>CLARKSBURG, WV
>JUL.19.2019
>2000HRS...///

Behind the door labeled ‘Men’, loud and angry music played from a speaker mingled with the sounds of clicks and clacks of brass checks and magazines, buckles, and zippers being worked. Donnelley had packed light, This was supposed to be a precise strike with no room for error. Just another snatch-and-grab. He looked at himself in the full-length mirror, dressed to impress. His black slacks, his white button-up, his hair done up. He indeed looked like a Fed.

His tactical gear was in the corner, ready. He slipped a cigarette between his lips and sighed to himself, another day at the office. This was American soil, and here he was breaking the law to get the objective. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d done for the Program. Ghost could attest to that. Memories of Libya stabbed from the corners of his mind and he shook them off, turning for the door.

He switched the music off and exited his room, wanting to get some conversation before the quiet could get to him, knocking on the door to the men’s bunks and standing back for it to open.

It was Queen who opened the door, still wearing his Molly Hatchet t-shirt and a sly smile. "It's the big boss man, fellas. Everyone look busy."

He stepped back to let Donnelley in and closed the door behind him.

“Everyone’s kits in order?” Donnelley asked, his eyes sweeping the room, seeing the faces of his tactical team in varying degrees of intensity.

Jason was kneeling over a black GoRuck bag looking over the trauma kit he was packing. He wasn’t about to sling it over his shoulder for the exfil, but he’d stash it in their vehicle just in case. His sidearm was already holstered underneath his armpit, and his shotgun had both magazine tubes loaded with slugs. He was ready to bang, but a nagging weight of anxiety crushed his ribs in. He’d have to swallow it down and try to keep up. None of the guys around him had rust to shake off. There was a medication rattle deep within his backpack as he wrestled a bottle of Adderall free. Best get focused, he thought.

“Just in time,” Jason said, pouring a few Adderall on a nearby drawer top and beginning to crush the pills up with the butt end of a magazine. 

"Locked, cocked, and ready to rock," Queen drawled, sitting on his bunk. "How we going in?"

He gestured to Donnelley's business suit and raised his brow.

“Dress appropriately.” Donnelley spoke around his cigarette, “Jay’s goin’ to find out who he’s up against.”

Queen pulled off his jeans, kicking them aside, “And I so looked forward to ingratiating myself with a buncha dumbass Nazi hillbillies.” 

He grabbed his DEA tactical gear from his suitcase and pulled on the black tactical pants, followed by the boots.

Ghost looked over his dark cargo pants and charcoal hoodie. 

"I'm good," he grunted. "We goin' in as cops or goons, I'll look the part either way."  

“I reckon,” Donnelley snorted, “You always been good at lookin’ scary, you scary sumbitch.”

Jason scraped a few lines of the crushed pills and railed one through a cut plastic straw. His head shook and he flexed his jaw open while snorting the amphetamine deeper up his nostril.  The pressure in his chest grew and he flexed his back muscles to pop his spine in a quick rattle, then looked over at Queen and gestured the straw his way as the come-up hit.

Donnelley turned to the rest and nodded over to his room, “We’re bringin’ along one of them laser pointers on the trip. Verify Jay is in there, case the place and go in hard. We don’t have the blueprints to this place, but it ain’t big. Close quarters, we keep up with that violence of action and we’ll catch them with their dicks out.”

“If Jay doesn’t happen to be there, we get an HVT bagged and gagged and ask him questions in the field. I’m gonna run down everyone Jay knows until he’s shittin’ himself.” Donnelley smirked. “I want our window to be as small as we can make it. One of these guys gets to a phone, they’ll be waitin’ for us. Quick strikes, all night, until we find this fucker or find out he’s too far away. Our prime goal is gettin’ to these Russians, Jay is our key in.”

Queen nodded, adjusting the straps of his Kevlar vest, black with white DEA letters on the front. "We'll get em, fast and clean."

He had zip ties and a taser stuffed into his pockets and he glanced over at Jason after hearing the sharp inhalation. “[i]Este güey[/i],” Queen gasped in Mexican Spanish, giving a playful grin to the big Puerto Rican. “I didn’t know you were down.” 

With a flourish, he took the straw and helped himself, snorting a short line of the crunchy powder. Queen rubbed his nose then dug into his own pocket, a small baggie of cocaine in his palm. “In case you wanna up the ante.” 

Donnelley held his hand out now that he was done playing leader, “Anybody sharin’?”

“Of course,” Jason answered, and cocked his head down at the straw in Queen’s hand. “Don’t mind if I do,” Jason added, grinning at the baggy of coke. It would be his first time taking cocaine for a job, but it couldn’t be any worse than uppers, right? More than anything he knew he couldn’t say no. 

“Help yourself, compliments of the Miami field office of the Drug Enforcement Agency,” Queen said then glanced over at Ghost, “Want your ice?”

Ghost took his skull pipe out of a pouch on his flak, extending a hand. He'd watched them snorting pills with disdain; it was party-boy shit, reeking of college kids and club bathrooms. If you were going to catch a pre-gig buzz, you could at least do it like a professional. 

After a bump of coke, Queen brought the tiny ziplock bag that held the confiscated meth from the lab he had helped bust before the Cuban case. The cook had been a chemistry student and it showed, the meth wasn’t bathroom sink trash. 

“Same as what I gave you in New York,” he assured the big man as he passed over a rock, watching him prepare the pipe, studying the evil sardonic grin and smiled back at it. “Light it up.”

Ghost sparked the pipe and took a heavy drag. The effect was almost immediate. He felt his muscles tighten, and his pulse began to beat rapidly.

"I'll need that later," he growled as he exhaled, offering the bag to Queen. The pipe went back into its case, the remains of the rock nestled inside. 

Queen grinned then took the bag, tucking it away, “I got it. Feeling that good shit, gonna let this monster loose, boys. Fuck them and theirs.”

His face felt numb and his mind sharp, the thoughts racing to one goal. Get fucking Jay. 

He picked up his micro Uzi and slung it over his chest, his 9mm tucked away in the holster at his hip. “Alright, Tex, let’s ruin their night.”

“First things first,” Donnelley stretched up toward the ceiling, hearing his shoulder and back let loose a series of rattling pops, “Fuckin’ hand me that straw.”

[hr]

A few minutes of drug-fueled chit-chat later, Donnelley was the first out of the room, intent on checking on the rest of his team. He had to make sure everything was in order before they left. He couldn’t forgive himself if he sped off without making sure his people were as safe as they could be. Jay and his attack on the Safehouse was sobering for him. They weren’t invincible and untraceable. They were dealing with an enemy that was smart, and had unnatural resources, of New York was anything to go by. Avery was asleep on the couch and he slapped the man’s foot hard, jerking him awake with a yelp, “Stay the fuck up, kid.”

“Yessir.” He groggily nodded as Donnelley made his way towards the front door.

He closed it behind him and finally lit that cigarette, watching the streets with careful eyes, tempered with the unbridled rush of amphetamines and coke, willing him to do something with the jittery, restless aggression.

Dave watched Donnelley pass through the house and, after a moment's hesitation, followed after him. He joined the man outside, pulling the door to.

"Hey man," he said, stepping up beside him. "What's the deal with the brief? When we doin' that?" He figured he already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it face to face. 

Donnelley turned when he heard the front door open and close again, seeing Dave stepping up to him. The look on his face told Donnelley he knew already. It didn’t help. “I need you to stay.” Donnelley said, his face not betraying any of his feelings about the decision, “I can’t have the people here unprotected, not after Blackriver.”

Dave's frown deepened, but he gave him a slow nod, hanging his head a little. 

"Yeah, I can do that, man. You know I'll watch 'em. I guess uh… Be careful, man. Watch your back." He offered his hand, biting back his disappointment in favor of an encouraging smile. "I'll have everythin' safe and sound when y'all get done."  

Donnelley offered his consoling smile, trying to turn it into something more brave and fierce as he clapped his hand with Dave’s, “Ain’t another soul here I’d trust, man.” Donnelley said, “I’ll double-tap some shitheads for ya.”

Dave's smile widened, becoming a genuine grin. 

"Alright man, I'll see you when you're done." He patted Donnelley on the shoulder and then headed into the house, heading to prep his gear. 

Queen stepped out of the room, a loose swagger in his stride now as he was dressed for the raid, a combination of black tactical gear and the DEA vest over his Molly Hatchet t-shirt. His eyes were noticeably dilated, the pale irises only rings around the dark pupils, causing him to blink in the bright kitchen lights. Queen spotted Ava and he slid his sunglasses in place, despite the fact they were going out into the dark. He leaned against the wall, his hand resting on the micro Uzi,  “Get ready, cause I’m coming home with all the hard drives and phones. I’m gonna keep you busy all night.”

Ava shut the fridge, a can of cherry 7-Up in hand as she looked up at Queen. Her eyes widened slightly seeing him in tactical gear and heavily armed. “Um, okay, I’ll get my stuff ready.” She said, giving him a small smile. “It certainly won’t be the first time I stayed up all night for work.” She lightly plucked the tab of the soda can with her finger, creating a soft metallic ‘tink’ sound. 

“I know we got off on a shaky foot, but be careful, okay?” She said, her deep blue eyes bright with sincerity as she creased her brow with worry. 

Queen sniffed then grinned at her, his eyes dancing behind the dark aviator lenses, “Nah, don’t worry about me, Angel. You got us good intel, that’s all we need. Ain’t no one killed me yet.”

He moved towards her, giving her a quick look over before grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “We’ve worked together for a long time, Ghost and Tex, er Donnelley, and myself. Like a well oiled machine.” 

Ava flushed lightly hearing him call her ‘angel’, looking down as she cracked open the soda with a soft hiss. “Alright, I trust you guys.” She said, taking a sip of her drink. Ava glanced back up at him as she lowered the can, a corner of her lips pulling up into a little smile. “You call Donnelley Tex?”

Queen rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek as she turned pink under her freckles at his compliment. He smiled, leaning back against the counter to keep himself still, “I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, though it’s been a while since anyone worried about me. Kinda nice, even if it’s just, you know...being polite.”

He cast a glance at her, biting his lip slightly at the numbness there. Queen chuckled,  “And yeah, Donnelley is Big Tex. I gave him that name, well I started calling him that and it stuck, despite his protests. You all don’t have those names but in teams like ours, it’s a good idea.” 

“Oh?” She asked, tilting her head to the side a little, like a curious kitten. “Why’s that? Is it because it’s something you all bond over?”

He sniffed and pinched his nose in a quick gesture, then shook his head, “More like the jobs we do, it’s a good idea not to use any names. Even among people you think you can trust.” 

Queen eyed her and flashed a crooked grin, “Angel, I know what you could do if you had my name and all the things you could find on me and my family, anyone connected. Even if I’m careful, there’s always a cyber footprint here or paper trail there. You’re as dangerous as any of us, look what you did to Jay and his buddies.”

He laughed and poked the tip of his tongue briefly between his teeth. Queen met her gaze behind his dark glasses, “I know because I do the same shit in my way, find people that need finding and it all starts with a name. Not that I wouldn’t trust you, of course, as long as Donnelley does.” 

Ava frowned for a moment before she slowly nodded. “I understand and I don’t hold it against you, Queen. Especially since this is the Program.” 

He shrugged, tossing the water bottle back and forth for a moment, “Yeah it’s no big deal, just how it is. I worked years of undercover, it’s practically second nature for me to conceal.”

