Rottweiler

Finding Jay

It didn't take long to find the surveillance room after putting down the Italian. The man who looked over the cameras didn't notice him, dying with a single bullet to the back of the head.

"Okay, let's see about -" Gunnar dropped into the man's seat before the collection of monitors, which displayed various camera footage. He trailed off when his eyes were drawn to one particular monitor that displayed a large open-plan office. Derek Keyes stood behind a long desk, spinning a ridiculously souped-up glock around his index finger. Across the desk from him were two men, two men holding up Jay Halstead between them as he hung there like a dead weight.

Gunnar smiled, he new that tactic. The team had used it a great number of times. Weigh the enemy down, tire them out until you build up enough energy to start your attack.

If Jay wasn't fighting yet, then Gunnar had some time. It gave him time to reload his guns and return them to his holsters, to wipe the blood off his knife and return it to his pocket, to carefully examine every angle of the footage in Keyes' office to find out where it was and how to enter without being noticed.

The office was downstairs. He could see the marble entryway through one of the large arched entrances to the room. Gunnar wondered if they had watched him pass by.

With new resolve, Gunnar rose from the chair. He fell back into it with a thump, legs weak from blood loss and pain. He grunted, head falling back to look at the ceiling, wound on his throat tearing a little wider, as he roiled in his agony for a moment. There was a chance that Gunnar wasn't going to make it, but that didn't mean Jay had to die.

Gunnar braced himself and heaved up out of the chair with a low growl to convey the sheer agony of the situation. He stayed standing, just barely, unable to straighten up completely and relying heavily on his right leg. With a heavy sigh, Gunnar walked out of the room. He tried his hardest not to limp as that would increase the volume of his footsteps, which would alert people to his location.

He was in a bad way when he finally found his way back to the stairs. His head was fuzzy, his mouth was full of blood, which had to be his, and he was starting to get cold. Gunnar shivered as he fell against the bannister on the landing. Unfortunately, he failed to realise how close he was to the top of the left staircase, losing his footing and plummeting down them. He fell heavily on his right side, air rushing out of his lungs with a wheezing sound that alerted him to the fact that his ribs had broken.

Gunnar lay still, body screaming in agony, taking inventory of his injuries. He had broken fingers and broken ribs. He bled from the slices on his chest and throat, bleeding heavier from the bullet wound in his  shoulder and the stab wound on his thigh, there was a split in his lip and a small cut across his cheekbone from his tumble down the stairs. He was definitely concussed, which only worsened the effects of the blood loss.

Slowly, he moved to sit against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, groaning as his body ached and burned at the movement. He was dying. Gunnar was dying, and Jay was waiting for his help in the other room. What a joke.

He turned his head to the right and spat out a mouthful of bloody spittle, cringing at the wet slap it made against the floor. Then, he swung his legs around until they were straight out in front of him. He stared at them hard. He knew that his next move was going to hurt, but that meant nothing to Gunnar because Jay was so close.

And, so, Gunnar pulled his knees to his chest in a single quick movement and pushed backwards and upwards against the wall to get back on his feet. His left hand clenched around the wound on his thigh to apply more pressure and try to slow down the bleeding, his fully loaded sig in his right hand.

Gunnar rocked forward off the wall, heaving his left leg off the ground to take his first step. He was slow, stumbling, and unsteady, but he was moving.