Chapter 4 - The Blackout
CLACK.
A miles-wide radius of the Crestview hills suddenly plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
The streetlights extinguished instantly. The bright halogen floodlights along the Vance estate walls died, leaving the massive mansion looming like a dark, silent shadow against the night sky.
Inside the estate, backup generators were supposed to kick in within five seconds. But Bravo Team had already severed the auxiliary fuel lines twenty minutes prior.
A low, panicked shouts began to echo from inside the estate security booth near the main gate.
"What the hell happened to the lights?!" a guard yelled, stepping out of the small guard house with a high-powered tactical flashlight in his hand. "Hey! Call the power company!"
"Generator's not starting!" another guard shouted from inside.
I walked out from the tree line, my boots stepping silently onto the paved driveway.
The guard with the flashlight swept his beam across the dark road, the bright white light suddenly landing directly on my face.
"Who's there?!" the guard barked, his hand instantly dropping to the holster at his hip. "This is private property! Stop where you are or I will open fire!"
I didn't stop. I kept walking at a slow, deliberate pace, my suppressed pistol held comfortably at my side.
"Hey! I said stop!" the guard screamed, unclipping his holster and pulling his semi-automatic pistol.
PFFT. PFFT.
Two silent rounds fired from my weapon before the guard could even raise his barrel.
The high-velocity rounds struck him cleanly in the center of his chest. He collapsed onto the asphalt without making a sound, his flashlight rolling across the ground, illuminating the bloody tires of his security golf cart.
The second guard inside the guard house gasped, reaching frantically for the emergency alarm button on the console. "Security breach! We have a—"
I stepped up to the tempered glass window of the guard house and fired a single round through the glass, hitting him directly between his eyes. He slumped over the control desk, his arm dropping lifelessly across the broken alarm panel.
I walked up to the heavy iron gates, pulled a small magnetic breaching charge from my tactical belt, and slapped it against the heavy mechanical lock.
"Breaching," I whispered into my comms.
POP.
A localized, silent shockwave blew the heavy lock to pieces. The grand iron gates swung open with a low, metal groan.
"Alpha Team, move in," Miller ordered into his headset.
Four shadows glided past me through the open gate, moving with lethal precision up the long, winding brick driveway toward the main manor.
Ahead of us, three private security guards were running down the grand marble steps of the house, clutching tactical shotguns and flashlights, panic evident in their confused shouts.
"Who's out there?!" one of the guards screamed into the darkness, sweeping his flashlight beam across the lawn. "Arthur! Get inside the panic room! We have an intruder!"
PFFT. PFFT. PFFT.
Miller and Alpha One fired simultaneously from the shadows of the hedges.
All three security guards dropped instantly, their bodies sliding down the marble steps, their shotguns clattering uselessly against the stone.
Total elapsed time since the blackout: seventy-two seconds.
The private security detail was completely neutralized.
I stepped onto the bottom step of the grand marble staircase, stepping over the pool of blood spreading from the lead guard's body.
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The massive oak front doors of the Vance manor stood ten feet in front of me. Inside, I could hear frantic shouting, glass breaking, and the terrified voice of my father-in-law, Arthur Vance.
I reached out, taking the heavy brass handle of the front door, and pushed it open.
