Realistic or Modern The Beast Project

[Viper Actual]

Minotaur grunted in response to Armadillo. The fight was about to begin. A battle between marksmen it would seem. Not really his area of expertise as, had this been his team deploying, it would have been up to Fenrir to engage from afar. Once the battle commenced Minotaur watched Shark's every move. It was amusing to him. She was playing with Panda. Meanwhile Tigris watched Shark but for other reasons. She studied her every move and tried to see the logical thinking and tactics behind them because unlike her superior she always did her homework.

When the fight concluded the way it did Tigris glanced at Minotaur who shrugged. It wasn't surprising. One wasn't the kind of guy who bullshitted with his troops and often enough his words were both true and logical...whenever they weren't covered in black ink of course.

"He looks smug," muttered Tigris. Minotaur nodded and scratched his chin. "He just managed to prove his own point without lifting a finger. Hell, wouldn't surprise me if Shark just earned herself a spot on the unofficial wall of fame." There was of course no "hall of fame", as Minotaur described it, however there were plenty of stories the other beasts passed on to recruits once they started to get the hang of things. This fight would definitively be one of them.

Tigris nodded before looking up at Armadillo. "What are your thoughts, big guy?"

Mr_DC 0stinato

 

[0stinato]

On opposite sides of the room, both Armadillo and Rat narrowed their eyes. Rat's moved between the screen and the side of his visor containing Gazelle's report. Armadillo's moved between the screen and his colleagues. Connections were being birthed in their brains, starting subtly at first, but anchoring themselves into vital lifelines of intelligence that orbited the new addition to their number. Both were confirming the Director's confidence in his new plaything, in his new agent. Panda factored into these connections too, but to a lesser extent to Armadillo, who branched away from Rat's train of thought. Rat was following the threads of new information, while Armadillo went into the archives of his mind to remind himself about Panda's experience, personality, ability. The two minds, if they could be coherently plotted on a graph, would collide around the novel aspects of the fight, and would depart from each other as their owners' personalities began to direct them.

It was an invisible dance that neither of them knew about; Armadillo's caution before Rat was a tertiary worry in his head given Rat's distance, and Rat had locked the door on any consideration of Armadillo. Neither of them was important to the other. The infiltrator was gearing up to collate all the information that was washing over the Beasts, preparing a mental interrogation of every piece. The defender was working towards understanding who the players in this game were.

"I think Panda... underestimated Shark, and overestimated herself. You saw how quickly she fell into a spot of cover..."

... didn't even look for a more fortuitous place from which to attack, and left herself open to assault. Shark knew she'd have to reload...

"... and considering we've not seen Shark use arms like that, it's really important to note how comfortable she was with it..."

... but not surprisingly good. She's been using rifles for probably over ten years, judging what she looks like in this photograph...

"... I think we have to go forward with the assumption that Shark is what the Director said she was. That she could take over any of us if he wanted her to..."

... it's not just prowess with weaponry though. She wielded that tomahawk without a second thought, and she's highly trained in firearms. But that's not all...

"... we should try to step up our game tactically when we face her. That might give us an edge..."

... she used the spray of her own blood to learn where Panda was, using the fact she was shot to her advantage, in the end. It let her learn the angle. So... she has the edge to turn a bad situation into one advantageous to herself, and my guess is she does it like clockwork, not having to think at all. If Gazelle is right, and her mental state is volatile, she has to be acting on instinct. Using strategy against her wouldn't work. She can change her next action in a second. That's dangerous. Very dangerous...

"... but we have to be careful. I think we should talk to Panda about the experience."

Armadillo gave his back a stretch. After seeing the action, his shoulders were crying out for action. He was elated. Watching the Program's best sniper and the Program's new enigma battle it out had resulted in both a surprising, and a non-surprising, victory. Armadillo would have put his bets on Panda. He knew Panda, knew how she worked, knew her reputation. However, the Director was confident, and Minotaur was right: of course he expected Shark to win. His claims now had a base.

The next person to go up against her wouldn't underestimate her.

Armadillo looked sideways at the Director. He was... satisfied.

Disgustingly so. Why be satisfied your best sniper can't stand up against your new toy? Why be satisfied one of your two agents won? Would you be so happy if Shark had lost? Rat couldn't keep his eyes off the Director. Shark was his favourite. And he wasn't surprised. All the evidence pointed to the Director's obsession with this woman. The photo's age put both Shark and the Director into the line of fire for Rat's interrogation, and the quality of such an old image just turned up his curiosity into the Director.

He had to be careful. But he also had to make a move.

There was one connection he had to make. One more strand of information he had to obtain.

And he could warn Moth to keep vigilant on it too.

Rat pulled himself away from the wall, relying on his preoccupation with his thoughts to keep his panic buried as he moved through the room. He threaded his way between people, keeping his eyes off the troopers and Beasts and on the doorway into the simulation room, until he got to Moth. He waited a moment to gather himself, then gave Moth a pointed stare.

"Listen," Rat said, a firm note entwined with his quiet voice. "Keep an eye on Shark and the Director. If they speak in private at any point, I need to know. If the Director takes her somewhere with no cameras, I need to know. I'll be watching them, but I need your eyes too. In case you catch something I miss. I am still working out the logistics of what we've just seen, and I'll tell you my thoughts very soon. But please, keep vigilant on the both of them."



If they were stood in any other part of the base, Cow would have taken Wolf's attitude with the narrowed-eyes and silence of defiant acceptance. Out there, she carried a higher rank than him, and the base was sprayed with her scent. But in here, in here it was his. Just like the recruit under her hand until she signed the screen, it was his. But he still couldn't bring himself to even reply to her taunts. The torment, as baseless as it was, had to be put up with: she had two of her gang stationed at the door. Since McKeown had already tried to shoot one of them, he reckoned they weren't in any mood to see Cow go up against their mistress.

Mistress. Somehow, the word felt wrong and right at the same time.

He became aware he was snarling at her, still holding the pad out for her. All he said was, "Yes."

Yes, the signiture is what mattered. It meant he didn't have to care about McKeown anymore. It meant McKeown wasn't his. He was Wolf's. If she wanted to shoot him immediately, he'd only take offence to it if it was done over his nice clean floors.

He looked at McKeown.

"Best not fight your fate, kiddo." He showed the screen to his ex-recruit. "Just learn quick. You're hers now."

He didn't wait to watch Wolf drag him off. He just turned, ignoring McKeown as the young man opened his mouth, and ran through the form on the screen, double-checking it before submitting it to join the ever-increasing ranks of documents that contained dead recruit numbers. He was satisfied.



Mr_DC Viper Actual

 

[Mr_DC]

"Alright." Moth smiled, nodding. "I'll do as you say." He watched the screens, all frozen in time. One with Shark calmly looking through her scope and the other with Panda's final moments. The bloody explosion out the back of her head, her face still holding the expression of mild surprise. "Just... Tell me what you found out that makes you think they are important together. Not now but when you have time." Moth took the submissive route. At least one that seemed that way. In reality, Moth wasn't taking his eyes off Shark anyway. He did his best to know every move she made. He even paid attention to what she ate - mostly bland foods adding to her formidable form. She wasn't living on candy and chocolate milk like Mantis. As little as he could get from that, it was still useful information. It meant Shark was a true soldier. She wasn't relaxed because she was a Beast. She must have also been cautious with the money she was getting from the Program. It wasn't much but it was something.

The simulation pods opened with a hiss. Panda was the first one out. She was marching towards the director, expressionless as always but with her fists balled. The uncomfortable looks she was getting meant everyone thought the same as One. They thought she lost. Panda disagreed and was going to explain exactly why they were all wrong.

Shark wasn't as confident getting out as Panda. She didn't leap out and head to One but instead pried herself out. Her footing was unsure and she almost stumbled when she was finally out. She touched the spot of her wound. Fist, cautiously but then more firmly as if searching for the missing pain.

"I didn't lose." Panda raised her tone as she reached One. Her voice finally had a life to it instead of the usual white noise she spoke. One smirked at her claim. A smug smirk signalling he didn't understand the situation. A smirk which meant he was just an idiot who thought he was correct.
"Oh?" One crossed his arms on his chest, speaking with an amused tone. "You received a bullet to the skull. Approximately two inches above your brow. The bullet entered your skull, cut through your brain, and exited. You died, agent Panda. Accept the fact that you're not the best."
Panda frowned and pointed at Shark who was coming towards them after making sure she was truly in her body again. "She would die from her wound too. It would only be a matter of t..."
One raised a hand to stop her and cut in. "You died. She didn't. That is all that matters. We never looked at wounds in these challenges and you can't try bending the rules now. Besides... I'm sure you wouldn't be saying this if the situation was reversed."
That smug tone. Panda just wanted to punch him. She wanted to break his jaw, keep beating him until he can't give her that smirk ever again. But Shark was there. The monster on a chain, standing by his side. Panda couldn't match her there. Not in such close quarters.

Seeing there was no retribution for his words, One gave Panda a short nod and turned to head to his office. He had work to do and Panda showed everyone Shark's true strength. He could rest easy. He was right about her and that was something he could point out to Gazelle next time she petitions him to act on Shark.

Panda let out an angry sigh and locked eyes with Moth. It was time he does something useful. She was giving him information and all he was giving were promises. He would have to give her something or their partnership was over.
"We need to talk." She murmured when she got to Moth. She wasn't going to press him so directly with Rat right by them. Rat, like most other Beasts, wasn't of interest to Panda. She had no reason to be familiar with him and their paths rarely crossed. All she knew was that he wasn't a loud-mouth like Wolf or Cow. Or Mantis, for that matter.

Moth tensed up. She was bound to come knocking eventually but Moth hoped he would have something useful for her by the time that happened. He was too distracted by Shark to focus on Panda's request. He tried, though, and there was almost nothing. If there was anything at all to find about Hunter, it was one of the better-hidden conspiracies of the Program. But he had a feeling Panda wasn't barking at nothing. Such a lack of mention of the person who brought many Beasts to the Program was suspicious.
"Don't worry." Moth motioned at Rat. He was his lifeline. "Rat is with us. You can talk freely." He smiled but Panda's expression didn't change.

"Fine." She said calmly, not taking her eyes off Moth for a second. "Tell me what you know about her." She motioned her head back at Shark who didn't follow One.
Moth shifted in his place. That request wasn't good either. He knew bits and pieces but Panda wanted something she could sink her teeth in. She wanted something that will keep her satisfied for a while. Perhaps even give her an edge against the special agent if another challenge came up. That wasn't something Moth could provide. What he could do, though, is bluff and deflect.
"Oh, what a coincidence." Moth tapped Rat on the shoulder but felt like Panda could see right through his usual, friendly smile. "Rat and I just found out something pretty big." He nodded, taking half the credit. "He can tell you about it. Show you we're all on the same side."

Panda finally directed her cold stare at Rat. Throwing a look over her shoulder, Panda shook her head. "No. Not here." She looked back at the pair. "Meet me at my room in an hour." She directed them and made a motion to leave them alone.

 

[Viper Actual]

With the show over and Minotaur and Tigris excused themselves. Moving past the swarm of recruits the two of them eventually managed to get back to the Myth barracks. By now Condor had also returned from her brief visit over at Magpie's. As the two of them entered Griffin looked up from a datapad while the others watched a soccer game on TV. Germany versus the United Kingdom.

"So, anything new?"

Minotaur shook his head while Tigris sat down on a nearby chair.

"Not yet but you just missed a fight. Shark against Panda," responded Minotaur. Tigris chuckled. "Might as well have put Shark in the same room as a sheep. Panda managed to score a hit but got wiped out shortly after. A clean kill, by our standards at least."

Griffin grunted. "So the rumors are true then? She's that good?"

"Better," replied Tigris.

Minotaur nodded slowly while Griffin fell silent. The three of them then looked over to others. While they were nowhere as good as Shark they were still good at their jobs. Sure, perhaps Shark was good at killing but stealth and covert operations? That demanded patience and strategy, not to mention nerves of steel. Maybe a team of Shark-copies would put them out of employment? Minotaur grunted to himself.

At least their last job had been a success...

Earlier...

Rain was pouring down over the dimly lit streets. A lone figure walked through one of many dark alleyways. He wore a long trenchcoat with a black beanie on his head. Slowly the man walked towards the neon lights of a nearby streets.

"Thirty seconds, boss."

The man nodded and spoke in a low tone through his throat microphone. "Copy that. How many?"

"Three," replied the voice over the radio.

Nodding once more the man grabbed his beanie and pulled it down over his face, turning it into a balaclava. He walked past a group of vagrants who widened their eyes and clutched to their belongings as the masked man passed them by.

Stepping out onto the road the man turned to look down the empty street. A combination of fake traffic alerts and some stoplight manipulation had managed to divert the rather scarce traffic that could be found at this hour of the night. All that remained were the target vehicles.

A convoy of three black cars were speeding through the streets. Unfortunately for them they had failed to notice the man standing out on the road.

Minotaur grinned underneath his mask and dropped the trenchcoat, revealing a lightweight low-profile composite armor plating and a large carbine rifle with an underbarrel grenade launcher. Before anyone could react the grenade had already been sent. A small airburst charge detonated, shredding the occupants of the first vehicle and forcing it into a nearby bus stop.

Kneeling down Minotaur pulled the trigger twice. The driver of the second car suddenly had two extra holes in his skull which was followed by him collapsing against the steering wheel. A third shot struck the engine block, causing the car to slow down. Minotaur got up in a tactical stance and approached the vehicle. At the same time the third vehicle stopped and deployed four thugs wielding pistols.

The men were so focused on Minotaur that they failed to notice Tigris and Manticore coming in from the sides. Suppressed shots rang out and the men collapsed onto the wet concrete. By now Minotaur had cleared the target vehicle and was in the process of forcing the VIP down onto his knees. Begging for his life the man looked at his captor with wide eyes. Minotaur said nothing and simply pulled a sack over his head.

Another vehicle entered the street. A black van. The team made no effort to stop it as the vehicle was one of theirs. Pegasus used the remote door control once the van was next to Minotaur. "Time to go," said Minotaur as he secured the VIP. Soon enough the team had loaded up in the van and once the door was closed the vehicle sped into a nearby alley leaving nothing but dead thugs and crashed vehicles.

 

[0stinato]

Rat's eyes went from visible beneath the orange-tinted visor to completely obscured as he activated the visor's one-way setting. It was opaque form the outside, except to a very strong light. His head followed Panda as she exited the pod, but his eyes followed Shark. He wasn't interested in Panda: the aggressive thrusting of her body out of the pod ensured Rat he would be missing only a childish explosion of emotion from her. That was something he didn't need for now. There were more vital pieces on the board.

She emerged like prey. Slow, focused, concerned. Hands wandered across her body, pressing the areas of impact. She held the potential to wince away from her own pain, but found nothing to shrink from. Rat glared from beneath his visor, forcing his mind to search her movements for more. Was she afraid of the pain, or curious about it? They were both plausible theories: afraid of the pain would run alongside Gazelle's report in a subtle way; curious of it would point at more dangerous tendencies.

It all strayed far from the point though, which Rat did not like. There was a hidden answer that Gazelle knew, that the Director knew, and that Shark...

His head moved minutely as he realised that might not be the case.