Queen paused and ran a hand through his shaggy dark blonde hair, “Kinda sucks, you know. When your world is shrunk down to a handful of people. But such is the life of a superhero, we sacrifice.”

After a dramatic eye rolling sigh before smiling at her, hoping to amuse the young woman after the serious turn. He looked at her longer this time and then set down the bottle, “You know what, that looks good. Can I get one of those sodas? I don’t think I’ve had cherry 7-up since I was twelve.” 

“Of course.” She smiled, stepping over to the refrigerator to open it and pull out another can of soda. She shut the door with her elbow and held out the unopened can to him. “Here, hope it tastes as good as when you were a kid.”

Queen eagerly took the cold pink can and popped the top, tipping it slightly towards Ava with a sly grin, "I'm sure I will, I love the taste of cherry."

Dave entered in time to catch Queen's remark and his jaw clenched. He forced a smile onto his face. 

"Hey, sugar," he nodded at Ava. "Looks like we're gonna be hangin' together."

He nodded at Queen as well, determined to make amends. "Y'all be careful out there. Jay don't fuck around." 

Queen took a drink, side eyeing Dave but only nodded, suppressing a burp. "No worries, this is what we do." 

He smiled, his gaze on the other man, "Too bad though, I was looking forward to working with you."

"Well, it'll happen, don't doubt that," Dave said. "I got a feelin' there's plenty more crazy shit to come."  

Queen glanced at Ava then at Dave, taking another drink of the 7-up. "Yep, no doubt. That's what we do in the Program."

“Definitely, there’s still a lot we can do, especially when we have more intel.” Ava piped up, smiling warmly over at Dave. “And I’m glad you’re staying with us, Dave. Help keep this place safe, right?”

Dave returned her smile. "That's the plan, sugar. Keep the bad guys out. Y'all are gonna be just fine with me and Avery here." 

Queen grinned, his gaze shifting behind the sunglasses, "No doubt, you'll have plenty of intel after tonight, Angel. We'll go through it, should be interesting based on that email account you found."

Ava looked down bashfully at her new nickname, her pale cheeks flushing pink beneath her freckles once again. “Very interesting and useful.” She agreed with a clearing of her throat before taking a drink of her soda.

Donnelley shut the door behind him and went straight for his room, grabbing up his go-bag, flak, and rifle. He stopped in the kitchen doorway and looked at everyone assembled before settling on Queen, “Five mikes, wrap it up. Get the boys too.”

He looked at Ava and Dave, “Y’all good here?”

Dave's jaw worked for a moment. "Yeah, we're good," he grunted. "I'm gonna go...do some stuff. Be safe."

Ava lifted her head, watching Dave leave with a surprised frown. “Um, okay Dave?” She said as he left the kitchen, doubting he actually heard her. She glanced at Queen in confusion before turning her gaze to Donnelley. “So, you guys are leaving soon?”

Queen set down the can as Dave left, watching him walk away before giving Ava an enigmatic smile. "Gotta hit while the iron's hot, as they say."

He turned, giving Donnelley a nod before heading off to find Ghost and Jason. Donnelley clapped his shoulder while he passed and looked back to Ava, nodding, “Yep. We’re out for blood tonight. Ain’t gonna stop until we get Jay.” He stepped a little closer to Ava, “How you feelin’?”

“I’m alright,” She answered with a frown, her finger idly playing with the tab of the soda can. “I’m just...worried about you all leaving and possibly getting shot at.” She said, leaning back against the counter. “I know you’re experienced professionals, but after being in the middle of a shoot out…” She suppressed a shiver and rose her soda up to her lips. “I’ve a better understanding of them.”

“I know.” Donnelley nodded at her, eyes intently watching her wilt a bit. He gave a consoling smile, “We’ll be back by the mornin’. Early enough for you to wake up to the smell of pancakes and bacon again.”

He chuckled, “My treat.” Donnelley said, “‘Sides, they know what happened last time they tried it with us.”

“I need to ask you a favor.” Donnelley said, his smile sobering up some, “You’re the only one I trust with this.”

Ava stood a little straighter at his words and the expression on his face. “Of course.” She said with a nod, her gaze turning curious. “What is it?”

“Stay on your phone and your laptop tonight.” He nodded as he watched her stand at the ready, made him feel like he’d put his trust in the right place. She was one thing he could thank Foster for, “We’ll be feeding you names and intel. As fast as you can, I need you to give us addresses. Understood?”

Ava nodded, the curiosity giving way to a firm expression in the face of his request. “Sure, I can do that.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “You expecting to hit multiple targets tonight?”

“I’m hoping we don’t have to.” Donnelley shrugged, “We’ll be back, don’t you worry on that.”

A small smile turned up the corner of her lips as she looked back up at him. “I’ll hold you to it.” She chuckled. Ava glanced around him, in the direction Queen had left and set her soda down on the counter. She stepped up to Donnelley and gave him as firm a hug as she could. “All the same, be safe and good luck.”

Donnelley’s brows rose as he lifted his arms without thinking for Ava’s hug. Something in that gave it that much more importance in coming back in one piece. Tilly’s hugs might’ve been smaller, but they held the same message. After a quick second, he returned it, stepped back and winked. A little bit of bravado for them both, “Ain’t gonna get Tex and the boys.”

The smile returned with the hug as the short embrace ended, but Ava felt some of her nervous energy subside. “Right, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[hr]

Dave stalked from the room without a backward glance, digging out his dip and snapping the can hard as he angled for the front door. Once outside he dug out a generous pinch and crammed it into his lip.   

Laine strolled up the block, passing the Camaro and the Prius until she turned up the walkway. She saw Dave, his brow furrowed and lip full of dip. Her gaze traced the features of his handsome face before she announced her presence, "Hey, Dave. I guess I didn't miss the guys leaving. How are you doing?"

"I ain't goin'," Dave grumbled. He mentally kicked himself and forced a smile onto his face. "Got pulled to help watch the house, keep y'all safe. It'll be a good night. The other guys are inside, they're leavin' in a minute." 

She looked at him, at the forced dimpled smile and said, "Well, I appreciate you staying with us. I know it's tough to be left behind, but honestly I would rather have someone I know we can depend on. I don't know Avery or those other two, I'm sure they're well trained but..."

Laine shrugged, looking up at him, "I know you'll throw down for us. If it comes to that, there is a reason we're here in Clarksburg and not Charleston."

Dave's forced smile grew a little brighter. "Yeah, I got y'all's backs. I think we're probably good for tonight, don't think there's any way anybody knows we're here. But if not, we can handle business. I still got a score to settle." 

Laine smiled slightly, "Let's hope for a quiet night. Maybe you can suggest some of that Ozark mountain music, since I've already had a taste of that good ole mountain dew."

"I might can manage that," he said. "There's probably some on the YouTube. Once the guys leave we'll take a look." 

His mountain man charm tickled her and Laine chuckled, flashing a full smile before sobering. "I should grab Donnelley before he leaves, since I won't be there to ask anything of Jay."

"Oh, yeah, probably," Dave said. His expression was a little lighter, the darkness behind his steel eyes having faded a bit with easy conversation. "I'm kinda disappointed I won't get a piece of the bastard, after he got Ava shot. But I guess Donnelley will handle that." 

Laine gave him a brief, penetrating look, searching his eyes before replying, "You got yours with...you know and Ava is fine, don't get too caught up in wanting revenge. Justice isn't vengeance."

"Yeah, I know," Dave said, looking at the ground briefly. "Just, seein' her get hurt, and still havin' the guts to come out here? I feel like the bastard's got it comin'." 

"I know, and that goes for you, too," Laine said, unconsciously touching her neck, rubbing her fingers against her pulse briefly. "Trust me, I understand your desire but I also know it's a dark road and you're a good man, Dave. So, I'll remind you of that if I need to."

"I appreciate it," he nodded and then gave her another smile, this one almost like his old self. "You doin' good? Didn't know you went for a walk, that ain't really safe."  

"Yeah, I just went around the block, sometimes I just need a moment alone," Laine said, "Clear my head. That moonshine was potent."

She tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear, trouble still behind her steady gaze. "I suppose we're all a little nervous."

"Yeah, I feel ya," he said. "But it'll be alright. Don't stress none, leave that to me. You focus on figuring out what we need to know." 

Laine huffed a soft laugh, crossing her arms under her breasts, looking away for a moment, “Right, we’re the professionals.”

He was always anxious before an outing. The jitters met with hanged man’s chuckles and fiery bravado. Modern day gunslingers, Big Tex and THUNDER riding again, he told himself. He stuffed another cigarette in his lips and stepped out onto the porch to see Dave and Laine, hoping they didn’t see his hands shaking just the slightest, or smell the bourbon on his breath. He usually liked to be alone before a raid, but the familiar faces were welcome, “Howdy.” He said, stepping up and running a hand through his hair before he lit his cigarette.

Laine looked up at Donnelley when he exited the house, her gaze on his scarred face. “I was just going to look for you, do you have a moment?”

His brow quirked and he nodded, “Sure. What’s up?”

Laine glanced at Dave, then Donnelley, “I just need a word in private. Excuse us, Dave.”

She walked around to the side of the house, not waiting to see if Donnelley came along. Donnelley gave a glance to Dave as he followed after Laine, standing opposite her on the side of the house.

Laine watched him approach, finding any sort of privacy in the crowded home was difficult but they were alone on the side of the little yellow house. “I wanted to ask you to a couple favors. When you’re questioning Jay, see what he knows about Renko. I know you probably know all this but just indulge me since I won’t be there. Renko, Maria, and the Blackriver sheriff...”

She recounted then looked at him, sighing deeply, “I doubt you’ll record anything.”

Donnelley nodded just once, “You know how these go.” He cleared his throat, looking to the side before meeting Laine’s eyes again, “And I’ll get everything Jay knows. Trust me on that.”

Laine licked her lips slightly and nodded, “I know how it goes. And I do trust you, it’s just hard for me to relinquish control sometimes. Including interrogation but...yeah, well it’s not the FBI.”

She raised her brows slightly, her hands now behind her back as she leaned against the house. “I want you to be careful and come back, we...I need you here. This team...”

Blowing a breath between her lips, she shook her head and glanced around before taking a step towards him and pressing her mouth against his in a swift, firm kiss.

Donnelley’s breath hitched in a soft grunt as Laine had surprised him. By the time he’d settled into it, he’d placed his hand delicately along her jaw and returned the kiss before he broke away, holding her there, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip.

He nodded, “One piece.”

Laine searched his eyes, “I’ll be waiting.”

Reluctantly she pulled back, making the move so he could go gather his team, Laine never liked long goodbyes. 

[hr]

There was an inbalance between the static kitchen with its sterile halogen glow and Jason’s buzzing thoughts. It was washed out, calm, but every inch of him felt tense and shaky, most of all in his chest. Inside there was tumult, but outside only the indistinct chatter of Queen and Ava nearby. The big man had his trauma kit slung over his left shoulder and his Kel-Tec KSG in the same grip, over his right shoulder his HK417; another back up he’d like to keep around. Overall he looked as nondescript as he could, his tac-vest blending into a slim black t-shirt with just as tight blue jeans. 

