For his part, McClane was fine with deferring to Bauer as well. Before he came here, he was with the rank and file who always hated it when feds stuck their nose and started pissing contests over jurisdiction and who's cleared to know what. But so far, Bauer's shown no signs of being dickheads like those Johnsons he dealt with during the Nakatomi mess. Truth be told, after having to actually assume a position of authority here rather than sitting back and heckling the captain at every turn as was his usual M.O., he's damn thankful to have someone with more experience at high-level shit like this to back up
( ... )
Jack shook his head. "No, no powers. Most of them shouldn't even be armed, I saw no weapons." He moved silently up to the main door of the funeral home, knelt down, and quietly slid a tool into the lock and turned until it clicked, then nodded at the other two as he stood up. He paused for a moment to let them take their positions by the door, listening to the cultists' continued haranguing. Jack then took a stun grenade off his belt, inhaled a deep breath, and then kicked the door open with a bang, hurled the grenade in, and turned away as the grenade filled the meeting with sound and fury
( ... )
McClane reacts on instinct, firing a few shots at the black cloaked assholes before picking up a relatively light plastic chair near the door with one hand and twisting to throw it through the air in their general direction - using the distraction caused by forcing them to react to that to gain some ground, keeping his head low and trying to place his shots on the dickheads scrambling to dodge it.
It's convenient really, how Bond always seems to be in the right place at the right time, or the wrong place at the wrong time, but naturally he's no more than a few blocks down, car parked up in a narrow alley as he tries to get in on the police radios. The police cordon had mildly interested him originally, but it's the sudden hail of gunfire that has him jumping out of his car and heading straight for the rear of it, withdrawing his own h&k assault rifle from the trunk
( ... )
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Jack bellowed as he crouched behind what had once been the lobby's reception desk, cultist bullets smacking into it. He popped up, drilled a three-round burst into a hostile's chest, then dropped back down. Suddenly a screaming lunatic in a black cloak charged the desk and vaulted over it waving a knife. Jack slammed the butt of his gun into the enemy's nose; blood spurted and he hit the ground limp.
That was two down, and popping his head above the desk Jack could see the man Lassiter had hit in the leg on the ground along with one or two still out of it from the grenade; he was fairly sure some of John's bullets had connected as well. But they were still outnumbered.
"Jesus Christ!" McClane blurts as a knife whizzes past his face, to which his response is to take the guy he's tangling with and smashing his orthodonture against the corner of a wall, and as he spins to deal with the guy throwing shit at him, he watches him fall down in pain, courtesy of Lassiter
( ... )
"Nice to see you too." As expected, his entrance wasn't exactly met with open arms, but James hadn't shown up to win any popularity contests. Aside from the issues of keeping himself entertained, there had been some actual concern in that twisted little head of his, along with a genuine need to help out. James just isn't so good at showing that side of himself.
Still, he's managing to be of some help, popping his head up long enough to clock a few before he's dropping back down and blindfiring over the top of his cover casually as a hail of bullets welcome him for showing his face. Maybe he hadn't picked the best spot ever to take cover, but it's located just where he can still watch the other three, so when John drops, James has got a near perfect spot to pop up quickly and fire straight for the little bastard who threw the knife. And a nice head shot too, because he has no intention on letting this lot live.
It's then that someone-- something shows up right out of the corner of his eyes, and just for a second James is turning
( ... )
"Lassiter, help McClane!" Jack yelled as he saw the Chief go down. My operation, my fault, he thought, but didn't let it slow him down. He caught a flash of motion in the shadows with his peripheral vision that was too fast to be human, but before he could react he saw something else- one of the hostiles running for it, dashing through a doorway at the back of the lobby that led to the manager's office. You're not getting away, he thought.
"We got a runner!" He yelled as he pulled a smoke grenade from his belt. "I'm going after him, cover me!" And then he threw the grenade, filling the lobby with a thick cloud, and charged out from behind the desk towards the doorway, shooting from the hip.