He let a frustrated sigh out. He was going about it wrong. He had gathered a headful of scraps but knew not where to position them, because he didn't even know what question he was trying to answer. It wasn't something so simple as, "What makes her different from me?" nor anything so vague as, "What is Shark?" There were plausible questions he could search the answers to, things like, "Why did the Director need her?" and "Why now?" but, to Rat, both of them were futile. They required too many steps to answer.

He had to backtrack.

Ask something... simple... for now.

Rat realised Shark had moved, and with her, his eyes. He had been caught up in his thoughts, in sifting through his theories, that he hadn't considered the real world. But there she was, and Panda was in his eyesight again. He rolled his shoulders and glanced at Moth as Panda argued. He was watching. But thinking, was he thinking? Rat wasn't sure. He couldn't be sure. If Moth was more intelligent than Rat had ever given him credit for, he was smart enough to hide that he was thinking.

That was something Armadillo couldn't do. Rat caught him watching the incursion from the other side of the room. He must have been obscured by those two brutes from Myth while the screens were filled with the scenes Shark and Panda had been living. But there he was now, as the two left the room. Watching, and certainly thinking. His mouth formed a curve, lower lip pressing the expression into a firm pout of consideration.

Couldn't hide it.

Well. He wasn't a problem now.

Panda was. Marching towards them. Rat gradually let his visor fade into transparency again as she engaged Moth. Rat had seen their... relationship before. When Moth had been anxious to get out of Rat's firing line to speak to Panda the first time Shark came into their lives. And now again, when Shark had beaten her in a one-on-one contest of skill. Whatever she wanted, the evidence suggested it relied heavily on Shark.

She was emotional at her core, Rat decided. She could have spoken to Moth at any point, but her choice to do it after bad experiences with Shark was all too telling. Easy to read.

His suspicions were confirmed when-- He scowled. He was with them, was he? Moth's little loyalty circle included Panda. And they were all working on the same thing, presumably.

Rat was in danger of falling into his own head again, but was jolted out of it by Moth's touch. The man's hand was almost electric in its weight, and Rat flinched involuntarily. Moth was pushing him in all the wrong ways. He hadn't made any suggestion of Panda being involved, and that only made Rat cautious of what else Moth was doing behind the scenes. It was dangerous now: Rat's own position in the Program was never in jeopardy if Rat worked alone. He could trust himself, and he never made the same mistake twice. The risk of ransacking the Director's office - and his private quarters too - had paid off, and that was because Rat had worked alone in its execution. What concerned him now is what Moth was doing. He had taken Moth's hint to go there. What was Moth doing?

When Panda began staring at him, he stared back. His eyes were serious. They continued to hold the note until Panda had left. Then he turned them on Moth.

"You insult me," he said. He held the stare for a moment, couldn't hide a grimace, and stalked away from him.


Mr_DC

 

[Mr_DC]

Moth stood leaning against Panda's door in the Beast dorms. He maintained a blissful smile but was losing his cool beneath the surface. He knew he could never be a spymaster and there had to be a gift in those who managed so many strong-headed people with such success. Moth had some allies, some people working along his side towards a similar goal but they just wouldn't do as he said. Wouldn't believe it was in their interest to follow him. They would all get what they wanted... If only they looked beyond themselves.

"Hey there." Moth gave a short wave to one of the soldiers passing by. Panda was probably waiting for them. Probably memorized everything she'd tell them. A whole speech. What worried him was what Rat had in mind. Panda was guided by her emotions. A desire for revenge. Rat... He only had curiosity. A spark Moth had yet to figure out how to turn into a flame.

In the interlude between Moth’s vigilance and his wave, Rat stalked up near to him. He straightened himself and took off his helmet so he was able to initialise direct eye contact in their meeting. He didn’t need anything to help him remember, and he had updated his passphrase a few minutes ago. Just a precaution, thanks to his new aroused uncertainty about Moth. He knew what he would say.

“Punctual,” he remarked.

Moth gave Rat a different smile. Ever so slightly more sly. Enough to give Rat a hint that he wasn’t an airheaded moron like he prefered to seem. “I’d rather not keep Panda waiting.” He shrugged. “She’s not gonna go Wolf on us but it’s much easier to know where you stand when someone is yelling all their thoughts at you.” He explained and knocked on the door.

Rat knew Moth was expressing his own disdain for the Director-favoured battering-ram Beasts that populated the base. On friendlier terms, he may have outwardly agreed, but now he only lowered his head slightly. He understood Moth’s point, too well. People feared those who yelled, and it left the quiet, whirring minds with a very valuable resource as a result.

Rat felt as though he had to brace himself. Panda’s attitudes earlier were worrisome. So Rat took a breath to steady himself, and couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking left and right, at the potential exits of the dorms.

The door opened. Their host was standing in front of it, silent as usual. She was wearing her white fatigues, looking more like a member of the engineering staff than a Beast. Giving each of them a lazy look, Panda retreated into her room.

The room was small like the rest of Beast rooms. There was hardly enough space for all of them to feel comfortable. Panda sat on the chair she positioned in front of the small bathroom and watched the pair.

Seeing there was nowhere else to sit, Moth sat on one end of the bed, leaving enough room for Rat. He had a feeling Rat wouldn’t join him. Moth himself would be ready to bolt if he didn’t know who the room belonged to. The scent of cordite was ever present and the desk all Beasts had in their rooms was converted to a makeshift gunsmith workbench. Behind Panda, resting on the wall against the bathroom door, was a rifle. It was no doubt there to frame her image and let them know they were in her den.

Moth took in a slow breath and, while he felt an incredible weight on him, maintained the smile. She wouldn’t say a word. They were there to talk, not her. “Well, uh…” Moth motioned his hand at Rat. “Like I said, Rat is with us so I’ll let him give you the details. I assume you also made some progress with the shipping manifest?” He asked but got the reply he expected. A blank stare which turned to Rat.

As Moth expected, Rat didn’t join him: Rat didn’t even sit. He stood, forming a triangle between them, standing between the door and the rest of the room. He couldn’t bring himself to submit to the room as it was. He wasn’t comfortable yet. But he did lay his helmet on the desk, as a sign of his permanency in the room. He looked at Moth, as his voice was the only one filling the space between the three of them, but turned when he felt Panda’s eyes, and the piling expectation against him.

He put his hands behind his back. “No. I have no evidence to suggest what side she may be on, and she has no evidence to show what side I may be on. If I have anything to… share, I’m not doing it yet. You instigated this, Moth, so why don’t you show us your hand first?”

It was an ultimatum. And Rat wasn’t bluffing; the information in his helmet was valuable, not not nearly as valuable as what was in Rat’s memory. He held a stronger hand than Moth. He didn’t know what Panda held, though.

“I didn’t instigate anything.” Moth raised his hands in defense, picking that part of Rat’s speech to focus on rather than the demand for information. “Both of you were curious and I just gave you the means to sate your curiosity. I did not force this upon either of you.”

“But as a sign of good faith…” Moth shrugged, getting his smile back on. “I can tell you that I think I know why Shark is here. Roughly.” He began, motioning occasionally with his hands. “I got the chance to speak with her a few times and I’m fairly certain that she knows someone. That’s obvious but… But she seems to have some sort of a relationship with someone in the Program. Can’t put my finger on who it is yet but it’s significant.” He lied. Moth was throwing up a smoke screen, bluffing and lying his way out of the situation they put him in. If he got even the tiniest clues about what Shark was about from speaking with her, it wasn’t enough to piece together any conclusion, let alone the one he presented.

It should be enough to satisfy the pair, though. It wasn’t a solid, earth-shattering piece of information which would raise suspicious as to how he knew it but it wasn’t enough to be dismissed either.

Panda didn’t seem impressed but Moth hardly expected her to throw up her arms in celebration. She held the same dull stare which felt like someone was stabbing him with a spoon.

“Are you trying to insult us with that act? There’s only one individual with whom Shark could have any sort of foundation of a relationship, and you know as well as I do who it could be. The only person the evidence so far points to. All the Beasts were introduced to her, so it can’t be any of us. It certainly won’t be the guards or soldiers. So who does that leave, Moth?” Rat wasn’t going to let Moth get away with that. The truth of the matter stood firmly in Rat’s court, but he hadn’t revealed he had the information yet. But Moth had sent him on that chase with the suggestion of checking out the Director’s office: Moth knew as well as he did.


Moth frowned. “And you’re comfortable making conclusions with what little evidence we have?” He cocked an eyebrow. “We still don’t know practically anything and you’re making assumptions. I’m taking this seriously. This isn’t a game.”

Just as he said that, Panda stood up and walked to her desk, opening her drawer. “Whatever you two are a part of, I’m not.” Panda raised a folder, speaking calmly. “You want the manifest? Give me something.” She held the unmarked, manilla folder upright. “You want to understand the manifest? Give me something.” She looked at Rat. “About Shark.” She looked back to Moth. “About Hunter.” She placed the folder back into her drawer but didn’t close it. “If you’re not slowing me down, prove it. Otherwise, this is just a transaction.”

Rat was going to reply, but Panda’s outburst stopped him. It was as he thought: there were layers to this that he wasn’t aware of.

“All I know about this agreement is Shark. I want to hear what the involvement is of this manifest, and of Hunter. I’ve never heard mention of either during my involvement. Here’s my bargaining chip: you say I have no evidence to support my assumption, Moth, but I do. I know twice as much as you about Shark at this point. If you want to be on the same level as me with this, start explaining.”

“I’m saying you don’t have enough evidence…” Moth murmured, standing up as well. “Panda here has the shipping manifest. It’s concerning a ship that went dark for a short time until it docked on the night that we got Shark. It may be connected.” He hesitated when it came time to explain what exactly Panda wanted. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say and Panda’s cold stare and calm tone were just unnerving him. “Panda wants to know what exactly happened on Hunter’s last mission.” Moth then sighed and looked at Panda, defeated. “There’s not much I can get about him, Panda. If there truly was foul play, it’s buried deep. We all need to work together or we’ll never get the information you want. There’s only so much we can get from rummaging around the data we have access to. We need pass phrases.”

“You’re looking on one place. Getting passphrases is useful, of course, but there are some types of information that people keep in their heads rather than in their systems. How far would either of you go into talking with people about this?”

Panda closed the drawer and sat back down, her back straight. She resembled a mannequin demonstrating how one should properly sit. All right angles. “This isn’t a partnership.” She said as calm as ever. “When you two can give me something, you might learn where she came from. It seems to me that I’m the only one getting information so you can search for phrases on your own.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Rat felt himself becoming increasingly tense. But he wasn’t about to suffer that feeling alone. “As Moth told you earlier, we stumbled across something substantial. Would you care to tell her what that information is, seeing as you have a tighter grip on the situation out of the both of us.”

The cards had fallen in a particular pattern that was leaving Rat rapidly out of reach of their game. The picture was larger than he assumed. But, he comforted himself, you are better at finding the details, the extra words, the body languages, the secrets. You’re not supposed to orchestrate anything at this early stage. You take your time. They are rushing. He took his eyes to the other side of the room, scratching his chin as a distraction.

“No, no.” Moth waved off Rat’s offer and reached for the door. “We can discuss this exchange later. I don’t think any of us has something worthwhile. For now.” He didn’t expect Panda to stop him at the door. It wasn’t like her. She would come to him, though. That was a door he left open. She would come to finish her transaction without feeling like she was begging them for help. The important thing was not to buckle. Not to bend the knee for her or Rat, for that matter. “After you.” Moth gave Rat a faint smile, opening the door for him.

Pointless exercise, as Rat predicted. He picked up his helmet. Then he looked at Panda.

“Sorry. Not all the pieces on the board are co-operating and thus I won’t put myself in a vulnerable position by being open.” He nodded towards her, extending the apology with his body. “Though… I saw you were displeased with the Director earlier on. Understandably so. Don’t be too discouraged. Shark’s been a vital part of his world for over a decade. She didn’t just come out of nowhere.” He looked at Moth, nodding to him too. “Thank you, I’ll take my leave for now. When you feel more open, tell me where to meet you.”

He swept past the both of them, putting his helmet on as he left the room.

 

[Mr_DC]

Thunder cracked outside like a thousand whips. The antiquated wood blinds on the window did a poor job of keeping the rain out. The dated window framed the picture outside perfectly - thick, bubbling clouds illuminated only when the full moon appeared on the inky sky like a specter.
Thunder again, like an explosion right outside the window. Mantis couldn't take it. She just waited for some supernatural being to peer through the window. A creature straight out of her worst nightmare, wanting to end her life in the most gruesome way imaginable.
Thunder again, Mantis leaped out of her bed. She wouldn't be getting any sleep. If only Panda had been sent on the mission as well or even One. Instead, she was paired with Wolf and Shark.
Mantis stepped out into the hallway. No electric lighting. The only remains of the candles on the walls were wax frozen in time as it drooped off the rusty candle stands. The hallway was pitch dark except for when lightning struck and illuminated the dark for the briefest of moments. Enough for Mantis' mind to take a snapshot of what was in front of her. The empty hallway looked way more terrifying than during the day. Her nerves were dancing and her mind was running wild. She was petrified, expecting to see something at the end of the hallway with the next flash.
Thunder. A muffled yelp. Mantis wasn't expecting lightning to strike so soon. She didn't need Wolf coming out and making fun of her for being scared of... Nothing. She couldn't be alone either.

Mantis knocked on the door of the room by the one she exited. Her shoulders tensed as she expected growl from the skies. The door opened. Mantis' eyes got adjusted to the dark already. She could see the powerful form of the person in front of her. She could see the blank but cautious stare cutting through the darkness back at her. "H-hey..." Mantis whispered, feeling smaller than ever. Shark's presence had a way of doing that.
"May I spend the night with you?" She bowed her head but kept her eyes on Shark. The special agent was clearly mixed about the situation. On one hand, Mantis was asking to enter her room, on the other, Mantis was clearly ready to jump out of her skin.
Shark's brow furrowed and Mantis quickly added. "I know it's the middle of the night but I... I'm scared. I'm not trying to make a move on you - you don't seem like the type who'd be interested in what I'm offering anyway..." Mantis blurted. "I'm sorry... But please? I'll sleep in a chair or on the floor. I just can't sleep alone during what seems to be the awakening of some ancient god out there."
Shark stared at her for a few moments more, judging the situation. Finally, she stepped aside. "Yeah, alright." She allowed her entry.

"Thank you so much." Mantis kept her tone to a whisper, not wanting Wolf to hear the commotion. As she took a step in, thunder stuck hard enough that it sounded like the building was being snapped in two like a twig. Yelping again, Mantis jumped into Shark's arms, holding her tight. The fear quickly subsided but it got replaced by embarrassment. Then... Desire. She was holding Shark and Shark was holding her. Mantis could feel her powerful body. It was the same feeling of awe she'd feel from being in a room with a nuclear bomb. Unlike Mantis' usual partners, Shark could twist her into a pretzel. Being against someone so strong for once was enough to make Mantis think of the possibilities. The embers of desire, though, got snuffed by fear once more when she realized she felt cold on her back. The cold metal of a gun. Shark opened the door prepared.
"I'm sorry." Mantis stepped back but Shark didn't seem angry. She let her go without resistance, seemingly calm as ever. "I-I don't normally act like a scared schoolgirl." She shrugged, taking a seat on the bed as Shark closed the door. "Back at the base, we're underground and not in a house of horrors. Sorry..." She stood up. "I'll let you go back to sleep."
"It's fine." Shark raised a hand to stop her from getting away from the bed. "I wasn't sleeping." Shark said, taking a seat on the chair made from such thin wood that it looked like it was made out of twigs. Still, it supported Shark's weight with a creak. The powerful Beast laid the gun on the floor on one side of the chair and picked up the pocket watch which was on the other side.

