The Attack

We were inside this weapon room, or some sort of locker room, where a bunch of agents got their utility belts, vests, and even guns as they walked out of the room. Some of the agents looked like they had guns strapped to their hips, but most of them had utility belts around their waist and vests on their backs as they walked into another room.

"I hope this works," Malachi muttered as he watched everyone else prepare for the mission. He held a gun in his hand, and it was covered in what appeared to be gold and silver paint as he looked at it with fear in his eyes. "I hope this works, because if it doesn't—we're all dead."

"Let's try to be more positive about it. How about that?" September suggested, but none of us—or me was feeling that optimistic, as we stood there with our weapons strapped to our bodies.

"Are you guys ready?" B asked as we looked at him, and he nodded. "Then let's move."