"So, when, exactly do we hose everyone?" a figure with short-blonde hair and youthful features asked.
"When Control says so," replied the older figure with brown hair and stubble along his face.
"This is interesting, the Rogue Marine taking orders from someone of lower rank. When are you going to let me do that?"
"I have you down for the fifth of NEVER, Ferret," Marine replied.

He leaned back in his chair, his M4 at his side. Marine's Team One was tasked with playing the part of the "bad guys". Control, actually just a group of volunteers from Team Two, were narrating the simulation. Team One wasn't wearing their regular mission outfits, but mismatch pairs of forrest camoflage uniforms with a mix of white and black shirts. A couple of people, like Ferret, were wearing bandanas. There were a total of eight hostages, which were a mix of the remaining Team Two members and a few members of the maintenance crew for Oversight's training level, Parris Island. Since "the Island" was an underground area that was over a hundred yards long, and containing a mix of debris and water pools, maintaining the place was a monumental task, Marine liked to get them involved in as many little "extra" and "fun" things as possible as a way of showing appreciation. Overall, it made for one of the most untimate training experiences around, as well as the best paintball arena.

Marine, acting as the defacto leader of the terrorists, and acting as such, had all the hostages located in a central area; a storage room on the second level of the structure, a place with no windows or viewports that would be visible from the outside. He was leaning back in a chair, between two windows on the back side of the house. His six-man was all over the house, as befit a group of unorganized terrorists...plus one suprise outside. A small, black, retangualr-shaped portable radio in his right pocket started beeping. He had two such radios, one that let Control talk to him, the other to talk to his squadmates. He pulled out the 'Squadmates' radio, and thumbed the talk button, "One."
"Null here. In position."
"Copy," he replied, and pocketed the radio. Ferret, lounging on a couch, turned to face his friend, "They're in for a big suprise."
Marine smiled, "Yes, yes indeed they are."
"Control to T Group," squaked the other radio. Marine quickly pulled it out.
"T Lead."
"Need you guys to give the impression that the negotiations are going bad."
"Will do. Out."
He turned to Ferret, "Showtime."
Ferret stood. Grabbing his rifle on the way, he headed for the room where the 'hostages' waited. He opended the door, and saw them all palying cards.
"Alright guys, pack it up. Showtime. Shiva, you're my victim. Let's go."
His fiancee got up, and walked over to join him. Ferret shut the door, and both walked over to a corner near the wall that hid them from the nearest window.
"You ready?" Ferret asked.
"I'm always up got a good game of 'rough house'."
"As long as you I get to do the same to you. Let's do this," he said, as he slung his rifle around his shoulder, and pulled out his sidearm. He checked the weapon to ensure that there wasn't a "live" round in the magazine or hold. The laser module that would signal his shots made the pistol heavier than usual, but was desgined to look like the real laser-aiming module/flashlight attachment that was normally there. He placed the barrel of his pistol on her right temple, and wrapped his other arm around her. Together, they moved towards the window in the front of the house.

Marine had entered the room shortly after Ferret and Shiva did, but instead of walking, had crawled into the room so that he wouldn't be noticed by the snipe he knew had to be out there. He was now sitting along the wall with the "Control" radio in hand.

"Ferret, shut her up. I'm about to call them." Ferret pushed the gun into his fiancee's temple, and she stopped her screaming. Marine met her eyes with his. He could easily see through the "terror" in them, and knew that she was planning something. He pulled out his pistol, and pointed it at her. With the other hand, he lifted the radio to his mouth. "Listen, pig, we're about to grease this bitch. Where the fuck is our money!?!"
"It's coming, but I can't guarentee a speedy delivery if you kill any of them."
"I don't care if I have to kill all of them! I want that money!"

Shiva took that as her cue. She let out another scream. It startled Marine, despite the fact that he was anticipating it. Out of reflex, he fired. The gun rocked, and emitted a flash, but didn't throw out any lead slugs. Instead, when the trigger came back, it hit a switch which sent out a laser pulse. Shiva's vest registered the hit, and vibrated strongly, advising her that her life had ended.

Cypher, playing the part of Control, noticed the kill on his display. He was immediately suprised by the fact that there was such a loud scream on his channel, and that Shiva was 'killed' by Marine. He reached for the radio control when things started happening. Shiva, acting her part, dropped herself to the floor in a controlled manner, as to prevent real injury. Ferret immediately dropped as well, attempting to use the hostage as a 'shield'. Cobra saw them both drop, and fired. The gun seemed impossibly loud, and the flash from the 7.62mm barrel was bright. Ferret saw the flash as he went down. He held his breath, waiting for the inevitable vibrations telling him that his life was over. He was still waiting when he hit the ground. He lied there for what seemed like an eternity, but it didn't vibrate.

"Ferret! You okay!" called Marine.
"Yeah," he replied, his voice supirisingly light.
"Get out of here! Link up with the rest of the group and prepare for invaders!"
Ferret was already crawling out of the room as he replied, "Roger!"
Marine swore at the situation. In the span of five seconds, his carefully crafted plan started to fall to pieces. He pulled out the radio for his squad, and hit the talk button. "One to Null."
"Null."
"See any targets?"

Ghost, acting as Null, was seated off the to left in the back of the building. He had one of the modified M4's in his hands, and he could clearly see the images of Bear and Medic through his scope. They showed up as green figures, but he could still fgure out who they were. "Affirmitive. Request permission to take them down."
"Confirmed. Take 'em."
Ghost switched the level on his rifle to single-round shooting. He leveled his carbine at Bear first, and stroked the trigger. He saw them both turn instantly, but Bear's figure slightly jiggled. Medic was raising her rifle, but Ghost was already sighted in. He fired again, and she was "dead" as well. Ghost smiled, and was already moving laterally towards the house.

Gunny heard the shots, and a quick call to Control confirmed that Bear and Medic were out. "Cobra, do you see the shooter?"
"Negetive. I saw the shots, though. Looking for the shooter now."
"Very well. We're going to make entry, stand by to provide cover."
"Roger."
He motioned to his team, and they all got up in a half-crouch, and started making for the side of the house. Chameleon was watching that side and saw three figures coming towars them. Since she was taked to indoor warfare, she only carried a modified MP-5, but she knew it would do the job. SHe pulled the trigger back and sprayed "bullets" at the incoming team. She all of them stop and sign in annoyment. The voice of Control came over all their radios next, "Exercise terminated. All personnel, report to Briefing Room One."

All of them sat in the front row, and Rogue, still dreesed as a terrorist, was standing on the platform. The flatscreen just got done showing a replay of the simulated hostage situation, and how it went for Team Three.

"As we can see, with the demise of Team Three's two assaulter elements, the mission was a failure. In real life, this would mean the loss of payment from our client, a serious dent in our reputation, and the loss of five, possibly six of our highly trained specialists. Not to mention the money invested in equipment and weapondry. However, to be fair, not all terrorists have our kind of training, and the rescuse of the hostages was not the primary mission objective. I want all of you to write up a report based on your feelings about what went good, bad, and what could have been improved. I expect those reports on my desk at 1600 hours day after tomorrow. Dismissed, except for you Ferret."