>MOSCOW, ID
>LA QUINTA INN & SUITES
>4SEP2019
>1500...///

Donnelley lay in bed already dressed and ready in his business chinos, oxfords, and dress shirt. He was staring at the ceiling and thinking of his and Laine’s last night. It seemed like every day she took up more real estate in his mind. As much as he liked it, heart fluttering and the intertwined bodies when everyone else was sleeping was dangerous. He liked all the teams he’d been on, bonded with all of them, but a tiny voice in the back of his mind was telling him that he was getting too close. Told him to focus, maintain the distance needed to efficiently complete the mission. He shut it out for what seemed like the hundredth time since he’d began doing this with Laine. Reckless, dangerous, any other word like that he had no problem attributing to their relationship. But no matter what, [i]wrong[/i] was not one of them.

His watch began to beep, the signal that it was time to rally the team. He silenced the alarm and got up, extending the handle on his one suitcase and wheeling it out behind him as he exited his room. He went to Ava and Dave’s room first, then Laine and Avery’s. He’d helped the other man get back to the room early in the morning, after letting Laine settle into her bed and make like she’d always been there. They followed him out of the hotel after they’d turned in their key cards and filtered out to their cars, Donnelley’s Malibu and the Campervan. Donnelley slowed from his place at the front of their little marching line until he got to Avery at the very rear.

He turned and placed a hand on Avery’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks with a stiff arm and firm hand. He let his hand come away from Avery as the other man looked at him quizzically. Donnelley’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. That he was on thin ice. Out of habit, Avery stood at parade rest. It wasn’t something Donnelley usually had to do, but he’d gotten the talk before. More times than Avery might think. 

“You were drunk last night.” Donnelley said, Avery glancing away from him to look over his shoulder at the rest of the team loading their things.

“I…” Avery began, but his jaw just hung there, knowing there was nothing he could say that Donnelley wouldn’t shoot out of the air.

“I, I, I.” Donnelley echoed, and then shifted a hair closer, “I’m gonna put it to you straight right here and now, Avery. I don’t know what’s crawled up your ass and died, but you better fuckin’ fix that sour mood of yours or it’s gonna get someone killed.”

He inhaled through his nose, sniffing at Avery, “You ever turn up to muster with this team smellin’ like a fuckin’ vagrant, I’m gonna smack the taste out your mouth, boy. This ain’t whatever embassy or FOB they pulled you off of, out here I’m the goddamn [i]President.[/i] There’s no front leanin’ rest, I’ll just tell you to flip your collar and meet me in the alley.’” Avery chanced a look at Donnelley’s face and saw a picture of severe sincerity, “Laine tried with you once. This ain’t me tryin’, this is me desperately pleadin’ that you don’t make me have to try at it myself.”

“Am I understood?” Donnelley growled. Avery nodded once, Donnelley rose his voice, “[i]Am I understood?[/i]”

“Yes, sir!”

Donnelley stepped back and looked Avery up and down, almost seeming to take the measure of his very being in those few seconds, but what he made of it Avery couldn’t tell. “Don’t call me ‘sir,’ I work for a livin’.” Donnelley about-faced and started the walk to his car, calling over his shoulder, “You’re ridin’ with me.”

Avery gulped.

>ELMENDORF AIR FORCE BASE
>ANCHORAGE, AK
>5SEP2019
>0045...///

Black SUVs driven by Air Force personnel with orders not to talk to, much less even look at them. After a while, it lost its glamor for Donnelley, riding silently in the back with Avery while Laine rode up front. They had all changed from their traveling clothes into more appropriate attire. Donnelley wore a gray button-up, tan 5.11 pants, and a black hoodie. His beard made him look like any other contractor you’d find shuffling their feet on any other military base, his FNS .40 holstered in a thigh rig on his right and his Badger and Serbu in their gun cases in the back. Avery still hadn’t seemed to get over their conversation in Idaho, though Donnelley firmly telling him to fuck off when he tried to approach him at the SeaTac airport probably didn’t help.

In his defense, the second time was against Donnelley’s orders, but his patience for the other man had steadily waned since Dave voiced his grievances and Donnelley had found him stumbling around outside the hotel barely coherent. At least he wasn’t like that. He hoped. It’d been a while since the days of him only being able to sleep on the floor or coming home drunk and trashing the kitchen in his dazes. He frowned and looked out the window, disgustedly shoving the memories out of his head and focusing on the Gulfstream G550 sprawled and waiting for them on the runway. Standing in front of it was a man in a black suit and peacoat, black hair slicked back and a clean shaven face, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. On either side of him there were two security personnel in the saltiest, faded multicam Cryes Donnelley had seen since Afghanistan. Both of them armed with Magpul PDRs, and looked like they’d taken Ghost’s DNA and made clones of him in a lab. Donnelley’s eyes narrowed to lethal slits.

The engines were already idling and he could hear them before he opened his door. He went to the back of the GMC Yukon to put on his assault pack and lug his gun cases. When they made it to stand in front of this mystery man whose self-assured smile made Donnelley want to break it, he instead offered out his hand to the man for a shake. Their hands clasped and he spoke over the engines, “Hello, it’s nice to meet you! I’m William Bruster, with March Tech! We’ll be providing your plane today!”

“It’s nice to meet you too, William,” Donnelley lied with a smile as prickish and self-assured as William’s, putting aside the Texan in his voice and replacing it with his indiscernible news accent.

