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National Archives
"Dude! We're gonna steal the Declaration of Independence!"
Roque rolled his eyes. "Again with this bullshit?"
Jensen laughed. "Don't harsh my buzz, Roque. Don't be Sean Bean."
Roque gave him a look. "Do I look like Sean Bean?"
"You're acting like Sean Bean! You are totally gonna take the Declaration of Independence away from me! And find the treasure! And I'm just gonna be Nic Cage!" Jensen's eyes got wide. "Please don't make me be Nic Cage! The bees! Oh god, the beeeeeees!"
Clay held up his hand for silence as they reached the door. A low howl echoed outside.
Smithsonian Natural History Museum
"Like hell I'm gonna let you take it," the curator said, her voice low and harsh. "We've got a fucking vault down here, remember?"
Clay sighed and rubbed at his face. "Ma'am, we have our orders."
"Oh my God, fuck your orders, sir," she spat back. "Fucking panic in the streets, the entire museum under threat, and you're here just to get the fucking Hope Diamond?"
Clay gave her a look. "Ma'am, we just..."
"You know what? Fine. Fuck it." She threw the diamond at him. "I hope it really is fucking cursed, you know."
Clay sighed. "Yeah, it'd figure."
Capitol Rotunda
"Shooting up Congress should not feel this good," Roque said as he reloaded.
Pooch chuckled, tossing him another mag. "Beats goin' to the White House."
Roque made a face as he caught it. "Don't make jokes about that, man. If Jensen and Cougar don't get this fucking Trumbull..." He grimaced and looked towards the rotunda. "Where are those motherfuckers..."
"We got it!" Jensen yelled, running down the capitol steps. Cougar followed behind him, carrying a rolled up piece of canvas. "And we really could use some fucking backup right now!"
Roque grinned and readied his weapon. "Ready?"
Pooch grinned back.
National Gallery
"You got it, Cougs?" Clay said, barely a whisper into his mic.
"Got it," Cougar whispered. He tucked the da Vinci into the carrier on his back and carefully made his way through the galleries.
He turned into one room and stopped, staring at the painting on the wall. Then he saw the zeke stumbling in the corner, facing away
His hands were sweaty, and he nearly dropped his knife when the zeke sniffed the air, but he cut quickly, pulling the Renoir away.
"Cougar, report!" Clay's voice crackled. The zeke snarled and looked at him.
Cougar swore and ran.
National Portrait Gallery
"Fuck fuck fuck," Jensen breathed, pressed tightly against the wall. "Clay, negative on Lansdowne," he whispered into his mic. "Too many zekes between position and target."
"Pooch, can you cause a distraction?"
"Negative, sir. 10 zekes in front of target and at least 50 in general vicinity. We distract the 10 in front, and the 50'll come after us too."
Jensen swore again, pressing tighter against the wall as one stepped close to him. "Don't think it's gonna happen, Colonel."
Clay sighed. "Right, fall back."
Roque's voice crackled over the headset. "Fuck Washington anyway. Got the picture of Douglass instead."
National Air and Space Museum
The evac was opposite the Air and Space Museum. Smoke billowed around them as buildings burned up and down Independence Avenue.
Pooch looked over at the museum and stared at one of the hangars. "Aw man..." he sighed longingly.
Everyone turned to look, and Pooch sighed again. "If only..."
"Not on our list, Pooch," Clay said, his voice low.
Cougar clapped his hand on Pooch's shoulder in sympathy.
"Come on, bro," Jensen said. "You wouldn't be able to fuel it anyway."
Pooch sighed again. "I know..." he said, looking at the Concorde inside. "But that would be a sweet ride."