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» Defector - Chapter 2

Grey gave the hint of a deepened smirk.

**heh, I've never failed a mission before, what makes this guy think I'm gonna do it now? It's not the Allies lucky day just yet.**
Grey left the small compartment with an easy stride, heading to the docking bays for a smoke.
He stood on the old wooden bay, fumbling through his coat pocket, insearch of his Irish Imports, Swisher Sweetes. He finally got a grasp on them, clipping the boxes' red flap open and withdrawing one of the bark colored cigarettes. He glanced over the area, winds picking up and creating small whirlwinds through strapped down tarp.

He smoothly moved the cigarette between his upper and lower lip, the natural stick barely holding the cigarette in place. Grey then searched his other pocket, for the German zippo he acquired a few years back. The silver texture was still looking new, but the Allied insignia was wearing hard, the coloration wearing badly.

Grey toppled the head of the zippo, the noise echoing softly in the stale, musty atmosphere.The head revealed the flaming ember and then easing it towards the moldy end of the sweete. The tip began to ash, giving the scent of vanilla as the smoke risen. Grey only had time for one puff, then the low eerie noise of jets overthrew the silent, wishwashing sounds. Grey didn't have time to think, he instantly jumped for cover behind a group of cargo boxes.

The jets rocketed by, unleashing flames of fury upon the terrain, ripping apart the old dock, shooting splinters of debris randomly. Grey watched as men jumped off of the sub as it began to dive, the water succumbing over the top. He then turned his attention to the dreadnaughts, whose personnel were just begginning to aim the turrets, but it was too late, the damage was done, and the jets were gone. This would greatly delay Greys' mission, maybe indefinitely, but there was one thing that greatly pondered him.

Those jets, they wouldn't know that anyone is here, much less know to fire upon them. Even if they did accidentally fall upon this area, radar would have caught them before they arrived. Something was fishy, an inside job most definitely, someone was working for the Allies here, and it was bound to clear up the mess.

Grey pushed his weight onto his right palm for support to pull himself up. He was pissed. The damn jets made him lose his Zippo, something irreplaceable. Grey looked around, not much damage. Some dreadnaughts with a few bents and dings, something easily able to be fixed within a couple hours. The only major damage done was the dock. It was literally torn apart, but was still somewhat eligible to walk through. Grey heaved the wooden debri out of his way as he walked to the subs last location.

**Damn. It's already dived and Im sure they ain't comin' back up any time soon. Better use this time to find the dog in this place.**

Grey peered down into the deep blue waters, frabulent bubbles still surfacing from the sub. He glanced back across the dock to the control tower. The skinny tall building seemed eerie to the whole area. Someone was up there, more then likely the spy was nesting in the top level, just finishing sabotaging the radar or calling in more air support. Grey stumbled his way off of the deck, ever so often studying the tinted windows for any movements. He walked for around 3, maybe 4 minutes at the most until he reached the door, security card acquired to enter. Figured. The only man to know what was most likely going on couldn't't even get into his own buildings. After all, there shouldn't be any reason Grey needed to enter the room anyways.

Grey stood in a quabbling moment. He wasn't going to put up with petty takes. He withdrew his HK, aiming it at the electronic switch pad, then completely destroyed it. The electronic lock short wired and released itself, the door causing a slight tilt from unlocking.

Grey switched the HK from his right to left hand, raising near his torso as he opened the door slowly with the other hand. The door made an irritating high pitch draw as the door edged away from the bolts. The room was barely lit at all, only the outside light giving way through the blinds. Grey took his first step in, softly, surveying the inside for an movements. None. He felt his way along the wall, finding a switch. He flipped it up, the fluorescent lights flickering on, going full blast after a few seconds. The room, it was a small compact lobby, furniture scarce, papers wildly scattered. Something was wrong, the room wouldn't be in this kind of shape. Grey then noticed some papers near a desk wiped with blood, a trail leading behind the desk. Grey looked around no one was there, he quietly tip toed his way towards the desk, safely glancing around the desk a few twitched times. There was nothing there, but the blood trail was larger, more like a pool. Grey followed his eyes under the desk, there it was. A skinny Russian man, probably a technician of some sort. His neck was etched with a faint color of blue and black, a lead. The man had been strangled for some bit, looked like it was then snapped. This was not a sign of an insider, but an infiltration.

**Ohh great. If this gets public, then everyone will think that the Russian Security is nothing! Ehhhrrr..This is something I do not need on my plate!**

Grey stood up, his anger was carrying him. He wanted to find this "infiltrator" and kill him, now. He pondered, the stairs or the elevator. He jumped to take the stairs up instead, the elevators mechanisms would make too much noise, alerting the man. He would only hope the man didn't use the elevator.

Grey opened the "Emergency Exit, use only incase of Fire" door, seeing long, narrow black stairs coiling over each other one after another. He heaved a heavy sigh, then started to make his way up the stairs. After about a minute, he figured that he could begin jumping steps to save time, falling his knees as he made impact to soften the noise. This greatly contributed and Grey was blasting by the stairs, although his breath began to weigh a little.

It took about 5 minutes till Grey reached the top floor, he began to use every muscle in his legs to walk his way like a ballerina. He looked at the bland, white door, no windows for some scouting in the room. This was not good, he didn't know if he would be walking into a room filled with tons of men, or just one guy who was a fool. But this was what his job was, he had to make the right decision, this one being to open the door. Grey grasped his HK with a full grip of his left hand, folding his right over the odd shape handle. He moved his body along the door, planting his left foot on the hard tiled floor.


This story wasn't finished unfortunately..

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