"Oh..." Mantis stared at the pocket watch, slowly sitting back down on the bed. "Do you mind if we talk a bit? I know you're a quiet badass kind of a woman like Panda so I can do most of th..."
"It's fine." Shark said again, the pocket watch ticking away in the palm of her hand. The ticking seemed to be louder than the unending rain pattering away outside.
"I've always been freaked out by storms. I get panicky, start thinking about monsters. I don't even know what kind of monsters, just something." Mantis looked out the window, her arms clasped in her lap. "I feared it when I was a kid, hiding under my bed. I feared it in my fight club days too, hiding in bathrooms, trying to ignore it." She shrugged, looking back at Shark. "If it catches me on a mission, I ride it off with someone. Usually Panda but most Beasts are nice. Gazelle, Doe, Cow - but he's a bit of a dick about it. Sometimes One when no one else is around." A smile crept up on her face as thunder struck in the distance, causing nothing more than a flinch. "He's cool. Doesn't mind making time for us. You know him well?" Mantis asked. Shark had to know One somehow if she ended up in the Program. If she ended up being the only special agent.
"I, uh..." Shark hesitated, looking down at the pocket watch in her hand. "I think so, yes. I know him."
"You think so?" Mantis asked, pursing her lips. "You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She got a short reply as Shark seemed to have focused intently on the pocket watch.

Not wanting to press Shark on a seemingly sensitive matter, Mantis allowed her mind to continue on its previous path. "He found me after one of my matches, you know?" Mantis laid down on the bed. "I've been a regular show at that club. Kickin' ass for almost a year. I built up a sweet reputation and someone wanted to cash it in. Got offered a nice wage to fall in a fight." Mantis smiled at Shark and winked before looking back at the ceiling, her hands behind her head. "I'm a stubborn, little brat so I refused. They didn't take it well... No one was making money on me. When you win every fight, no one wants to bet against you. Now don't get me wrong, I'm a good fucking fighter but when you get hit with a lead pipe in the bathroom when you least expect it, it can damage your fighting capabilities a bit. People decided my time was done." Mantis explained calmly but her eyes didn't have as much life as they had before. "One found me in the bathroom, coughing out bloody globs while getting beaten to a pulp. The shot he fired is the sweetest sound I ever heard. Said he wanted to offer me a job. Said he was suspicious I was taking so long in the bathroom. I wanted to make some sarcastic quip about taking a shit but internal bleeding got the better of me. Next thing I know, I'm being nursed back to health by the cutest, French piece of ass I've ever seen."
She chuckled, warmed by the memory. Her mind didn't even process the shots of lightning outside. "So, that's my downer story with a happy ending. You wanna be fair and tell me yours?"

Shark, whose lips ever so slightly curved into a smile until that point, frowned. It was a painted frown like Mantis threw a rivet at her forehead, right above that prominent scar. "I..." Shark shook her head. "I don't remember."
"It's cool." Mantis raised her hands defensively. "I get it, everyone has things they don't want to talk about. I just overshare sometimes."
"No, it's not that." Shark let out a frustrated sigh. "I really don't remember."
"Maybe that can be your story." Mantis sat up, crossing her legs under her. "Tell me about your lack of memory."
Shark frowned again, closing her hand around the pocket watch. "I just have these holes in my memory." She spoke so quietly that Mantis had to strain to hear her over the rain. "More holes than not. Way more. Sometimes, things come up. Things I just remember out of the blue."
Mantis held her hand up to her mouth, looking like she was trying to do a crossword puzzle. In truth, she never tried doing a crossword how it was supposed to be done. It was just a game to her of how many lewd terms she can put fit into the open spaces. "So, what do you remember? How do you know One?" Mantis' eye narrowed. She felt something but she just wasn't sure what. It was a nagging feeling that something was wrong.
"I don't know. I remember... Waking up at the base. With agent Gazelle, and director One, and... Someone else. I don't know how everything else connects to the present."
Mantis understood what she felt. It was the feeling of walking into a trap. Stepping onto a mine. She was poking her nose into Program secrets that she wasn't meant to know. She was doing a good job of ignoring obvious intrigue by gorging on candy or bringing countless lovers to her room but her curiosity got the better of her. "Oh." Mantis looked at the floor, eyes unwillingly drawn to the gun. "Well... We better go to sleep." She looked around. "We have a big job escorting Wolf around tomorrow." She flashed a smile and tapped on the bed. "You wanna..."
"No." Shark shook her head, opening the hand holding the pocket watch again. "You take the bed. I'll rest here."
Mantis nodded and laid back down. She hoped dreams would rob her of the conversation. She knew too much. She had no idea what she could do with that knowledge but knowledge was dangerous. She preferred being ignorant. It may have made everyone treat her like a tool but she was one of the best tools around and she loved it. Being too smart, knowing too much... It was dangerous.

 

[0stinato]

A heavy and soon-to-be-obsolete boot crushed the sad dog-end of a cigarette beneath it as its owner pushed open the heavy bunker door with a similarly soon-to-be-obsolete gauntlet. The other hand held a pristine but bullet-scarred helmet. The dog-end was forgotten by all except the individual's teeth, who had to put up with his tarnished breath rushing past them as he yelled into the room. The Beast called would have certainly caused himself a concussion with the force at which he jumped in surprise, slamming his forehead into an iron bar, if he hadn't been wearing his own helmet.

The resulting clang didn't jar or deter Cow, who merely blinked at the noise, and let his unimpressed gaze rest on Magpie. He was busy scrabbling his way out from the skeletal amalgamation of metal and panels. The smaller Beast glanced at Cow as he stood but focused mainly on pulling off his helmet then checking it. If it was made of any other material, it would have dented with a force like that. But Magpie's helmet was reinforced just as an assault-occupied Beast's would be. The rather accident-prone engineer had long ago requested the materials to strengthen his helmet and had been granted them as a result of his impressive record of injuries, none of which had occurred in combat.

If not for this alteration to his helmet, Magpie suspected he'd have another concussion to report.

He looked up at Cow, who took that as a cue to begin talking. "Where the hell were you? You told me, come to the engineering department but you--"

"Can you knock in future?" Magpie said. "That made me jump."

"--weren't there - I don't care. Where were you?"

"You didn't come when I told you to, so--"

"Yeah, I was busy. Couldn't do it."

"Well, maybe I'm busy now."

Cow's eyes rolled so violently his head moved. "Yeah, busy now, getting my armour."

"Don't demand it off me. I'll put this away and get it for you, alright? Just wait a moment."

"Mmhm." At the request, Cow backed off, stepping away to the wall. He watched Magpie kick the... well, he didn't know what it was, but he watched Magpie kick it onto a trolley all the same. The engineer pushed it to the side of the room against a counter, where he retrieved a thick case with the same colour-coordination as his armour.

"Come on then. Would you be okay with leaving your old armour with me? I'd kind of like to have a play with it. I've taken what I can from your previous armour to make this new stuff, but more information is always good. For example, this," Magpie gave Cow's upper arm a slap, the same area that sustained injury in the last mission. Cow looked at the armour plating, at its patched-up surface. "It's really important so I can discern where you often get hit. What I've done on your new stuff is I cross-referenced all the hits you've taken, and I've made sure the vital areas are really packed and armoured. You know, chest, front of arms, thighs."

"Mmhm. You can have it. Sure."

"I'm really excited to work on armour now."

Magpie glanced at Cow wanting to see the taller Beast pose a question such as, "why's that then?" or the like, anything to let him explain his reasoning, but Cow didn't even grunt.

"Seeing Panda and Shark fight, even if it was in a simulation, really got me excited. It just got me thinking about how I could create a flexible set of micro-panels that would have the same functionality as, say, heavy armour, but for a medium-class weight. Did you watch them?"

"Watch what?"

"Uh. Panda and Shark, they did a rifle battle in a simulation. Loads of troopers went to see, I was busy so I streamed it through on my visor. Hence why I was wearing the helmet under there. I'd have died if I wasn't..."

Cow shrugged. "I didn't see it. I imagine I'll hear about it. No spoilers."

Magpie laughed. "Yeah... well, speaking of helmets, can I have your helmet too? Well, after you've wiped the data off it, I mean."

"Sure. Might as well. You know... I never have got shot in the head. I've been grazed but never full-on shot in the head."

Magpie was quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together. Cow had said no spoilers about the Panda-Shark fight and, even if he wasn't serious, Magpie didn't want to risk ruining the irony of the discussion for Cow. He'd never got shot in the head, and that was just how Panda had 'died' in the simulation... He shook the smile off his face and glanced back at Cow. "Oh, if you had got shot in the head, I'm confident you would have lived. I spent weeks on that helmet." Magpie plucked the helmet out of Cow's hand as if it was his own and Cow was just borrowing it. His eyes transformed from their semi-distracted glance of acumen to the fully-distracted glassy gaze of a man in love. "I did so much work on this... best feature is something I actually added in at the last moment. The memory-wiping thing, you know? How easy it is for someone who doesn't know what they're doing to wipe the information on it..."

"Yeah, that's just annoying."

"I'd never implement it in other people's helmets, only yours. I know you're careful with your data. Well, maybe a few others... but you were my guinea pig. You never wiped it by accident, and the one time the prototype was wiped was when you were... you know, captured."

"Mmhm. That was an awful experience."



It was supposed to be nothing more than an intimidation mission. A quick in-and-out to assert the Program's dominance and should have been easily conducted by any Beast whose charisma was tailored towards manipulation and force rather than attractiveness. With One's first choices already occupied, he was "forced to settle for" Cow. The large Beast knew he wasn't One's optimal choice for this, but he was no bad selection either. And with what happened, Cow was certainly the best choice.

With the dossier in his possession, and one of the larger trucks painstakingly earned through much coercion and explanations of how necessary it is to have on this mission for the initial arrival to set the bar, Cow considered himself ready to go. He didn't bring backup. Most troopers and soldiers that made up his team weren't combat-focused, and he considered that all of them would be useless at sustaining the image he would go for. Besides, if a Beast alone couldn't send the necessary message, something was wrong.

But that decision was the wrong one to make.

If Cow had taken any soldier, he could find lazing around he would likely have got out of the situation without too much difficulty. That was something he considered during his recuperation process in the medical bay. Either he could have had even a shred of back-up armed with a rifle and had a chance at taking his captors out, or he could have shot the trooper in the leg himself to ensure his own getaway, finishing by killing the trooper when he was safe to prevent interrogation. There were ways out of the situation he was stuck in, but only if he'd taken backup.

Ah well.

Cow recovered well from it, his only gripe being the amount of therapy Doe and Gazelle pushed him to take. But his spirit broke before theirs and he relented, attending sessions when he didn't manage to fabricate a good excuse to escape it. The therapy consisted of the counsellor asking him to get comfortable - which involved doffing all of his armour - then helping him revisit the experience, which Cow did without much emotion.

"It was nothing serious," he said. "They didn't have the facilities for proper torture, so it was mostly things like keeping me restrained and beating me up. Which doesn't matter to me. It hurt, yeah, but, it's nothing serious."

The therapist had the same strength of spirit as the medics though, so no matter how much Cow described the situation as "not a big deal," he persisted in his job and duty, so Cow reluctantly revisited it.

The issue didn't make itself clear until Cow was on the property. He had driven up into its land, which was waist-deep in the industrial area of the port city, as his first step to penetrate the comfortable isolation of the organisation who was posing a problem. The issue was, they were following a pattern of other weapon-smugglers that the Program had information on. Their methods were following the same rules, such as intercepting encrypted messages along the way, and staking out potential locations for weapon drops. Brute force would be utilised if their behaviour persisted, and even if Cow deemed it necessary, but for now the threat was small enough that One didn't want to waste resources other than Cow's breath.

A very invaluable resource at the best of times.

It was straightforward at the start. Cow let his presence be ever more known as he slammed his fist into the metal unloading door of the organisation's warehouse. He did it over and over again as he walked along the wall, coaxing anyone out that he could with his various taunts. He had adopted the demanding attitude of someone who knew he was going to get his way and was growing quickly bored with the time it would take to reach that point. But when the metal face of the warehouse opened, and Cow was staring down the barrels of several guns, he wasn't sure how he felt. But he hesitated, and that was the problem. Enough for a shot to be fired and hit him in the back. After that point, he was sure he was bored by the whole ordeal. Who would shoot him now of all times? And why? What reason did they have? He wouldn't be getting his answer. With the shot to his back - that was absorbed by his armour, so all he felt was the impact, the rest of them moved towards him, their numbers overpowering him.

He gasped as a shot was buried into his shoulder, a pistol's nose being forced between the plates. He became aware that they wanted to disable him, and the longer he took to act, or give in, the more information they would have about his armour and where to shoot. Heavy though Cow's armour was, there were movement joists that couldn't be ignored: they could be utilised by these people. He had been stripped of his external firearms already, so all he had left was his physical body. He could fling himself at them, take their arms and kill as many as possible with his unwavering accuracy, but they'd have him pinned in moments with their numbers and their guns. Plus he was injured so physical attacking was cut to 75% effectiveness. He was in trouble.

There were several methods every Beast had to announce their distress. There were buttons hidden in the armour, the digital distress beacon that could be activated from the helmet, and an automatic distress call that went up when the armour detected its occupier was dying.

Cow took two of these methods. He forced air to his lungs so he could announce his distress passphrase. He slid his thumb beneath the thin panel on his glove that hid the distress button and pressed it while he had the strength. He wouldn't be killed: if they wanted him dead, they'd have pulled his helmet off and killed him right there.

With the distress beacons sent out, he turned his head to the side and stared at one of his to-be captors. A gun was pressed against his visor.



It was all very boring. Cow made sure to tell them that whenever he got a chance to speak. As they had walked him through into their warehouse, he was almost convinced they'd planned it. But he saw others coming out of a room at the side with miss-matched furniture to make space for his future abuse, and he realised they just got lucky. His realisation was further proved by the room they put him in. Not tailored to interrogation in any way.

They had him sit down in his fatigue and kept four people in the room with him: two began eyeing him and judging his movements, while the other two stood by the door. They were uncomfortable. Not used to this. If they were confident, they'd have kept him waiting to be interrogated, and even then, only one person would have been in with him. Cow's eye was honed-in on displays of power, and lack thereof, through years of training various members of the Program. None of this was very impressive to him.

It would be easy for him to own the room and remain sturdy until rescue came, even if he was hurt.

So he sat back, forcing himself not to react to the pain of the bullet wound, and lifted up his chin. With his lips thin and his eyes stoic, he was doing everything he could to display that their taking him as a prisoner was a big mistake. The two staring him down were similarly quiet. For minutes the table between them was a no-man's-land of silent apathy, until one of the men shook his head and said, "We'll deal with you later."

