>FAIRFIELD, ID
>SOBEL’S RESIDENCE
>0500
>17.NOV.2019

Donnelley went to check his watch again, but only made it half-way to moving his arm before he heard Sobel mutter the time. He already heard the muffled sounds of several different alarms going off in the different rooms of Sobel’s house. Time to wake up, smell the coffee, and prepare to embark on some very illegal activities on US soil in the name of saving the world. Par for the course, he guessed. 

There was the sound of someone fumbling with the sliding glass door at the back of the house, and then the sound of someone swearing behind the glass and apparently giving up. Sobel glanced to Donnelley and then went to open the sliding door. Before long, Sobel came back with several hardened killers from the Wetwork Teams assigned to this mission filing in behind him. DD, SLUGGER’s team lead nodded to Donnelley and got a nod in return. The ones who really caught Donnelley’s eye were the ones dripping with Slav.

He’d hardly talked to them, and they’d hardly talked to him. Given recent events, Russians weren’t a very welcome sight, but Director Oakes had her reasons for assigning STRIGOI.

“You can trust us.” One of STRIGOI said, a very clean-cut and professional man spoke to Donnelley in a voice he had to strain to hear the accent in.

“If you have to tell someone they can trust you, there’s usually a reason they shouldn’t.” Donnelley shot back.

“What choice in friends do you have at this point?” The other man said, plopping down in one of the couches while the rest of his team secluded themselves in a corner.

Donnelley opened his mouth, but caught Sobel staring at him across the room. This was Sobel’s house. Wouldn’t be too polite to go starting fights in it, so instead he just shut up and waited for UMBRA to come shuffling in.

Bajbala entered the kitchen with knotted locks of hair held back in a short bunch. A half-smile was all she would muster for the new faces. 

Lukewarm orange-juice sat on the counter. A strong vodka scent with a stickiness beneath it. Somehow she could trace that scent to Croc's facial hair, whom entered moments before her. He dressed neat; a handsome blazer atop jeans. She passed it over, prepping a cup of tea before quietly finding her place behind the crew.

Laine was not far behind Donnelley, observing the new teams. More killers, hard eyed and quiet, mostly men. Not any different from TRIDENT or THUNDER, except who could be bought and for what price. She watched Donnelley struggle to control his temper, the man he spoke to made her pay closer attention. The set of his cheekbones and jaw, without even asking his name she knew where he was from and likely the rest of them. Laine always considered herself a fair minded person, certainly not prejudiced and wanted to judge people on their own merit but the strong Slavic appearance made her stomach clench. 

She turned away, tucking her dark hair behind her ears as she forced herself to walk into the kitchen. Laine used the ice maker and poured water from the pitcher in Sobel’s fridge. She drank it down, cooling her own temper and reminded herself that not every Russian was an enemy. Some even the most unlikely of allies. Her thoughts flicked back to the girl and Renko and wondered briefly how they were. If they were still alive and she hoped they were. 

Laine glanced over at Baj with her cup of tea and took a few steps to stand closer to her, “That smells nice, what is it? Maybe I’ll make a cup for myself and Ava.”

"I'm not sure, maybe earl grey?" Contemplative, trying to catch on to the fleeting morning conversation. "I just grabbed one of the bunch." It was fragrant and bitter, to her taste, or Sobel's. She smiled at Laine. Some astonishment derived from how well put together the raven-haired profiler seemed. The dark rings of distress around her eyes had since faded from when they met in Alaska. A small knob of envy grew right next to the one she had for the red-head. When they were through with this ordeal Baj would have a long engagement with Lauren and a mirror. She could feel her dry neglected ends, the strays poking into her eyelashes, and the pillow wrinkles on her cheek. One of STRIGOI leered at her, the one whom she fixed her vacant stare on while she pieced together a beauty routine.

In one of the guest bedrooms, Queen was sprawled face down on a twin bed neatly made, a thin line of drool from his parted lips staining the pillowcase. He slept hard, unconscious to the growing activity just outside the door as the teams assembled and filled up Sobel’s living room. He slept the deep sleep of the exhausted, his body shutting down in order for his mind to finally rest. He snored, his breath catching for a moment before exhaling again as his booted feet twitched.

There was a faint knock on the door to the room. After a few more moments passed, there was another knock followed by Ava’s muffled voice calling through the door, “Queen?” When again there was no answer, there was an experimental jiggle of the door knob before the door opened a crack and a shaft of faint light fell into the room. 

Ava peaked inside, her glasses resting on her face as she hadn’t yet had the time to put in her contacts. “Queen?” She called out again, raising her voice as she searched around the room before her eyes landed on the sprawled, unconscious form of Queen on the bed. 

She relaxed, a small part of her having started to worry when Queen didn’t answer her calls. She opened the door a little more and stepped into the room, cradling a small bundled kitchen towel in her hand as she walked over to the bed. She reached out and gave Queen a careful shake on the shoulder. “Queen? It’s time to wake up.”