“Please, just Will. Your name?”

“Just Blaine!” Donnelley gave his CIA-provided last-name alias, not trusting this smirking weasel enough to give him the real thing. “I’m eager to get this done!”

“Of course, come on in!” Will waved them along as he ascended the steps up into the fuselage of the plane. Eight people inside the Gulf Stream was stretching the limits of its capacity, but Donnelley was glad to be out of earshot of the roaring engines.

“March Tech?” He asked, voice more clear in the sealed silence of the cabin, setting down his cases and assault pack to sit in the first chair he saw.

Will nodded, “Yes, the Program and March Tech have had close ties going on twenty years now. Mutually beneficial, really.” Will smiled, “We’ll be stopping in Eielson Air Force Base before we go further. They’ve been experiencing some… unusual weather patterns up north since last month.”

“Unusual?” Donnelley asked, eyeing Will with a concerned brow.

“Usually it’s rain and hail, but they’ve been getting snow up north. Lots. It was clear when we left the airstrip, so we hope it stays that way.” Will said.

Donnelley nodded, lips pursing at the unusual news of the weather. An omen, he thought, “So do I.”

Laine hauled the heavy duffel bag over one shoulder and looped the strap of her laptop briefcase over her neck, letting it bang against her hip as she walked. She was dressed in layers after obsessing over possible weather conditions, form fitting leggings and long sleeved shirt similar to what she wore when she bothered to jog back home in Virginia. Over it, she had a black ribbed sweater and her shoulder holster, covered by a lightweight gray and black fleece. As she had to appear professional, she wore a pair of black hiking boots, the laces hidden under the dark pants. 

She shifted uncomfortably, the weather was not as cold as she had thought it might be, and it was humid. Laine thought about running to the restroom to take off some of the underlayers but there was no time. She did remove the patterned scarf and tucked it into the pocket of her jacket. 

Laine followed Donnelley to the plane, climbing the stairs while maneuvering the bulky duffel bag. The many times she had been caught unprepared by the Program had caused her to overpack and prepare. She shoved her bag in the back where the gun cases and other luggage would sit. 

She took a moment to study the man that called himself Will, her dark green eyes taking his measure. He reminded her superficially of the best man at Mariana’s wedding and she felt an unreasonable dislike. Chiding herself, she flashed a smile as she approached to make introductions.

Laine caught the tail end of the conversation with Donnelley and said, “Snow? Looks like all the jackets I packed will come in handy.” 

Even as she said it, she peeled off the fleece and smoothed the ribbed turtleneck sweater down over her hips, laying the coat on the back of the seat she chose. Laine looked over at the man from March Tech, a practiced pleasant expression on her face.

She held her hand out, the black nail polish gone instead her natural nails buffed to a shine. “Rachel Kagan, this is a very nice plane, thank you for the ride.” 

Will looked up from his phone to see who the voice belonged to, the subtle look in his eye telling that he wasn’t displeased with his findings, “Thank you, Miss Kagan.” Will took her hand gently and gave it a small shake, “First time flying in something like this?”

Laine returned the shake, then withdrew her hand. “I was honestly not expecting something this nice. I was dreading some bush plane, but it seems like your company knows how to travel.”

She took the seat next to Donnelley’s and diagonally across from their host, facing him and an empty chair. Laine crossed her legs, settling in. The seats were genuine leather and well cushioned with plenty of room between them. Resting her hand against her thigh, she waited as Dave and Ava climbed aboard, Avery trailing them. 

“We do.” Will said, taking a business card from his inside jacket pocket and offering it to Laine, “Whatever they’re paying, we pay better. We can arrange a meeting, I know a nice sushi place in LA.”

“Where’s mine?” Donnelley asked.

Will left the first card on the table and sat back, pulling out his phone and going back to his business while the others filed in. He was less impressed by the others than he was Laine, his glancing eyes from his phone screen not lingering half as much as they did on Laine. Or Rachel Kagan.

Laine smiled at his offer, sensing Donnelley’s dislike of that but made no move to acknowledge it. She reached for the card, moving to the edge of the table as she glanced at the neat print and took it between her fingers. 

“I’ll consider it,” she said, enjoying the little role play as Rachel. “I appreciate the offer.”

She tucked the card into the pocket of her coat that was draped over her seat and stole a glance at Donnelley, fighting back a playful smirk. Instead, she leaned her elbow on the arm of the seat, covering her mouth with her fingers briefly to mask her expression and the urge to pepper the man with questions. Rachel Kagan was just here as a DoD advisor in a place where too many questions might raise eyebrows. 

Ava or ‘Rosalin Bishop’ to their escorts, shuffled her way into the plane, looking around in surprise at the interior of the plane. She had been expecting them to fly in some small private plane with about six seats. The private jet provided by March Tech was a breath of fresh air compared to the flight to Alaska from Idaho.

She had spent a tense morning milling about the airport waiting for her flight and trying to not look for the familiar faces of her team in the crowd to make sure they would all be on the same flight. Which hadn’t been great for her anxiety, though she managed to distract herself with her Switch and making small talk with other passengers. Her new coat had gotten a fair amount of compliments and it made her happy she got it.

It had been warm to wear it in Idaho, but when they had touched down in Alaska she had been so happy that she wore it on the plane. Not to mention the thermal leggings and sweater she wore underneath her coat.

