Twitter Fiction: Burnpoint

Burnpoint, posted on Twitter, April 1, 2009

My 9mm is so hot it's burning my hand through the Nomex. I'm down to three full clips. That's four rounds for each of them. Here we go.

I'm in, with two rounds left. Coming around that last corner, a stray shot drove brick dust into my left eye. Need to flush it ASAP.

Half a bottle of water for my eye, the rest on a towel to cool the barrel. I'll refill my clips with ammo from the bodies. Everybody <3 9mm.

Server room is on my right. A hand-printed sign in Cyrillic lettering is taped to the door - says it's restricted, and a no smoking area.

I stayed long enough to watch my thermite grenades melt down through the blades in the racks. Funny, those things never make much smoke.

On my way to the roof, I found a woman in the stairwell . Dead, but I didn't kill her. Someone else is working this building, too. Who?

My "colleague" set an impedance trigger on the CFO's office door. Not bad, but it's the COO's files I want. The CFO's just a fall guy.

On the roof, melted rappelling line is smoking. He put time-delay thermite on it so he could pull the rope down after himself. Clever.

I'm not happy about having to rappel down one-handed. If he's waiting for me, he'll be behind that blue van. If not, I'll never catch him.

Here we go - over the edge and jump go go go sniper damn you miss please miss wearing a vest no good plate on his legs go for the feet DOWN!

OK, he missed, you didn't, now just slow down, cowboy ... Q: he had the backing for A+ body armor, so why was he using a cheap POS MAC-10?

What was POP POP POP... ... where was... behind me... "Just because you work alone doesn't mean I do. Thanks for the files, mate." ... no...

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