Queen felt consciousness pull at him and he resisted, willing the darkness to stay quiet. Her voice tugged at him and he tried to open one eye, the light silhouetting a woman in the doorway. For a moment he saw the blue apron, his mother returning from her overnight shift at IHOP to check in on him at five AM. Often it would wake him up but he would pretend to be asleep as she watched him.  The times he did wake up she worried over him being tired at school so Queen let her mind at ease. But not this time.

“Urgh,” he grunted, pushing himself up on his elbow, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. His vision cleared and the image of his mother vanished, leaving the small form of Ava looking in at him. Queen flopped back down and closed his eyes, “Five more minutes.” 

Ava smiled apologetically. “Sorry, but I think we’re having a big meeting or something soon.” She glanced towards the doorway then whispered, “There are some new people here.”

Queen wiped at his chin and forced himself to sit up, his muscles protesting the entire time. The word caught his attention and woke him up, “New people?”

“What do you mean new people? Not Croc and Baj, someone else?” 

His suspicions rose instantly and he stood up, running his fingers through his shaggy hair, smoothing it back. 

“I haven’t gone out where everyone is, but I heard a lot of new voices talking.” She answered, glancing back at the doorway with a frown. “I didn’t catch much but, there are new people here.” She shook her head and held up the kitchen towel in her hands. “Here, in case you’re hungry.” She unfolded the towel to reveal the small rabbit shaped buns snugged in the fabric. “I made them last night with Donnelley, I saved a few for Dave but thought you might like a couple too.” She said with a small smile.

The concern that crossed his face lifted when he saw what Ava offered. He smiled, the first time since arriving at Sobel’s cabin. “Look at that, little bunnies. That’s adorable. Donnelley actually helped or just helped himself to the ones out of the oven.”

He picked one up, examining the details and glanced at her, “I almost feel bad eating it.” 

Shoving it in his mouth, the guilt obviously had not lasted. Without waiting to finish the first, he grabbed a second, “These are really, good. Thank you, Angel.” 

Queen glanced around for something to wash the bread down with but had to settle with water in a glass on the bed stand. He had no idea who it belonged to but he downed it anyway. “Guess we better go face the world.” 

Queen reached for the last bun, then paused, “It is good to see you, even under these circumstances.” 

Ava smiled again. “Yeah, I missed you too Billy.” She stepped forward and gave him a one armed hug.

Queen put his arm around her, giving her slim shoulders a squeeze and he held his breath, gathering himself to mask his grief and weariness. “Let’s go see if they got some coffee, I could use a gallon.” 

“Same, honestly, but I have an unhealthy relationship with caffeine.” Ava chuckled. “I’ll be out eventually, I’m going to go back to my room with Dave. See if any of those bunnies survived for me to snack on.” She tossed the now empty kitchen towel over her shoulder and smiled reassuringly up at Queen. “Just save some coffee for me.”

Dave was already awake and mostly dressed, clad in his hard-worn cargo pants and old hiking boots with a simple wife-beater. He’d dragged a corner chair over to the bed, spread out a towel, and was busily reassembling his rifle when Ava entered the room. 

This particular gun was a favorite of his. It was another SLR-106, the familiar AK platform chambered in 5.56x45mm. With its shortened barrel, suppressor, scout-mounted optic and folding stock, he figured it was ideal for the close-in work he anticipated on this particular op. As Ava opened the door he was sliding the bolt home in the receiver.

“Hey, sugar,” he said, giving her a quick grin before returning to the rifle. “Gettin’ busy out there?” 

“It sounds like it,” She said, entering into the room and shutting the door behind her. “I woke up Queen, hopefully he’ll save some coffee for the two of us.” She walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching Dave work on his rifle. “I hate this.” She said, honestly as she frowned. “You going off into danger against these rogue agents and Russian agents.”

“Yeah, I’m not excited about it either,” Dave said. He replaced the dust cover and shouldered the rifle, checking the optic and the light, then gave the suppressor a shake and twist to ensure it was attached firmly. “But we’ve got some hard-ass killers with a shit load of firepower on our side. And I do still have a bone to pick with Foster.” 

His gaze darkened, hate smoldering there as he held the gun. Then he set it down and the stormclouds vanished as he fixed another smile on Ava. “Saved ya some bunnies, if you’re hungry. We can go grab coffee now if you want, just lemme put on a shirt.” 

She tried to match his smile, though her worry did not lessen. “Yeah, we can go get coffee.” She took in a breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. “As much as I’m looking forward to facing new people.” She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she took the towel off her shoulder and stood up to gather the remaining pastries to take out to the kitchen with them.

He stood and stretched, then picked up a red flannel shirt and threw it on, rolling the sleeves to the elbows. 