She had the hood of the coat still up to protect against the chill of the wind outside as she moved to the back and set down her bags with everyone else's, keeping her laptop bag over her shoulder. 

She moved to the side to let Dave and Avery set down their stuff, putting down her laptop bag in her chosen seat and finally pulling the hood back on the dusky blue grey coat.

Her bright hair, normally a reasonable mess of copper and red curls, puffed out around her shoulders in an almost Bob Ross-ian style poof of vibrant colors. “Oof, cold out there.” She said, brushing the drizzle of water off the sleeves and the small shoulder cape attached to her coat. “Is there anything warm to drink? Like coffee?” She asked, looking up and around in search of a coffee maker or the equivalent.

Laine glanced up as Ava removed her hood, biting back a laugh at the sudden explosion of red hair. She raised her eyebrows at Ava pointedly and reached to smooth her own short dark hair. The coat and shawl, the cloud of curls reminded Laine of one of those dolls, the ones her grandmother always bought her as a kid that came with a historical fiction book. 

“You know, coffee sounds really good,” Laine agreed.

Dave had, so far, held his tongue, not trusting his natural lack of subterfuge. He knew his cover name was “Dan Smith”, and his cover job was “DOD Security Advisor”, which basically meant merc, but beyond that he had very little idea what he was actually doing. In response, he’d taken a few pages from Ghost’s book. 

He was dressed in a black polo over a grey Under Armor shirt. A coyote brown hat sat on his head, and he wore hiking boots with coyote Tru-Spec ACU-style trousers. His hair had grown shaggy, his beard a little longer, and between those, the Oakleys hanging from his breast pocket, and the Sig sheathed in his Low-Ride Safariland holster, he figured he looked the part enough to avoid raising eyebrows.

“I can do coffee,” Dave said as he trooped aboard the plane. He fought a grin at the sheer size of Ava’s hair; he wanted to reach out and play with it, but knew that would fuck up their cover. It would wait for later.  

>PROGRAM AIRFIELD
>7 MILES OUTSIDE BLACKBOX
>0300...///

Trees. Fields. Fields. Trees. Donnelley almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw mountains outside the window and several hundred feet down. At last, he thought, a change of scenery. They circled the tiny airfield below a couple times, Donnelley eyeing it with curiosity. It was a threadbare thing that was almost a muddy insult to the March Tech Gulfstream they’d been riding in for the past couple hours. Nothing but a strip of dirt and a couple shacks in the middle of a narrow valley that allowed only two avenues of approach for incoming traffic, not that there was a lot. Just as Will said, the mountaintops were crowned white and pools and piles of it were splotched about the valley and the wilderness around it. Leading away from it like a tiny stream was the faint line of a road leading away and deeper into the mountains. Just the one.

“You know what causes it?” Donnelley asked, still staring out the window as they descended.

“Huh?” Will said, looking about for who asked the question, “Oh, the storms? No. Not that I’d know much, you guys are a tight-lipped bunch. If I told you, you know how it goes.” Will chuckled.

“I’d have to kill you.” Donnelley said it deadpan, killing Will’s smile.

“Yeah.” Will cleared his throat, smiling over to Laine, “Don’t lose the card, Miss Kagan.”

They finally touched down, the plane jittering just a hair. Taxiing to a stop, Will stood and his guards followed suit. Once the door was opened, Donnelley was the first out with his bags, eager to get out of the plane and onto solid ground. Will called out to Dave- or Mister Smith- and gave him a card too, as if to insult Donnelley further by offering job prospects to everyone but him. They filtered out and Will followed along with his guards. “The ride to the compound is scheduled for zero-four-hundred, we’ve got a bit of a wait. That shack over there will be our quarters for the next hour.” Will was already walking towards it, the brick building hopefully offering warmth. “There’s coffee inside, self-serve kinda deal.”

Donnelley was on the verge of shivering, his breath smoking in the cold air. Almost cold enough for him to forsake a cigarette. Almost. He stood outside while the others got settled inside, toughing it out for half a cigarette before he threw in the gloves and threw the door open, stepping inside and swearing. He looked around, confused if this was still the twenty-first century or they’d been teleported back to the 1800s. A wood-fire stove squatted in the corner being tended by one of the silent guards. There was a faint WiFi signal coming from somewhere, as Donnelley checked his phone for the time and found out. Not a TV in sight, but at least there was electricity. The airstrip and the BLACKBOX must’ve had their own generators. He settled in a creaky wooden chair, putting on a thicker coat over his hoodie and puffing his breaths into his hands.

It was a wait for the vehicles that they would be ferried to the BLACKBOX by, but after some small-talk and another cigarette, Donnelley watched them ambling down the pockmarked road. Four M-ATVs painted a dull olive drab, two with mounted miniguns manned by security personnel came to a stop in front of him. A rigid and stern looking man stepped out of the third vehicle from the front and marched straight up to Donnelley. He could practically feel the military aura radiating off of him before his gravelly voice spoke, “Are you UMBRA’s Team Lead?”

“Yup.” Donnelley said through a cloud of smoke before pinching out the cherry and placing it in a plastic ziploc.

“Tryin’ to save the animals?”

“DNA.” Donnelley spoke, replacing the ziploc in his hoodie pocket.

“Well, tell your folks to get to it, you’re needed.” The man spoke, still not having given his name.

“Needed?” Donnelley perked a brow.

