Tracey Ballantine Under Fire

“Trace, you got five hostiles coming in from the west alley.”

urban, Ballantine's Day, traceyTracey took aim at the patrol stalking their way through the alley below.  “Eyes on three.  Who has the other two?”

“They’re inside.  Take cover.”

Tracey couldn’t miss the shot.  She could take out all three in the alley right now.  If the other two were already in the building, she’d be toast before she could get out the third floor window.

Pop, pop, pop.  Chest, shoulder and head.  Three dead in the dusty alley below.

stairsAs expected, she heard the thunder of boots carrying armed men up the stairs behind her.

Those two guys won’t let the death of three teammates go unpunished. 

Tracey turned from the window and took cover behind a large wooden crate in the corner.  The two men blocked the door and let rip a volley of ammunition.  It was so thick she wouldn’t have stood a ghost of a chance without the crate to take cover behind.

She returned enough fire to keep the two men out of the room but she would not be able to hold them off for long.  She had a window to the left and one to the right, but a jump from this height was not an option.  She checked her ammo.

Two drums.  Not much.

“Tracey, status?”

“Under fire.  Third floor, north corner.  Two hostiles in the doorway.”

Bill’s voice came across her radio.  “Copy that, Kicker.  Doug and I are coming in from above.”

Tracey smiled as she heard Bill use the nickname she’d earned in her final test.  With one kick, she sent her foot right through a guy’s femur.  The boys had been calling her “Kicker” ever since.

Can’t kick my way out of this jam.

imagesMike’s voice came across next.  “I’m on the second floor landing.  Standing by.”

The two hostiles outside the door started firing on Tracey again.

She hunkered behind the crate and sprayed the doorway with rounds.

The cavalry will be here soon enough.

Tracey heard a clunk and the room filled with smoke.

Here they come!

The roar of gunfire sounded from both windows.

Ballantine's DayDoug hung Australian style, outside the window, firing two hand cannons.

Bill swung in through the other window and painted the doorway with automatic fire.

Mike’s voice rang out.  “Cease fire!  Cease fire!”

Tom came up on the radio.  “Status check.”

Mike stepped over the two bodies and into the room.  “Two hostiles dead on the inside.  Three dead outside.”

Doug righted himself and swung in from the rope he’d been hanging from.

Tracey stood and checked her gear.  “Nice rescue, boys.”

Doug holstered his handguns.  “Hell, that was a piece of piss.”  He looked over at the two guys now standing by the door.  “You guys need to try harder next time.”

paintball-8, Ballantine's DayThe man with wet, blue paint all over his chest raised his visor.  “Well, we weren’t expecting Spider Man to drop down through the third floor window.

Bill smiled a great, white, toothy grin.  “No, no.  He’s Spider Man.”  He pointed to Doug.  “I’m the Green Hornet.”

The two men walked away and down the stairs.  “Whatever, man.”

Tracey looked at the walls above where she’d been taking cover.  A fresh coat of red paint was dripping down the wall.  She smiled and shouted to the three guys in the alley.  “Nice paint job.  Looks like you losers buy the beer tonight.”