“Shit’s bein’ run by the higher-ups now,” he said as he buckled on his pistol belt, then turned and put his hand on her shoulder. “We gotta trust that they know what they’re doin’. I know it’s hard, but…We’re so close to done, sugar. We’re gonna finish this up, and then we’re finished.” 

Dave pulled her over for a gentle hug, leaning down slightly to rest his chin on top of her head. “We’re gonna be okay.” 

Ava shut her eyes and relaxed into Dave’s arms, breathing in the familiar and comforting scent of the mountains that lingered on his clothing. “Almost there.” She said with a soft sigh as she rested her head against his chest. “I love you Dave.”

“I love you too,” he said. He raised her chin for a gentle kiss. “Now c’mon. Gotta get some coffee in us, right? Get ready for the day.” 

She smiled at the kiss. “Lead the way, I’m right behind you.” She said, giving him a final squeeze before releasing him from their embrace.

With the arrival of Dave and Ava, the last remnants of THUNDER trailed in after them. Donnelley swept his eyes over the room as it fell silent, the others looking back at him. They all knew why they were here. UMBRA had their lives upended, THUNDER had lost too many members to even be a team, and the rest of them in the room were just waiting for the green light to spill blood. Of course, they all were, for their own reasons.

The screen behind Donnelley lit with a picture of some green mountainside, or what was left of it. An aerial view. Donnelley spoke, “I don’t have to tell you why we’re all here. We all know the mission at this point.” He cleared his throat, glancing at Sobel and then back to the others, “Somebody has been selling information to the Russians. A network, with a mission to undermine the Program and cut us off from finishing what we started in Blackriver.”

“The only identified members of this network thus far is Steven Foster, and Doctor William Overman. Steven Foster has dropped off the radar, and while the usual standard is to put out a Red Notice to INTERPOL on Espionage Act charges…”

Donnelley had a darkness settle on his brow, “The Program wants this handled in-house. Off the books. Airtight.” He frowned, “Doctor William Overman has been tracked down to West Virginia by Office of Intelligence, last known location is White Tree, in Blackriver.”

Donnelley thrust his thumb over his shoulder at the satellite image on the screen, “Located about thirteen miles away from the White Tree limits is the Vera Corp mining complex. Because of the National Radio Quiet Zone being not so quiet, ten miles away from that, and pinging the shit out of our SIGINT the past couple days,” Sobel clicked a button on a small remote and the picture changed to yet another green expanse, “is what’s suspected to be the River Valleys Retreat.”

“Kill Teams KAIJU and SLUGGER will infil and ruck towards the Vera Corp complex. At the same time they hit the complex, UMBRA, THUNDER, and STRIGOI will put boots on the ground in the River Valleys Retreat.” Donnelley explained, “HVTs are Overman, Foster, Doctor Levy- real name Frances Germaine, Nikolai Gorochev, his daughter and son-in-law Natalya and Viktor Ivanov. Everyone else is expendable.”

“Objectives are to secure the two sites, capture HVTs. No witnesses, Director Oakes’ orders. Make it [i]clean.[/i]” Donnelley bared his teeth in a growl at the last word, a flash of Tex, “Questions?”

Laine stared at the pictures, the green hills and familiar pitted features of the old mine. She sipped the lukewarm tea, back to the scene of the crime. The memories of what they found in the cabin,how wrong she had been, tried to crawl back but she tamped them down. There was no more guessing or not wanting to believe what was right in front of her. Monsters were real, evil was real and it had to be destroyed in the small corner of West Virginia. Along with anyone trying to use it for their own means. And then there was Foster and Laine had a score to settle with that lying bastard.

As Donnelley spoke, Queen emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and stringy and wearing the same dirty jeans but a clean t-shirt. He stood back, hovering as the plan was laid out. The Russians were still there, the same that likely gave orders to harass the team by attacking their families. His jaw clenched for a moment, then he breathed out, giving a half smile to Ava and Dave before turning away to get coffee as Tex wrapped it up. No questions from Queen, not even something lighthearted or sassy to break the tension. 

He filled his borrowed mug with black coffee before dumping sugar into it, as he did he caught sight of Donnelley with the remains of UMBRA. Laine stood close to him and there it was again, he knew it. He had suspected it for a while, who else would have made Donnelley want to give up what he and Queen had. The striking psychologist would have been a target for anyone and Tex was no exception. 

The reminder of the new gulf between him and his best friend weighed down on his shoulders and he forced himself to look away and down the hot coffee. Queen took comfort in the fact he had still some of his personal pharmacy left, though it had been run down over the last three days of wired traveling. He sniffed then set the mug down, heading back towards the bedrooms.