“I stutter, son? [i]Needed[/i]. I’ll tell you on the way.” The man shut his door, cutting off any more conversation.

Donnelley did as asked and rallied his people, UMBRA loading their gear in the trucks while Will and his guards went back to the plane. The man, in fact, did not tell Donnelley on the way, deflecting his questions by refusing to stop staring at his phone. The rest of his team were in the truck in front of theirs, and it pained him that they were probably having better conversation. The tough condition of the roads only served to prolong their drive to the BLACKBOX, but they’d made it in good time. It wasn’t a sprawling facility, though it was fenced off and protected by patrols. A guard waved them through once the man showed him his ID badge, but it was another long drive until they were in the BLACKBOX proper. It looked to be a refurbished mining settlement, hardly any activity between the buildings besides a few guards slowly patrolling the grounds. It almost reminded Donnelley of Fort Drum. There was a tell-tale look of terminal boredom in the guards’ eyes here, and like there was a force-field that stripped you of your hopes at the gate.

The M-ATVs stopped near an old cabin and the old military officer that had no intention of shedding the military mindset even working for the Program led their way to a large elevator. Donnelley had imagined there to be a vast and sprawling base underground buzzing with activity and important happenings. What greeted them after walking through mine shafts and past another guard post were long and empty tunnels dug into the rock more like a nuclear missile silo than a mine. Sprawling, sure, but it left Donnelley still wanting for buzzing activity. With lips clamped shut, their guide walked on, following signs painted on the walls towards the area meant for meetings until they were standing outside the sealed door of one such room. The console outside read that it was booked by someone named C. Greedy for the next few hours.

“Any questions? No? Good, wait here.” The Program Officer stalked off on his way to do whatever else needed doing by him, leaving UMBRA alone in the empty hall outside of the meeting room.

“Who do you think that guy is?” Donnelley nodded at the console.

"Sounds like a cartoon villain," Laine said, her hands resting in the pockets of her jacket as she stood near Donnelley. 

Laine had been quiet on the ride away from the nice civilized airplane, her fleece coat and headband in place with her scarf and gloves against the colder weather. The air of mystery and the reticence of the guards and the Program officers refusing to answer anything left her feeling annoyed. They were still being kept in the dark, she had nothing to think on to prepare for since no one knew why they were there. 

The mines were a clue, it gave her a little hope that perhaps West Virginia was not completely behind them. Laine still felt the regret of not advancing as much in the case and the mistakes she had made in her initial profile. Since then she had accepted her FBI methods of analysis of a suspect from a crime scene and victimology would have to be changed to include supernatural possibilities.  

"I hope they tell something soon, they seem in a rush to get us here and then tell us nothing," she said, her fingers touching the card in her pocket.

“They ain’t gonna tell us shit ‘til it matters,'' Dave said. His tone was light despite his words. “When do we get any info? Guys keep more secrets than the Old Man an’ his thugs.” 

He reached into his back pocket, taking out a can of Cope. After packing in a solid lip he put the can away, poking it into place with his tongue. 

“Dude’s probably some sorta super special secret, ain’t gonna tell us his name, two families an’ five covers type.” He snorted, not quite concealing a bit of bitterness. “Least he ain’t pointed snipers at us yet. Probably.” 

“Day’s still young, man, don’t be disappointed yet.” Donnelley drawled, stepping away a few feet and forgetting any pretense of professionalism. With no carpet or painted walls for the smoke to soak into, he stuffed a cigarette between his lips and lit up, “Feels like I’m in OSUT again. Hurry up, wait, and shut up. Could be standin’ at parade rest right now.”

Donnelley almost flinched as Avery spoke up, the younger man having kept quiet and out of the way since they’d touched down in Alaska, “Old guy was a Marine for sure.” He looked at Donnelley, “Even the Infantry Officers I met weren’t that big of assholes. Most of the time.”

Ava had her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her coat, glancing up and down the hallways in search of any hint of someone coming to meet them. During the plane ride she had wrestled her puff ball of hair into a braid that now laid over one of her shoulders, tied off at the end with a spare ribbon that had come with her coat. The beret that came with it now sat on her head, completing her look as a posh British woman but at least it was another layer of warmth against the cold.

Despite the layers she wore in anticipation of being in Alaska; she still felt a chill born of anxiety settled on the back of her neck. Unsurprising given the fact she was as far out of her comfort zone as she could be, standing in the middle of a highly classified Program base with some vague mention of trouble brewing in the background.

And they were told to stand and wait. “I swear, this is how one of the Resident Evil games starts.” Ava muttered, shifting herself closer unconsciously to Dave and Donnelley.

“That’s the one with the zombies an’ stuff, right?” Dave said, taking a step closer to Ava so that they were touching. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s in a big city, or whatever? Got that guy with...Ya know. The coat?” 

He frowned, then shook his head. “I’unno, Mal played it a lot for a while. I mostly remember skinless dogs an’ wonderin’ why you could shoot an RPG indoors.” 

Laine overheard the reference and shivered, the face of Clyde’s wife as she lunged for her at the first cabin they visited in West Virginia. She looked over her shoulder at Ava, she had not been there that night so she kept the memory to herself. Laine hunched her shoulders, her hands crammed into the pockets of her fleece and she folded the card over in her fingers. 

“That’s the one,” she said, “I’d rather not recreate that.” 

She looked at Donnelley smoking then shrugged, going for the black pack in the inside coat pocket, turning to him for a light. “Have you been here before?” 

