There’s a light casting from somewhere ahead that makes it easy to see which turns to take in the corridors of the basement.  Just follow the light.  We get to the room where the light is coming from & it’s a room about thirty feet by forty feet.  There’s a freight elevator that could probably hold two cars across from the hallway & there are two guys standing guard.  They’re wearing police uniforms & flak jackets.  One is about six inches taller & more muscular, so I take my rifle & shoot him in the head & shoot the shorter one three times, once in the stomach & once at the joints of each shoulder.  The shoulder shots break his collarbone sending his arms behind him like useless wings.
    Steve’s yelling, “What the fuck are you doing!” as they’re falling to the ground.
    The guy with the wings lands with both arms behind him & is bleeding fast & screaming like a bitch.  There’s not enough time to calm him down to talk before he’ll bleed to death, so I kick him in the head to shut him up while I pull my knife out & shove it through his eye to kill the brain.
    “Jesus-fucking-Christ!  What the fuck was that man?”
    I just turn & stare at Steve while I take my coat off  & replace it with the winged guard’s flak jacket.
    “Fuck! How are we supposed to know what we’re up against down there?”  He takes his pint out & takes a shot.  “Jesus.”
    “Here’s the key to the elevator,” I say pulling it out of the pocket of the winged guard.
    “So much for a delicate touch,” Steve says pulling out a submachine gun we found when we took out the topside of Chicago.  He grabs the vest off the other guard & we get in the elevator.

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