Saving private whip

Snow lay thick and heavy for miles beyond, a barren waste stretching as far as the eye could see. The road we walked on had been cleared, thankfully, saving us the pain of walking through snow without proper boots on. Randy’s trousers fitted him well, which was lucky, considering they weren’t his,
“Eyes are up here, Arky” I snapped out of my train of thought for a second. Randy was grinning, obviously pleased with his hilarious quip,
“Don’t flatter yourself, love” I grumbled back. I barely had the energy to spar Randy with wit and check, I owed that to the 4am start.
“Shut up you two, you’re giving me a headache.” Doctor was lovely as usual; he was obviously feeling the effects of the early morning as well. The sun peeked over the horizon tentatively, blinding our dark-accustomed eyes for a small time, and bathing the pale landscape in divine light. Pyro grunted; he was a man of little words, but it was clear to see he didn’t like the bright light. Randy reached into his trouser pocket and brought out a pair of sunglasses. Of course Randy would be the only one camp enough to bring sunglasses to Siberia. 
“We reach Snowpoint in 5 minutes, you lot better be done clowning around by then, I would rather not get shot.” Doctor was right, we were close to Snowpoint, I could barely see it now. A windowless façade stared straight back at me, glaring deep past my eyes, prying into my deepest psyche. The building dwarfed the surrounding landscape in almighty stature; it was featureless but no less menacing. Nothing moved inside of the complex, it was cold, still, dead even. The temperature had dropped also, and from here I could catch the sickening smell of burnt rubber and gasoline. This place was no joke, and we were going to have to walk inside without missing a beat.
As we approached the guard house, the still complex revealed itself to be quite the opposite; snow camo clad guards bustled backwards and forwards, vehicles were still, but people were working on them. Who knows what they needed them for. 
“ID?” The guard mumbled through his balaclava. Doctor held up our paperwork. If this didn’t get us in, this whole operation was curtains. The guard nodded, and typed something into his computer. The gates slowly opened for us, a loud cacophony of screeching metal. I started to walk forward, but not before the guard tapped my shoulder. He said nothing, only offering me a pair of sunglasses. I said nothing back, taking the aviators and putting them on, before following doctor and the rest through to the menacing concrete giant in the middle of the complex.
Inside was equally as unwelcoming: smooth white walls surrounded us, bright lights flooding the halls with an uneasy hue of yellow. Almost nobody was walking the halls either, much like the opposite of the complex, the building was still and secretive. 
“Weapons off safety; we get to the checkpoint for holding cells, blast the guards, get our man, and then we are out of here. Hopefully we’ll be in and out before alarms can even be raised.” Doctor whispered to us. An orchestra of small clicks indicated that we had heard him. Our footsteps echoed beyond us, the corridor stretching into an unsee-able abyss. My shoes tapped curtly against the clean concrete flooring. I hated that noise.
Before long, we reached a set of hydraulic doors. A guard stood to the side of the metal beasts. He gave us a small nod. The doors opened, revealing a large room with another set of doors at the other end. 
“ID?” One of the many guards in the room asked us. Doctor looked back at us and mouthed “Pick a target”. We picked a target.
“Your Mum” Doctor said before raising him gun to the guards chest. A host of clicks later, and the bodies of the guards surrounded us. The silencers had been a worthwhile purchase. Randy was already rummaging through the lead guards stuff, and before long had found the keys he was looking for. He let us through he door. It had already been planned that he would keep point. We walked beyond him, into the holding cells.
A merry singing and humming met us at the doorway. The contrast was almost comical, I fact, the person who was singing thought it was comical, and burst into laughter.
“That’s our guy.” I said to the rest of the group. Doctor gave me a worried look, but said nothing. A few paces, and one key card later, and the cell was open. We were greeted with quite the sight.
“Hello!” Whip yelled back at us. His hair was messy, his clothes were rags. It was Whip alright. I grinned and gave him a firm handshake.
“Who the fuck is this clown?” Pyro finally said, through a thick Scottish accent.
“An old friend.” I beamed.

Wow cliff-hangers are cool and epic thanks for reading