Donnelley shook his head, producing his lighter and flicking the flame into life, “Nope.” He frowned, puffing on his cigarette, “Secrecy’s just like home though.”

“I’m surprised my old Supervisor got us here.” Ava mused with a curious frown. “I had no idea he had this much pull. When he first told me about it, I thought it was just a warehouse, but this is a full on base.” She shook her head in mild bewilderment. 

Dave looked from each of them to the other and finally shrugged. “I’unno, I kinda like it. Roomy, lotsa trees and mountains, from what I saw in the plane. I wanna get out there an’ see what’s what.” He gave Ava’s shoulder a squeeze. “Get our hike on, right?” 

Laine smiled around her cigarette at the pair, then shook her head, “Hiking? Fresh air kills you.” 

Donnelley looked over to the other pair, “Yeah, have fun, [i]nerds.[/i] We’ll be holdin’ the fort.”

Ava stuck her tongue out at Donnelley at his ’nerds’ comment, seeing him return the favor more forcefully, then looked up at Dave. “I like a good nature trail as much as the next introvert, but I think if I stepped out into the Alaskan wilderness I’ll just...die. I think I’m small enough an eagle could fly off with me.”

“Nah, you’ll be alright,” Dave laughed. He leaned down and gave Ava a quick peck on the forehead. “Bird’s gotta get past me first, an’ I know three different recipes for goose that you can cook just with an open fire an’ some shit you find in the woods. Eagles ain’t much different.” 

Ava sighed, as though resigning herself to her fate. 

There was the sound of the heavy clunking of the door’s locks disengaging. Those paying attention may have seen Donnelley flinch slightly with his hands balled into fists as the door slid open on its tracks. The man standing on the other side of it scrunched his nose, “Smoking?” He looked at Laine and Donnelley, “Whatever, come in, the others have been waiting. You’re the last to arrive and keep us from proceeding.”

Donnelley pinched his cherry out and placed the butt in the ziploc he kept, looking to his team and nodding wordlessly inside for them to follow. There was a narrow hallway and behind a panel of reinforced glass on the side of the wall, another guard not dissimilar to Ghost was manning the counter, “Weapons and electronics.”

Donnelley handed his phone over, unholstering his .40, flipping the safety on, ejecting the magazine and then clearing the chamber. He caught the round in his other hand and offered both to the unimpressed guard, who took them without even a hint of praise. He was waved through the other set of sliding doors into a meeting hall, a few sections of chairs filled with what he assumed were different teams of the Program. In front of him were their empty section, and situated with them in the back was a pack of familiar faces he was not expecting. Nor that welcome of.

“Figured you’d keep us,” Poker spoke from around a mouthful of lollipop, “Tex.”

Next to Poker was the rest of THUNDER, who Donnelley only nodded at before taking the first seat in UMBRA’s section he grabbed and promptly going back to his former reality where THUNDER didn’t exist. Looking around the rest of the meeting hall, there were three other teams that could be seen. From the difference of their looks, he could tell two of them besides THUNDER were Wetwork Teams, and another Working Group. Whatever they’d stepped into was big.

Laine put her cigarette out on the bottom of her boot then gave it to Donnelley for his collection. She caught his tension, the set of his shoulders tightening and looked at the man behind the counter. She handed over the Glock from her shoulder holster and her phone without any flourish. 

Slipping off her scarf and headband, she smoothed her dark hair back as she entered the smaller room with many large bodies filling it. Laine recognized Ghost and Queen, they were hard to forget and some of the other members of Donnelley’s old team, but the other faces were strangers. And probably would remain so. Keeping her expression cool and unreadable was not that difficult as most of the faces were stoney and intent on whatever the briefing was going to be about. 

She sat beside Donnelley, crossing her legs and setting her clasped hands in her lap. She leaned over, her voice low in his ear, “Tex is it now?” 

“I’m still with UMBRA.” Donnelley not giving off any humor with the statement, simply staring straight ahead and waiting for this briefing to start.

Laine flicked her gaze over his face and sat back, nodding her acknowledgement. The sense that it was something big had already been growing in her mind and his humorless response was confirmation. She looked over at his former team, tattooed sly faced Queen and big brooding Ghost, giving them a little nod of recognition. 
She could see a few other women but it was still predominantly men in the room. Laine tried catching the eyes of the other women, trying not to examine what they wore but how they held themselves and if they felt as out of place as she did. One woman among the teams like THUNDER stared through her and Laine dropped her gaze for a moment but was intensely curious about a woman doing the wetwork as Donnelley called it. 

When Donnelley entered the room, Queen perked up, his sea colored eyes hidden behind the dark tint of his aviators but the boyish smile clearly visible. He had been slouched, his legs extended and his fingers in a paper fortune teller marked with numbers that he had made to kill time. He played with it, opening and closing the folds then pushed it at Ghost, “Pick one, c’mon.” 

When he only got a glare in return, Queen snorted, “You’ll leave your fate to chance.” 

His grin at Donnelley faded a little when he sat with his new team, but that was understandable and forgivable. Queen threw a wink at him despite the sunglasses as Laine sat down beside him, his attention suddenly diverted as she crossed her legs.