Cow said nothing. He watched them leave. The two guarding the door also left, but Cow heard them take up positions outside. So Cow leaned forward on the table, putting his head down and taking breaths to fight against the bullet wound. He could dull it eventually. He just had to get his body used to it.

They kept him waiting for a while. Cow had to hand that to them. That was a decent strategy; you always kept your quarry waiting, to let them know you weren't important to them. But it was a bluff. Cow knew he was important, very important. He was a Beast for the company they were trying to leech off. He was a diamond.

It was nice to think that someone wanted him.

He snorted at the thought and smiled when his captors entered the room again. The two guards, and the two interrogators. But the guards didn't stand at the door this time: both strode towards Cow to display their own show of power. One grabbed his injured shoulder, pressing the pain deeper and forcing blood from the wound, while the other slugged Cow with ferocity in the side of the head. A threatening lightheadedness accompanied the abuse but Cow fought against it and turned his head back to them with narrowed eyes.

"Very good," Cow muttered. "Good to know I'm a valued guest."

"Hold him." The guards responded, one of them applying the same pressure to Cow's injured shoulder all throughout. "Your helmet. There's a code needed to get into the information. You're going to tell us that code."

Amateur move.

Cow shook his head. "Don't be stupid." The grip tightened on his shoulder, causing him to let out an involuntary grunt of pain. "Think about it for more than a second, and you'll know why you'll never get that information."

"You'll talk." The first interrogator brought out a pistol and kept it by his side. "It's very simple. You tell us, or... maybe we'll just use this."

"Okay, let's humour you," Cow said. "Let's say I tell you a code. Would it be more likely I tell you the code to access my shit, or the code to activate the explosives to wipe the hard drive? So why bother? You won't win. I'm disappointed."

One of the interrogators nodded. "Explosives, they won't be difficult to deal with now we know they're there. Thank you for that."

Cow snorted. "You'll have a blast."

The interrogator gave a short, empty laugh. He wasn't entertained. It was simply his way of trying to be comfortable in the presence of the larger man across from him, who was relentlessly staring at him. The interrogator wasn't even sat down. Cow was close to owning the room completely.

All they could do was try to physically beat him away from that possibility. But no matter how often, how hard, or where they hit him - sometimes in areas that promised him he'd be pissing blood for the next week - he always turned his head towards his assaulter and kept those narrowed grey eyes on them. He silently asked them, "Is this your best?" to unsettle them.

It was a vital response to the situation. You should never break.

The pain was the only issue Cow was having. But it was minor. He could bear it. His body was untrained and unfit, for this, but he was unofficially very resilient. He took the pain to his core, digested it and took it into himself. It was manageable. He could bite down on it and keep himself from breaking. He could force his lungs to breathe just to spit some retort or quip into the face of whoever was using their weapons on him.

But as he kept staring at them, despite the bleeding face, the throbbing shoulder, and the now-cramping guts, the more frustrated his captors were becoming. He was seeing them coming to terms with his resilience. It had taken a few hours of interrogation. They had taken his armour too. Definitely looking at it. Investigating it. They didn't press him for a passcode for his helmet - even the interrogator knew Cow was right about that being a pointless line of questioning. Only one attempt could be made, and it was impossible that Cow would offer them the correct passcode, even if they had sophisticated methods of torture or information accessing. But other than his information, his armour was valuable to them. It was top-of-the-range, constructed by a team of very talented and hand-selected engineers, and crafted from expensive and normally inaccessible materials. Cow knew that they would find more value in the armour than the little he would offer them. And that meant he was in their crosshairs. They'd kill him just to get one over on the Program. Just for the knowledge that the Program was wounded to the tune of one Agent, one Beast.

Cow knew he was obsolete and could only hope his captors didn't realise that yet.

The time of his rescue was nearing though. An aerial reconnaissance vehicle arrived and circled once, which Cow didn't hear immediately. He was rather more occupied by the interrogator who had returned to berate him. Cow lifted his chin, now decorated with dried blood from his nose and burst lip and turned the cheek of defiance upon the interrogator once again.

The interrogator threw down two documents, both clearly listing things Cow assumed were Program semi-secrets. They were things people outside of the Program shouldn't know, but with some careful introspection after information gathering, they could be good guesses into Program behaviour. He glanced down at it only for a second, before he moved his eyes back to the interrogator.

"Awful font. I hate calibri."

"You don't need to confirm any of those facts are true. We know they are."

"I'm proud of you."

"Why would you work for such a shady company? Have you no morals, no sense of justice? You use your labour on the company with the monopoly on cruelty."

Cow yawned. Even that hurt his shoulder. "Very lyrical. Why do you work for such a shady company, you should be a poet. Just make sure to hand-write shit, because as I said, I can't stand calibri."

"Those are all things your Program has done."

"Cute."

"Do you consider yourself one of the good guys? Because I assure you, ask any vigilante and he'll tell you different."

"Oh sure, if I had any vigilante friends. Are you a vigilante?"

The interrogator took the papers back and began perusing them, using the opportunity to ignore Cow. That was a technique Cow used often with his recruits. Ignoring them made them uncomfortable and weakened their defences. But there was a very simple way to counter it. Cow stared. He didn't actively glare, nor did he look expectant, he just let his eyes stay on the interrogator, giving slow blinks. Staring trumped ignoring any day. Staring without reacting, without moving, without showing your annoyance, was a powerful tool.

The sound of heavy engines flared, followed by the clattering of artillery. The interrogator reacted. Cow did not.

The interrogator looked towards the door. That told Cow the interrogator didn't expect that. Which meant it was his ride out of here.

"Huh," he said. "Didn't realise vigilantes were in the market for mounted machine guns. Didn't see any on my way in."

The interrogator looked back to his quarry, who hadn't changed his expression. There he sat, half-moon eyes staring apathetically, blood smeared on the lower half of his face, and bruises starting to form beneath his skin. The interrogator couldn't stay where he was. He got up, bringing out the pistol he had previously threatened Cow with.

Cow saw the interrogator's eyes start to twitch as they scanned Cow's body for the best place to shoot.

Although Cow's body didn't want him to move like he did, it put up with Cow's decision in order to keep itself alive. Cow stood up sharply, a new ferocity curling his top lip, using his movement to thrust the table forwards into the interrogator's hip. He moved round it, grabbed the interrogator's wrist with his good hand and twisted his own body to the side, forcing the man's grip to loosen. The artillery fire ended, revealing the yelling beneath it. In comparison, the interrogator's grunt was silence. Cow almost wanted to take the cinematic approach as he picked up the man's gun, and tell him, "no one will come to save you," but he didn't have the breath for it.

All he did was pick it up and take a step back, assessing the situation. The gun was weighty in his palm, certainly loaded and ready to go. There was no bluffing with these... vigilantes. But no spine either. And that was the difference between a man and a Beast: a Beast was mad enough to grab the gun. The interrogator made a break for the door. So Cow shot him. Once in the neck. That was all.

No doubt about it now, he decided. He'd get out of here alive.

He was happier at that thought. Well, no, not happier, but more satisfied. Cow settled himself on the edge of the table, leaning forward slightly to relieve his shoulder. He had considered his right hand out of action, so had shot with his left. He was glad to see his accuracy still remained with his less-dominant hand, even through the stress.

He could hear a faint shred of organisation. There was a pattern to the fight outside. As short as it was, there was a pattern to the pounding of feet and the shots fired. Not enough of a distinction to allow Cow to judge who had come to pretend they were his guardian angel. So he waited.

It wasn't long at all before the door was assaulted. On the other side of it were people Cow recognised, who had kicked the thing open in preparation for a quick sweep-and-kill. He didn't have his arm raised to shoot, so the members of Wolf's squad simply nodded at him over the interrogator's body and moved on. One of them made a gesture over his shoulder and moved on. The next helmet Cow saw was Wolf's. She was as belligerent as he expected, so he cut out any chat of his health status in favour of the need-to-know information.

"My right arm's injured, but I'm stable. They broke most of my armour but get it back anyway. Not sure where it is."

"Useful as always," she muttered, then waved over a tall member of her squad. After exchanging a quick word or three, she gestured to Cow. "Since I'm here to wipe your fat ass of this shitshow, I'm gonna escort you back. If you manage to get yourself killed, I want it on record that was your own idiocy."

"Obviously," Cow said. He stepped over the body without much thought and followed Wolf. He was still slower than her, even without armour, put he pushed himself to keep pace. He almost never ran anywhere. His armour was too heavy for that sort of thing, and when he was out of his armour the weight of his natural body was too restrictive. So, running in short bursts in his fatigue, he missed his armour. What they'd done was break the vital parts until Cow had been threatened and coerced into doffing it more naturally. But without any external hooks to assist in his escape, he had exhausted himself mentally by ignoring every threat and insult hurled his way about him being slow. But it was wrecked. And his helmet, well, that was surely destroyed. Since the interrogator hadn't pressed him for the passphrase, they must have tried a more animalistic way to get at the data. That's where Magpie's deletion came in.

When Cow was reunited with his armour, sat between it and a medical-minded Doe examining his shoulder as they, Wolf and her squad flew back to base, the first thing he did was check the helmet. He saw what he expected: Magpie's mechanism had been triggered, wiping all the local data in the helmet and locking down the helmet's access to the Program's data. But, further than that, the explosive had also been triggered. It was a small thing, designed only to burst packets of virulent acid to corrode the physical hardware of the helmet. Only the helmet's GPS tracker was left intact.

Cow had to stop fiddling with the helmet when Doe ordered him to drop it. "Please keep your hands still, or you might do more damage to yourself. Please put that down."

Cow did and sighed. He occupied himself by looking at the creases on his fatigue, the arm having been pulled down to expose his shoulder and now-bloody bra strap. She was doing what she could, and Cow silently appreciated it. He didn't move the rest of the way, not even to respond to the questions Wolf asked. None of them were worth answering anyway. They were snarky. She didn't want information. She just wanted ammunition.

Cow didn't mention that part to the counsellor, despite it being the part that irritated him most. It wasn't worth mentioning. Wolf was Wolf. Wolf said what Wolf wanted to say. So instead he spoke about the most obvious things. How being punched hurt. And how he did wonder if he'd die. And how he wasn't sure he would have cared if he'd been killed or not.

He'd done the minimum number of sessions Doe and Gazelle wanted him to do, then struck them off. They weren't useful. As far as he thought, this shit comes with the job, and if you can't handle it, you'd better prepare yerself to be taken out back and shot, like an old dog behind the old red barn.



"Here it is. Hang on. You can change into it in here if you want. Same mechanisms. I'll give you the privacy."

Cow sighed. "Suppose I should."

"Ah, one other thing, Armadillo offered to put you in his schedule to help you train to get used to it. I've got the times he could do on my pad. But I'll show you when you're changed. Just leave your old armour on the rack." Magpie demonstrated by taking the new helmet off and slipping the old one onto its holder. The new set was supported by a much-utilised metal skeleton, held with the usual hooks and supports Cow was used to.

The larger Beast surveyed it with his critical gaze. It followed the basic shape as his current armour, but was considerably bulkier on the areas Magpie had labelled the 'vital regions.' It'd be heavier, but it would be worth it for the added safety. The joints seemed like they would offer further safety, and more stability. Overall, the new white of the armour was sleek and bright enough to be intimidating, with the black and pink trimming offsetting the white. The pink had become a staple of Cow's armour by now. Originally, no one took it seriously. But now, if you saw a stripe of pink on white, you could be certain it would be accompanied by a judgemental stare and narrow-eyed frown.

It would... do.

Cow approached it and began readying it for himself.

"You better help me out or we'll be here til tomorrow."

Magpie smiled. "Sure. It's pretty simple. I wouldn't worry."

"No I know. It just takes me a while on my own. One thing you never account for is that maybe some of us can't reach behind us because we're huge."

"Oh." Magpie knew where he was needed. He took the spot up behind Cow, ready to assist the larger Beast in his struggle.

"You genuinely don't know. The most embarrassing thing about being captured that time was having to get them to help me get out of this shit."

 

[Viper Actual]

"Moving up," muttered Minotaur into his mouthpiece while hugging the wall on his right. Following closely behind him were Tigris, Manticore and Pegasus.
As they advanced the squad made sure to look for traps and potential hiding spots for enemies. Everywhere they looked there were drab concrete structures of varying sizes bearing the marks of past battles.

While the advanced simulation system was quite useful none of it felt the same way as real-life. At least not to Minotaur. As such he had insisted on the addition of an enclosed CQB/MOUT area complete with dynamic weather and climate settings, modular multi-story structures, hardlight targets and a scoreboard.

It wasn't something cheap. Then again Fireteam Myth was expected to perform under worse odds than the others. Like always they all wore low-profile armor with balaclavas and mixed clothing and fatigues underneath. At first glance they'd look more like some backwater PMC than members of a well-funded organization.

Minotaur reached the corner and raised a fist, causing the others to halt. On the other side of the mockup street were Griffin, Cerberus, Satyr and Fenrir.

Griffin adjusted his headset and nodded towards Minotaur. Both of them raised their unmarked assault rifles and peeked around the corner.

Empty, aside from two doors leading into a five-story structure. Their target. A team of four generic-looking gunmen shielded by a waist-high sandbag wall were watching the street. Minotaur grunted. Aside from the random visual glitches every now and then the hardlight targets looked real enough.

Shifting his focus to Griffin he nodded and raised his hand which he balled into a fist. Clear the area.

Even with his face obscured there was no doubt about Griffin smiling at the prospect of earning more points. As for the others there was no need to give any vocal orders- a quick slap and a hand gesture was all that was needed.

Soon enough the teams had steadied themselves. Minotaur took point, spinning around the corner and taking a knee. Two shots echoed across the courtyard while one of the hardlight targets collapsed with several red pixels flashing in its face.

Just as the other targets zeroed in on Minotaur they were already taking fire from Griffin who was laying down some serious cover fire. Another target fell with score points flashing briefly above its head.

Tigris and Cerberus were out next followed by the remaining members of the teams. Merging into one the Beasts opted for short precision salvoes to effectively clear the area.

Before they knew it the last target clutched to his imaginary neck as pixelated blood streamed out of it. Once he laid face-down into the ground the team had already stacked up at the large metal door leading into the compound.

Cerberus backed up behind Griffin where he readied the switch to blow the door wide open. Minotaur took a deep breath, nodded and looked away.

The wall shuddered as the breaching charge went off, sending the door flying inwards.

Minotaur rushed into the smoke gun blazing.



Twenty minutes later the team was assembled in the prep room. A holographic scoreboard occupied one of the walls with Minotaur standing in front of it. Most of the team had removed their masks and vests with plenty of equipment being piled up on one of the nearby tables.

"...which is why we go for the 2-1 rule, right?" Said Minotaur while gesturing towards a holographic projection of one of the hardlight targets.

"If two shots to the torso isn't enough then a headshot sure as hell is."

The team nodded. It was routine practice really. Still, repetition never hurt.

On the wall the scoreboard shifted, now showing Manticore's portrait and score. "Today's highscore was thirtyfive. Good job, Manticore. You're not at Tigris' level but you're getting there," said Minotaur with a smile. Griffin and Fenrir grabbed Manticore by the shoulder to congratulate him while the others clapped their hands.

