Inside the armory, Bobby began distributing weapons to the group. With guns finally in their hands, the terrorists were no longer toothless tigers. Watching his men equip themselves, Staz sneered. Honestly, the Secret Service's arsenal was underwhelming—this was the force tasked with guarding the White House, and all they had were MP5s, a few M4A1s, and some FN P90s.
Once everyone had donned their body armor, Staz gave orders. "Bobby, take a team to the Air Control Center. The rest of you, with me to the Surveillance Room."
With that, the terrorists split into two squads, led by Staz and Bobby respectively, following their meticulously laid plan to complete the final stage of occupying the White House.
Staz's reference to the Air Control Center meant the defensive system control room located on the top floor of the White House. From there, they could access and manage the White House's air defense systems. It also connected directly to the roof, which was usually manned by rooftop security personnel.
At the elevators, Bobby led his squad inside while Staz took the stairs. Since they hadn't fully secured the White House yet, everything had to be done swiftly—before the defensive forces could respond.
Inside the elevator, Bobby shot out the overhead surveillance camera with a single round. The surveillance team might've already spotted them, but perhaps the alert hadn't reached other departments yet—and they had moles on the inside.
Just as Bobby suspected, the surveillance team had already noticed the terrorists' activity. But whether trying to reach the armory or the air control center, no one responded—their communications were clearly severed.
Loud banging came from the door. The staff inside the monitoring room turned pale as they looked toward the source of the noise, then quickly glanced back at their screens. The monitors showed one squad of terrorists waiting just outside the door.
Staz tried the door several times, then signaled. One of his men pulled a breaching charge from his bag—taken from the armory—and planted it at the door's frame.
BOOM!
A blast of smoke, the door flew open. Gunfire rang out inside the surveillance room. Panicked and poorly trained, the staff fired blindly toward the doorway without even seeing their attackers.
Calmly, Staz pulled a pin and rolled a flashbang inside. A loud bang and burst of light stunned everyone. His men surged forward and gunned down the confused defenders. The Surveillance Room was now under their control.
Meanwhile, Bobby's team easily captured the Air Control Center. From there, they climbed the steel ladders in the corner up to the White House roof.
The rooftop snipers and spotters, unaware of the events below, were still assisting ground security by picking off terrorists. But before they realized what was happening, they were shot dead by the terrorists. The skies above the White House now belonged to White Mask.
Without needing further orders, the attackers pushed the bodies aside and took over their positions, turning the snipers' rifles on the lawn below. They began assisting the terrorists on the ground by taking out White House defenders one by one.
BANG—BANG—BANG—
The unmistakable sound of sniper rifles echoed. Plainclothes agents and Capitol police fell like dominoes. They had been under immense pressure even before; it was only thanks to the snipers that they'd held back the assault. Now, under fire from both front and rear, they were decimated. White House defenses were crumbling.
BOOM!
A massive explosion tore a gap in the iron fence lining the lawn. The previously scattered terrorists finally had a breach to exploit. Though they had been exchanging fire, the fence had kept them out—until now. The breach shattered the fragile balance, and terrorists poured toward it from all directions. The White House was being invaded.
RATATATATA—
Outside the fence, police trying to support the defenders were immediately pinned down by the heavy machine guns on the armored trucks. The twin M2HBs provided full suppressive cover for the advancing foot soldiers.
WHOOSH—
A white trail streaked across the air as a terrorist fired an RPG at one of the remaining defensive positions on the lawn. Then came a second rocket, and a third. Every White House defensive position was destroyed.
One RPG gunner knelt on the lawn, shoulder-launcher aimed again—but was shot down by a police officer outside the fence. That officer was instantly taken out by another terrorist. A second gunman picked up the launcher and resumed the bombardment.
The situation deteriorated rapidly. The lawn still had many agents and police, but they were vastly outnumbered. Every shot they fired faced return fire from a force several times their size.
…
Meanwhile, several blocks away, the first two armored trucks—initially parked at the roadblock—finally engaged their foes.
They had chosen this road with precision. Marines, dispatched as part of the emergency protocol, were ambushed as soon as they appeared. The heavy machine guns opened up immediately—those trucks weren't just waiting; they were establishing a first line of defense. This road was the fastest route for the Marines to reach the White House.
From the moment the Marines arrived, the twin M2HBs never ceased firing. The defenders were buying time. Every minute delayed increased their comrades' chances of victory. And they were willing to die to do it.
Their efforts paid off. According to the contingency plan, the Marine Corps should've reached the White House in 15 minutes after the alert. But these two trucks had stalled them for a full five minutes.
Realizing they couldn't break through quickly, the Marine commander opted for a detour. He understood now: the terrorists were trying to delay reinforcements. Priority had to be the White House, even if it meant changing course.
…
Inside the White House, the Surveillance Room blared with alarms. Infrared sensors on the lawn had all been triggered—but no one cared anymore. The battle had entered its final stage. With most lawn defenders eliminated, and after sacrificing over a dozen of their own, the terrorists charged the White House entrance for the final assault.
The remaining agents were well-trained, but poorly armed. Most only had P229 service pistols or a few MP5s. The terrorists, by contrast, were fully equipped—automatic rifles, sidearms, body armor, grenades, RPGs.
"RPG!!"
Someone screamed. A streak of white fire slammed into the main entrance. The explosion left agents mangled, limbs torn. The few who survived screamed in agony—only to be finished off by approaching terrorists with cold efficiency.
Staz's squad joined in from behind, flanking the defenders. The last Secret Service officers were gunned down even as they called for backup.
After securing the entrance, the terrorists didn't immediately storm inside. They began fortifying their position. Every body—wounded or dead—was given a final bullet to the head.
With the entrance secured, the White House had effectively fallen. From the rooftop, Bobby stepped up to the flagpole and pulled down the American flag. He lit it on fire and threw it off the edge.
The burning flag drifted through the air.
Like the White House itself, it was falling from grace.
(End of Chapter)
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