Ava stepped into the room, rebuttoning up her coat after undoing it to pass over the singular pistol she carried. She looked and around the room curiously, her eyes sweeping over the room of unfamiliar faces of stoic professionals. Maybe there was more to them being here than she originally thought…

She glanced over to where Donnelley and Laine were, her eyes landing on some surprisingly familiar faces. She smiled in a friendly manner and gave a polite wave to the men making up THUNDER, Maui smiling and waving back. While she only had the briefest of interactions with Poker and Maui, it had been nice enough. She knew Queen and Ghost the best out of them, though that wasn’t saying much, she liked them nonetheless. 

She made her way over and sat down with Laine and Donnelley, the smile slipping off her face as the mystery of the situation settled back in. “Something weird is going on.” She whispered over to Laine.

Laine nodded, her gaze shifting to Ava, “Weird is a word for it. You can smell the tension.” 

Dave joined UMBRA a moment later, sans his Sig pistol and the Buck knife he liked to carry. They’d taken his pocket folder, too, and despite the amount of Program muscle in the room Dave found himself feeling naked as he took a seat with his group. 

Some of his earlier amusement faded when he spotted Queen, and while he gave the man a mostly-friendly nod he found that he wasn’t excited to see him. Nor was he particularly excited to see Ghost, the rest of THUNDER, and the other half-dozen or so obvious killers in the room. Whatever they were about to get into, it was probably going to be rough if they’d brought that much firepower. 

Ghost, for his part, watched the rest of the room with his usual impassive glare. His big arms were crossed over his chest in a classic military power-stance, an illusion enhanced by his black multicam combat suit and ever-present Oakleys. His beard was shorter, recently trimmed, and he’d cut his hair back to a mid-length fade that was covered by a black-multicam ballcap. He hated patrol caps, they looked floppy. Baseball-style was always his preference. 

Ghost returned Tex’s microscopic nod and ignored the others, though his eyes did follow Laine and Ava as they sat. When Dave entered the room Ghost noted a small rise in the man’s confidence, then dismissed him as still not being on the same playing field. 

Queen still fiddled with the paper fortune teller, idly pinching it open and closed when he saw Ava walk in. His eyes lit up behind his glasses and a foxy grin crossed his face. At her wave, he raised his hand with the paper gripped in his fingers and opened it like a puppet mouth a few times in rapid succession. 

“Howdy there,” he said, eyeing her coat and cute face that together made her look like a Victorian doll. He sat forward a bit to try and get her attention to come over when he saw Dave. 

Queen caught his eye then sat back, spreading his legs as he stretched out and gave him a close lipped smile, resting the paper casually over his crotch. The man looked more seasoned and the beard certainly added to the Ozark mountain man charm but the wariness in the eyes told him more than anything that he was becoming one of them. He still seemed to shadow Ava so Queen eased back, and let himself look elsewhere. 

Donnelley brought his gaze to where Queen sat, giving a moment of mulling things over before he rose and placed himself in an empty seat next to Queen. Whatever this was, maybe the other teams that had arrived before them knew something he didn’t. Even a scrap of information would be better than waiting with the anxiety clawing into his bones before the briefing started. “You know what this is about? Where’d they call you guys from?” He asked, eyeing the older man scrolling absently on his phone at the front of the room, presumably the C. Greedy that had scheduled the room for the next few hours, “Has to be big.”

Queen turned in his chair, sitting up as Donnelley spoke to him, folding the paper fortune teller back and forth getting faster as he peered at his friend through the dark lenses. He pushed it at him, “Pick one.” 

Donnelley’s lips drew thin when Queen pushed his question aside. There was that spark of a smile that he suppressed and he sighed it out, shaking his head and pointing at random, “That one, sure.”

Queen raised his brows, “Are you suuuure?”


Not waiting for an answer, he pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead and opened the fold, holding it close to him and he looked up at Donnelley. “Well, says here. ‘We don’t know jack shit.’” 

He leaned back, fidgeting with the paper again, “We got a call to get our winter gear and hustle on up, we were in Mexico. Ole, motherfuckers and all that.” 

His eyes met Donnelley’s gaze, “Just some clean up stuff, nothing too important I guess if they hauled us all the way up here. ‘Course they probably just wanted the best.” 

“Probably wanted the best, yeah,” Donnelley smiled and nodded, giving Queen some silence for a bit, as if expecting something, “So, you seen ‘em yet, or they not show up?”

Queen grinned at that and gave him the finger from behind the paper fortune teller. Donnelley chuckled and returned it.

That wasn’t as much relief as he was hoping for, but it was what he expected. Nobody knew anything they didn’t need to, that was standard SOP, but they had a lot of bodies for just one case. A lot of Wetwork Teams. There was a chance they called THUNDER at the behest of some randomizing algorithm, but having THUNDER around on purpose? That was an omen to add to these blizzards he’d heard about. “I guess we’ll just take this a step at a time. Thanks, pardner.”

He clapped Queen’s knee and made to get up before a shuffling was heard ahead of them and Poker hissed out a whisper, “Eyes up, 12 o’clock. We’re starting.”

Donnelley kept low and hustled back to his seat with UMBRA just as the man at the head of the room began to speak. A projector was situated in front of him and it blinked to life, throwing up a picture of an Inuit man with two other girls posing in a picture. It took Donnelley a moment to recognize them as his daughters. The man threw a hand to the picture, “I am Chris Greedy, Case Officer of Working Group SIREN and Wetwork Team ARTEMIS here,” he gestured to the more business dressed team and the warzone-stained camouflaged assortment next to them before nodding to the screen, “And this is Ipiktok Irniq. Inuit shaman, keeps to himself, maintains a very small social media presence.”