The scoreboard changed again. Minotaur scratched his chin before continuing. "Now for today's longest headshot..."

 

[Mr_DC]

"Can't fucking wait to have commanders of my own." Wolf growled, looking up through the rain at one of the glass skyscrapers. "But orders are orders." She rolled her shoulders, looking around to her squad. Their armor looked brand new, washed by rain and lit by the street lamps. "So hold your fucking fire." Wolf shoved one of her squad members who dared ask when they would be allowed to open fire on the sea of protesters behind a wall of troopers posing as riot guards. "If any of you shoots before I give the word, I'll rip your lungs out your ass." She threatened and looked over her shoulder. It wasn't a comfortable situation, playing the prey. If One's intelligence branch was correct - which they had better been since that was all they were going on - then the protest would escalate with a third party turning it into a war. They had to be careful about what they did, though. If they scared the protesters or enemy soldiers, the mission would drag on for days.
"Been raining for days now..." Wolf wiped the water droplets off her visor. "Gods really love pissing on this country." She straightened her back and looked at the protesters. They were ready to pop. The thin line of soldiers was the perfect bait. Sure, the riot vans behind them were packed full of soldiers and Beasts but no one knew that.

"How's Bear doing?" Wolf looked at one of the trucks. "His gun ready? Not too tight in there?"
"Feeding him newborn babies every hour." One of her soldiers joked. "He's doing fine, ma'am. Ready to go."
"Our pilots?" She scanned the sea. So many angry eyes. She witnessed such a sight before. Back when she was running her company. Her workers didn't appreciate some of the more cutthroat company policies but with the law enforcement in her pocket, Wolf could do whatever she wanted.
"Everything is alright. Sparrow keeps checking in but the soldiers report that no one is too curious about the choppers. They say that the excuse of shielding them from the rain turns away anyone too curious."
"Perfect." Wolf nodded. She organized the team well. It was her standard style - absolute overkill. While it would usually be too expensive, One encouraged her to get as many boots on the ground as possible. They would bill it all to a desperate client.


"You know, I never really fought much with axes." Mantis motioned towards Shark's tactical axe. Almost all Beasts were spread around in the lobbies of residential buildings close to the soldiers holding the line. When the order was given, they would rush out and assist the soldiers. It would be a dynamics fight with Wolf giving orders on the fly but that suited Mantis just fine. She was quick on her feet and never really liked following the rigid battle plan. Being allowed to do what she thought was best was simply perfect for her. "I mean, I'm good with them. It's just that I always end up using daggers. They seem the most efficient for me. Though, I'd love to use polearms once. Why don't we use cavalry in wars anymore..." She let out an annoyed sigh but quickly checked if she got a chuckle out of the quiet Beast - no such luck. Shark seemed far more interested in the puddles of rain in the dark night than she was in Mantis' ramblings.
"I've never been to Romania..." Mantis looked out as well. They were the expected enemy the team would face. Perhaps the war would bring them into enemy territory eventually. "One said the company has a castle somewhere. That's creepy. Do you think vampires exist? It would be so cool if we fought vampires..." She grinned, twirling the dagger in her hand.
The big Beast, of course, didn't respond. She did look at Mantis when she sighed. "I hope Jay doesn't get hurt." Mantis added quietly, looking at the soldiers. She didn't know where exactly Jay was positioned as Wolf spread out her squad. "You think it's dangerous?"
Shark watched the green Beast for a few seconds before following her gaze out onto the troopers.


"We're approaching the rooftop now." Crow spoke through the radio. The light helicopter wasn't taking the storm outside well but Crow compensated for it as best he could. There were several birds in the sky and only a few of them law enforcement. Most of Europe was watching the situation develop in Hungary. "We'll have to do this quickly. Don't want anyone realizing the Epsilon News feed doesn't match our location." It would have been a simple mission, a boring one if not for his final destination. That place. Something right out of horror fiction. "We'll stop to refuel and drop off your team before we go to our final destination." Crow added to Minotaur. He was under pretty specific orders from One that only Minotaur is allowed to follow him on the whole trip. So much secrecy. Like anyone would willingly go there.
"I... Don't see her on the roof." Crow sighed. The helipad was empty. It wouldn't be an easy mission. Who knew where their target would be in that entire building? Even worse if it turned out she was stopped... There was a reason the Myth team was the one tasked with retrieving her, after all. One wouldn't sent them out on trivial assignments. "I can't land for too long before it becomes suspicious. You'll have to find her fast." Crow added and began getting into position to land.


One had a great view on the future battlefield from the board room in one of the office buildings. The sea of people was surreal. It was dangerous. If they all decided to charge forward, there would be enough of them to clog up their guns. There was only so much their armor could do before they are overwhelmed. Dozens of hands gripping at every limb could be enough to overpower the raw strength their armor provided. Against light armor like Mantis' or Rat's, that could end up deadly.
"Sir?" One of the older, well-dressed men tried getting One's attention away from the glass wall and back to the dimly lit table they were all gathered around.
"The actual delivery time of the missiles may vary." One continued. "If you are willing to cover the costs, we can circumvent some of our safety procedures and, instead, offer bribes to get them through the borders..."


"I raise." Cedric smiled innocently, holding his cards close to his chest. The ambulance one part of the medical team was spacious enough for a game of cards. A little ease of mind before the shooting starts. Something to distract them from what would follow.
Even though Gazelle allowed herself to join the game, she understood why Cedric suggested it. He saw the worry on her face. What would happen outside wasn't right. Thousands of people just speaking their minds and blood-thirsty warlords will open fire on each other with them in the crossfire. How many innocent people would die? Too many. Too many for her conscience. When she first took the job, One promised she wouldn't have to do anything she didn't want to. That she wouldn't have to be a part of anything that doesn't sit right with her. That promise still stood... Then why was she there...
"Doctor?" Cedric leaned in, eyebrows arching up.
"I call." Gazelle smiled. While she would never admit it, Gazelle had her fair share of fun in her college days. Enjoyed life before her name was tarnished. It was then that she learned to play poker so well. It even paid for a good portion of her tuition. "Straight flush." She showed her hand and chuckled at the defeated expression Cedric gave her.


The sea of people. Everyone saw it as that. A sea. Just a mass of flesh with one part indistinguishable from the other. None saw how important a single drop of water in that sea could be. Through a scope, though, the droplets revealed themselves. The sea was torn apart into thousands of faces. Individuals. Singular targets. The removal of one could mean the removal of the entire group. The mistake of one could shatter the group.
"Wolf." Panda spoke through the radio, her sights trained on a man who stepped out of an alley, carrying an assault rifle and wearing combat gear. "I see an enemy." She scanned the crowd. Many figures were trying to push their way to the front. "Several. They are concentrated by May's Department Store and approaching from that direction."
Wolf gave the standby order to all teams and then focused back on Panda. "You better be right. Don't want anyone to start randomly shooting because you were too paranoid."
Panda didn't reply. She loaded her rifle and retrained her sights on one of the men. With her finger hugging the trigger, she waited for the shooting to start.

 

[Viper Actual]

Large crowds of people usually made Minotaur feel at home. It was easy to blend in. Easy to disappear. Easy to manipulate. In this situation however it made him wary. A part of his team was down there while he was stuck in the helicopter, coordinating them.

Minotaur adjusted the headset on his head and nodded towards Crow. "Copy that. Switching to secondary plan."

He looked over his shoulder. Seated behind him were Tigris, Manticore, Griffin and Satyr. The retrieval team.

"Tigris. You're on point. In and out, no traces."

Tigris nodded as she inserted a fresh magazine into her supressed compact carbine. Like the others of the retrieval team she was dressed in a grey rainproof softshell jacket, black tactical pants and a slim platecarrier easily concealed by just zipping up the jacket.

They all wore baseball caps and tactical shades as well with the latter being a gift from Magpie.

As the retrieval team readied themselves so did Minotaur. Just in case.

Once the helicopter touched down the four operators bailed out. As they got out the bold 'POLICE' text became visible on Tigris's and Griffin's backs. Satyr and Manticore bore no such markings.

"Go! Go! Go!" Said Tigris as she moved forward, gun raised and trained at the door leading down into the building. Griffin and Satyr followed with Manticore watching the rear.

---

Down on the ground Pegasus, Fenrir and Cerberus found themselves sitting in a armored car in a dark underground garage somewhere beneath Shark and Mantis.

They were essentially the B-team. If even that.

Pegasus drummed his fingers against the steering wheel while listening to the comms over the radio while Fenrir and Cerberus were simply... there. Waiting to strike.

Fenrir stopped a yawn.

 

[0stinato]

It wasn't raining hard enough. The clouds promised more of a torrent than what was coming down, but they were being unfaithful to their word. What had been a broiling company of grey had become a dark parchment that filled the emptiness of the sky. Somewhere behind it the sun shone on, the only evidence being the spears of light that stretched to the ground where clouds were thinning in the distance. Doe had a view of this between a cluster of buildings. Her heart beat for the rain. The wait was getting to her.

Sitting and doing nothing gave one the ability to think and consider their position. So Doe wondered who was in the right in this pre-war. She was someone trying to keep the majority safe. If that meant others would die, then she wasn't wrong: she was doing all she could. The thoughts cycled like a gyre, trapping Doe in their eye. She had no conclusions to these thoughts. They just made flybys at her, taking a chunk out of her mental stability.

But the rain would quell the cyclone. Once she was out there, running through it to a soldier who had become her next patient as soon as his elbow had touched the asphalt, she wouldn't think. It would be a blessing. The rain would drum on her helmet to the rhythm of war. She would respond. She would be her own type of soldier.

She pulled her medical kit onto her lap again and rifled through its contents for the seventh time.

She looked out the truck window when her check had concluded. Gazelle must have been doing worse than her, Doe decided. Gazelle was an excellent field medic, but she thought about all those things ten times more than Doe did. She understood the same things Doe did, but had questions that shouted themselves louder. Talking wouldn't help.

"Going out to check the right flank," she muttered. "Won't be long."

The others let her go.

She slid back the door and stepped out, wishing to take her helmet off to shed the claustrophobia of urbanity a little, but knew it was vital she kept it on. She walked between trucks, cut behind a few Beasts standing behind the lines of soldiers, acting as stabilising pillars to the plaza of intimidation they were erecting on the street. A few gave subtle nods of their heads towards her which she reciprocated. The main flank was much more padded out than the edges were. With a crowd of that capacity spreading down the streets, the biggest push would be down the middle if they were to charge the soldiers.

Doe eyed the nonlethal arsenal that was prepared, but knew the soldiers and most Beasts were holding killing weapons. They all stood to attention, finger alongside the trigger, resting the neck on the palm of their other hand. A nameless wall of firepower, the necessary edge to break the wave that might flow from the ocean of cursing people beyond.

"Everyone prepared?" Doe muttered to Cow as she sidled up to him. He was standing just off from the centre, near the right edge of the flank, surveying the soldiers. He was also swinging an SMG off his finger.

"Stupid question."

"Yeah... well, thought I'd check."

He looked at her. Or at least, she assumed he was looking at her: the new helmet's visor was black from the outside, and being unable to see his eyes wasn't comfortable.

"Chill." It sounded more like a threat.

"This is pre-war with civilians, how am I supposed to chill?"

He shrugged. "Don't think about it. Relax."

"That's not easy for me."

Cow was quiet for a while. He seemed to be following his own advice. The lazy way he moved his head confirmed that for her. Whether he knew it or not, his ennui in the moment was lending Doe some much-needed aplomb. It was only a pinch of it, but that was welcome if it helped her pulse go down. So she followed his lead and surveyed the troops.

Doe never really had what it took to be a squad leader for any people other than a quick-response triage team. Soldiers like Wolf's, she reckoned, would ignore her rather forgettable voice, and would laugh when she inevitably got angry. She was at the nose end of responsibly emotive: it assisted her in prioritising those in need of medical assistance on the field, but inhibited her when it came to front-line command.

But she had an eye for it regardless.

She frowned as Cow raised his visor. Taking it as an opportunity to speak to him more directly, she subtly gestured to a pair of soldiers to their right. But he'd raised his visor to spit his gum onto the road. He went to shut it, but her stare was too paralysing. Rain beaded on the visor, its water-retardant treatment keeping visibility to its maximum.

"What? It's nicotine gum."

"No, not that. Didn't you notice those two...?"

Cow glanced to the soldiers, then shrugged, shutting his visor. What she'd noticed, among the threads of soldiers, were two who were holding hands. They stood next to each other, but clearly were closer than the usual relationship of brothers-and-sisters-in-arms. Cow needed only a confirming peek to identify the pair. "Yeah. I did."

"You're just going to let them... do that? It's not great for reacting."

"Yeah, it's not. You should always have your weapon ready, in hand, in times of danger, both direct or potential." He was still swinging the SMG on one finger. The second one was in its holster on his hip. He didn't move.

"Tell them?"

"Nah."

She glared at him. He was ignoring her.

"Cow."

"Let them die for their mistake. I'd rather that than waste resources on soldiers who make such a stupid mistake after years of training."

"Their mistake could weaken the whole flank," she hissed, getting closer to him until she could hear his breathing in the helmet. "Fix it like you should, or I'll fix it for you."

He tilted his head, and she hoped he was considering what she said as she stepped back. But he sighed. He wasn't scared of her; he was hardly affected by her. "I won't take training suggestions from someone who forgets to keep her eye on the enemy at all times. Relax. And think. Go back to your position."

She felt a fuse spark to life in her core. It began burning away her patience.

"My job," she said, "is to look at our soldiers. My job is to react to injury. My job is to look for signs of death."

"And their job," Cow nodded forwards to indicate the chaotic crowd, "is to look for signs of your death. Doesn't matter who the enemy is, could be a gang of nursery-school kids, could be a fleet of yakuza, but you have to think they want you dead. So chill."

"Stop saying that, no one gets anywhere telling each other to chill out."

"Okay, fine. Try yoga. Get a mat from Panda or someone. Might help you relax."

The fuse was getting ever smaller with every insinuation he was making.

"We're at war."

"Tai chi then. Don't need a mat for that."

Swing, swing, swing went the gun.

He wasn't bothered with the argument at all.

All that had happened was that Doe had lost. She had got angry because she'd let Cow aggravate her. She couldn't walk away without replying, that would be too much of a defeat.

"Keep yourself alive," she said. "I don't want to see you on my ward this time."

She turned and walked back along the flank. The whole time she wanted to turn and see if he had been hurt by that, but she already knew he would still be swinging that gun, surrounded by a grey, frigid tranquillity.

Only when she sat down in the van, now restless with irritation instead of with anxiety did she look over to him, in time to see him put a fresh stick of gum between his teeth.

 

[Mr_DC]

When Gazelle heard the standby order, it was as if someone gave her the bad news she was dreading. The killing would start soon. But what would she do when the bodies start falling? Would she give the order to help the civilians at the cost of the soldiers she was tasked with protecting? She pursued the career of a medic because she felt the soldiers were doing something noble, protecting the innocent. The truth was much bloodier than she expected.
"Come out when you get an alert that someone is wounded." Gazelle instructed. "Not before. Don't wade through the bullets before you have to." She laid down her cards and exited the ambulance. Her decision was made. She wouldn't risk the lives of those who trust her for the sake of her own ethical concerns. She would, however, risk her own life. Wolf couldn't bark orders loud enough to pull her back from people in need of help.