He lumbered into the kitchen then leaned against the countertop, letting the calm spread from the groan of the lights above him. Jason had to take note of the distinct quiet, the lack of energy erupting everywhere at once. It was going to be different tonight, they were going to crash in on that chaos. It’s opposite felt unsettling, near unbearable. [I] Fuck, I’m in my head too much about this[/|], he thought. [|] Fucking coke.[/I] He stared at the pattern repeating on the floor, the grooves and knicks catching shadows. Just jitters, he reassured to himself. Just rust, he lied.

Queen came back around the corner, spotting Jason. Donnelley was gone and Ghost was on his way.  “There you are, [i]amigo[/i], you look ready to rock and roll.”

His eyes danced behind his dark reflective lenses as he gave Jason an appreciative once over. “You brought bandaids, good idea.”

Jason snickered. “Let me pretend to be a PJ for a bit, at least,” he said. “I’m feeling coiled. How about you?”

Queen grinned, glancing towards the door and back at Jason, “Like I gotta fight or fuck someone real soon. Did you PJ before DIA?”

“Yeah, I was a greenfoot for a bit,” he replied. “I like to fuck after. Get all that aggression out.” He wondered why the hell he said it.

Queen only smiled more, a sly grin that matched the thoughts racing in his head, “Post fight fuck is the best. Nothing like a war boner.” 

Reluctantly, he added, “Tex is outside, waiting on us to show our pretty faces."

"So he's waiting for me, then." Ghost's habitual growl carried a hint of humor as he strode into the room, kitted out with his custom .300 and his plate carrier hung with magazines and grenades. His Glock rode at his thigh, a formidable knife sat on his hip. Centered on his vest was a patch that showed a brick wall, the words [i]JUST HERE FOR THE VIOLENCE[/i] scrawled across it.

He'd shed his Oakleys in preparation for nightfall, and the smile he'd pasted on didn't quite reach his coffee-dark eyes. It had been a while since he'd been around outsiders; he was having trouble dissembling, masking himself from the world, especially without the comfort of the dark sunglasses that let him look where he wanted to unobserved. 

He fixed each man in turn with an iron-hard stare, giving them a shark's grin.

"We all set?" 

“Let’s roll,” Jason said, getting energized in Ghost’s devil grin. He rocked himself to standing and made his way out of the kitchen, jutting out a meaty fist at Ghost as he passed.

Ghost knocked his polymer-shelled knuckles against Jason's fist. His gloves were tactical gauntlets; they went a quarter of the way up his massive forearms, strapped on tight to keep out debris. He could put his fist through drywall and not feel a thing; he'd picked them up after an ugly infection from ripping open his knuckles against a Syrian's teeth.

Queen had pushed his own sunglasses up, no longer hiding his dilated eyes from Ava and Dave. He met Ghost’s dark gaze and felt the familiar crawling up his spine, violence was near. The morale patch was closest to the truth when it came to Ghost, nothing else seemed to bring him greater joy. And he was good at his job. 

“I’m ready, gotta ride this buzz,” Queen announced, pushing away from the counter to head out the door as the two big men followed. His own morale patch was sewn next to the white standard block letters of DEA on his kevlar. A small but bright yellow happy face grinning blankly out at the world with the words “Don’t Trust Me” embroidered below it. 

He left the kitchen and was passing through the living room, spotting Ava on the couch with her laptop. “See ya, Angel,” he said, giving her a playful wave before heading out the door. 

The movement of the wave caught her attention, making Ava look up from her laptop. She reached up to remove the red and gold, flower decorated headphones from her ears. “Oh, bye, good luck!” She called out as she watched the heavily armed men filter out of the house with a frown.

Donnelley was stood in the driveway next to the SUV, watching his team step out of the house one by one. They each looked ready, especially Ghost, but when was Ghost not? Already, he felt the excitement in his bones, the aggression in his blood, a jittery will to violence. Something Tex reveled in, an unrelenting whisper in his ear that made his fingers flex and knuckles pop beneath his black Mechanix gloves. “Mount up. We’ve got a drive ahead of us.”

"Am I driving, Tex?" Queen asked as he walked around the front of the SUV.

“Yup.” Tex tossed the keys jingling in Queen’s direction before turning for the SUV, opening the back and stashing his pack, slipping his plate carrier over his head before getting into the back. Today’s outing called for the shortest barrel on his Badger. The suppressor was screwed on, but he’d sacrifice the noise reduction for the stopping power of not using the subsonic .300 Blackout. “Remember, priority is capture of HVT Jay, he’s our link to Nikolai and the Russians. Anyone who knows his whereabouts come second, but if they ain’t gonna come quietly, you dust them if worse comes to worse.”

“I want cellphones and hard drives in our bags, that’s second priority. Third, we need to know what they do about the Blackriver Sheriff and the MacOnie family.” He said, going over his gear once more just in case, “And I wanna know who Renko is. We’re gonna ask around for him.”

"Should've brought my SAWZ-ALL," Ghost muttered as he climbed into the front passenger seat. "Didn't get to use it last time. There a Home Depot on the way?" 

Queen started the truck, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, "I'll keep the drives and phones together, any sort of files. These knuckleheads might write shit down."

He checked his phone, "Home Depot 3.4 miles west. How bad you want that saw, big man?"

Ghost frowned pensively. 

"Only if there's time," he said. "I have my knife. It'll do fine. The saw is more of an academic curiosity than anything." 

Queen glanced at Ghost, "Right, well we should probably get Jay first. Then you can experiment."

The big man grunted, a sound of both annoyance and agreement. "Like I said, I can just use my knife. I'll bring it next time." 

“Closer we get to the target, the less talk I want.” Tex piped up from the back, punctuated by the metallic clack of his pistol’s slide being thumbed into place as he absently checked his equipment. “If I can make Brujos talk with sewin’ needles, your knife’ll do the job.”

Queen glanced again at the mirror this time at Donnelley. He was in charge, this was his show now, not part of it. "Yessir," Queen drawled, speeding up to change lanes.

Jason’s gaze had been roaming back and forth between Queen and Ghost as they mentioned the sawzall. He could only imagine the application, and knew immediately none of it was hyperbole. It was going to be one of those missions. Messier than what he was used to, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to protest. He double checked his rifle’s safety and made sure his optics battery wasn’t drained. They were little tasks to keep his mind from wandering.

“Do we have an ID photo of our HVT on us to confirm him on site?” Jason asked, now watching the pillars of streetlights strobe past out the window. “And do we go in masked?”

Queen reached into the console and brought out a slim file that had been stuffed into it. He passed it back to Jason. "Recent mugshot and description, addresses and some of his known associates. And I always go masked, old habit. Can't let them see this gorgeous face."

He flashed a playful smirk in the mirror then grew serious again, the closer they got. His balaclava was around his neck would be pulled up over his mouth and nose and his goggles and helmet doing the rest of the masking. He learned early on from the Mexican federales the benefits of complete masking and wore gloves to also cover his tattoos.

Jason didn’t worry about the additional information, instead flicking on the car light and studying the mugshot. He looked at the most prominent features, the nose, the eyebrow ridge, the jawline; whatever he could identity quickly or in low light. After feeling confident he committed the visage to memory he folded the photo and slipped it into a front false pocket in his tac-vest, then replaced the files in the console. 

“Since we’ve all got callsigns,” Jason said, rifling through his goruck bag and pulling out a shemagh, “I’ve gone by JJ or Boyscout.” He looked at Donnelley, tying the shemagh around his neck. “Your pick.”

“Boyscout,” Ghost interjected. He’d pulled a plain, lightweight neck gaiter from his cargo pocket and was slipping it over his head where it could be pulled up quickly, bandito-style, when it was time to go. “Your name’s Jason. Don’t want anything with J’s. Too easy to hone in on for the right people.”  

"Boyscout...that one of those ironic nicknames?" Queen asked, the eagerness of Jason to take the coke and his own Adderall stash was fresh in mind.

“Tex, Ghost, Queen,” Tex let the callsigns roll off his tongue as he slipped the skull mask up over his mouth and nose and pulled it back down, nodding at Jason, “Boyscout.”

[hr]

>BENWOOD, WEST VIRGINIA
>JUL.19.2019
>2200HRS...///

The black SUV’s brakes whined to a stop on the street, parking on the opposite side of the house the GPS had led them to. Bone Thugs softly played from the speakers inside and Tex patted Queen on the shoulder before he rolled down the window, the music turned down to nothing. Tex slipped the headphones over his ears, the wire connected to the listening device in his hand as he pointed the laser at one of the windows of the small one-story house not dissimilar to their own safehouse.

The sounds of canned laughter and dialogue from a TV making their way to his ears. Living room, maybe. He switched off the laser and pointed it at another window, the soft sounds of snoring. The loud rumble of motorcycles grew in Tex’s ears until they came into view. Two riders pulling up into the driveway next to the old gray sedan that was there before. They exchanged a few words as Tex pointed the laser towards them, “-the lady. Leave in the morning. Don’t bother her, just let her live. We ain’t there.”

“Still fucked up what happened to Carlisle. You heard about that shit?”

“Who hasn’t. Let’s go, gotta meet Jay later.”

The two big men, bald, bearded, and tattooed made their way to the front door. One of them knocked as Tex’s grip on his rifle tightened. “You see a gun, don’t hold your fire.” Tex whispered, “They’re talkin’ about a lady. Talkin’ about meetin’ Jay later. Mentioned Carlisle.”

Ghost rolled his head on his powerful shoulders, loosening up. He pulled his neck gaiter up over his nose and mouth. 

“If we know Jay ain’t here, why don’t we just follow ‘em?” He asked, prepping his rifle nevertheless. “You know I’m always down for a hit, but it might save us some time.” 

“No tellin’ when they’ll leave.” Tex clucked his tongue, taking his moment before he spoke again, “If they don’t get up and go after a few minutes, we’ll get in there and cut out the middle man.”

“I’m down for waiting a bit,” Queen muttered, slouching in the driver’s seat as he watched the bikers ambling up to the door. He automatically searched for any gang or MC patches or tattoos from what he could see but it was not important enough to risk lifting his binoculars. 

"Wonder who the lady is,” he said, running through names and associates he had read in the files from Ava but no female popped into mind. Maybe one of Carlisle’s victims or someone the Russians wanted intimidated without their fingerprints on it. 

Jason made sure to take big breaths, focusing only on what he was hearing from his team members mixed with the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He peered out the window into the low lit street, where his ‘sector’ should be. Breathe in, breathe out. No movement, not much of anything. Overhearing the team, Jason agreed with Ghost. It was the confirmed path to Jay, but he wasn’t about to play majority rules, nor had he the rapport Ghost had with Donnelley. No, [I]Tex[/I]. 

“How are we stacking up for entry?” Jason asked in a low tone. 

“If it comes to it…” Tex narrowed his eyes as they were let in, one of the bikers hanging around for a second before hopping on his bike and zooming off.

“Wait for a second and get on his ass, keep your distance, Queen.” Tex said, patting Queen on the shoulder, “It’s about to get hot, boys.”

"I got it," Queen replied, waiting and counting to ten before pulling out and tailing the biker.

He had studied the map of the area earlier that day and when the biker turned onto one suburban street and glanced over his shoulder Queen passed him. The next street would take him to the same main road so he turned up that way and sure enough, the biker was sitting at a red light. Queen settled in a few cars behind him, traffic now heavier on this street. 