>BLACKRIVER COUNTY, WV
>18.NOV.2019
>1830

Night had set in, sinking its teeth into the sky as the sun retreated beyond the horizon. The two teams had diverged somewhere ten minutes back, SLUGGER and KAIJU’s Blackhawks taking them to their infil point far outside the Vera Corp mining complex to get eyes on any sign of the HVTs and scout the area. UMBRA, THUNDER, and STRIGOI were heading towards the River Valleys Retreat. It was expected to be a target rich environment, and per ROE, there were no such thing as non-combatants. The opinions on that were varied among the teams headed to the target area. Even Donnelley didn’t know how to feel. It was a different answer that could be given depending on if he was with THUNDER or UMBRA.

“Five minutes to target.” His radio chirped in his ears.

“Good copy, five minutes to target.” He confirmed.

He looked his team over, the Blackhawk he was in was piloted by Croc, and UMBRA was in the troop seating. Ghost and Queen were with the Wetwork Team in the other Blackhawk, and Sobel. Even Muru had come along, orders from above Directors Oakes and Mannen. There was a theory that Muru was like a divining rod for the unnatural. Donnelley’s theory was that she could just be a little girl with as normal of a life as they could make for her, but no one was going to listen to that. Muru herself seemed to give no complaints, following Sobel without question. Donnelley glanced at Ava, wondering if he hadn’t bought her and Dave’s freedom, would they view her the same. Probably.

The beating of the helicopter’s rotors drowned out almost every thought as they closed in on the Retreat. It was an oddity, an anomaly among Appalachian wilderness that seemed to be lost among the trees. It sat on a low peak with the view of the rest of the valley below, and Blackriver sprawled out in all directions out from it. Even from here, the black smoke from the Vera Corp mines that seemed so thick and suffocating from White Tree looked only like tendrils from a smoldering fire, but still there all the same.

“Strigoi-1 to Umbra-1, diverting to infil.” The Blackhawk to the right of theirs banked and left UMBRA’s Blackhawk to circle the Retreat.

There was no incoming fire to ward them off at least. No real activity at all. It made Donnelley’s hair stand on end for a moment. Were they expected? Was there a counterattack from the treeline waiting for them when they had all touched down? Even with these thoughts and his eyes scanning intensely, STRIGOI and THUNDER went to work securing the outside after descending the fast ropes. There was a helipad complete with a dormant civilian model perched, but no road in or out.

“Strigoi and Thunder are on-target. Outside secure, moving to door.” Donnelley’s headset chirped as he watched them stack on the front door.

Ghost had, of course, opted to take point. This left another hulking monster from STRIGOI to man the sledge. With a powerful twist of the hips, the door was smashed open. 

“Strigoi and Thunder making entry-“ The stack had only made it halfway through before Donnelley noticed the engine of their helicopter powering down. He had no time to ask just what the fuck was happening before he felt the G-forces pulling his stomach out through his throat as the helicopter made a fast descent downward.

All was chaos for but a few seconds, yelling, screams of helplessness. He could hear himself swear through gritted teeth as he uselessly gripped into something to steady himself as if that would help anything. He looked at Laine, and then heard the hellish sound of twisting metal against branches and dirt.

They were close, Laine put her hand on the buckle of the harness and waited for the signal. What came instead was the awful sound of silence as the rotors slowed and the engine failed. Then the snapping and crashing and she screamed, her instinct to grip making her press down against the buckle and she suddenly felt weightless. 

She saw Donnelley briefly, his face flashing by as she tried to grab at him but failed, falling now through the open door. Branches clawed at her and she reached out to brace herself, the ground rising to slam against her. Pain shot through her left arm to the shoulder as she hit then, rolled with the force of the impact until her body met the trunk of a tree. 

Laine gasped for breath, the pain like electricity shooting from her wrist to the shoulder. 

“[i]Goddamn[/i],” she hissed, breathing in gasps. Using her right hand, she gripped her left wrist holding her arm against her body to protect the injured limb. 

Croc did his best to keep them level, putting the wheels down and cutting valves before riding the tumble through the trees. He may have grunted something like "hang tight" over coms if it functioned. The helicopter finally settled nearly on its side, hinged at the tail against a small rock outcrop. A large branch had breached the cockpit, penetrating the copilot seat. Flashing in his mind was how surfing Nazare some years back turned into a bad idea. Tex dared him into that too.

He loosed himself from the chair and climbed out  to help the others. He coughed up the fumes of  sawdust and fuel as he looked over the cabin and engine for fire. Thankfully dark. Whatever hit them killed their bird.

Bajbala looked at cold hard earth, her mouth still agape from probably crying out. She was inches from the ground against the cabin doorway. She clung her weapon to her chest with one hand, the other bracing Ava with a deathly grip, of whose weight pinned her down. 

"Are we okay?" She groaned, tasting her own bloody spittle while struggling to release her restraints.