"Hey..." A voice came from behind Gazelle. "Doctor." Cedric spoke, approaching her.
"You want to see the shooting start?" Gazelle forced a smile. "Is everything alright, Cedric?"
"Shouldn't I ask you that?" Cedric flashed a quick smile of his own. "I know this is hardly the right time but... Would you like to go for coffee with me when we get back?"
Gazelle looked at her feet, her smile turning genuine. He was certainly optimistic, thinking they would both return to the base. "Cedric..." She hesitated with her rejection. She needed someone to talk to. Doe was fine for that but she never felt Doe could understand her on an emotional level. She wasn't sure if anyone could. "Yeah." She nodded. "When we get back." She added and motioned at the ambulance. "Now go back inside."


Crow felt anxiety bubbling up in him. The success of their mission was not in his hands. He was simply a transporter and while strafing streets full of civilians would haunt him, he didn't want to be condemned to taxi duty just because One trusted him. Both him and Minotaur would suffer because of their loyalty. Both of them would simply be the escort crew. At least Minotaur would have something to do, though.
"I'll wait for you however long you take." Crow spoke to Minotaur through the radio as he landed on the helipad. "But the longer you take, the greater the chance of someone realizing we're not truly a news chopper." He explained the situation again even though he knew Minotaur understood their mission. He was one of the smart ones. His bravery didn't come from stupidity. "Good luck." He added. The last thing he wanted to see is them return wounded.
With the protest going on outside, the building was on heightened security. Corporate guards were patrolling the hallways and most of the important employees were being escorted to safe rooms on lower floors by armed guards.


"Hold fire." Wolf gave everyone the order but switched to her squad's channel right after. "Fingers on triggers." She added quietly. "Wait a few seconds to make sure cameras see who fired first and then spray. Create your own camo."
She intended to make all those screaming animals on the other side of the trooper wall pay. Those who are to weak to tailor their own destiny demand that those who succeeded do it for them. How pathetic. While she had no convictions that she was some divine messenger, she would show them their place in the universe. Show them how insignificant they are when a small piece of metal is flying at them at a high speed.

It came shortly after she gave the order. The first shot. The starting pistol to a marathon. The Beasts would lead the way and then leave the troopers to pursue the war. The first deaths followed soon. The bullets that managed to cut through the protesters took down several troopers. Some of them died instantly, being hit in vital spots. Others simply faltered before collapsing on the wet asphalt.
"Open fire!" Wolf barked her order and the lethal weapons added thunder to the overcast skies above. Many troopers, however, held back and aimed carefully through the panicking crowd at the enemy figures. Wolf's squad, however, had no such concerns. They were simply trying to score as many kills as they could before Bear thumps over and lays the sea to rest.

"Looks like the party started." Mantis smiled at Shark as the first shots were fired, feeling a mixture of glee about the action and concern for Jay. "You go first. I wanna see you use that." Mantis motioned at Shark's tactical axe.
Simply giving the green Beast a short glance, Shark twirled the axe and headed out into the bloody mess outside.
"So fucking cool..." Mantis gushed, following the special agent into the fray.

Panda, high above the scene, was picking enemies off since the first shot fired. The low power rifle meant she wouldn't have to wear armor to absorb the shock. The dark civilian clothes meant cameras wouldn't spot her.
Wiping the droplet of water off the lens, Panda aligned the cross-hairs above one of the enemies. The enemy matched their expectations. Medium armor on everyone, abysmal quality. The weapons weren't much better either. While the Program had no issues with selling gear to their enemies, the price tag didn't suit everyone. It was either that price, though, or being cut to ribbons by those who did buy better weapons.
Panda exhaled and gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle jerked in her hands and a moment later, a life was taken. She knew it would be the first of many that day. It was her job. Her skill. Not different from a hunter or a fisherman. She was simply utilizing her skill.


"That's RIDICULOUS!" The old statesman slammed his fist on the contract, not even getting a blink out of One. "You're taking advantage of our desperation! People are dying out there!"
One leaned back in his seat and let out a frustrated sigh. "No one comes to us because they don't care if they will win the war. Our clients want to win. They want to survive. Everyone losing a war is desperate and no one hires mercenaries when they are winning." Tapping his finger on the contract, One frowned. "This is the standard fee for what you need to win."
Crossing his arms on his chest, the man fell silent but still glared at One. All of them did. The silence grew heavy but One seemed to thrive in it. He was calm, relaxed. Like a bird in the sky. "We can negotiate all you like." He finally spoke. "But the terms won't change and my soldiers have orders to tactically retreat." He motioned his hand out the window, lying. One was confident in his negotiating abilities that Wolf was told to pursue victory unless he says otherwise. "I will be exfiltrated shortly. If you think your inadequate army or police force can hold back whatever mercenaries are hired to fight against you, just say so. Fewer deaths on my side. If you think you need the Program, then sign the contract and transfer the initial fee."
The weighty silence set in again but the men on the opposite side of the table began exchanging looks. The contract would be signed by the time One's pickup landed.

 

[0stinato]

The street had gone from urban to warzone in the cross-over of anger and gunfire. The protesters had made their first move, so it was down to the Beasts and the troopers to kill, kill, kill. Rat was as vigilant as the rest, but no more. He wasn't going to above and beyond here: he found the whole thing disgusting. But he couldn't argue here: he, like the rest, were supposed to stop these people to save others. To protect the most lives. To keep this area of the world ticking over with barely more than a scratch on its population. So Rat raised his rifle.

No one knew his position from the other side. And no one would in the future either. By the time Rat shot he would already be moving to his next nest. His first shot missed its target. The throng of people was too unpredictable, too rogue. Too colourful. He growled and moved. This wasn't his forte. If combat was brought to him, he'd much rather do it face-to-face where his knowledge of anatomy and holds would have a say in the outcome. But no one needed assassinating covertly. It was a firefight and Beasts were doing what they did best... or second best. Or a tertiary skill, in Rat's case.

He settled himself by a new window, cracking it open. The nose of the rifle peeked through, Rat took aim again. Someone dropped. Rat drew the rifle back in, and moved to the next location. He had the building mapped out in his head. His memory was lending itself well to that, at least. He was agile throughout, swallowing the questions he had, all of them falling into a state of dormancy until he could demand answers later.

This playground of violence wasn't the place to raise questions. It was also not a playground Rat frequented very often. But most of the other Beasts - or, at least the most vocal ones - often visited and revelled in the playground. Rat was glad he was on the edge of it today, hidden in a building. He continued in this way, moving from location to location, shooting at those missed by other methods of death that were going on below him.

Cow was about to initiate one of these methods: he stood in semi-cover with a large group of troopers who had broken off when the intimidating flank had dissolved. He was giving them orders over comms, his hand raised. The troopers around him were tensed and ready to act, all of them with bent legs ready to propel them forward into action. They listened to their impromptu commander, and kept their eyes on his hand.

It came down. As one unit, they moved into the open, performing Cow's go-to assault tactic together. Unknown to them, Rat was picking off what their spray was missing. But Cow wasn't looking at who was falling to his orchestrated onslaught. The SMGs in his hands bucked with a rhythm that Cow could anticipate, and he never stopped firing. His team was keeping up, surrounding him as they moved towards their next cover to recuperate. Their sweep would weaken the enemy substantially, and let other troopers or Beasts break down the next line more personally.

He didn't look at who fell on his team either, unless he had to step over them. They were troopers he had trained, mostly, all ready for the field and aware of the risks. They were putting out much more damage than they were taking, so the risk of a few injuries was worth it. Besides, the medics needed something to do other than giving him lip. Doe did. She was mouthy, intruding in Cow's work. Cow didn't let anyone intrude on his work. His trainers knew what not to do in the barracks or towards troopers or recruits. Using your initiative as a trainer was encouraged, but changing anything Cow set up was discouraged strongly. Trainers were even explicitly told, in covert meetings between them and the big Beast, to not remove any graffiti from the barracks' bathrooms until Cow said so. Usually what appeared were pen-scrawlings that held obscene comparisons or insults towards Cow or other trainers. These appeared most frequently in the recruits' bathrooms. Troopers usually had a little more respect. Cow would casually explain, in very short terms, that he liked to read them. "They're funny. Even funnier when some recruit comes in and sees me reading the wall. They look so worried."

Maybe a couple of the soldiers who had fallen around him had once written some sordid line in the bathroom. Cow didn't know.

"Hold fire. Into cover." The group split into three and each took their own cover. Cow took point in his third, standing at the edge of cover. He looked back at the path they'd taken, counted up the fallen troopers, then looked at his group. A trooper was bleeding quite badly, and another was trying to assist. Cow heard her desperate breathing, but decided she would life. He pressed on her shoulder.

"You, prone. You," he addressed the other trooper, "pressure on the wound. No screaming."

They did as commanded.

After a little consideration, Cow opened his comms to Gazelle: he didn't much want to talk to Doe. "Might want to clean up where the front flank was, and on my position," he said lethargically. "I made a bit of a mess."

Mr_DC

 

[Viper Actual]

Minotaur nodded towards Crow as his team made their way inside. He did a circular motion with his finger while nodding forward. "Keep us circling. Maybe we can relay some intel to the folks on the ground."

---

A narrowed eye peeked through the small opening. Tigris gripped the door tightly with one hand and her carbine with the other. Corridor looked clear. She glanced to her right. "Satyr. Manticore. Hold here, wait five. Griffin. With me." The others nodded.

The door opened gently with Tigris and Griffin coming out of cover. Walking down the corridor the two of them were looking for more clues as to where their target could be. Signs, intercom messages and whatnot were all of interest. Hopefully they wouldn't encounter any guards this far up in the building and if they did it could be to their advantage if said guard was alone.

 

[Mr_DC]

Gazelle slid to the closest wounded body on the street. One of so many carpeting the road. If she could only stop the time and help all of them...
The person was a young man, his balaclava halfway up his face. Probably just a kid who thought it would be cool to be anarchistic. Perhaps he even cared about what the protest was about. There was no fire in his eyes, though. Only fear on a face twisted by pain. "I'll help you." Gazelle assured him. He was a civilian, after all, and she was a solder in intimidating armor. He needed to be calmed. "Everything will be alright." He was calm for someone who was shot and laying on the road in the middle of a warzone. Gazelle opened her bag and began getting to work.
Gunshot to the abdomen. It wasn't anything she wasn't used to. This time she wouldn't even have to cut through armor to get to the wound. First, though, she would have to numb the pain. It was a civilian, after all and despite not going into shock from being shot, the pain could still be too great for him to handle.
The pair was, however, in a warzone so every now and then, Gazelle would have to lay on the man to protect him and herself from the bullets whizzing above them.



Mantis allowed herself to lag behind Shark. She wanted to see her in action with that axe. The special agent had to have some interesting skill with it. Staying behind the main line of troopers, Mantis watched Shark charge through. Few enemy soldiers actually had time to react to the black blur. One of them almost took the shot but Shark swung her axe and it effortlessly swept through under his shoulder, taking his arm off. Her movements remained fluid as she kept running, leaving behind a screaming soldier and a ribbon of blood. "Fuck." Mantis muttered. "That's cool."
Mantis was brought back to the reality of combat soon after as Shark's smooth movements were cut short. She jumped on the hood of the car and made a leap to the window of the building the car was parked by but an unfortunate bullet hit her in the shoulder blades just as she was about to grab the window.
The special agent hit the side of the building and fell safely behind the cover of the car.



Grimacing uncomfortably, Mantis crouched, turning her back on the killing. She had to find Jay. See how the girl was doing in such an easy combat scenario. Perhaps ask her out to the club as well. Something had been ruining her clubbing experiences. She couldn't focus, couldn't deliver her pickup lines as cleanly as she used to. Jay would always pop into her mind. The only girls that she actually managed to win over were those that resembled her trainee. Even then, she had difficulties going all the way with them and taking them to the base.
"Nah..." She swiped her finger over the air. "Too depressing..." She flipped to the next song that her helmet was showing. "Too jazzy..." She flipped to the next. "Listened it too much so now I hate it..." She flipped and smiled. "Now that's it." She grinned and started jogging along the line, skipping occasionally to get a better view of the fighting. She just had to find Jay, see how the girl was doing.
The good thing about being the close quarters team leader meant that she almost never gave out commands. Other team leaders and commanders plucked soldiers for themselves. Mantis didn't even know where she would start with giving commands. Her orders were limited to "Attack" and nothing else.

There she was. The gem Mantis was keeping an eye for. Jay was already bloody - it came with the job - but she didn't seem to be injured herself. No, Jay wasn't quite the daredevil Mantis was. She was standing behind the corner of a building, waiting for her moment. What Mantis loved the most was the worry Jay held for her. The held breath and wide-open eyes as Mantis danced around bullets.
Banging her head to the beat only she could hear, Mantis skipped over to a nearby building, kicking the piles of bullet casings. The crossroad and a hail of bullets were dividing her and Jay.
Giving gun fingers to the concerned girl on the other side of the road, Mantis turned out the music and began jogging in the spot. She just needed the shooting to slow down for a moment. Just enough to leap behind the burning car in the middle of the road.
Like a diver jumping head-first into the pool, Mantis threw herself into cover. The patter of bullets on the other side meant that a person in bright green armor didn't go unnoticed. Throwing a middle finger above the wreck, Mantis dashed across the remaining length of the crosswalk, being narrowly missed by the enemy.

"What's up, hot stuff?" Mantis leaned on the wall as if she wasn't shot at moments ago.
Jay scoffed, shaking her head. "What are you doing, Manny?" She lowered her tone, glancing around. "We're on a mission."
"Just coming over to ogle your ass." Mantis made her visor transparent and winked. Still, she was on needles, hyper-aware of her every limb. A weight pressed on her chest.
Rolling her eyes, Jay looked away. "I'm wearing armor, Manny."
With a shrug, Mantis chuckled. "Meh, details. You, uh..." She spied Wolf moving up from cover to cover. "You wanna get wasted when we get back to the base? I just wanna chill with someone cool and Panda's pale ass is cool only in the temperature sense."
"What the FUCK are you doing?" Wolf run up and shoved Mantis against the wall. "Move up, god damn it! Flank them, you green moron!" Wolf barked her orders but Mantis didn't pay much attention. She saw Jay give her a nod behind Wolf back.
"Sure thing, puppy." She tapped Wolf on the shoulder and rounded the corner to run into the fray. Her sprint to the nearest alley wasn't long, though, as she slammed into a street light pole while attempting a dodge. "You saw nothing!" She said over the radio before ducking into the alley.


Wolf growled and directed her attention towards her squad. They were doing a good job. The combination of troopers worked well together and there wasn't as much competition as she used to have. No one was withholding help from someone else. Everyone was on the same level. Everyone except Red but he learned to be cautious. He learned to survive what little social Darwinism Wolf deemed necessary.
One part of her team was in a perfectly advantageous position with plenty of hard cover and safe from flanking. The rest of the squad were working on flanking the enemy which would cut a significant part of the enemy off. If done right, both Wolf and her squad will get some heavy praise from One.
Judging by the shots coming from behind the enemy, it was done right. What her squad mattered little, though, as she only needed One to leave the city. The director didn't give her the permission to use air support until he left the city and, with the air support, the battle will quickly be brought to an end.
"Red!" She transmitted a shout over her squad comms. "Start squeezing! I want them desperate!" Moments later, Red and his part of the squad started advancing. Shark Wolf smirked. They were doing a good job.


