the shots, pulsing as it bore the assault.

From above, Ezio sprang from the Pelican, descending with grace and deadly intent. He landed behind the third loyalist, his hidden blade extending silently as he drove it into the man's back, dispatching him with lethal efficiency. The final loyalist turned, panic flashing across his face as he stammered, "Shit, another one!"

Ezio wasted no time, his movements swift and calculated. In one fluid motion, he reached for his throwing knife, sending it hurtling toward the loyalist. The blade struck true, embedding itself in the loyalist's chest and silencing him instantly.

The room fell into silence, the loyalists now eliminated. Master Chief and Ezio exchanged a nod, acknowledging the efficiency of their teamwork. The path was clear, and with no further distractions, they could continue their advance toward Menendez, each step bringing them closer to the end of the mission.