McClane immediately waves Lassiter off as he drops the body armor to tear off a piece of his shirt. "Forget about me, stop these assholes!" comes the bark from the chief, gritting his teeth pulls the knife out of his shoulder, with a groan of pain, before wrapping the wound tightly with his torn fabric.
It's only in these moments of pain that he wishes he had some kinda super power.
As Jack charges off, there's ample cover coming from Bond's side of things as he pops up and fires into the smoke cloud, not aiming for anyone in particular but providing enough distraction for Jack to get away without being riddled with bullets.
The order from Lassiter manages to get a glare from James, who never was one to appreciate authority, and he's just snapping back with is own reply on the matter, "He can look after himself." Bauer vs one guy shouldn't exactly be too difficult, especially when there's a few left here.
But Bond does advance, using the heavy smoke to move forward unseen and creeping up to one cloaked cultist who's come forward just a little too far. There's no sound, just Bond coming in from behind, twisting the cultist's neck sharply, and then stepping back, not even bothering to go for cover again. He doesn't see any of them as a threat anymore.
Stalking after the hostile, sweeping each corner and opening as he passes them, Jack found the man frantically trying to force a window open. "DON'T MOVE! HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" After seeing most of his would-be comrades in immortality taken down, the man was in no mood for further resistance, and was soon being led back towards the lobby, hands cuffed behind his back.
When Jack and his prisoner re-entered the lobby the smoke had mostly cleared, and the floor of the funeral home was covered in the bodies of dead, unconscious or surrendering cultists. Jack looked at his team, verifying that they were in one piece. And Bond. "Okay, looks like we're clear. Let's get the prisoners out of here and call in the forensics guys. Good work, people."
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McClane reacts on instinct, firing a few shots at the black cloaked assholes before picking up a relatively light plastic chair near the door with one hand and twisting to throw it through the air in their general direction - using the distraction caused by forcing them to react to that to gain some ground, keeping his head low and trying to place his shots on the dickheads scrambling to dodge it.
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That was two down, and popping his head above the desk Jack could see the man Lassiter had hit in the leg on the ground along with one or two still out of it from the grenade; he was fairly sure some of John's bullets had connected as well. But they were still outnumbered.
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Still, he's managing to be of some help, popping his head up long enough to clock a few before he's dropping back down and blindfiring over the top of his cover casually as a hail of bullets welcome him for showing his face. Maybe he hadn't picked the best spot ever to take cover, but it's located just where he can still watch the other three, so when John drops, James has got a near perfect spot to pop up quickly and fire straight for the little bastard who threw the knife. And a nice head shot too, because he has no intention on letting this lot live.
It's then that someone-- something shows up right out of the corner of his eyes, and just for a second James is turning ( ... )
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"We got a runner!" He yelled as he pulled a smoke grenade from his belt. "I'm going after him, cover me!" And then he threw the grenade, filling the lobby with a thick cloud, and charged out from behind the desk towards the doorway, shooting from the hip.
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It's only in these moments of pain that he wishes he had some kinda super power.
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The order from Lassiter manages to get a glare from James, who never was one to appreciate authority, and he's just snapping back with is own reply on the matter, "He can look after himself." Bauer vs one guy shouldn't exactly be too difficult, especially when there's a few left here.
But Bond does advance, using the heavy smoke to move forward unseen and creeping up to one cloaked cultist who's come forward just a little too far. There's no sound, just Bond coming in from behind, twisting the cultist's neck sharply, and then stepping back, not even bothering to go for cover again. He doesn't see any of them as a threat anymore.
Reply
When Jack and his prisoner re-entered the lobby the smoke had mostly cleared, and the floor of the funeral home was covered in the bodies of dead, unconscious or surrendering cultists. Jack looked at his team, verifying that they were in one piece. And Bond. "Okay, looks like we're clear. Let's get the prisoners out of here and call in the forensics guys. Good work, people."
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