Jason angled his KSG towards the floor and grabbed for his rifle, positioning it to ease the barrel upward towards the door window if needed. He scanned his sector again, giving himself the illusion of being useful. It was something. His gaze whipped between the windshield and his door window, the cocktail of drugs making his focus hyperaware and manic. He focused on the bike and its rider, then his vehicle sector, then back at the bike again. The urge to burst out, to exact the violence expected, was roiling in his chest and gut. 

Ghost eyed the biker, then glanced back at Donnelley. 

“He stops somewhere private, we can always just jump out and mob his ass,” he said. “Drag him off the hog, kick him in the head a few times, then throw him in the trunk. Or hell, just bump his back tire, he’ll go right down. If he busts his head open, we go back to that house.” 

Tex looked at Ghost, back to the biker, and clucked his tongue, “Queen, once we get to a quiet stretch of road put him on our right side. Bump his tire.”

“I got this, gonna put his ass on the ground, ” Queen acknowledged and focused on tailing the biker, tapping his fingers in a staccato on the wheel. His heart thumped and he glanced over at Ghost and then at the road, at the biker and the other cars now thinning out. “I-fucking-got-this,” he chanted to the beat of his fingers. 

Their target turned off onto a road that lead away from town and Queen pushed the gas to catch up, the trees now outnumbering buildings. The road was empty and a quick look in the rearview mirror showed no one behind him. “Get ready, gonna give him a love tap,” he said, accelerating the SUV and the bumper hit the back tire of the Harley harder than he planned. “Oh fuck!”

He slammed on the brakes, turning the truck to a halt to keep from running over the man as the motorcycle shot out sideways in one direction and the rider in another. The man hit the ground with a sickening thump, rolling violently across the asphalt onto the gravel of the shoulder of the road. Queen gawked as he watched the ragdolling biker then glanced at Ghost and the men in the back, “Well...he’s down.”

Ghost snorted, watching the biker cartwheel across the pavement with undisguised amusement. He unclipped his rifle as the SUV came to a stop and then threw open his door, drawing his pistol and advancing on the downed biker. As he neared the man he knelt beside him, reaching out to check a pulse. The man gave a gurgling groan and Ghost frowned, turning his head. 

The biker’s face was shredded, a generous portion of it ground away on the asphalt. His eyes rolled in his head, focusing for a moment on Ghost’s face, and the operator sighed and shook his head. He holstered his pistol, grabbed the man’s helmet in both hands, and twisted hard. The vertebrae went with a sound like waterlogged sticks breaking over somebody’s knee. He stood and walked back to the SUV, hopping inside. 

“Back to the house,” he said. “Your [i]love-tap[/i] fucked him up too much to be useful.”

“Goddamnit.” Tex rolled his eyes and sighed hard, “At least I get to shoot someone.”

Queen grimaced as he watched Ghost snap the man’s neck and he leaned back against the headrest. He had been too hyped up, he reasoned to himself. The cocaine he was used to but adding in the Adderall which should have focused his energy left him jittery. He rubbed his nose and pinched it, thinking about the coke in his pocket. He had fucked up but there was still another chance. He shifted the truck back into drive, “There’s a bright side to everything. How you doing back there, Boyscout?”

“Right as rain,” Jason replied, swallowing down any feelings he had on the execution. They were here to kill men, and they just killed one. That’s all that mattered for the moment. It only reaffirmed what Jason assumed—tonight was going to be messy. “I guess we best move quick, especially if he was being expected.” It didn’t have to be said, but Jason needed to think aloud. It wasn’t a suggestion, only narrowing of his focus. He checked outside his window again, the Applachian night droning but otherwise mute in its inky darkness. 

Queen pulled around, making a U turn and sped back to the house. His hand thumped the steering wheel in rhythm to the music as they wound through the neighborhood until he reached the corner of the block their target house was at. He cut the lights and engine, coasting to a stop a few houses down. A single street light was dark, no doubt shot out by one of the boys that occupied the house. A faint yellow sodium light at the corner did little to illuminate but it did not matter, THUNDER always came dressed for the occasion. 

A motorcycle still sat in the driveway along with a lifted Chevy Silverado with a rebel flag hanging in the back window. Queen squinted at house set back behind a chain link fence and a yard that needed to be cut last week, there was probably a dog. Assholes like these always had some big dangerous dog, a Rottweiler or something like that. Queen unbuckled his seat belt and slung his mini uzi over his chest. He glanced at Ghost and back at Boyscout and Tex. 

“Well, back to square one, who wants to take a peek inside?”

"Boyscout, you're up," Ghost said. He looked over his shoulder at Jason. His tone brooked no argument; this was his first op with the man, and Ghost wanted to pop his cherry quickly and establish whether or not he could hang. Tex might trust him; Ghost didn't. "Come on, I'm going too."

“Rog,” Jason mouthed. He dropped his rifle muzzle to the floor, and pulled his shotgun up to high ready. His fingers brushed the car door latch, but he wasn’t going to move until they all broke away from the vehicle. The throbbing pulse of his heartbeat throttled in the veins of his neck. 

“You need the laser?” Tex looked between Ghost and Jason, or Boyscout, he reminded himself, “Might help, I can’t get those back windows from the truck.”

He turned to Queen, patting him on the shoulder, “Queen, you and me take the front rooms. Ghost and Boyscout take the back, breach on my signal. Listen for two taps on the mic.”

Queen ran a hand over his vest and fingered the micro Uzi, the comfortable small weapon that could unleash chaos in one squeeze of the trigger. He could use another bump of coke, the high already fading from the crackling peak but after the misjudged love tap on the biker, he hesitated. There would be time later, after the work was done and Queen pushed the nagging to the back of his mind. He nodded at Tex, then slid out of the driver’s seat, careful to close the door with a near silent click. 

Crouching low, he scuttled over to the chain link fence and examined the lock that was in place. It would not be hard to just climb over the fence but there would certainly be some sound. He shrugged to himself, the gate could squeak too, bringing unwanted attention. Queen glanced over at Tex, gesturing to the fence. 

They made the hop easily enough, walking in a slow methodical crouch as they approached. The house was quiet but the lights were on inside and a shadow flickered across the blinds as someone passed. Queen froze and they waited, but nothing happened. His muscles twitched and his eyes scanning for movement as they crept forward, now more than halfway across the weed filled yard when it happened. 

[i]Squeeee![/i]

The wheezing high pitched sound was from his left where Tex stood a few steps over and Queen jerked his head to look. Under Tex’s boot was a large bone shaped dog toy, the faded blue color well hidden among the clump of crabgrass. Just as Queen mentally swore the porch light flicked on and the door flew open. Backlit in the frame a large man in faded Rahowa t-shirt stood with a Rottweiler dog at his side. 

“What the fuck?” He saw the two men in the flood of light from the porch and inside, two well armed masked men in dark tactical gear and he reacted quickly. 

 [i]Fass! Fass![/i] Get em, goddamnit!” the big man shouted, releasing the blur of movement and muscle.

The massive black and tan dog was now racing towards them. Like a well trained attack dog, he did not bark but bared fangs as he covered  the short distance. The man was now reaching back as if to draw a weapon but the dog had Queen’s full attention as it barrelled towards him.

Queen fired, an explosion of noise that sent a burst of 9mm rounds into the Rottweiler’s chest and square head, dropping the animal with a whining yelp that made his stomach churn. 

Tex growled, leveling his sights on the dog before Queen’s uzi spat into the hulking mass of fur and muscle. He quickly switched targets and squeezed off three rounds that were meant for the asshole in the doorway, but the dog had served as a good distraction. The man ducked down quick enough for Tex’s rounds to slap holes into the front door, stitching a trail that followed him inside. “Fuck,” Tex spat, the screaming he wanted to do replaced by a stern growl, “Breach, breach, breach!”

Ghost had made his way to the back yard true to his namesake, silent death on two tree-trunk legs. The shoddy fence proved no obstacle for the hyper-fit operator, and he’d cleared it and moved on the house with laser focus, his heart pounding out a steady rhythm in his ears. Cool, calm, collected; that was Ghost. Delta to his core, the Reaper made flesh, 220 pounds of life taking -

Sudden gunfire shattered his concentration and he swore. The hasty [i]breach, breach, breach[/i] came over the coms before he and Boyscout had set their positions. Ghost moved into a run, clearing the back yard in a few big steps, leaving Boyscout to keep up or fall out. He reached the back door at a run, planted, and then slammed his big right boot into the door just beside the knob. It gave way with a hard crack and then Ghost was through, stepping immediately into an oversized metal water dish. He cursed bitterly and loosed a hasty triplet at the first male he saw, stumbling over and hurling himself behind the nearest piece of furniture. 

Jason had been right behind Ghost keeping a few bounding steps away and trying to his best to move fluidly with him. He moved with an ease that reminded Jason how stiff and uptight he was, but was too hyper-focused to consciously register anything other than situational awareness. When Ghost cleared the fence Jason provided overwatch, then quickly scaled after him. As they rounded the building a spat of rapid fire rang out, followed by the quick burst of Tex’s rifle. [I] Breach, breach, breach![/I] crackled from the comms, and the large men sprinted for the back door. 

It slammed open and Ghost breached, immediately letting loose his rounds and finding cover. Jason was right behind him, seeing the first man over Ghost’s shoulder, and was in the doorway as soon as Ghost dove for the furniture. He lined up center mass and fired a slug, his compact KSG roaring as it recoiled into the pit of his muscled shoulder. The man’s body was recoiling from Ghost’s rounds, but the slug ripped through his chest with a sickening ease. Behind him the livingroom was suddenly speckled with gore and bone fragments, the man’s body convulsing in haggard breath as the large wound disrupted the lungs and filled his chest with pouring blood. While racking his slide for another round Jason trained the shotgun on the woman, screaming, “Get the fuck down now!” 

Tex came through the door straight after, turning to cover a short hallway while Queen moved past his back and into the living room. He turned his attention on the scene, stepping up alongside Queen. He nudged the AB asshole with the toe of his shoe, watching him desperately cling to a life he was quickly losing. Tex looked from Jason to the lady, watching her quivering on the ground, he held his hand up towards Jason, “Boyscout, Ghost, clear that hallway,” he said in his News Accent, none of the Texan twang in it, “I’ll get the lady.”

Jason didn’t respond, only reacted. Tex gave the order and he was moving to the hallway, knowing Ghost would be behind him. There was a stink to the house, the smothering heaviness of summer heat soaking years of sweat and neglect into the walls. There was also gunpowder and the acrid chemical odor of substances under heat, caustic and sharp. 

Queen knew the smell and he was not surprised, these were exactly the type of people to cook in their own house. He curled his lips at the stink of meth and looked over at the woman cowering. He recovered his expression, from a snarl to sympathy in a flick of emotion. 

She was a middle aged woman but looked older, sallow cheeks and pock marked skin where she had scratched herself. Queen knelt down, his Uzi  now slung aside, “Easy, we need you to stop crying. Take a deep breath, that’s it. I’m sorry what happened.”

His voice altered from the normal Florida drawl to a more local flavor, hoping it might help her. “Look at me, don’t look at him. He’s done.”

“He needs a doctor!” she bawled, clutching at her arms. 

“Don’t think about him,” Queen said, putting a slow and gentle hand on her bony shoulder. “You need to think about yourself and what’s gonna happen in the next five minutes. Tell me how many others are in the house?”

“Fuck off, pig,” she spat but there was no energy to it, it just dribbled down her chin as she shook but she had stopped wailing. “Y’all shot my man, he dyin’.”

