[color=fff200][i]<Demon 1-3, be advised, we have active pings. Repeat, active pings detected in our action area.>[/i][/color]

Keen, cold, and mechanically enhanced eyes narrowed; a predatory expression, as a lion might focus upon the first glimpse of prey. The woman who owned these eyes replied with her own thought-comm.

[color=ec008c][i]<Copy that, Demon 1-4. All operators prepare to move and engage. Maintain cover until targets are confirmed.>[/i][/color]

Immediately following this order, a string of affirmations from all the soldiers of Demon team came across the thought-comm channel.  A dozen in all. 

The woman, known as Demon 1-3, ran her hand nonchalantly through her electric-green hair. It was cut in a long Mohawk that draped attractively between her shoulder blades. Her predatory eyes scanned across the press of humanity that made up the Snoria Bazaar. Listening to her team report in within the confines of her mind, she appeared nothing more than another of a thousand other beautiful distractions within the market.

She was dressed in a grey skin-tight [url=https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/97/bf/92/97bf9251811acb1b1f5df0e4af38c53b.jpg]plug suit[/url] that accentuated the natural allure of both her soft and hard lines. It was common enough attire for both men and women in the Orion Arm, as it allowed a simple means to interface with a wide array of machinery and tech.  That this particular suit also allowed Demon 1-3 to remotely control her YETI was assuredly [i]not[/i] as common.  

As she wove her way through the shops and stands, she knew that a CAG unit was dangerously close. In fact, one of the infamous operators could be walking right beside her, and she probably wouldn’t know it until the lead started to fly. But, the same held true for the Imperial soldiers; they could have no inkling that they weren’t the only wolf pack in this den of sheep. A smile tickled at the corners of Demon 1-3’s rouged lips. 

Due to the impossibly heavy encryption on the security chips, the Nym Republic had no hope of pinging the chips as the CAG unit was now doing. Locating the devices was nigh impossible even with the proper software codex, and utterly hopeless without it. Yet, the members of Demon team had a tool that gave them something just as valuable—a means to track and recognize the pings of the OSS as it searched the bazaar. 

It was a method called Ghost Locating, and the special forces of the Nym Republic had become exceedingly skilled at employing it. Thus far, no Imperial force had managed to recognize the faint signature that parallaxes off the Ghosted ping. Demon 1-3 was an expert in the field, and she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that it would take a system-operator of unrivaled skill to detect the parallax. CAG units were good, but she doubted they could be [i]that[/i] good. 

[color=fff200][i]<Demon 1-3, we have location signatures. It appears the OSS is narrowing its search vector.>[/i][/color]

A slight tremor of surprise echoed down Demon 1-3’s spine. She had not expected for the Imperial OSS to find any return pings, much less so quickly. Her surprise quickly faded into adrenaline fueled excitement that was held far from manifesting itself upon her features. This mission would bear unexpected fruit after all. 

[color=ec008c][i]<Very good, Demon 1-4.>[/i][/color] She said over the thought-comm. [color=ec008c][i]<Stay frosty, team. It’s almost show time.>[/i][/color]