Ava’s eyes rolled and fluttered for a moment before they finally opened and she looked around in an incoherent daze. “Where are we?” She asked in a confused mumble as her mind processed the reality in front of her after unexpectedly blacking out.

“I think we landed.” Dave coughed a few times, clearing smoke, dust, and pain out of his lungs. His chest felt tight, his weight pulling against the harness, but his rifle was still securely slung across his body and while there was blood on his lip and stars floating through his vision he felt otherwise functional. 

“Man, fuck helicopters,” he groaned as he flexed his limbs, testing to see what was broken. When everything responded normally he groped about with his foot until he found something solid, then carefully unsnapped his restraints. Once his weight was settled back on firm ground he moved to Ava. “Everybody okay? Ava, sugar, you good? Y’all sound off.”

“I‘m okay.” Ava responded slowly to Dave, her brain starting to chug back to its normal rate of thought. She looked around with wide eyes as she fumbled with her restraints to snap them off. “Holy shit, we crashed.”

“Yeah, we crashed,” Dave said, quickly helping her with her restraints. With that done he went to Donnelley, seeing the others already moving on their own. His chest was tight, not just from pain but from worry for the others, particularly Laine. But if she wasn’t in the bird, then she was either fine, or beyond what limited medical skill he had. He focused instead on what he could see, and made his way to Donnelley.

“What,” Donnelley groaned through his teeth, “the fuck was that?”

He groped around himself to see if everything was in its right place. He found out the hard way that his left arm was out of commission, refusing to move and only offering him pain. He felt slow, his pulse banging against the inside of his skull as he finally managed to undo his restraint. He made to stand and found the ground shifted beneath his feet as he stumbled, planting himself on his ass in the wet dirt. He decided against another attempt to stand.

“I’m okay, shoulder hurts.” He called to Dave, one eye still closed from his splitting headache. His head swam, but a memory came back to him of looking at Laine just before the crash. His heart caught in his throat as his body seemed to fill with icy panic.

“Laine?” He called out, only raising his voice slightly at first. When no answer came from the small amount of time his panicked brain gave her, he yelled it then, “Laine!”

“We’ll handle Laine,” Dave said, looking over Donnelley’s shoulder. It stuck up higher than it should, an ugly lump visible through his fatigues. He gripped Donnelley’s wrist and put his other hand on the distended joint. “Hey, count to five for me.” 


“One-“

Then he pulled hard, not waiting on the count, and slipped the joint back into place with a wet crunch. Donnelley’s back tightened as he choked on a yelp, looking at Dave with a smirk that was more a baring of teeth. At least the sudden jolt sobered him up some, “[i]Thanks, partner.[/i]”

Laine curled into a protective ball when the heavy crash of the helicopter meeting the earth echoed in her ears, her back against the trunk of a tree. Her mind fought to piece together what happened, how the hell she managed to end up here. Then she heard her name, Donnelley was calling her and she picked her head up. 

“Here,” she said, her voice weak in her own ears as she tried to sit up. Bumping her left arm she cried out hoarsely and bit her lip, nausea rising with the surge of pain. Taking a deep breath, she called out, “I’m here, over here!” 

Laine crawled forward on her knees and right elbow, the belly crawl to keep her head down in case whoever shot their chopper was looking for new targets.  

Croc had been peeling the cabin door off with extraction tools when he heard her cry out. "Ah shit, lady" he grumbled, a body strewn from an aircraft is never a good sight. He grabbed an aid bag from the door, retreating to the wood line where she lay. His hands hovered over her feeling for misalignment, blood, limbs. He was shocked it was all there. "Talk to me, how'd you end up out here, Laine?" He cracked as he felt the swollen tissue around her arm, still loose from the fracture. He briefly flashed a dim white light over her skin, then started digging through his bag.

Laine winced and tried to suppress a whimper when Croc’s hand passed over the break. In his light she could see the odd crook of the former straight limb and the bruising already darkening her pale skin. Her wrist hurt and when she tried to make a fist she failed and stifled a cry of pain. “My arm,” she moaned under her breath, “Fuck my arm hurts so bad.” 

She took a few deep breaths and looked up at Croc then around, “I...I fell.”

Laine recalled suddenly the feeling of being tossed out of the helicopter and sighed. She had been anxious about the landing, eager to be off the big metal targets and she had begun to unbuckle her harness, enough to make it easy to undo when it was time. Or when she panicked and squeezed the buckle. Stupid mistake, she scolded herself but the thought was banished when Croc began his first aid and had to touch her tender arm. 

"Well," he began while dressing and splinting her arm, working through the sound of her pain, "lucky for you I'm a damn good pilot, look at that just a busted arm." Her eyes were alert. "You look good though, how's your head, can you move your neck, feel your legs and all that?"

Laine did as he asked, moving her legs and neck, turning her head from side to side, her helmet still in place. “I think it’s just the arm, other than some bumps and bruises.”