“No more have to get hurt, but you need to help us,” Queen said, glancing as the two big men hustled down the hallway. 

“Nobody else,” she took in a ragged breath, and then a few more as she held her hand to her chest, “Jesus Christ, nobody else. Oh my god, you killed him… you killed him!”

“Where’s my dog? Where’s Jay?” She sniffled.

“Funny you should ask.” Tex said, “We’re looking for Jay too.”

He stepped up and offered his hand out to the woman. She took it with a twiggy hand and he helped her up, placing her in the chair and stepping back, “We were told that Jay was here, what’s your relation to Jay?”

“Fuck you.” She spat.

Jason had stopped where the livingroom narrowed into the hallway, shotgun aimed down the corridor and his body leaning against the corner. He couldn’t think if the uncleared rooms had windows, if anyone left was making a run for it while they shook down the poor woman. He began to cautiously advance, his breathing pressured and sharp as he tried to swallow it down in controlled breaths. 

“We know you’re cooking here, ma’am. We can report this place to the State PD and have you locked up.” Tex said, “Or you can answer my question.”

“Not tellin’ you shit, you fuckin’ pigs!” She howled, almost shaking now. Tex couldn’t tell if it was the age or being angry as he snorted and shook his head, somewhat impressed with her ability to withhold information.

Queen furrowed his brow and glanced at Tex. He looked at the woman as she glared back at the masked men who had just brought death and chaos through her front door. He took a chance and pushed up his goggles and pulled his mask down enough to show part of his face. An unspoken attempt to establish some sort of trust before Ghost came back or Tex lost his patience. "Jay's in danger, he's in over his head, ma'am. I'm sorry it ended up like this but if we don't get to him first, he'll end up dead, too. And by much worse means."

The woman remained silent, only glaring through fear in her eyes. Queen shook his head, flipping his mask back over his mouth as he muttered, "I fucking tried."

Ghost returned a moment later, fire in his eyes. He'd fucked up, looked like a fool in front of the cherry. He felt the wet squish of dog water in his sock and snarled beneath his balaclava.

"This bitch talking?" He growled, stalking towards the group, his hands fisted tightly around his cut-down rifle. 

Queen grimaced under the mask then shook his head slightly, turning away from the older woman. He took a step back, giving the big man room. 

Tex looked around, from Ghost to Queen and then to the lady. He held her gaze, watched her in the silence as she slowly started to piece together what was suddenly in the air. Tex looked at Ghost, if nobody could make her talk then they’d have to try something else. He didn’t like it, but the mission demanded it. He wanted those Russians, and right now this old Nazi sympathizer was the biggest obstacle.

He pulled his mask down and fetched his pack of cigarettes from a pouch, lighting it up, “Nah, she ain’t talkin’.”

Ghost growled, a low, animal sound coming straight from his chest. He grabbed the woman by the face, his large palm covering her mouth, and bulled her up against the wall. Then he cut a thunderous hook into her skinny side.

"Where is Jay?" He snarled. He leaned close. "Tell me, or I start breaking bones. I'll start with your fucking hands. Where is he?" 

She drew in a breath and worked her mouth around, teeth bared, “Fuck… you…”

Queen drew a sharp breath through his teeth and stepped forward, "Look, we just need to talk to Jay. We know what you got operating here and add in the hate group associated, he could do federal too but I ain't tryna bust him. We need him for information, got it? He'll be compensated and not face charges." 

He spoke, pulling back memories of being DEA Agent Patrick and raiding meth labs and crack houses to find bigger fish. Queen stepped over, standing just to the side of Ghost so she could see him.

“He’s…” She coughed up blood over Ghost’s forearm, “He’s at the clubhouse. McMecken’s Run.”

"McMecken's Run," Ghost grunted. He drew his pistol, shoved the suppressor against the woman's eye, and blew her brains out the back of her skull.

He let the body drop, shoving his pistol into its holster. Ghost fixed a defiant eye on Tex.

"She saw your face," he grunted. "Let's go to McMecken's."  

Queen silently watched and when it was over, he touched the morale patch, the smiling face and its motto. Whether it was any sort of trust in his lie or Ghost's sincere promise of pain she had given up information. Hopefully it was true. 

"Yeah," Queen said, then jerked his head. "Where's Boyscout?"

Tex shrugged, a glance towards the crumpled body of the old woman before responding to Queen, “Checkin’ out the goods in the other room.” Tex cocked a brow as he looked at his two teammates, “Think they keep their money here?”

The mention of goods and money brought Queen back to familiar territory and he shrugged, looking away from the pair of dead people. "Let's go find out, I need their phones and hard drives, too."

By then Jason was exiting the first room on the right and pacing towards the next, leaving behind an empty, disheveled bedroom with a desktop. Approaching the next door, he made a quick note of the computer left behind. They’d be taking it with them for Ava. He entered the next room as he did the first, balancing his KSG low and quickly working the handle as he stepped in and readied the shotgun towards the first corner. His nostrils burned with acetone and burning plastic, the air stifling and heavy in his lungs. In the first corner was a messy pile of baggied amphetamines, the stacks large enough to supply the town and then some. Jason swept over what was their makeshift lab as he cleared the rest of the room. 

“Computer in the first right room,” he muttered over the comms. “Cook lab in the second. Lots of meth. Clearing the last room.” 

Jason stepped back into the hallway and something peculiar dissipated his focus. It was laughter, light hearted cackling like a laugh track. Behind it was a buzzing, a sound both raspy and telephonic. It was so out of place Jason paused to make sense of it. There was another burst of laughter and a few pattering claps. After a moment he realized it was coming from the last door, a thin improvised sheet of particle board locked from the outside. He approached with less vigilance than before, fixated on the random strangeness of sounds. Jason worked the lock, tried his best to realigned his focus, and burst into the room. 

Pale, shuttering television glare filled the room, cast shadows against the walls and contoured a mess of childrens toys and noisemakers scattered about. In the corner was a dirty mattress, a small girl swallowed in oversized clothes sitting on top of it and curled up against the wall. She had headphones that squeezed into her frail skull, matted with weak, thin hair. It looked like she hadn’t eaten in several days, and little before that. The T.V. flashed as the camera shot changed, casting them both in less light.  

“Fuck,” Jason mouthed, then over the comms said, “we have an issue.”

Tex looked at Ghost and Queen before responding to Jason, “Hold, I’m coming.”

When Tex made it down the hallway, he was mentally preparing himself for almost everything besides what he saw as he sided up with Jason. There was a long few moments of silence between them. He glanced back to where Ghost was and swallowed hard before looking to Jason. The kid looked lost, but eerily unaware of whatever danger they were in.

He’d seen kids that were scared, some of them were drugged up so bad that they didn’t know where they were. The insinuation of the mattress, the lock, the living situation. Even if the worst case wasn’t true, letting a kid live like this made Ghost’s punishment not enough for Tex. You take a man’s life, that’s one thing, but there wasn’t a child alive he’d ever met that deserved this.

In that girl’s eyes were a hundred or more memories of Dalhart. That youngblood superhero Deputy Donnelley felt that surge of hot rage crawling up his spine for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Back when the world was him and everyone else. Back when he trusted in God and Law. Back when evil was just tweakers and murderers and angry husbands. He cleared his throat, a low and raspy whisper, “What do you wanna do, Boyscout?”

"Do about what?" Ghost had followed, the blood staining his forearm a dark smear where he'd wiped the bulk of it on the couch.

He leaned past them and took in the sight of the little girl, the conditions she'd been kept in. The big man looked from Tex to Boyscout and shrugged.

"Your call Tex," he grunted. He sniffed and looked back into the room, his disinterest clear. "She hasn't seen our faces. I say leave her. Throw her ass on a neighbor's doorstep, let CPS clean up that mess."  

Jason's eyes never wavered from the girl. Showing comfort would be too alien here, and one so distant in his thoughts it hadn't even surfaced. She was going to need to care. A lot of it. And they didn't have the time. 

"Hospital," Jason said, almost a murmur. He finally looked at Tex, trying to ignore Ghost's apathy. "Is there a hospital on our route?" 

“Maybe…” Tex said, eyes on the girl the whole time, until he shifted his weight to a foot and looked between Ghost and Boyscout. He didn’t trust the neighbors, “She’ll talk. We’ll take her, drop here off at a hospital far from Benwood after we’re done with Jay.”

Queen stepped into the first bedroom, now cleared by Boyscout and began collecting phones and using his tools to pop out the hard drive and open any locked drawers that might be there. He picked a few sizable rocks already bagged up and kept an eye out for cash. 

"I think I got everything of use in that room," he announced, approaching the men. He could see them clustered at the door and a vague uneasiness hit him when he heard last few words. 

"What's going on?" Queen asked, slipping between the wall and the bulk of Boyscout and peered into the room. His reaction was much that of Tex, the shock and outrage and the unfortunate memories of other times finding children in drug dens in similar or worse condition. "Shit..."

He glanced at Tex then the other two, "Well, fuck we can't leave her here and we're not..."

Queen cut a sharp look at Ghost then back at Tex, "What you said, dropping her off some other place. Let's do that."

“Get her,” Tex nodded, “Wrap her up and get her in the truck.”

Without hesitation he stepped into the room, walking slowly and smiling, though as he got closer he could see how bad she was. Very thin and dark circles under her eyes as if she had not slept. She watched him too, apprehension and resignation in her dull gaze. 

He squat down beside the mattress, placing his hand against it. "Hey, let's get you outta here," he said, putting on a smile to hopefully put the girl at ease. He noticed the headphones but left them alone, reaching to scoop up the frail girl. She looked about age nine or ten, he wasn't sure, but weighed nothing as he pulled her towards his chest. 

The girl reacted instantly, a high pitched screech of protest and she began to wail, kicking out feebly. Her cries were panicky and wordless, animal terror at what more strange men were going to do with her.

"Shhh, its okay," Queen said, "We're not going to hurt you. We're here to help."

The words stuck in his throat as he lifted her up, her tears streaking her pallid face. It had been a long time since he had felt like he was legitimately protecting anyone, despite the good he knew the Program did. He also had a lot of innocent blood on his hands. 

The girl struggled but succumbed to her weakened state, sagging against his shoulder as he held her in his arms and Queen whispered to her, "What's your name, sweetie? I'm Billy. We're going to get you outta here."

Tex almost flinched at the sudden screams as Queen scooped her up. She didn’t answer Queen, only heaving in stuttering breaths and shaking, staring off into nothing. “Just get her to the truck, Queen.” He said, placing a hand on his shoulder as he passed. He turned to Ghost and Boyscout, back to business, “We gotta keep up the momentum, blow that fuckin’ lab and let’s get outta here.”

"Right," Queen responded, snapping out of his focus on the girl. He bundled her off, be cradling her head against his shoulder to shield her view of the dead people before exiting the house. A quick glance told him the neighbors had minded their own business and no sirens or spectators to be seen. 

He put the girl in the back seat, buckling her in and she continued to stare blankly, her gaunt face seemed suddenly older than her years. "Sorry they did this, kid. But you're okay now," Queen assured her, to no response but he didn't expect any. Out the back he found an emergency blanket and covered her with it. "Stay put," he gestured and got into the driver's seat.

Ghost watched, an irritated frown creasing his weathered face beneath his mask. This was a waste of time. He was twitchy, he was [i]bored[/i]. There were Nazis to kill and instead they were playing nanny with some kid.

