Multi-Dimensional Merchant System

Oliver quickly stripped the radio and earpiece from one of them, he thought the guys name was Mark based on their conversation, before tossing everything else straight into the warehouse. A touch of nervousness escaped him as he tucked the radio in his pocket. He grimaced as he quickly wiped down the earpiece before settling it in place. Two men down, but he knew there were a lot more in the building- not to mention the ones waiting outside.

He pushed aside thoughts of the men watching the exits, knowing he had to deal with what was in front of him first. With half his mind focused on the precise chatter coming across their radios and mentally tracking their movements, he dashed down the stairs as fast as he dared.

Bursting out into the first floor, he avoided the front entry and raced for the back of the building. Skidding to a stop in front of the Utilities Room, Oliver glanced at the deadbolt on the door before pulling a crowbar out of the System Warehouse. Completely ignoring the deadbolt, he wedged the crowbar on the opposite side, roughly where the top door hinge should be before throwing his weight against it.

A small grin split his face at the loud crack that rang out.

The door crashing in and down was louder than he would have liked, but, in his mind, it should have been barely noticeable to anyone nearby thanks to the blaring fire alarm. A small grin flashed across Oliver's face as he tapped the crowbar against the reinforced strike plate in the door frame. “Figures they would reinforce the lock but forget the hinges. Everyone does.”

Tossing the crowbar back in the warehouse, he strode across the small room to the electric panel on the wall. Flipping its door open, he scanned down the neatly labeled switches before finding what he wanted. With a few quick flips, the lights went out on every floor. The strobe of emergency lights and the blaring of the alarm punctuated the new level of chaos he had brought to the night.

Listening to the suddenly increased chatter on the radio, Oliver sighed in relief when whoever was calling the shots ordered them to continue their search for Sophia rather than try to fix the lights- whether limited on time or numbers, he couldn't be sure. But it worked in his favor, and he would take any advantage he could.

Rushing back up the stairs, Oliver re-entered the third floor.

Prowling around the looming shelves, he skirted wide around the team of four that was searching the floor. Reaching the other stairwell on the front of the building, he eased up beside the door and risked a quick glance through its window. The pair guarding this stairwell, in contrast to the two Oliver had already taken out, looked focused and ready despite the chaos in the building. Though they looked relaxed, their was a tension in their shoulders that suggested they were ready to act in an instant.

He knew these two would be trouble. But maybe a new favorite trick would swing things around...

Taking a couple seconds to prepare, Oliver threw open the door and charged out. Swinging his bat one handed at the man watching up the stairs, he flung his other hand in the face of the other man nearby, releasing his secret weapon: a blend of salt, pepper, and garlic powder. The man, caught inhaling to shout a warning, began coughing and heaving instantly.

With his back turned to the door, the other man was unprepared for the bat that slammed into the side of his head. Staggering to the side, he had barely managed to right himself from the blow before Oliver's kick caught him in the groin. The follow up two-handed swing connected solidly with his jaw.

One opponent down, Oliver pivoted on the one remaining. With one hand wiping ineffectually at his eyes to try to clear them and the other pawing for his radio, the man was practically defenseless and went down easily.

Four down, eight to go... To clear the building, at least.

Taking out the next stairwell team went almost identically, boosting Oliver's confidence in his plan- only to have the bubble burst when things went wrong with the last one. Just as he turned from dropping one man unconscious on the floor, the other somehow shouted through the coughing and wheezing and his voice echoed down the stairs... And across the radio.

“S-2... attacked-”

Oliver jabbed the bat into the man's stomach, knocking the breath out of him and cutting off his words. But the damage had been done, as someone immediately started shouting over the radio for the teams to check in. The silence after only the team sweeping the floor responded lay heavy for only a moment.

“What the hell is happening up there?”

Adjusting his plan on the fly, Oliver responded with a dark chuckle. “Sorry, your men can't answer you right now. Would you like me to take a message?”

Creeping through the bookshelves once again, Oliver was closing with the sweeper team when the voice came back over the radio. Tight with anger, the man practically growled out every word. “Radios are compromised. Everyone go silent.”

Oliver moved among the towering bookshelves like a wraith, pulling radios from the warehouse and hiding them among the books in the general area of the team, all while never taking his eyes off of them. He watched as they conferred quietly, likely discussing their next move.

“Hey...”

Just as it looked like they made a decision he spoke, voice echoing out from all the places he had stashed the radios to wash over the group. One of them, gun already in hand and looking nervous, squeezed off a shot out of panicked reflex, causing Oliver to chuckle. “Don't stop on my account. Your boys are looking a little nervous, friend. And uncertain, now that daddy's not coaching them. Is that your call sign?”

Shifting around the group, Oliver searched for an opening or weakness he could exploit while he continue chatting almost casually, hoping to provoke a response from them. “Nah, you seem like the sort to take offense at the homoerotic connotations of that. You probably go by something simple but sinister sounding. Like Edge or Grim. Hey! Maybe I can help you with call signs for your goons!”

“The one with dreads kinda feels like he goes by Spider, all lithe and nimble. Bet he's quick, too.”

Surprised mutters came from the group as their eyes searched among the shelves, trying to find the man stalking them. But Oliver was careful, sticking mostly to the side with the one that fired off the panic shot whose eyes darted around almost without seeing. “Maybe Twitch for the one that just shot a harmless wall? What did the wall ever do to you? You know the maintenance guys are going to have to fix that tomorrow; You're just adding more work to them. Quite rude of you, don't you think.”

Oliver paused his monologue to consider his move. Despite the fear and worry the team was obviously feeling at being stalked by someone that had taken out eight of their comrades, they still maintained their vigilance and organization. He was surprised when the angry growl came back across the radio.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Who am I? Ah, you want to discuss philosophy. That is one of the classic questions, and difficult to answer. It requires a deep understanding of oneself that few people ever truly achieve. I'm really unable to answer as, in many ways, I am still finding myself.”

Oliver wanted to laugh, as he could imagine the man on the other end grinding his teeth at the taunting rebuttal. After a few seconds, the man spoke again. “Ok, smart-ass. You want to play games, then I'll play along. Is this the point where you think you've intimidated us and tell us to run?”

Oliver's dark laughter sent shivers down the backs of the team he was watching. “Why would I want you to run? I'm just starting to enjoy myself. I know you've got more guys. Call them over and send them in.”

“You guys caught me off guard and under prepared, but that's on me for getting cocky. But if you want to keep playing, then I'm game. Because I'm not done with you yet.”

The radio went silent in his hands, and Red stared at it in consternation. A tendril of fear tried to worm its way into him, but he crushed it ruthlessly as he weighed his options carefully. This man, whoever he was, had wreaked havoc on Red's plan. It was supposed to be simple. Attack unexpectedly and with overwhelming force, grab the girl, and get paid. Then get the hell out before the something like the FBI could even get a whiff of them.

Then this asshole fucks everything up. By himself.

Red had done everything he could think of to gather information on Sophia's 'secret' protector. Background checks, bribes, even the mole he managed to put in Mr. Hall's people... All came back with nothing. This guy was completely unknown. A ghost.

And possibly insane, if Red had read him right. Which he was fairly confident about.

Eight men down, with four more being hunted like animals, and Red was growing more and more certain that this job was a failure. At this point, his thoughts turned quickly to mitigating the fallout. With a grimace, he lifted the radio to his lips once again.

“Everyone move to exfil. The mission is scrubbed. Keep it tight and avoid the smart-ass. We're done here.”