“This social media presence is in the form of running the Facebook and Instagram for his little church or club or whatever the fuck the tribes up here call it when you get together, bang drums and chant nonsense.” Greedy sniffed, “We would’ve left him alone were it not for his being implicated in the disappearances of hikers in the Noatak National Preserve. A responding officer went up there to his hideaway somewhere in the Preserve to ask him a few friendly questions, but he was found outside of Noatak a week ago.”

“Local law enforcement know nothing about this operation. We were notified via one of our canaries when he saw what had happened to Sheriff Deputy Gray. Bite marks, a .308 that broke his femur. The body is being kept on ice for SIREN to examine. Same ol’ FBI cover for the case, SIREN will go in with ARTEMIS for support. SIREN will then head to Noatak and start the search for Ipiktok there, sniff him out, report it in.” Greedy clapped his hands together and rubbed them, “We don’t need another Waco. But I requested a QRF for SIREN in the event that something goes wrong out in that rough country.”

“Working Group UMBRA will be heading the QRF, which consists of Wetwork Teams THUNDER-“ Poker and the rest rose their hands went up, “-and TRIDENT.”

TRIDENT was a friendly looking bunch, looking like their entire existence was only maintained by spite and scar tissue. Even the woman among them seemed like she’d done things that would make Ghost raise a brow. Donnelley wondered if Ghost had an opinion on her, and then he reminded himself that he of course did. Greedy continued, “While SIREN and ARTEMIS are at work, the QRF teams will be put on standby. Quarters are down the hall, no intermixing the genders, but we all know what happens when nobody’s looking.” A couple people in ARTEMIS started chuckling, and one of the men in SIREN cleared his throat, “You’ll be given free reign of the facility so long as you’re open and honest. Signs are on the wall and maps are strategically placed in the facility so you can find one just when you think you’re lost.”

“SIREN and ARTEMIS are dismissed.” He said, the two teams shuffling out of the room. Once the last person left, Greedy cleared his throat, “Now, the fun stuff. Ipiktok is rumored to be armed and dangerous, and where there are signs and implications of aggressive cannibals armed with guns and hypergeometry, well… we have big ass guns.”

“UMBRA will have ISR overhead should the QRF be activated. The drone in your control is armed with hellfire missiles. Ipiktok’s compound is located in the mountains like some Eskimo Al Qaeda. Should you be needed there, ROE is to eliminate all hostiles with extreme prejudice.” Greedy fell serious there, stepping closer to the other teams, “Extreme. Prejudice. You don’t let wizards speak, that’s the first rule. If my team can not kill or capture Ipiktok, he is forfeit, and you will be given the kill order.”

He looked at the assembled faces, “Questions?”

Ava frowned as she mulled over the information, trying to process the facts through her surprise and confusion with their being there. She leaned over to Dave and whispered, “If that man,” She pointed slightly toward the picture of Ipiktok. “Is...I guess wizard is the word we’re using, could that be why there’s unseasonal blizzards in the area?”

Dave shrugged, eying the man giving the briefing. “I guess. I dunno what all wizards can do, sugar. But if he’s some sorta Merlin type, I guess it ain’t impossible.” 

He glanced over at THUNDER and TRIDENT. 

“I’m hopin’ that whatever goes down, we ain’t gotta go in after those guys,” he admitted softly. “Cuz I feel like if they can’t handle it, we’re probably in trouble.” 

Ava grew pale and shook her head. “I’m just tech support.” She whispered, sinking slightly further in her seat; though she did throw a worried glance toward THUNDER.

“We’ll be fine.” Donnelley whispered over his shoulder, overhearing their chatter behind him as the briefing went on and the other teams got their questions in, “If we get called in, we’ll be at the rear. ISR is there too, and it’s got missiles. Whatever those two other teams can’t chew through, we’ll put a warhead on its forehead.”

Laine leaned forward writing a few notes in the small notebook she kept on her when she worked in the field. The situation seemed detached from anything they had been doing but as he spoke there were hints of threads that might be linked. She kept it in mind, but her focus was on the Inuit chief and what he might be up to in those mountains. A wizard. A shaman, whatever they might want to call him. 

Her eyes narrowed slightly as Greedy mentioned missing hikers and cannibals. She shifted in her chair, then looked up, addressing him, “May I see the reports of missing people and any autopsy information, any chance for surviving witnesses maybe?” 

Greedy turned to look for the voice and nodded when he found it, “I’ve instructed teams SIREN and ARTEMIS to report back any findings as they get them. We’ll have a real-time feed of any information as they come in.” Greedy shrugged, “But your team isn’t here to solve the case, any answers to those questions are going to be secondhand coming from my team.”

“Fair enough. Thank you, sir, ” she said, wrote [i]second hand information incoming[/i]. She tapped her pen, then shook her head glancing at Donnelley, “I’m going to the library after this.”

Queen noticed UMBRA’s silence then asked loudly, “Hey, Maui, what would [i]you[/i] do for a Klondike Bar?” 

“Expected weaponry we’re up against?” Donnelley asked, glancing at Queen and back to Greedy.

“At least some .308 battle rifles, handguns, some typical mountain man shit. It’s Alaska.” Greedy shrugged. “Anything else? No? Dismissed, get outta my meeting room.”