"Let's go," he grunted. "Probably got paint thinner or something in that lab, we gotta get this fire going and then move before somebody shows up and tells Jay that his mom's house is burning down and her brains are on the floor." 

“Boss,” Jason said, low and concerned. He watched Queen wrap her up and take her down the hallway, something in him simmering from not showing her any compassion, but it still felt wrong in the moment. He kept his eyes down the hallway as Queen kept walking, and continued, “We can’t let her come with us. Shit might get hot, we might have to alibi for a dirty kid with a bunch of gunned up men.”

He sighed and looked around, studying the room again. The locked door he understood, but the excessive amount of noise seemed strange. Why have her in headphones on top of all the noise? It had to be tweaker nonsense, but it still rubbed Jason the wrong way. 

Tex nodded, his rifle hanging by the single-point it was on as he placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head after Queen and the girl. He looked back at the room. The blaring noise from the television almost drowning out his thoughts before he shut it off and flooded the room with darkness. 

“Boyscout, it’s goin’ to take us a bit to extract all the shit from the phones and the hard drives and get a bead on the clubhouse.” Tex rolled his jaw, “Drop the kid off at a hospital or something and meet back up with us when it’s done. We’ll send you a rendezvous point. Good?”

Tex turned and left for Queen and the girl, trusting that Jason and Ghost would be able to handle the lab.

“Rog,’ Jason said. He took one last look of the room, trying to block the escaping images it conjured in his mind. She suffered here, a suffering not meant for anyone, especially so young. There was pain, there was neglect, and then this; the de-evolution of being. She was a thing in this room, an object discarded. Fuck these people for what they did to her, he thought. 

If he was going to drop her off at a hospital they’d need another ride, so he walked to the living room to check the poor bastard he had gunned down. At first he saw the gaping wound in the man’s sternum, his wide eyes glossed over and staring where the ceiling met the wall. He began to check the corpse’s pockets for keys, then he noticed the woman, her slumped body and the growing pool of dark blood dripping from the exit point at the back of her head. 

Jason stood tall, looking at the dead woman that was vehemently alive just minutes before. He hadn’t heard what happened. “What the fuck is this?” he said, loud enough for Tex and Ghost to hear. 

Tex looked at Ghost and back to Jason. There was no point in lying, nor would he ever to a 
teammate. “She saw our faces.” He said simply, dragging hard off his cigarette.

"Welcome to THUNDER," Ghost said, looking Jason in the eye. He held his stare for a moment. "Cry later. We've got a fire to start." 

He turned and walked back down the hall towards the lab, searching for an accelerant. 

Jason held the gaze, read the implication flaring in Ghost’s eyes. It practically said ‘I did it, what are you going to do about it?’ and all Jason could do was look down at the woman again, feeling his back and traps tense from Ghost’s stare. Now wasn’t the time. He studied the burnt blood caked around her eye socket, her slack jaw and stringy, yellow white hair. There wouldn’t ever be a time, not with Ghost. [I]Don’t fuck with him[/I], Jason told himself. [I] We gotta move. Gotta take care of the girl. [/I] He went outside to check the bodies on the porch for keys, one grim glance cast towards Tex on his way out.

[hr]

Flames, blackened tire marks, and the dead were left as THUNDER’s calling card. They sped off into the night and into the next town over, eyeing police cruisers warily until they finally found their destination, a lonely truck stop on the edge of town. Tex had changed into his civvies in the bathroom, looking more the old punk than the Fed that had left death in Benwood. They hung back in the stolen Ford sedan, clinging at the edges of the WiFi signal the truck stop was putting out.

Tex opened the back door of the Sedan and the suspension rolled as he sat, “They didn’t have no Grande caramel macchiato espresso shit, but I got some red bulls.” Tex sighed as he rummaged around in the plastic goodie bag, glancing at the programs working on Queen’s laptop screen, “How long’s this gonna take, Queen?”

Queen sat with half turned with the laptop balanced on his thigh. The harddrive was hooked up and he was transmitting the data, looking up briefly when Tex spoke. “Not too long, now that I know the email trick Ava figured out that cuts down on the time searching for communication. I say ‘bout an hour, maybe less with her help. Sending her the files now. Phones are downloaded already, interesting pictures if you wanna take a look.” 

Gesturing with his chin as he took a Redbull, he traded it for one of the phones. “Got some pictures of people not on our list of associates and some interior shots of this house and another location. I’m piecing those together now. No pictures of the girl, though.” 

“Didn’t really expect there to be,” Tex said as he scrolled through the pictures, many of men with shaved heads or the typical outlaw biker attire. He got to one with Jay front and center, all of them toting guns, and Michael beside him. “These fuckin’ pricks. I tell you these guys tried to kill us before?”

“You told us,” Ghost grunted. He’d wrapped his mitt around a Red Bull and was busy chugging it down. He hated energy drinks; they tasted like battery acid and citrus. But energy was energy. “When are we headed for this McMecken joint? I want to tell Jay what a handful his folks were.” 

“We’ll have time to talk all about it, don’t you worry on that score.” Tex said, eyeing the pictures and committing the faces to memory.
 
Queen finished uploading the data from the hard drive to the encrypted cloud drive and sent a quick message to Ava. "Gotta present for you," he muttered then hit send. "Alright, she should be getting it now."

He leaned back, stretching and popping his back after sitting hunched over. Queen took a drink of the red bull and he itched to pull his goody bag out and take another bump. 

[hr]

((Scene music:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pgdJp5DRQ90))

Pillars of post light strobed in from the night as Jason eased the SUV down the road. Darkness dominated the periphery, snaking tree branches reached out from what seemed an inky void. Beside Jason wrapped in her dingy blanket was the girl, leaning against the passenger side door and turned inward to face him. She stared, her grimy face blank, any hint of awareness absent. Jason glanced at her, then turned his focus back on the road. He had to drive slow, within the speed limit, and in Clarksburg that seemed to be typically twenty five and under. 

“Hey,” Jason said, as calm and docile as he could, “what’s your name?”

She didn’t answer, still staring. 

“I uh-” Jason said, then paused trying to find the right words. “I know this is scary right now, but we’re here to help you. I’m here to help you.” He checked his phone for the directions to United Hospital downtown and took a right turn. “I’m taking you to the hospital,” he added. “They’ll make sure you’re safe, that you’re not hurt.” 

She said nothing. The silence between them drudged images of the executed woman back at the drug house. He thought of her slack jawed blank face, her hollowed socket oozing what was left of her eye. [I]She saw our faces[/I], Donnelley had said. What was the supposed good they were doing when just the wrong amount of information killed the woman they were trying to save. But were they trying to save her? Weren’t they trying to save everyone? And from what exactly, Jason thought. He knew what OPSEC meant to a group like this, but he wasn’t expecting it to be as wild west as it was; and the night wasn’t over. He had to get back to the team as soon as possible. 

Besides, he told himself, it didn’t matter in the end. He’d have to think about it later, when their rabbit hole of violence led to the other end. He hoped it had answers, but most likely would only lead to more questions. That’s how these things worked. The justification became lost in the means, and you kept working it and working it hoping you could recapture the reasons why you did it all in the first place. Nothing ever gets solved, only worked. He hoped this would all be different, would be worth it. She was just a girl, it had to be. Jason cursed the silence for giving him the space to think. He always hated silence. To avoid it he turned back to the girl to break the train of thought. She was still eying him blankly. 

“Are you hurting anywhere?” He asked. No answer. It had to be those damn headphones.

By now he was reaching what Clarksburg called downtown as the spattered neighborhoods of sagging houses flowed into a collection of brick and mortar business buildings, none higher than ten stories, hugged by tree choked hills. The streets were bathed in sodium light, but there was little commotion on the streets to fill it. Jason eased to a stop at an intersection and shifted his body to face the girl. 

“Can you hear me?” he asked, but she still had no reaction. He reached for the bulky headphones hugging her head and slipped them off, the girl suddenly erupting in protest. Her voice peaked to a shrill screech, her hands cupping her ears before her limbs shot frantically about the cab. Jason pulled the headphones away from her reach, the SUV slowly rolling into the intersection as his attention was fixed on the distraught girl and not the gas pedal. She kept reaching for the headphones, eyes wild and desperate, and the fight between them sounded the car horn twice.

“Calm down!” Jason yelled, but his voice was overtaken by her high pitched scream. She reached for the car stereo and smacked it to life, turning the volume knob until whatever was on the radio became an incomprehensible blaring of sound. 

The car jolted to a stop in the middle of the intersection as Jason became aware of idling forward, finally giving up fighting the girl. He handed her the headphones, driving the SUV to the next street as he turned off the radio. 

“Alright, alright,” Jason said, huffing disdain as she calmed down. Her eyes were wide with fear and her little chest bobbed beneath the blanket, but she returned to her otherwise placid state. Behind them the revolving blue-red of police lights flashed. 

“Fuck,” Jason said, immediately throwing his shotgun on the floor of the rear seats as he studied the rearview mirror. The cop’s siren wailed for a few seconds and switched off, his high beams masking his squad car trailing the SUV. Jason slowly eased to the side of the street, each side flanked with glass front shops, while he struggled to come up with a plan. 

There were a few minutes of waiting before the sheriff's deputy swaggered up to the SUV, Jason’s right hand in his lap ready to spring for his .45 concealed under his left armpit. You can’t shoot this guy, Jason thought; play it cool. The deputy lit up the cab with his flash light, shining the bright beam in Jason’s face and moving it over to study the girl. Jason rolled down the window.

“License and registration,” the deputy said. He was of an average build, but his rounded jaw and puffy chin gave him a doughy appearance. The deputy was younger than Jason, but not by much, and his stature of confidence puffed his chest out from his black and grey uniform like he was Jason’s senior. 

“Hey officer-”

“Sheriff’s deputy,” he corrected in his Appalachian drawl. “Is that girl alright?”

Jason looked over his shoulder, seeing the girl still struggling with her breathing. “Yeah,” he answered, “I’m-”

“Sir, I don’t see you reaching for your identification,” the deputy said. Jason noticed the deputy’s interview stance, a hand poised near a holstered but unfastened pistol. He realized the deputy must of ran the SUV’s plates, and whatever he didn’t find put him on edge.  Jason had to think fast.

“Jesus Christ,” Jason feigned. “I’m reaching for my agent badge, don’t fuckin’ shoot me.” 

The deputy looked perplexed, and his eyes darted back and forth between Jason and the girl. She was staring at him, her pulsing lungs beginning to slow. Jason reached into one of his pockets, producing the FBI badge Donnelley had given him weeks ago when he first joined. He thrust it out the windowing, saying, “Before you were up my ass about I.D. was trying to say I found this girl working my investigation. She needs medical attention.”

The deputy studied the badge number and fake name, mouthing it silently to himself before mouthing, “Stand by.” He walked back to his squad car.

“Fuck,” Jason spat again, grabbing his burner phone and texting Donnelley: [I]Pulled over by sheriff’s deputy. Will update.[/I] After another round of waiting the deputy returned, his posture just as rigid and cautionary. 

“Sir-”

“Agent,” Jason corrected, trying his best to transfer his anxiety to annoyance. He had to look the part. 

“We’ve got no return on your vehicle or your badge number,” the deputy said, his round face tensed by Jason’s impatience. “Even local PD doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Why do you think that is?” Jason asked. The deputy’s jaw tensed and he glanced at the girl again, but he didn’t answer. 