She grimaced and looked at the splint, now resting in the sling. “My damn luck,” she muttered, “I don’t suppose there’s a chopper going out anytime soon. Ow, well, at least I can walk.”

Laine reached for Croc with her right hand to get help to her feet. Her arm throbbed and pain shot from her wrist to the elbow and back again. She turned to him, “You don’t happen to have any painkillers?”

He produced several pills, and a sandwich bag with another cocktail or two. "Some amphetamine in the mix if you really need it. Just don't overdo it." He collected her weapon from nearby and performed a functions check, slinging it on her. Croc cinched it in for support —he had a feeling they would need every gun.

"We've got to move. Anything critical in the bird?" He signaled Dave to hurry things up. Bajbala followed Ava climbing out of the wreck, passing along some of the gear that survived. Her first steps out onto the ground were like a weak lamb, where she coughed until she caught her breath.

Laine raised an eyebrow, “I don’t take those things, amphetamines. I’m not part of [i]THUNDER[/i].”

Using her good hand, she took the pills and looked at them, nothing telling which was which. She put them in her pocket, the pain still driving her to distraction but being wired with some unknown substance was not something she wanted. Laine turned to look at the wrecked helicopter, the survivors climbing out and felt relief. They were all standing and none looked as bad off as she did. 

She spotted Donnelley and moved toward him, her arm pressed against her chest. “Sorry I exited early,” she said, a small pained smile trying  to emerge on her lips. “I’m afraid I’m down an arm.”

Her MAGPUL rifle hung around her neck, tucked under her left arm to keep it from swinging around. Laine glanced at Dave and Ava, who looked fine if shaken from the crash. “What happened? I thought we were being shot at?”

“At least no one is shooting at us now.” Ava said, looking around the dark woods nervously, her hands still shaking from the residual adrenaline after climbing out of the wrecked helicopter. She finally noticed how badly injured Laine was and she grimaced, rushing over to her friend’s side to help her. “Here, Laine, if you need me to help you walk I can.”

“I didn’t hear or see any incoming.” Donnelley glanced at Croc, still ripping supplies from their bird. There was still a part of him that wanted to find a logical reason their Blackhawk died, and yet another that could reach for the unnatural. He pushed both down and focused on Laine and Ava, and the situation as it was, “Croc’s right, we need to get away, try to regroup with THUNDER and STRIGOI.”

He pressed the button on his radio, but was met with nothing on the other end. Not even static. His eyes hardened, “No comms.”

Laine looked down at Ava, “I can walk, it's my arm, it’s broken. Hurts like hell but at least it’s stabilized. I have a feeling no evac is going to get to us right now.”

She sighed then felt the tug of the stubby rifle on its strap. “Take this, the MAGPUL. I can’t use it with one hand. Dave can help you, but it’s a pretty simple rifle. Small and light.” 

Laine indicated to Ava, who was only carrying her sidearm to take the rifle. Laine glanced over at Donnelley, “I can manage my Glock one handed, but I need you to do something for me.” 

Lowering her voice, she leaned toward him, “I need painkillers and your fly boy just gave me a bunch of random pills. Last thing I need to be is stoned and gimpy.”

“Why not, it might lift the mood.” Donnelley said sardonically, “Let me see ‘em.”

Donnelley took the bag from Laine’s hand and looked it over, shaking it a couple times to get a sense of all the different pills that were shaking around in there. “[i]Fuck.[/i]” He said appreciatively, “Take the white tablets to kill the pain. Pink ones are adderall, they’ll keep you up.”

He looked at the bag a little longingly, and then offered it back to Laine, “Don’t let Queen see these.”

“Adderall?” she huffed, then dry swallowed the two painkillers. “What is it finals week?” 

Laine winced and took a sip of her water, careful not to drink too much,  “I’ll keep it in mind. God, what stupid bad timing.” 

The adrenaline was wearing off and she shivered as the constant reminder of the broken bones grating against each other every time she moved her arm. The pain never left and she hoped it would at least dull to the point she could ignore it. 

As the others talked Dave took the PDR and did a brass-check.

“Ava, here,” he said. “Safety, charging handle, mag release. It’s already loaded. You remember shootin’ my rifles up at my place? You’re gonna aim just like that, okay?” 

He relieved Laine of her rifle magazines as well and began attaching the mag pouches to Ava’s body armor, working the MOLLE through with quick professionalism. “You just stick close, and shoot at whoever we’re shootin’ at.” He gave her a supportive smile. “Any rounds goin’ at the bad guys help. You got this.” 

Ava stared at Dave with wide eyes as he loaded her up. There was a cold sweat breaking out along her hairline, but she did her best to swallow her nerves (and some rising bile) and returned Dave’s smile. If shakily. “Just count on me, I guess.”

