They're spies. Super and sexy. Based off poli regs. I swear I'll start getting these out quicker.

The Regulars Chapter 10

Two men point guns at each other while another bleeds. The two gunmen owe each other their lives many times over. One was chosen by the other for a team made of people who wherever they come from are the best at what they are. In this moment where there's time to think there is a prideful curiosity as to would the other pull the trigger.
"My home. My children. Do you have any idea?"
"No." Staff answers. If he should have hesitated he didn't.
R.G collects himself further, if only to form a sentence. "My babies had to see me kill."
"And me having to shoot you won't make that go away." Staff delivers with an absolute deadpan. He knows that the only way from this moment is to deny it momentum.
"I'll need a better reason." Good. R.G's warrior pride is trying to show itself under the rage.
If it has to come to this at least it still comes to words. "If you run it's without them." R.G is interested. His extended arm visibly tenses. "You know who they're with. If you kill me, even if you then manage to get out of this building, you'd never get to them. So I can kill you or you can kill me. Either way they won't have a father tomorrow. Or you can remember what side you're on."
R.G lowers the gun trained on Staff. Staff reciprocates the trust by pulling his own weapon skyward. The incredibly fortunate man between them has had the sense to pass out but is still clearly breathing. They'll still have to know what he knows. "Lowe" Staff speaks into his headpiece. "Lowe, we have a bleeder. Send the locals in with a medic."
Lowe straightens his posture in the lush cloth bound chair "On it, chief." He switches channels and gives the order in seconds. Upon switching back youthful curiosity gets the best of him "Why don't we have a medic?"
"One problem at a time!" Lowe flinches. "Are we up-linked?"
"Oh yeah." Lowe turns his attention back to the computer monitors. The terrorists had clearly planned on digging in. That they set up with systems in the rather appointed head office had been most fortuitous. From the screens in front of him information speeds by symbolizing its trip to H.Q and Kiether. Something flashes by his eye, and then something else.
Lowe was born with a gift and trained to hone it to a razor's edge. It doesn't take long for a master of surveillance to recognize a pattern. When next he speaks both wind and bravado have been knocked out of him. "We just got more problems."

London:

One relying on stereotypes would call this a British day. There's a dull haze to it and that unique sluggish bite to the air. All the same it's a day from grim business. He considers himself calmly before turning his gaze from the rain streaked window. "And in addition to offering our full condolences to the families of the murdered workers Sol Incorporated would also like to extend it's gratitude to the local anti-terror unit. Due to their bravery we can at least take comfort that whatever goal we'd been struck towards will not see fruition."
"Very well, sir." Jennifer, his long time assistant, takes down these final words. No mention of the stolen truck?" The question adds a momentary crease to her soft brow. While her striking features might have landed her this same job some places the factor of her lasting employment here was a tactical prudence. She didn't lose time from her work worrying about that of others.
"No need." He says flatly. "The last thing we need added to this is consumer fear that his next Sol brand product has passed through unsafe hands." He considers this further for a long moment. Have any and all records of the vehicle and its contents on my desk before you go home. If anything does turn amiss I want to be on top of it personally."
"Of course."
"And tell Public Relations to have the release sent out within the hour. That will be all, thank you." A respectful nod and Jennifer is on her way. Michael turns his attention once more to the window, or rather the world on the other side of it. The pawns have been sacrificed and now the knights come into position.

Regulars H.Q

What Lowe had gleamed and Kiether had confirmed was not good. The terrorists had files on each Regulars agent. They were well detailed yet not so much so that they lent perspective on where the hell they came from. Seven had deemed this worth telling the higher ups and for once there were no arguments. Staff glances up from the computer to see Pro approaching him with an assault rifle in one hand and an expensive coffee in the other. It's never good news when he has both.
Pro lays down the rifle across Staffs desk with a clunk before taking a long gulp off his drink." This is serious stuff man."
A summary glance confirms this so far but there's no point is wasting seconds on what he's about to be told.
"Basically, we've left the bargain basement." Pro says before another sip that you'd really think would end the cups sooner. "And then we skip right past the knock offs and house brands to the stuff your mother says you're just paying for the label."
"So, they're well equipped?" It's an honest question. While being shot at with them no one had looked for the model number.
"Oh yeah, and that's not even the best part." Pro produces a folded paper from some hidden pocket and undoes it for Staff's inspection.
"They found 9mm's in the workers we found in the supply freezer. A room full of guys holding these." He indicates the gun, in case someone forgot "And someone was filling guys with pistol rounds. One of them in particular." Another paper comes from somewhere. Coroners report. One of the bodies had 7 rounds scattered in it. Given the distribution and blood loss it's surmised he was the one who painted that hallway. Someone had fun killing him."
Sadism is what it is but in this line it can't be called surprising. Pro empties his cup, tosses it into the trashcan and then just stands there. This mean's there's more to say and it's going to be interesting.
"Yes?" Pro takes the cue to produce yet another coroners report. Staff doesn't bother pretending to read it.
"Yes indeedy. This is off one of the guys we shot. Turns out we shot him before."
This just became interesting. "Examiner found a patch-up done on the guys' leg. He looked further in and it wasn't just a patch-up. The bullet went in deep, did some bad things to veins, someone went in after it and long story short that's why we had to shoot him again."
This was the good part, so to speak. Just about anyone can give a bunch of goons weapons. An ever so slightly smaller pool could give them good weapons. But the guns, plus the Intel, plus the forethought to put said goons back together means they're dealing with someone smart who's in it for the haul.
Neither of them notices as Seven walks by. She glances at the large gun on Staff's desk and it briefly occurs to her than in some offices that would look unusual.
She leans over the desk as the courtesy of announcing herself. Pro needs no telling, takes his toy back up and gets the hell out of Dodge. "I just got off the phone. I'm going to need you call everyone into the conference room."
"What'd they say?" Staff asks with destined to be short lived nonchalance.
"I'll tell you when we get to the conference room."
Starting to resist. "I'm right here."
Seven takes a deep, measured breath. "Please just get into the damn conference room. I could make that an order."
Oh boy.