“It’s because we don’t need local law enforcement fuckin’ up our shit,” Jason continued. “Now this girl needs medical attention and I still have to work. If you want to dick me around because your beat is slow and anything happens to her I will personally make sure you’ll be running night security at a fucking grocery store. In fact, what’s your badge number?”

The deputy was struggling with what looked like a mix of angry and confusion, cueing Jason the facade was working. The deputy pursed his lips, looked at the girl, and then back to Jason. “Would you like an escort?”

“What’s your badge number, deputy?” Jason asked. 

The deputy turned towards his vehicle, his boots clicking as he muttered, “Have a good night.” It was followed by some sort of curse under is breath, but Jason couldn’t make out what was said. Not that he cared, all that mattered was that the deputy didn’t pry any further. Jason didn’t waste time sticking around, and drove away faster than he had entered downtown. 

For the rest of the trip the girl remained silent, though through the corner of his sight Jason could make out that she was looking behind them. It wasn’t through the windows, but at the seats. There was an acute sharpness to her gaze, as if she was seeing something in the empty rear seats he couldn’t. He tried to ask her if she saw anything, and she looked at him acknowledging she could hear him, but again didn’t answer. 

After a few more minutes Jason saw the bright glare of the hospital’s parking lot. He circled the large complex before spotting the E.R. entrance, trying his best to spot any security cameras and parking in the most veiled spot he could find, wedged between a Ford truck and a foreign sedan. The girl seemed to not want to leave the car as Jason tried to usher her from outside the passenger door, but when he extended his hand she clasped his thumb with her clammy grip.  They began walking towards the sliding front doors, her irregular steps pattering against the cool concrete.

“I need you to walk in there,” Jason said. His words slowed her pace, and she looked concernedly at the doors sealing the bright glare within. Jason turned to her and crouched as she wrapped her blanket tighter around her frame. 

“It’ll be okay,” He said, giving her a weak but sincere smile. “They won’t hurt you. No one will hurt you. Just walk in those doors and find someone.” 

Jason watched her ponder the command, mouthing something he couldn’t make out. She began to take her first steps to the entrance, then turned around.

“Come and see.”

Jason stood from crouching, something icy and leaden sinking in his gut. “What?” he asked.

“Come and see,’” She said, and then disappeared past the hospital doors.

[hr]

While Tex was sitting in silence punctuated by sniffles and cleared throats, he rolled down his window and lit up a cigarette. Under the whistling of his drag on the cigarette came the buzzing of his phone. He retrieved it from his pocket and peered at the screen, his eyes running the lengths of boredom, to confusion, to worry, “Oh fuck.”

‘Pulled over by sheriff’s deputy. Will update.’ Rang through his mind again and again. He turned his gaze to Queen and Ghost, “Boyscout got pulled over.”

Queen glanced up with alarm tingling up his spine then breathed out. "He's DIA right? He could maybe talk his way outta this."

Then he remembered, rubbing his hand over his face, "Fuck, the girl. That'll look suspicious, what do you wanna do?"

“You keep workin’. We’ll get the coordinates and move in on ‘em, Boyscout can handle himself.” Tex answered, blowing smoke through the cracked window with a little more annoyance. “I don’t wanna have to shoot anymore cops.”

"Shouldn't have split the team," Ghost said. He was looking down at his Red Bull can, studying it intently. His voice was calm, but tension showed in his massive shoulders. "Should've left that fuckin' kid standing in the street where the firemen would find her. Bet they're already at the house."  

Queen glanced up at Ghost, then back at his computer screen. Even though he had felt acute wrenching sympathy for the poor girl Queen could not argue with the cold logic. Technically, he was correct but the thought of leaving the traumatized child in the street left an uneasy knot in his stomach. 

"Yeah, well," Queen muttered, typing clicking another folder. "He'll be fine, dude was a spook in the Middle East."

"Yeah, so were me and Tex," Ghost shrugged. "It makes cops easy prey."  

With a sniff, Queen replied to the subtle taunt. "And killing cops brings heat. Thought you didn't want to draw attention," he looked over at Ghost, meeting  his dark eyes briefly. Snake eyes, Queen thought. Cold, reptilian, and calculating, waiting for a time to strike. Maybe they were teammates now but Ghost was who they sent to eliminate the deadly men of the Program who fucked up and Queen had a distinct feeling Ghost had probably already planned how he would kill him. 

His neck prickled with anxiety and his face felt hot as the thought flickered across his mind. Queen pushed it away, it was no time for paranoia. Reaching into the plastic bag he found a Snickers bar and claimed it.

“We’ll continue.” Tex said, looking at Queen from the rearview, a silence between all of them. That would please Ghost, he’d bet. “We can’t let Jay get away, Boyscout is on his own until we’re finished.”

“If we can't get him out of whatever jam he’s in…” Tex eyed his Badger with some weight in his eyes, “We all know what needs to be done.”

[hr]

>MCMECKEN’S RUN, WV
>JUL.20.19
>0045

“Music.” Tex frowned.

They’d moved in and set up a fast hide in the trees outside of the Clubhouse. Close enough for the laser, but good enough that some drunk AB could walk across their heads while going for a piss. They’d donned their tactical gear again, Tex now looking like an armored punk. They’d lay in wait and scope the place, wait for their moment. Wait for Jason to text them back that he’d found the truck they ditched on the dirt road up here. 

The lights of the Clubhouse were bright and shone cones of light into the blackened forests. Faces flashed by the windows or hung around, all smiles. Not for long, as far as THUNDER was concerned.

“Weird,” Tex said as the rhythmic thump-thump of a rap song faded out only to transition to another, no sound of conversation, “White man’s the greatest creation, worst creation makes rap, greatest creation listens to rap.”

“We could do a DNA test, Queen, maybe one of them’s your dad.” Tex grinned over at the Florida boy.

Queen slowly raised his middle finger at Tex but the smile behind it was full of wry humor. 

"Ain't none of them pretty enough," he replied, shifting to adjust his vest before settling back in. He scanned the faces, recognizing some from the photos on the phone. 

Ghost watched the passing faces through the sight of his rifle, ignoring the banter of the other two men. He'd taken another hit from his pipe before they'd left the car, and he could feel the pulse of the music in his veins. The beat wasn't bad; rap wasn't his preferred genre, but Ghost respected talent wherever he found it. 

His finger rested on his trigger in flagrant violation of the Four Weapons Safety Rules. Every now and then mimed giving it a squeeze, whispering [i]bang[/i] as a face paused in the center of his sight, imagining the target's head coming apart under the impact of the heavy subsonic bullet. 

"Where is Boyscout," he grunted, beginning to tire of the game. "We're on the clock." He was also bored; being bored was bad, but being bored with targets in visual range bordered on sinful. 

“Couldn’t tell ya,” Tex sighed, starting to lose faith and shoulder a little bit of embarrassment. UMBRA was not making a good impression on his old friends in THUNDER, so far. As Team Lead, he almost took it personal. “How many targets y’all count? Pos ID on Jay yet, I haven’t seen ‘em?”

Queen scanned through his binoculars, the count so far was three men and a woman, one of those trailer trash bleach jobs with big tits but no ass. He shifted his focus to a back room but the blinds were drawn. A shadow and then movement behind the screen of cheap slats, one maybe two figures in that room. His gut tightened, instinct told him this might be their target. 

He hardly heard the rumble of voices beside him as he leaned forward, focused on the door of that back bedroom. It opened to reveal a tall well built man with short cropped light colored hair, he turned just enough for Queen to recognize the crooked set of his nose. 

"Jay," he muttered, elbowing Donnelley, "Just outside the bedroom door, he don't look happy."

“Maybe he heard about karma visiting his momma.” Tex quipped, looking at the two of them on either side of him. Jason was still a no-show as of now, and Tex shook his head and growled at that, “Fuck it. We’ll make our move now, straight through the front. I’m point.”

Tex got to a crouched stance and made for the Clubhouse, moving tree to tree. His slow advance accompanied by the soft whisper of underbrush beneath his boots. There was a few meters of open ground between the treeline and the front door, an old pickup at rest the only cover, as well as a Dodge Charger and a couple motorcycles. “Check your fire. We want Jay alive.” He whispered into his mic, “Stack at the front door. You got the sledge, Ghost?”

“I am the sledge,” Ghost grunted. He approached the door and hefted the breaching hammer, a 12-pound number with a shock-resistant handle and a battlescarred matte-black head. Winding back, he pivoted at the waist, putting all of his considerable power behind the swing. It struck just above the lock and the frame splintered, the door bounding open. He dropped the hammer and raised his rifle, pressing back against the wall to clear a space so the other two could enter. 

Queen would follow Tex, letting him pass before falling in behind him. The Uzi sat snug in his hands, his gaze cutting back and forth as they burst into the house. 

"On the ground," he ordered, spotting two surprised faces gawking at them. The woman with bleached hair and a young man with a large tattoo on his neck of an iron cross. 

Tex heard Queen shout behind him and the two in the living room almost immediately threw themselves to the floor with their hands behind their heads. Lucky, as Tex’s trigger finger was primed on his Badger as he watched them through his sight picture. Past the two couches, a door was set closed in the wall, Jay behind it. “Queen, put some cuffs on ‘em.” He said, covering them while Queen went to work, “Ghost, let’s pull Jay out of his fuckin’ hidey-hole.”

"Got it," he said, hustling over to the pair. Queen knelt, putting his knee in the back of the man. 

"Don't fucking move, shit bird," he snapped when he felt Iron Cross start to squirm. 

"I got rights!" 

"Not tonight, you don't," Queen said, then slapped his ass, "Don't make me hogtie you."

The zip tie cuffs snapped and hissed as Queen jerked it tight. He cuffed the woman who had sense enough to keep her mouth shut as the pinch of plastic squeezed her wrists. 

"Two secure, front room clear," he said into the comms.

Ghost followed Tex, rifle up and scanning. They reached the door and he stacked. 

“You breach,” he grunted. “I’m point.” 

“Rog’.” Tex nodded, just before slamming his boot into the door just next to the knob and sending it clattering open, slamming against the wall and jittering on the other side. Just as Tex dodged out of the doorway he flinched away from a splintering hole burst into the wall at the sound of a loud BOOM just next to his shoulder.

“Fuck y’all!” Jay screamed, looking up and seeing a huge slab of man bearing down on him as he fumbled with the shells for his emptied sawed-off.

Ghost rushed Jay, his heart pounding in his ears. [I]Alive[/i], the parameters specified. But not necessarily unharmed. He dropped his rifle, letting it hang as he reached Jay, then blurred into motion. 

A hard elbow strike caught the man on the edge of the jaw, and then Ghost snatched his gun-hand, forcing it up. He followed into a tight kimura and twisted his upper body, drawing into himself to apply pressure to the lock. Jay's shoulder came loose with a pop and Ghost followed through with his hip, turning the technique into a neat takedown. Then he released with his right hand and drew his pistol, shoving the barrel into Jay's mouth. 

“Ah, huck…” Jay swallowed hard around the cold steel.

Queen left the people bound and hustled over to the room where Ghost hulked over Jay, face fucking him with his pistol. He raised his brow, a devilish grin flickering over his face.

"Hot."