Crow got cozy in his seat and brought up the combined image of the countless Epsilon drones flying above the battlefield. There was plenty of blood being spilled. Plenty of bullet shells littering the ground. He didn't envy the soldiers on the ground but he envied the pilots who will be fighting it out in the air in the next few months. He never felt right shooting at soldiers but fighting his equals miles above ground gave him the thrill he enjoyed. It felt more honorable.
Crow looked away from the screen on his cockpit windshield and glanced over his shoulder. He didn't think that Minotaur and his team were worth any less than he was. Hell, it took a lot of bravery to do what they did. They were more honorable than many One employed as well.
Below him, the building was being evacuated. Most of the building was occupied by armed corporate security which were notably more aggressive than the regular security guards. The few individuals which weren't security were executives and people of importance who were herded towards safe rooms which couldn't be opened from outside without powerful tools. In one of those groups was the target Minotaur's team searched for. Knowing she was meant to be picked up, the target delayed as much as possible and had yet to even reach the floor.
The target and several executives escorted by a swarm of corporate security guards were two floors below their security room and four floors below the Myth team.

 

[0stinato]

Medics began sweeping the scene Cow had just left, and he considered that part of his responsibility done. He had to work on wearing down the competition. So what could be the best method? The spray-and-pray had done pretty well in spite of its lack of flair, and it certainly bought their side some time. The opposition were not difficult to fight off. They were just a bunch of imbeciles thinking they were making a difference, all for some cause that was... was... well, Cow wasn't sure. He hadn't read that part of the dossier. He only read what was important. He didn't care what they were fighting for.

From what he'd seen though, cross-referenced with his rooted knowledge of positioning and flanks, the opposition wasn't exactly organised. In some ways, that was good for the Beasts. It meant they didn't have to combat organised attacks, and could dish out damage to anyone who came near. It made things simpler... but Cow didn't like it. He knew the methods of handling an organised attack, that's why he'd led the suppressing fire assault a few moments ago. In an organised affront, that would have broken their first lines, destroyed spirits of those behind and caused some organisational chaos.

But without organisation it was chaos in their ranks anyway. So most of Cow's methods would be pointless.

He decided to take a moment and turned on the map in his visor. It showed the area swarmed by the protesters as well as every Beast's position in the vicinity. His eye scanned through the codes and colours, until he came to Wolf, where he squinted in thought. What were her orders? If he'd read about it, he couldn't remember. All he knew was, he answered to her at the moment. It looked like she was flanking. But her squad was spread out, less to flank and more to corral. Like sheepdogs trying to herd very aggressive sheep.

That could work. If he launched a push from this side, then the area of protesters would get more compact. It was a risk - sheep lashed out when they were cornered - but it might work. Hell, if it didn't, a few grenades thrown strategically would tear their side to pieces.

He smirked. He didn't have a tactical squad like Wolf, nor did he know the expertise of every trooper around him, but he would have to use them.

"Wo-oolf, it's your favourite person. My guess by your positioning is that you're herding this lot away from important areas of the city. Suggestion, if I do the same from my end we can force them into a compact group. Easier to intimidate and/or eliminate. Standing by to proceed."

A few seconds later, Cow heard her in his ear, "Oh. You. Great. I'm using squads to threaten them with encirclement and force them to retreat. If they don't retreat, we'll just massacre them. If you can force them to break and leave the city, do it."

Cow raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. He already had some ideas.

"Makes sense. I'll work with you. Will be more effective than fucking around shooting people."

He ended the comm and switched back to the nearby soldiers.

"We've made an initial sweep and showed our ferocity. To prevent more deaths, we'll work with Wolf's squad to encircle them from our position. Fronting positions, forceful attitudes." He then proceeded to weave a strategy with the soldiers he had. They would have to do. He would follow Wolf's pattern, but with more safety precautions because of the soldiers' mediocrity. He'd take a different direction, but assist Wolf in the push. They would only have one break in their ranks; such a break would allow the protesters to choose: stay and be shot or retreat out of the city.

At his command, the flank moved out to its next destination. Ferocity was still necessary, and Cow knew he'd have to take the cox position leading it. He was in much heavier armour than the soldiers, so he could resist damage if it came. When they stepped out, the soldiers had their meanest rifles ready in hand, but Cow was unarmed. He was prepared to grapple, growl, shove and punch to make his point. Again, there would be a distinct lack of flair. But they'd get there.

"Assisting Wolf," he reported on the main comms. In preparation for his role, his voice was low and husky with threat. "I'm encircling from my side."



Rat didn't know what Gazelle thought she was doing, but he knew he had to cover her. He'd seen her rush forward out of a cloud of medics, only to kneel by one of the protesters. It was the weakness in people like her that Rat found distasteful, when one could not ignore ethics in the face of survival. Gazelle was now at risk, and Rat had to cover that. He made a mental note of her position then changed his, breaking away from the window he was at to sprint through the rooms and offices of the building to a location behind her, from which he could take potshots at any protester who might try his luck against Gazelle in that position.

She was busy tending to the protester, and Rat knew he'd go unnoticed. He just couldn't have her die. Not yet. There were questions he still had about Shark that only she could get answers for, and he would be out of vital leads if her death occurred. He squinted at her head as he positioned his rifle. There was knowledge in there that Rat did not have. Chemicals inside a beating fleshy lump, that's all memories were. That's all information was. How easily could it be lost if a protester lodged a bullet somewhere vital... how easily could that biological database cease to exist in the instance Gazelle's heart stopped? Rat would lose a lot of data.

He considered, as he looked across the faces of the protesters turned this way, scanning any of their expressions for future acts of violence against Gazelle, his own mind. Stellar, but incomplete, that was how Rat usually considered it. It would always be incomplete. There would always be more he should harvest, more he should gather. Rat's well of ambition would never go dry. It would stay beating and hungry for more.

His lips were dry, dry with anticipation. With anxiety for Gazelle's life. For the absence of what she knew. If what her report said was true, Shark would be no help to him in figuring out what she was, or what uses she had. But: she was... blank. Manipulable. Malleable. A few select phrases. A few choice words. They could get her to bow to him if he knew them. If he knew exactly what she was to the Director. Why the Director had had contact with her for years. Why he'd never heard about an Agent Shark until now. What processes she was put through to become... as malleable, as strong and as capable as she was.

The Director was stupid. Allowing someone so vulnerable into the ranks, in the midst of pure psychopaths, emotional idiots and straight-up fools. Some might turn her to their own uses. Others might make her too emotional to be effective. A few more might make her braindead. Something very important about the Beasts were their security in themselves. Beasts were confident people. Any Beast not confident in themselves, or confident in what they could do, wouldn't be a Beast for long.

Rat adjusted himself minutely, and kept his eyes on Gazelle.

 

[Viper Actual]

As Crow circled Minotaur gripped his carbine tightly with one hand and a pair of binoculars with the other. With a low tone he began to call out targets of importance to the squad leaders below. Teams of hostile infantry. Snipers. Potential squad leaders. Anything that could be useful really.

When Crow looked up from his screen Minotaur spoke to the pilot. "Keep us steady Crow. Don't want them to get curious."

---

With Satyr and Manticore following a short distance behind Tigris and Griffin continued to clear the building. They had managed to clear another floor when there was an increase in activity. Security forces and top company officials being evacuated into a panic room. Shit. Tigris backed up and glanced at her team. "Contacts and civilians. Multiple. We need to find another way around."

Griffin produced a small device from one of his pouches. "We can set off one of the fire alarms. Draw away some of the guards." Tigris nodded in response, as did Satyr and Manticore. A few moments later Griffin had rigged the small device which was in fact an incendiary charge to a copying machine. With any luck the electronics and paper magazine would ignite into a fairly isolated fire within the plastic shell.

Once the device was rigged the team spread out into two pairs. This way they would be able to observe the staircases as well as keep their backs clear in case they'd need to fall back. Griffin looked at Tigris from across the room. Tigris nodded.

Gently, Griffin squeezed the trigger on the detonator.

 

[Mr_DC]

"Gazelle!" Wolf's shout came sharply in Gazelle's helmet. A bullet would have been less distracting but she was doing well. She stabilized three civilians and instructed them to stay where they were - not that they were in any state to move through a warzone. There were soldiers falling behind her, the regular notifications made that perfectly clear to her. What was worse, those notifications were much more common than those of her medical team taking over cases of the wounded soldiers. They were pilling up and she wasn't helping. She was worried about the civilians. The weight of her duty rubbed against the weight of her morality. The soldiers knew what they were getting into, though. The civilians were simply protesting when a third party used them as a distraction.

"Gazelle, god damn it!" Wolf yelled again but this time Gazelle didn't pause her work. Her patient was bleeding profusely from his abdomen and she had to stabilize his. "Help the soldiers! Leave the civilians alone!" Wolf didn't care. Gazelle was certain she understood fully but simply didn't care. Wolf was the kind of a person who simply did what they were told. She was perfect for her profession. Gazelle... She wished she was a star surgeon of some hospital again. She wished she could rewind the clock back to before she met One. Before she found out how much her family owed him. How much she owed him. If she never met him, she would never have felt the need to repay the favor.

"Can you hear me, Gazelle?" She could hear Wolf losing her patience but she wasn't sure what exactly she was losing her patience at - her or the battle.
"I can hear you." Gazelle replied quietly, letting only the smaller portion of her consciousness pay attention to the conversation. She had a life in her hands. No matter who the man was, it was a life and it was precious.
"Why the hell aren't you doing what I tell you then?" Gazelle hesitated to answer. She knew Wolf was certain of the answer. They knew each other well after the years they spent working side by side. It wasn't often that Gazelle would so blatantly ignore her. It was the first time she did something like that.
"I'm trying to save lives." Gazelle spoke through her teeth. If she could only find the source of the bleeding.
"The wrong lives, agent! I order you to go help the soldiers!" Gazelle closed her eyes. If Wolf would only be quiet for a minute, she could help the man.
"No, Wolf." Gazelle spoke through her teeth, feeling the wound. She was close.
"This is your last warning, Gazelle... Do as I say."
"Fuck off..." Gazelle muttered, swearing for the first time in so many years. It felt liberating. Like she could fly above it all.

A smile crept up on Gazelle's face as she found the source. He was going to be fine. She smiled down at the man whose face was twisted in agony and gave him a nod. Another life saved.
A burst of bullets ripped countless new wounds on the man, ripping the life right out of Gazelle's hands. Jaw relaxed and mouth agape, Gazelle looked at the source and felt the life drain out of her. The wings she gained were ruthlessly ripped off as Wolf emptied her gun on the civilians scattered around the battlefield, including those Gazelle managed to help. She stopped only when she had to reload and then she only shook her head at Gazelle. The medic pushed herself up to her knees in complete apathy. She didn't care about the bullets flying over her head. If anything, it would be a mercy if one hit her. It would end the pointless cycle she was stuck in.
"Agent Armadillo." Wolf spoke over the radio, including Gazelle. "Gazelle is suspended and considered a civilian. Get her off the battlefield, now." She ordered.


With the fire alarm blaring in the building, the Myth team achieved their desired effect and more. Not only did the security escort split off to check if the building is in danger and the important personnel might have to be evacuated but the team escorting the VIP stopped to hear what the rest of the escort reports back. The building, however, shut off most of its power and only the emergency lights lit up the ways to the staircases and safe rooms.

 

[0stinato]

Every time Doe took a step on her left foot, her frustrations grew. Her tread was uneven on that foot. During a run across the road to gather and organise her and Gazelle's team just a few minutes ago, she felt something pull on her foot. When she looked, her scowl grew cold but her determination burned brighter. Cow was determined to ruin her day even after he'd left the vicinity. She'd trod on the gum he'd spat into the street. Divine intervention sought to it that no soldier stood on it, but she did. What contract had the man taken out to allow this, she wondered.

It was putting her off.

She broke cover and dashed into another spot. The medic teams travelled in small packs around the solders, freeing up the two Beasts to focus on the other Beasts. Doe stuck close to the highest frequency of Beasts. Wolf - Cow - Armadillo - Mantis - Shark. Any of them could need her at any moment. She was keeping her eye mostly on Mantis though: Doe wasn't convinced that Mantis was prepared for this kind of a fight. Expectation and self-belief would be her downfall, if anything. Determination and her ballsy nature wouldn't keep her alive. At least she wasn't right up next to the protesters; she would have been dropped already if she was. They wren't afraid to lash out.

She heard a voice over comms. It was soft. Calm. But the undertone was rather uncanny.

"It's Rat," said the voice. "Get to Gazelle's position. She's saving civilians. Wolf is getting agitated. I'm covering her, but I can't cover her from Wolf."

Gazelle felt a hot flush of anxiety come over her. "Wolf's about to--"

"No." Rat cut her off. Doe's anger swelled - how was he supposed to know what she was about to ask? "Think. It's Wolf."

A burst of gunfire sounded, breaking through the regular rhythm of fire in the area by its sheer quantity. It sounded like something Cow would have done. But, by his position on her radar, he would certainly not be firing. It must have been Wolf. It must have been.

"As I said, it's Wolf. Think. Anticipate. Get to Gazelle's position, now."

Rat wasn't her commanding officer, but she couldn't ignore his warning. She darted out of cover. Her eye was on the radar, and on the next area of cover. She skirted around the soldiers, using them partially as cover. Her visor showed Gazelle's location and, knowing that's where she was headed, she was locked on. Wolf was right there too. The firing had stopped. But there was someone else closing in on Gazelle t--

A force slammed into Doe. She didn't even have time to stumble as she fell onto the concrete and rolled. It was a slam worthy of a car, and Doe was almost convinced a vehicle was the culprit. But there were no vehicles this far up. Breath came at last as she pushed herself to her knees. But then she was moving and she didn't know how. She forced the daze out of her and became aware that she was being stood up. A pair of hands under her arms.

She glanced round and saw her own visor reflected in the shining new one of Cow.

"You knocked into me," she mumbled.

"Yep." He stood her up. "Sorry. Go."

She turned to look at him. He tilted his head. A sharp ting rang out, and sparks flew from Cow's armour as a bullet ricocheted from him. He looked at the scratch it left, then at the soldiers whose ranks he'd fallen out of. He moved back that way, but not until he'd violently shoved Doe on the shoulder, turning her slightly. Doe picked up her pace, focusing on what she was meant to be doing. Somehow, both her shoulders were aching, as well as the hip she'd fallen on. But she powered on. She hadn't been shot. Just a little shaken. Moreso than she expected to be.

The other blip on the radar was drawing close to Gazelle. It was Armadillo. She got closer, in time to see the big Beast pulling Gazelle to her feet, away from a bleeding protester. His back was to the protesters, protecting Gazelle as he wrenched her arm behind her back.