He bent down gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Just remember to stay in cover,” he said. “I love you. We’re almost done.” 

She shut her eyes at the kiss and took in a breath. “Almost done.” She whispered to herself. She opened her eyes to look at him and smiled again. “I love you.”

Donnelley hurried his Working Group, the reminder that the mission was not over not lost on him. The sentiment of Dave and Ava cooing their ‘almost done’s to each other almost made Donnelley’s teeth shatter under the tension of his jaw. Was it jealousy? Or resentment? Having to kill for them to live normal lives in a world where wolves constantly lurked at the edge of humanity’s dulling little campfire. Earning them a house in the quiet country while his own wife was in a coma in the ICU and his little girl was all alone. Either way, his personal feelings had little do with the mission.

One foot forward at a time, one more mission, one more sunset. It didn’t matter what he had to do to make sure that sun rose tomorrow. On everyone. Murderers and mothers alike. After all, wasn’t that what everything he’d sacrificed his life for all about? He chose to focus on keeping a constant pace back towards their AO, helping the others when he could. After a long thirty minutes with their rucks on their backs, they finally made it to the edge of the Retreat’s property. He ducked down behind the low brick wall that surrounded the property.

THUNDER and STRIGOI had gone on with their responsibility of securing the site, whether or not UMBRA was still alive. A few loud gunshots refused to be muffled by the large house, standing obstinate against the mountain woods in its three stories of opulence. Not long after, another loud bang of what must have been a flashbang followed by the disciplined pop-pop-pop of the Wetwork Teams methodical advance through the old architecture.

Donnelley scanned the courtyard, noting the ornate fountain depicting a concrete-gray goat. It did not rear up on its hind legs so much as stand upon them in a display unnervingly too human. Two concrete children held the goat’s forelegs like it was their mothers, the long gone streams of water having left blackened stains down their cheeks.

An ambience of gunfire and low breezes through the trees among a blackened sky settled over them. Donnelley turned his head to speak to the others, “We’re making entry behind THUNDER and STRIGOI. Me and Croc will hold here and cover while the rest of you cross the courtyard.”

“Make sure you call out that you’re Blue before you enter, I don’t need anybody getting shot now.” Donnelley said before settling his rifle on the brick wall, “Move.”

The team cleared the distance in a few seconds and made entry, their footsteps echoing off the courtyard grounds to be lost in the silent woods around. Not even crickets found it fit for music tonight. Dave’s voice echoed across the cobblestones as he called out their entry as friendlies. 

“Let’s go, Croc.” Donnelley tucked the butt of his rifle in the crook of his elbow as he and Croc sprinted across the stones and careened through the door shortly after Donnelley called out, “Two comin’ in!”

The room that greeted Donnelley and Croc would’ve been an elegant, open space entryway of hardwood floors and walls holding age-old painted portraits. The interior decor reminded Donnelley of the same kind of taste Southern grandmothers had for maximalism, but a darker edge. It was like this place hadn’t been touched since the 1890s. The huge, ornate Afghan rug in the middle of the floor was stained by the drying blood of two armed guards in suits. A woman lay face down, a quarter of her face where her left eye and cheek had been were now ruined by a tumbling bullet now lost in a wall somewhere near. She wasn’t dressed for a fight, an expensive looking dress of wine red cloaked her corpse. The smell of burnt gunpowder permeated the air.

From the way her body was oriented, she had to have been running behind her husband, also dead and crumpled at the base of the rug-draped stairs. Donnelley stepped a bit closer and found the man laying on his own intestines like he’d been run through with a blade, his gut stench mixed with the smell of ozone and electric burn. Gunshots from somewhere deeper in the house, and then a few reports from another combatant and a scream to follow. THUNDER and STRIGOI were still on the second floor, close by.

Sobel and Muru were the first to respond to their entrance on the scene, Sobel’s voice heard down the hallway to UMBRA’s left, “Friendly, Blue!”

He and Muru seemed unaffected by the gore around them, Muru herself looking over the body of an armed guard with only a twitch of emotion. Curiosity. More than Sobel showed, “You survived.” No hint of any strong emotions about it, “Good. I’m going through the first floor and cataloging anything interesting I find to go over once things are calm again.”

He looked at UMBRA’s shooters, “Thunder and Strigoi may need some help clearing more efficiently upstairs. Anyone… [i]not hurt[/i] should head up.”

“As for the rest of you, we’ve got some work.” Sobel looked at Laine, and Ava, “Follow me. Just step over them, they’re already dead.”

Laine took stock of the scene with a sweeping glance, it was kill team work and her feelings about THUNDER hardened even more. How could they interrogate corpses? She remained quiet for the moment, the scent of ozone making her skin prickle with recognition. Blood, gunpowder and that smell, that caustic electric burning smell under it all. 