Tex entered and brushed past Queen, a wolf’s grin plastered on his face as he saw Jay in the most compromising of positions. It couldn’t have been more humiliating for the asshole who tried to have him killed if Ghost was fucking him. “Hey, you remember what you said to me back at the Motel?” He asked, watching Jay’s face go from confusion to remembrance, and finally to simmering anger that only made Tex grin wider, “You look scared, partner.”

Queen stood at the doorway, fishing out the coke and took a quick bump, snorting hard. He laughed as Tex stalked the helpless Jay, the rush jolting through his body as his nerves tingled. His fingers twitched on the Uzi as he glanced back towards the living room the people still laying prone. His thoughts flit back to the girl, her haunting strangeness and the prickle of sensation tickled the back of his neck.

“Queen, cuff this fuckhead. We’re gettin’ him out of here.” Tex chuckled, “You gonna get it now, boy.”

[hr]

[I]Cleared, no heat. Girl at the hospital. No id. Inbound[/I], Jason texted to Donnelley.

He was now driving faster, at first a modest five over, but now his foot was bearing down on the pedal as his mind spun. [I] Come and see[/I]. She said it clear as day, just like the man had in the execution video months before. The world seemed to tilt. Beyond the barrier of night Jason felt an unraveling, as if reality itself was fraying beyond the reach of light. His chest was tightening. [I] Come and see[/I]. Where had he heard that before? It tugged at his subconscious, a vague familiarity beyond the video of Anis al-Shamard’s death. 

“Get your shit together,” Jason muttered to himself. The road seemed to lurch as he drove onward, the concrete blurring and fusing with the buildings and woods that framed the narrow alley of his vision. He felt lighter, as if he and the car were drifting, like he couldn’t feel the tire’s contact on the road from the rumble in his boot. What did she mean? What did [I]it[/I] mean?

Jason shook his head and narrowed his eyes as he focused on the road. He read the passing street sign and looked to his phone to check his route. There was no signal. When he looked back up there was a figure illuminated by his headlights. Anis al-Shamard’s headless body was standing on the curb, his head cradled in one hand, and the other lazily  pointing down the road. The stump of his neck was blackened with coagulated blood, the expression of anguish the same one was immortalized in his decapitation. The earth seemed to tilt again, a faint ringing calling out from the darkness beyond. Jason watched in dumbfounded shock as the SUV strolled past Anis’s headless image, pointing in the exact location he was supposed to be heading. He just drove, not checking the directions, not thinking much of anything at all. Only the girl and those haunting words. 

[hr]

The sound of the vehicle made Queen snap his attention away from Jay who seemed both terrified and furious at the same time. Especially after Queen had gleefully gagged him before they hustled the target out the door, leaving his buddies cuffed on the floor. 

The headlights were off and he stood stiffly, his finger on the trigger of the Uzi before realizing it was their own black Expedition. 

"Cavalry arrives," he said, tucking the weapon back. 

Tex stepped around the Expedition and nodded at Jason as the window rolled down, “We got him. Queen and Ghost are gonna ditch that truck and hold Jay for a bit. You and me from here, partner.”

Jason’s complexion was pale and his expression grim. He nodded slowly, markedly different from the verbal confirmations he was giving early. He tried to convince himself it was the drugs. That’s right. Had a taste, but you know that wasn’t enough. All this adrenaline was fucking with him, raking the bottom of his mind and drudging up the buried skeletons. [I] Pull it the fuck together, Jason[/I], he demanded.

The realization of Jay’s capture finally sunk in. Some racist tweaker fucks are dead, no one caught, no one hurt. That was worth a change in mood, but Jason could shake the stormy haze cracking inside his head. He looked over Donnelley’s shoulder, still wordless.

Tex looked back over his shoulder, trying to follow Jason’s eyes and catching on that he’d probably never get there. He turned back to the other man and his brows furrowed slightly as he spoke in a hushed tone, “Boyscout,” he paused, “Jason, it doesn’t take a Master’s in Psych to see somethin’ ain’t right. Is somethin’ not right?”

Jason darted his glance back to Donnelley's, surprised he'd be checking on him now. Maybe he was that shaken up. "Right as rain, Tex," he said lowly. "I'll tell you when we roll out. Something's not right." He looked over Donnelley's shoulder again, hoping it would conjure the other two out of the house. 

Queen sauntered over to the two men, leaving Ghost to handle Jay. His attention was directed at Tex, he wanted to get on with what was coming next.

"What's the story, which vehicle you want us in?" he asked, looking over Jason. "Girl say anything?"

[I]Yeah, she fuckin’ said something alright[/I], Jason thought. “Yeah, she said you looked prettier than mommy.” He wanted the humor to break the mood, but it came out colder than he had intended. The night was stagnant, hot, and near silent. A dog bellowed in the distance. 

“We leaving, or what?” Ghost’s hard voice cut the reverie, punctuated by a muffled curse from Jay as the big operator tugged at his dislocated shoulder. “We’ve got shit to do. I want to get this nerd in a chair and start breakin’ shit.” Jay made a few pleading sounds and Ghost shook him again. “Shut up. We’ll talk later.” 

Tex sighed and nodded, patting Jason’s door and turning to the others, “Take Jay and trash that fuckin’ truck. Find a hole to hide in and we’ll rendezvous when everythin’s done.” He said, “Me and Boyscout’re leavin’.”

Queen's brows ticked up at Jason's comment but he said nothing for once, distracted by Jay's appearance. He already had a taste of Ghost, perhaps it would make their questions more palatable. 

"Got it, if there's one thing I know is finding a hole to hide in," Queen grinned, then gave a flippant salute to Tex before heading to the truck. 

[hr]

The night had become suffocating without the haziness of drugs and adrenaline. The air roared in the open window on Donnelley’s side of the Expedition, his cherry glowing in the dark, streetlights offering clear moments in slices as they passed. It was that time of night where morning was bleeding into the blackness and the whole world seemed to be holding its breath. Not yet tomorrow, but not quite tonight. No other cars on the road, and for all the two of them knew, they were the only ones who existed.

Donnelley and Jason had been chasing their headlights for maybe half an hour now, and up until just then, Donnelley was content to sit and stew in the silence.

He glanced at Jason in the driver’s seat, eyes always forward and looking like he was having an entire conversation in his own head. Donnelley took another drag, “Tell me about what happened, Jason.”

And Jason was waiting for that question, head spinning all the while as the only thing breaking the silence was the rubber and asphalt singing their path. Had it been that obvious? Or was Donnelley accustomed to the same glowering disturbance wrinkling his face? 

“The girl,” he said, and paused, not knowing if it was the right place to start. He replayed the drive in his head, tried to think of everything wrong that transpired masked in its nervous pace. “The headphones, the room. She freaked out if those headphones weren’t on her.”

Jason turned to Donnelley, eyes stony. “She said something to me should couldn’t have possibly known. I don’t even know how I know it.” 

[I]Anis al-Shamard[/I].

“I don’t wanna read too much into it. You start seein’ the Program’s shit everywhere and that’s when you know you need to step back for a while.” He said, mentally shaking his head at his own self for his suspicions about West Virginia and those Iraqi Yezidis. He cleared his throat, took another drag and scratched at his brow, “What was it though?”

“Come and see,” Jason said. He remembered it then, the obscured man whispering to the recorder, Anis’s head dangling from his wrenched fingers. Something still lingered, another thread deeper than this recent revelation. 

“The program’s shit,” Jason murmured, almost mockingly. “You try to rationalize what you can, huh? Try to be so certain none of this isn’t getting to you. But you feel it, don’t you?”

Did he, or was he losing his edge? Had it always been dull, not up to the task? No, he felt something, like he always had. Waiting for him here. 

Donnelley didn’t realize how hard he was breathing until he could feel his head get lighter, his chest tighter. The air that had seemed so cold and empty was now almost thick, choking. That voice on the phone before he found Laurie and Weissman dead in those hills. Two more faces to add to the nightmares. Two more graves not dug. Two more folded flags. He ignored the monologue from Jason’s mouth and almost hyper focused on that set of fucking words. [i]Come and See.[/i]

“Are you sure,” Donnelley said slow, eyes sliding over to Jason and fixing him, eyes narrowed to lethal slits, his voice bordering on something between anger and fear, “Are you sure that’s what you heard?”

“It was the only thing she said to me,” Jason replied. 

Donnelley stared at Jason, face not softening a bit and instead looking like he’d a bad taste in his mouth as he shook his head and turned away, taking a drag. “I don’t like it.” He said, as if that was a great revelation and something of value to add. “I have a theory. Maybe it’s crackpot, tinfoil…” he waited for Jason to ask him to continue and hoped he didn’t at the same time.

Donnelley’s protest was a relief as much as it was troubling. Now Jason didn’t want to steer his eyes away from the road. He could feel the heat of Donnelley’s stare. “What?” he asked, sounding more eager to hear than he’d have liked to reveal. But if anyone would know, would be informed, it would be Donnelley. 

“Before I came back from the Agency to here, we were working that case on Anzor Bekzhaev. Daesh.” Donnelley frowned, “They’re skinnin’ Yezidis by the village over in Iraq. I get the call and it’s happenin’ here too. What if this is bigger than just some backwoods killer in West Virginia?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, the skinning or the words?” It seemed impossible that just a phrase could traverse whole oceans, whole people, to follow them. “What if we’re the connection,” Jason said. [I]What if I’m the connection?[/I]

“The skinnin’.” Donnelley said, “If it was the words too? There wouldn’t be a fuckin’ doubt. I got one of my guys keepin’ an eye out for somethin’.”

Donnelley shifted in his seat and took another drag, “When Foster called me, Laine was the first to arrive on the scene after me. The autopsy found a black stone inside of our victim, Maria Vasquez.” Donnelley could remember the sight of it, how it had effected Tom, how it effected him. “She ain’t the first. She ain’t gonna be the last. There was a mass grave full of bones from past victims and there’s a parallel with that. If my guy does an autopsy on one of the Yezidis and finds a black stone…”

“Jesus,” Jason murmured. The details sent an aching tension in his back and by instinct he checked the rear view mirror. There was nothing but the red glow of their brake lights on the asphalt. 

“I need you to be available in the event that happens. You’re the only that operates in my circles, my AOs.” He said, “Foster thinks all these years in the Program is gettin’ to me, makin’ me see strings to places that ain’t there, I need you to look with your own eyes and tell me I ain’t.”

Jason wondered if this was normal, if the paranormal equivalent of shellshock came like a cancer after years of exposure. He knew it would be better than to ask, knowing the answer was the kind left behind the locked door of decorum. Operational decency, you see. Don’t ask about salary, don’t ask if the job makes you go crazy. 

“What, Foster thinks he’s impervious?” Jason asked. He shook his head, lips suctioning against his teeth. “If this is connected I’ll be available. Gives my keepers the excuse to not worry about me—but fuck man, if we’re seeing the same thing? What the fuck does that mean?”

Donnelley swallowed hard, looking out the window and blowing smoke into the billowing air. He thought on that, if his suspicions were true, what then? How hard would that next sunrise be to get? How much would it be worth, especially if he had to work hard to get it again, and again, and again, and again? Maybe Foster was right, maybe there was no end, at least an end that Donnelley could bring about to this war. Maybe this operation was too big, even for the infamous, smirking cowboy asshole named Joseph Donnelley. Maybe Atlas’s knees were starting to buckle, so to speak. Sisyphus was getting tired, and the rock only getting heavier and heavier.

He shook his head, “I don’t know.”