Haunting Redemption

[Beta Strike-1 Pheonix]

Ben sat silently in his room, tumbling the spent cases he had recovered from the bar where they had met Martin through his fingers. He looked through the sizing of the cases, the percussion caps on the base, and the manufacturing details.
"I can't believe I was careless enough to let my pistols get seen..." He berated himself. The brawl at the bar had left several small injuries on Jingles and Raptor, along with 2 bruises down his own spine from diving over a table. What shook him the most was that anyone of them could have been shot. Thankfully the agents must have had orders to bring any Soldiers in alive. At least, he assumed so. He drew in a steadying breath and pulled his shoulder rig off, slipping the 2 pistols from their holsters and ejecting the magazines. He cleared the chambers and started dismantling the weapons. He popped the slides from the frames, and kicked out the recoil springs and barrel, leaving the slide frame empty, save for the hammers.
"Maybe I should bring something more....refined for the next encounter..." He wondered to himself. He set down the frames of his pistol and shuffled over to the wardrobe. He reached in to the hidden compartment and pulled out a small black box that was hidden in the base of his bag.

[Beta Strike-1 Pheonix]

Ben set the box down in front of himself, the black wood smooth to the touch. He ran a thumb slowly along the boxes latch before flicking it open with a soft click.
"It's been too long..." He thought to himself. He opened the box and pulled out a 7 inch combat knife, the blade segmented along the rear of the blade itself. He gripped the handle loosely, his eye gliding along the weapon, examining it for any damage. The blades edge gleamed as the light danced across it, the reflection like a smile from the Grim Reaper.
"Chris...I swore the Consortium would pay for what they did, and I'll make sure they do," he whispered. He thumbed a small catch on the side of the handle, hidden just underneath the knifes crossguard. The blade sprang in to life, the telescopic edge extending to form a full size, straight-bladed long sword. The blade locked in to place seamlessly, each section leaving a gentle ridge at the joints. Ben hefted the blade, the weapon light in his hands. It had been a year since he last held the weapon, a gift given to him by a friend. Before the Consortium caught and killed him. It was then that Ben had started running guerilla attckas against Consortium targets. He stood up slowly, twisting the blade gently in a figure of 8 around his body, the blade gliding effortlessly through the air.
"I failed you, and I almsot failed again tonight," He thought as he ran through a patterned 4 strike combination. "I thought firearms would be enough...but they can be seen." He continued as he brought the weapon down in an overhead arch, stopping an inch above the floor in a crouched posture, both hands gripping the weapons handle tightly. He stood up slowly, his breath slow and deep as he set the weapon down on the bed. His heart danced a gentle taboo against the inside of his rib cage, his mind alive with too many thoughts from the past

[Beta Strike-1 Pheonix]

Ben turned from the bed and pulled his backpack from the base of the wardrobe, his hand grabbing the material roughly. He heaved the bag on th the bed, the boxes of 9mm hollowpoint rounds rattling loosely as they fell from the boxes they were kept in. The man made a note to sort them out and reload his pistols, but his mind was focused on one thing. He unzipped the main pocket and slipped a hand inside, feeling for the leather strapping that he had stuffed at the base of the bag. His fingers found the rigid material, and pulled it out gently. The customised shoulder rig was nothing more than a jumble of leather straps and buckles, designed to either attach to the man's pistol rig, or be worn over the top of his 5:11 base layer.
Let's see if I still remember how to do this... He thought to himself as he untwisted 2 of the straps. He pulled his shirt off and threw it into the bag, adjusting his base layer, before throwing the straps over his shoulders and fastening the clips at the sides of his ribcage. He pulled the material tight so the rig was pressed as tight as he could manage across his back. He unfastened the scabbard that sat on the front left shoulder side and lifted the sword from the bed. He flipped the switch again and the sword retracted itself back into the size of a combat knife.
"Chris...I'll make sure that no-one else is lost...not while I can help it," He swore silently under his breath as he slipped the kniffe into it's scabbard and fastened it. He glanced out the window, seeing first light dance across the rooftops. He drew in a short breath and grabbed his ipod, running the headphones through the rigging and slipping the small gadget in to an inbuilt pocket on his base layer.
I need to clear my head..." He finally said to himself. He opened the window slowly and climbed out onto the ledge. He pulled the glass shut again, before leaping to the drainpipe on the building opposite and scaling to the roof, before disappearing into the city