Ed moved out of the building, one hand hovered over his gun, the other tightly gripping the arm of Malcolm White, the university dropout that had planted two bombs at his ex-schools graduation, planning to take out as many of the people he blamed for his failures in life as possible.

As they reached the van, Malcolm turned to Ed with a cruel grin placed upon his face.

"Congratulations on figuring me out. You SRU cops always do it seems." Malcolm chuckled. "Must feel nice to be responsible for saving the lives of hundreds of people, hmm?"

"Be quiet, Malcolm." Ed moved to open the van door, Wordy moving in to push the criminal in so he could be transferred back to the police station for processing.

"A real shame you won't be able to do the same for your techie, eh?" Malcolm's teeth were bared in a cruel grin. "Spike, was that what he called?"

The team froze, before a second passed and Ed had Malcolm pinned up against the SRU van, his gun pressed against Malcolm's throat with a furious gaze upon the senior sniper's face.

"What do you mean?" Ed snarled, spittle flying from his mouth as he leaned up against the lowlife. "What are you going to do?!"

"Well," Malcolm wrenched an arm free from Ed, and glanced down at his watch - Wordy checked his as well, 18:59. "I suppose I can tell you." Malcolm flashed a grin over Ed's shoulder, eyes narrowing as he met with Greg's. "I don't believe he's discovered the second bomb yet. And he doesn't have enough time to get out before it blows."

"Spike!" Greg was immediately on his comm, the team leader whirling around to jog for the entrance of the convention center as he spoke. "There's a second bomb! Get out of the Spike, there's no time!"

"Boss, I see i-"

Spike's voice came across the comms for a few short moments before his side of the line disappeared into the abrupt sounds of static.

A second later, and echoing 'boom' hit Team One's ears, coupled with the screams of the civilians gathered past the police line as shattered glass and bits of metal and stone rained through the air from where an explosion on the third floor had just occurred.

An explosion.


Team One stared in horror for a brief moment, before the entirety of their team took off simultaneously, boots pounding glass and dust-covered pavement as they ran towards the entrance to the convention center. Towards their teammate. Their friend.

Spike had made quick work of the bomb Malcolm had left in the catwalk above the graduation stage and was sweeping the final rooms of the third floor, when Greg's voice crackled through his comm.

"Spike!" Greg's voice was stable, but Spike could hear the urgency and concern in his tone, clear as day. "There's a second bomb! Get out of the Spike, there's no time!"

Spike moved to respond, making a step backward to exit the room and make his way out of the building, when his eyes caught sight of a red blinking light, apart of something that was tucked away under a carelessly - or not so carelessly - thrown jacket, only visible because the jacket's arm had shifted when Spike brushed past it on his way to exit the room.

Spike quickly squatted by the item, carefully and gently lifting the jacket from the object, and throwing it to the side.

Before him was a bomb. The second bomb.

"Boss, I have i-" Spike rose, backing away and moving to outside the room as he reported his findings, but he hadn't even finished a sentence when the bomb went off.

He registered a loud noise, felt himself get thrown through the air, and then Spike slammed into something and his world went black.

As Spike opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling above where his crumpled body lay, he could only bring himself to let out an agony-filled moan, pain covering his entire body.

The explosion had hit the demolitions and tactical technician hard, having enough force go have pitched him to the other side of the open dining area that had made up the third floor of the convention hall, leaving the man crumpled over a table like a puppet that had had its strings abruptly severed, surrounded by debris and settling dust, lights flickering and sparks flying through the air due to the damage the bomb had done. Spike thanked his lucky stars that it hadn't been a larger bomb, if it had been - he'd be dead.

Everything hurt. Spike was fairly certain his left leg was broken due to the odd angle it was bent at, crushed beneath his body weight, and the excruciating pain that exploded throughout the limb whenever he shifted or moved around was also a fairly helpful clue. His arm and side were also scraped up to high hell, Spike assumed to be a cause of the many shards of glass that surrounded his current resting place, sparkling in the dim light as he craned his head to look around.

The pool of blood that was slowly spreading across the beautiful and now-ruined white tablecloth was probably supposed to be worrying. Spike couldn't tell where the blood was coming from, but it certainly wasn't a small amount.

As the ringing in his ears faded, Spike became aware of another sound in the now almost silent space he was in. A low tone that changed, shifted, grew louder almost as if someone was yelling...

His comm!

Spike let out a soft curse as his hand brushed past his ear, finding nothing there. It must have flown off during the explosion. But if Spike could hear it... it must have fallen close by.

Spike took a moment to identify which direction the noises were coming from, before looking to his left and seeing the small device lying only a couple of feet away, covered in dust and it looked like the casing was cracked - but the device still seemed to work.

Spike clenched his teeth as he leaned over, straining his hands and reaching for the crackling device, a strangled groan escaping his lips as his most likely broken leg was jostled.

Spike thanked every deity he had ever heard of as his fingers brushed against the small comm device, the man pulling it towards himself and sighing in relief as he placed it into his ears, and heard the voices of his teammates.

"Hey, guys," Spike spoke, before coughing on the dust that floated through the air around him.

"Spike!" Ed's voice, accompanied by the gasps of surprise of the rest of Team One, crackled over the comm. "Where are you? Did you get out okay?"

"No," Spike grimaced as his voice cracked, his throat sore and hoarse as he spoke. "I had only made it just outside the room when it blew. I got tossed into the dining area, I'm fairly certain that I have a broken leg, and I'm bleeding quite a bit."

"Okay, okay." Greg may have meant it to sound as if he was keeping Spike calm, but it sounded more as if he was trying to keep himself calm. "We're making our way through the wreckage now, nobody else was injured when it went off so we should be able to get to you fairly quickly. Just hang on, alright Spike?"

"Alright, Greg. Keep the team safe, I'll be getting nice and cozy up here."

As the comm clicked off, Spike gingerly moved his abused limbs into a more comfortable position, before leaning his head back and gently closing his eyes.

He could rest easy now, his team was coming to get him.