To the side, there was Wolf, staring over the whole situation. Doe stepped back. Her eye took in the whole scene. Dead everywhere. The scene, along with what Rat had told her... Wolf had slaughtered the lot of the civilians to stop Gazelle. Doe felt that hot flush again. She didn't know how to react.

She opened comms. "Armadillo... please be gentle. Please."

There was a reply. "Orders are orders, ma'am."

She knew there was nothing else to say. Her workload had just increased. She had to get a grip.

"I'll pick up what Gazelle can't do," Doe said, opening comms to Wolf. She had taken a breath. She tried to keep her voice stable. She hoped Wolf wouldn't hear the shakiness in it, but was powerless to inject her words with thrust.

 

[Mr_DC]

There she was. The only Beast that Gazelle could possibly hope would understand her. Other Beasts might have had a conscience but only Gazelle and Doe were there to save lives. Doe, however, was smarter. She could do more if she avoided stunts Gazelle did. Doe's presence didn't help. It didn't make things easier. It only made Gazelle realize how much of a burden she placed on her partner. Just as worse was the display: Gazelle, the chief medic, being escorted off the battlefield in the most unceremonious way.

"Damn right you will." Wolf replied to Doe as she pressed her back against a wall seemingly for cover but she truly needed something to ground her. Something firm to return her to reality. Wolf sent Gazelle off the battlefield. She couldn't remember when was the last time One did that to any Beast, let alone Gazelle. As much as she was unsure about her action, she was just as certain it was the right choice to make. Gazelle broke. She was risking the lives of other soldiers.

"At least you know what needs to be done." Wolf grumbled, tossing away the half-used clip, needing something - anything - to do with her trembling hands. She could shit talk Mantis all she wanted or walk into enemy fire but sending Gazelle off the field... That was something else. "She has no business being on the field..." Wolf growled into the radio. "She should be in some fancy hospital where half the board is controlled by her noble fucking family." Wolf finished reloading. "Fuck. Go, do her job!" She ordered and opened fire randomly in the direction of the enemy.

"Commander." A voice snapped Wolf back to reality. That was what she needed. Red. She needed Red's panicked voice, desperate for guidance. "We need orders, ma'am."
"Initiative, Red." She brought down a display from a drone onto her visor. "I want to see some fucking initiative." The enemy was pulling back, retreating. An encirclement would be impossible but they could all score some kills before the fight ended. "I'm controlling an army and you want me to give you orders. Guess I have to do everything myself. You gonna call me next time you fuck someone? Need some orders for that?" She threw insults at Red as she planned their next line of attack. It was a helpful release valve.

Wolf transferred the plan of attack to Red. "There. Open a path with grenades and push as aggressively as you can. They are retreating, you can easily mow them down by the dozens." It wasn't a complicated plan but not everyone could spot the opportunity. That, to Wolf, was what set her above the rest. She was a commander, not just a soldier. "Agent Cow, follow my squad. We're about to end this." She ordered and forwarded the same orders to Cow.

Looking over her shoulder, Wolf frowned. She would have to think of how to deal with Gazelle. "Put her somewhere safe, agent Armadillo. She won't escape but I don't want her getting hurt." She explained calmly. She knew Armadillo would be cautious with her. It was an order she didn't have to give. Everyone knew the importance of other Beasts and the connection she had with One set Gazelle apart. Even someone who was in the Program for a few months would notice her spending half an hour with One in the morning and evening. "Stay with her, alright? The fight is almost over anyways."

 

[Viper Actual]

With only the emergency lights illuminating the intimate office space the operators from Fireteam Myth had every advantage they could ask for. The first victims would be a pair of security guards- bottom-line grunts really. A few silenced shots later from Griffin and Tigris resulted in the men collapsing into one of the cubicles. Unfortunately for them their bodies would serve to lure in additional guards.

Tigris and Griffin shifted, moving from cover to one of the staircases. At the same time Satyr and Manticore took up overwatch at the current floor. Manticore even attempted to jam enemy radio frequencies using a small handheld jamming device.

"Let's make this quick," said Tigris as she hugged a wall. Griffin joined her, watching her back. "You lead. I follow."

Together the two of them entered one of the smaller staircases. Emergencies only. They spotted another pair of grunts on their way up. Not only were their flashlights all over their place but their gear was noisy as hell. Amateurs. Tigris leaned over the railing and fired two well-placed shots, stopping the guards quite literally dead in their tracks. One of them rolled a few steps down before getting stuck on his own arm.

Carefully the two operators descended the next flight of stairs and stopped at the first available door to listen. Griffin kneeled down next to one of the guards in the rare chance that he could intercept something blurted out over comms.

 

[0stinato]

The little area beneath Rat's scope was being vacated. Doe took a few steps back, then turned to run. Rat followed her with his scope, so she would be magnified to his eye. Her tread was unsteady, he could identify that. Anyone could see that. Her momentum wasn't certain; it was reined, restricted. She was in a jog rather than a run. She did resemble her namesake, Rat thought. A deer that had been previously shocked, a deer that was uncertain which way to run to escape the clutches of people and dive into the forgiving foliage. Not yet confident enough in its direction to break into a sprint, so keeping its options wide with slower movement. Doe was doing the exact same. Jogging. Slow. Afraid of the ground in front of her. Rat considered her position: her commander had been taken off the field because of her actions. So Doe was the chief medical officer on the field.

She walked with gusto around the base, but Rat was seeing that she wasn't suited to this sort of command. He would keep tabs on her... later.

He moved his scope to take a half-hearted shot into the crowd Wolf and Cow were directing, but shifted position to glance down at Armadillo and Gazelle. She wasn't struggling. Armadillo didn't have to manhandle her. Rat sensed an opportunity.

From his position, he was allowed to do whatever he wanted. Wolf was commanding those on the field, leaving those in crows' nests to their own devices. Panda and Rat, in that position, could move around as their strategies dictated.

Rat's position in the window - or indeed this building - was never meant to be stable. He should move as the situation allowed.

His position here was stale. He was no longer a surprise to the group below. He pulled the rifle from the window, slotted it against his body, and ran. He was in the stairwell before long, shooting down the stairs and keeping his mind honed on where Armadillo would be taking Gazelle. She'd be pulled back from the ranks, potentially to the medical vans, if not to the transport trucks. Would Armadillo be guarding her or would he return to his post?

Rat came to the side entrance and paused, taking stock of the area before stepping out. He dodged between bins to another side street, aiming to go parallel with Armadillo. He was aware he was drawing closer to Panda, which wasn't good in tactical terms. But he had to risk it. Gazelle was a key, and she might be rattled enough to further Rat's aims.

He clenched his teeth: this wasn't planned. He was being bold. Loud. Obvious in some ways. He'd have to counteract that. Use what he could do, use his particular talents, to strongarm the situation into his court. His eyes narrowed beneath his visor, and he rounded the corner in time to see Armadillo walk past.



Wolf sounded unusually harsh. But Cow didn't feel like questioning it.

"Right behind you," he said. He was tired now. So it took immense effort to take a breath, and bellow through the comms to his squad to fall in line with Wolf's team. After doing so, he stepped back, surveying the protesters. He was looking for potential breaks, for the weakest areas in the group. That's what he thought Wolf would be looking for. Only... his eye wasn't honed for it. He thought he saw a few places there his crew could be more tactically stationed, but he didn't take the moment to reorganise his team. He would stick with Wolf's command and orders, not do anything to hinder them. He didn't want to bother dealing with their push going wrong... and if it did, he didn't want to be bothered being blamed for it. If he was blamed, he'd have to make effort to look like he was trying harder next time.

He wasn't prepared for that.

"Stick close, let no one get through your defences," Cow ordered. "Don't be afraid to put them in their place."

If he had to throw himself in to give someone a slug on the jaw, he was more than prepared for that. Magpie's improved gauntlets would certainly break someone's jaw while leaving Cow without a scratch. He rolled his shoulders, prepared for it.

 

[Mr_DC]

"God damn it, what's going on out here?!" The gruff voice yelled over the radio on one of the dead security guards. "This is a simple job! Get the VIPs to the safe rooms, now!"
"Yes, sir." Was the reply after a few seconds of hesitation.
Throwing caution to the wind, the remaining few security guards that stayed with the persons of interest - including the exfiltration target - started herding the civilians down the hall at a fast pace. They all soon started jogging with the target doing her best to slow the group down. Involuntarily showing their paranoia and anxiety over the situation, the guards held their fingers hovering on the triggers, ready to open fire on any potential threat that would get in the way of the people they were escorting.

Crow was spending his time relaxing and catching up. His mind was on his son. On what he was doing and where he actually was. On what mission One sent him. His visor showed a transparent briefing of Sparrow's mission. It was a simple one. A dogfight wasn't expected and enemy anti-air had been disabled prior. One might have been loud about having a private navy and airforce but he wasn't an idiot. Each plane lost would be extremely difficult to replace. The only time One used his most marketable assets was when the mission was either a sure thing or when he had no other choice.
Crow flinched. The sound he heard wasn't loud but it was something he learned to notice. The light metallic taps. Someone was shooting at him. "Hey, Minotaur." He opened the comms as he began moving around the building. "I need to reposition, someone doesn't like us flying around. The bullets aren't going through the armor but I don't want to risk it." He warned the squad leader.


Escorted to one of the armored trucks which brought the Beasts to the city, Gazelle resigned herself to waiting. She wanted to say something to Armadillo. Apologize for him having to do this but she couldn't plan a sentence. Words wouldn't fit together, her message became blurred. She was glad, however, that Armadillo didn't get hurt escorting her back. She wouldn't have been able to take it if someone else got hurt for her convictions.
"Thanks for getting me back safe." Gazelle finally muttered, staring at the ground. She just wanted to go back to the base. She needed to calm down, even if it would take a higher dosage than usual. She just needed to let it go.


Wolf tracked the front line moving on her visor. The enemies were pulling back, almost scattered in a crushing retreat. Still, the battle was considered raging until she declared a victory. When the enemy pulls out of the city, stop the attack. Those were her orders. Orders she said she wouldn't follow. She excited her squad, promising them to hunt down the enemy and rip them to shreds. It wouldn't be the first time ignoring One's orders. Definitely not the last. Still, her mouth hung open. The order to pursue wouldn't come. There was a weight on her chest preventing her from saying it. The comms hung open, waiting for her word.
"Victory secured." She gave word, lacking any enthusiasm she had at the start of the battle. "Beasts gather at the field base, troopers secure the city. Transferring command to aides." She ordered and headed back to the trucks. The fighting would continue for a few hours between the troopers and enemies who didn't manage to escape in time but the battle was over. Before they return to base, Wolf just had to give a final word to the Beasts.

 

[0stinato]

The desire to access Gazelle or Armadillo's private comms was germinating in Rat's chest. He doubted anything particularly valuable was being said, but that wasn't his reason for wanting to do it: knowing Gazelle's mental and emotional state would be valuable for the next few hours. He only had to place himself near to her and initiate talking. It was unusual for Rat to chat. But Gazelle's actions had been overseen by him: he'd actively kept her from being shot several times. She was probably oblivious to it.

Doe and Gazelle in the same area, in Rat's conversation, would be the best outcome... but that outcome was heavily pregnant with risk. Doe was loyal to Gazelle. That's why she ran to Gazelle's aid the moment Rat gave the suggestion. The loyalty could morph into protection, which would shut Rat out from a soft interrogation of Gazelle. But he was confident: if he spun the situation to give Doe the impression that he wanted the best for Gazelle, like before, then she might stay on-side. Might even help if he went about it in the perfect way.

There she was, sat at the truck. Rat was metres away. If Armadillo wasn't there, he could approach...

He pulled away, pressed against the wall, and muttered the fateful passphrase that would give him access. Then he said Cow's passphrase, just to ensure Rat's involvement would be difficult to tell later. A few new dots appeared on his visor, alongside those that dictated where each Beast was. With Cow's access, he could see Armadillo's comm, and it was accessible. Rat would listen in as a spectator, an observer, not as a spy.

Muting his own comms to ensure there was no was Armadillo could hear him, Rat accessed Armadillo's microphone. He would hear what Armadillo was saying, and from that would have to infer Gazelle's state.

"Don't thank me, thank God you weren't shot by both sides. You put yourself in jeopardy. It's not up to me what happens, but if it was, I would dismiss you until further notice."

Rat's adrenaline flared when he heard Armadillo's tone. It wasn't the soft-spoken, stable voice he was used to despising. It was the tone he had taken with Rat when faced with defamation. When Nikolaos Maximillian had presented the information that would bring about Villem Doncaster's ruin, and Villem Doncaster accepted it with an impossible-to-deny promise. Doncaster's tone of voice had been the same: quietly disappointed, completely impossible to destabilise, difficult to ignore.

"We do our jobs, no matter how ugly they are. We make things better, but we cannot do that if our intentions are not aligned."

"Victory secured. Beasts gather at the field base, troopers secure the city. Transferring command to aides." Wolf's voice cut through Armadillo's and Rat caught his breath. The order was in for the Beasts. And Armadillo never ignored orders.

Sure enough, Armadillo's voice picked up when Wolf's comm ended: "I advise you consider what I said. Goodbye." There was a moment of quiet, then Armadillo commanded, "I need two troopers to guard Gazelle, and medics to see to her. Make it happen."

Rat pulled out of the comms. Armadillo was walking away. There was nothing more he wanted to hear from that voice and was glad to be rid of it. He knew he had to be quick. Wolf would not take kindly in her current state to a Beast being late to the field base, and Rat did not have a record of tardiness. Gazelle was tender. He moved from the shadows of the building as if he was returning to the field base, and looked up to Gazelle. Then he stopped walking and turned to face her.

"I saw what you were doing from my position," he said to her. "I saw you trying to bring peace to this war, and did what I could to protect you. I appreciated it. You were't wrong, not in the eyes of morality."

He bowed his head to her, then took off again. The line had been cast, with justification the bait. A humiliated fish would not resist...



Cow was holding someone away from him when Wolf's command came over the comms. The protesters were dispersing from the city, but one clever one had decided to engage Cow. It was not hard for the protesters to see which soldiers were in command, and Cow imagined that's what had spurred this one to have a last-ditch attempt at causing some sort of bodily harm to Cow. At first, the protester had tried shooting at Cow's back, only for Cow to apparently not even notice. The protester then marched up and smacked Cow across the back of the head with the butt of the pistol. From both attacks, Cow remained unhurt.

The big Beast looked round at the protester, grabbed them by the neck, and kindly asked his impromptu squad, why the fuck were their defences so shit that he was being abused, and that he hoped the next securing wave of troopers did a better job than you bastards.

He didn't particularly want to go to meet with the other Beasts. It sounded annoying. The protester struggling in his grip was also annoying.

Cow retracted his visor so the protester could see his disgusted snarl, spat in their face, and followed it up with a punch. Cow knew how to put his body weight behind his punches, and a regular punch from him would have been enough. But the weight of the armour doubled, if not tripled, the impact, and the protester fell backwards.

"Fuck." He swore at no one, nor at anything. He just felt the word needed to be said out loud.

The visor slid down and sealed, and Cow turned away from the battle. Wolf was already ahead of him. But he wasn't about to pick up his pace. He'd arrive when he arrived, and he didn't care what Wolf had to say about it.