Queen rocked himself out of the chair, straightening his shirt. He was dressed semi decently, with the same rugged cargo pants as most of the men, his in a shade of slate gray and jacket of gray flannel and fleece over an old UNF t-shirt that was likely from his college days. Once he stepped out of the room he took a deep breath, and stretched his arms over his head, showing a peek of his flat stomach before dropping his arms. 

“Taking bets, how much we roll out within an hour of contact?” he asked whoever happened to be in earshot. 

“They have a Wetwork Team with them,” Maui hooked a thumb in his belt and scratched at his stomach beneath his Crye shirt, “So I think two hours.”

“They have ARTEMIS,” Ghost growled, still standing at the back. “45 minutes tops. They’re chumps.” 

One of the men from TRIDENT scoffed at Ghost, opening his mouth to say something until they noticed Donnelley and the rest looking at him. He grabbed his handgun and turned away from them. “Just enough time for me to go to the bathroom. You think they got Playboy in the library?” Donnelley smirked as he reholstered his .40 he grabbed away from the guard, as well as his phone, looking about for Dave, “Y’all check out the armory yet?”

Queen smirked at Donnelley, a hint of his usual expression. “Playboy? Shit...”


He glanced over at Laine, his focus on her ass then at Ava who was off to the side then back at Donnelley, “Just use your imagination.” 

Dave studiously ignored Queen’s statement as he slid up beside Donnelley, taking his Sig and knives and returning them to their various places in his gear. 

“I need a rifle,” he said. “Was hopin’ y’all would have one I could borrow.” 

Ava unbuttoned her coat to slip her Glock 26 back in the holster at her hip, looking down as she buttoned up her coat and walked forward. She walked into a soft wall and quickly looked up, backing up as she realized she ran into one of the members from TRIDENT. “Oh, sorry! I wasn’t...Sorry, I’ll just...go there.” She said, pointing over to where her teammates were congregating. “I’m Ava though, I look forward to working with you and your team.” She said with a nervous chuckle.

“I don’t.” One of them muttered and sent up a chorus of chuckles from his teammates. Only the big woman remained stone faced, eyes scanning the faces of THUNDER and UMBRA, taking extra time on Donnelley’s scar, Queen’s tattoos, and Ghost’s surgically attached Oakleys.

“Hey, man, don’t be a dick,” Dave said immediately, stepping up beside Ava. Ghost watched, taking a few steps forward, his interest clearly piqued. 

As the moment grew still and Donnelley saw the rest of TRIDENT turn to face them, he stepped up shoulder to shoulder with Dave. No hard words from him, just narrowed eyes, and it was like he could taste violence in the air. A voice called from behind them, the monotone of the guard, “You start throwing fists, I’m gonna start throwing lead. No fighting, take that shit outside.”

The sound of the lock disengaging on the door out to the hallways punctuated the sentence and it slid away on its track. TRIDENT was the first to take their leave, moving like a pack to wherever they took their smoke breaks. Donnelley breathed in deep and let it out, “Armory, you were sayin’?” He said, turning back around to face THUNDER.

Ghost relaxed as the others left, glancing at the others. “I’ll be in the gym.” 

He turned and walked away, shooting a look at the guard. “Fucking POG. Don’t threaten me. It’s above your pay grade.” 

Dave watched TRIDENT file out of the room, his clenched fists relaxing. “Yeah, armory.” 

Ava relaxed as the tension and members of TRIDENT left the room, letting out a slow breath before looking up guiltily at Dave and Donnelley. “I’m sorry.” She said quietly. 

“Don’t be sorry, sugar, you didn’t do nothin’,” Dave said. “That guy’s just an ass.” 

Laine stepped out of the doorway once she saw TRIDENT shuffle out the door like a band of baboons. The tension in the air was already dissipating as she walked over to the rest of UMBRA. 

“What the hell was that about?” she asked, looking directly at Donnelley then at the door that was closed. “Is this over, are we going to have to worry about them jumping us in the cafeteria?” 

Her tone was dripping with sarcasm as she crossed her arms over her chest after making a flippant gesture circling around to indicate their team. “Ava, let’s go. We'll see what they have in the library and get some work done.” 

She stepped through THUNDER and UMBRA, shouldering her way by before striding over to collect her gun, phone and laptop. Donnelley watched Laine for a moment before speaking, “Wetwork Teams. Things like this happen all the time.”

“Remember Burma?” Donnelley smirked at Queen. He looked to Ava then, “Don’t pay attention to the assholes. It’s what happens when you get a bunch of swingin’ dicks into one room.”

Queen smiled like a cat but said nothing to either comment. “I think I’ll head to the armory with you,” he said, watching Laine walk away from the booth, heading to the hallway. “Or maybe the library.” 

Ava nodded at Dave and Donnelley’s reassurance, trying to tuck the guilt and shame away. She peaked around them to Queen and smiled. “Hi Queen,” She said, stepping forward with him. “You want to go to the library too?”

Queen grinned down at her, “Howdy Angel, yeah I thought I’d check it out. Need to do some computer stuff and maybe keep you all company.” 

“That sounds fun, we can catch up!” She beamed, eager to leave behind the fight that had almost broken out. “We didn’t get much of a chance last time since…” She trailed off and shuddered at the memory of her sickness around Dulane and the visions. “Uh, well, you know.” She nodded her head to the hallway. “We better go catch up with Laine.”