She smiled a little at Muru who seemed better since Laine last saw her but the same blankness was there, she had at least put on some weight. Her gaze moved to Sobel as he spoke, she remembered his particular talent. Laine shifted her arm in the sling, wishing she could take pictures of the scene but it mattered little now. 

“Sobel,” she said, walking over to him then glanced down at the girl. “Hello Muru, how are you?”

Laine did not expect much of an answer and the fact the poor thing had been dragged out to this dangerous mission irritated her but the fact was Muru was no ordinary girl and she had uses that they would need.  

“Work?” Ava asked Sobel, shooting a strained smile at Muru; her mind internally screaming at the idea of her even being there. She kept her eyes fixated on Sobel and the faces of her teammates, trying to ignore the unmoving bodies laying on the ground around them and the coppery scent of blood in the air. “What kind of work?”

“Securing the site, gathering intelligence. Pictures, video.” There was a subtle underlying annoyance, a twitch of his brow that almost broke the otherwise stoic, glassy demeanor of his eyes at having to explain things to a field agent. To his credit, he recovered well. “Or you could follow them upstairs and partake in the killing. If you’d like.”

Laine stepped between Ava and Sobel, giving him an even look. “So let's start our sweep, maybe Ava will take the video and we can pick apart this scene. Do you know if they’re going to bother leaving any alive to talk to? That might be helpful, using your certain set of...skills to poke around their heads before their skulls are shattered.” 

She looked at the woman on the floor, rolling her eyes in distaste. These were the Russians, the ones involved in the horror that Blackriver faced and that had saturated into their own lives. Laine found little sympathy for them despite their helplessness, she had seen enough of the results of their supernatural power game. However, little would be gleaned from a corpse that could help them find more information. 

“That’s not how it works.” Sobel said absently, looking around the halls with his flashlight. The cracked glow sticks the Kill Teams left after securing the first floor gave off their green glow, only helping to exaggerate the shadows of every inch of texture on the walls, the paintings, and the blood seeping out of bodies with exit wounds. “Unfortunately, the subject must be alive. And willing.”

“Sometimes it takes some good convincing of why they should let me inside.” He continued, jabbing the toe of his boot into one of the bodies found along their walk through the long halls of the Retreat. The body did not move. “Shame the Kill Teams were loosed with the ROE they were given.”

“I’m sure even Ghost isn’t having as much fun as he could be. Not too many offering up a fight.” At this point it was like Sobel was just talking to himself, not acknowledging Laine or Ava. “There’s a room over here I’ve yet to get into. The Kill Teams didn’t want to go in. Too much risk.”

“I suspect it might lead us somewhere… [i]interesting.[/i]” After what felt like an eternity walking the labyrinthine halls of the Retreat, they came upon the door that Sobel had mentioned. It was a large set of French doors set into the walls. Inlaid in the door were strange symbols. If one were to inspect them, the recurrence of some pointed at them being writing in an alphabet not readily available to memory, though they might dig deep. Muru seemed interested for the first time they’d seen her here.

“Here we are.” Sobel said, “On someone, or in somewhere, there is a key. I could try to get us through, but… whatever downed your helicopter, the comms, and the lights is still here. Perhaps on the other side.”

>…///

Croc stepped past another slumped body. A tapestry of blood decorated the walls in his peripheral, guiding them. Not wanton violence yet, indiscriminate. It had been a number of years since he ran the ground. The red dot in his optic danced over threat areas as they shuffled amidst dimly lit halls. Dave snapped around one corner with Tex tightly behind. Bajbala was a few paces back, asynchronous from the team, prowling like a cat in their wake. He felt vulnerable with her to his back, even that she might be the one to drop him.

He keyed his mic but it was silent save for the heavy draft that rolled against large pane windows at their flank. The only likely tale of their kill-team’s path were the bodies. Baj peered into one room they passed, presumably cleared. A heaviness seeped out from the dark. The prone heels of some dead thing silhouetted against white drapes steered her curiosities.

"Huh..." Croc started as they approached the stairs. He got a visual on Baj securing their rear and pat Tex's shoulder ready. "This place’s kinda fucked, dont suppose we're making it out with six HVTs..."

That's right, Baj thought back. Donnelly's fangs were bare, practically dripping with malice. She'd double down that he wanted them alive only to kill each of them his way.

“Kinda nothin’, all of this is fucked,” Dave grunted. There was tightly controlled fury in his eyes as they played over the repeated scene of unarmed people in blood-smeared piles. Killed for the crime of being in the way. He eyed a huddled body, his disgust plain.

“It’s all in ID’ing your target. Oakes said she wanted airtight.” Donnelley forced himself to keep that face of stone as he climbed the steps, still babying his throbbing shoulder and playing it off like his head wasn’t giving him trouble. Thankfully, keeping the stack entailed climbing the stairs slow and steady. The light on his rifle was the only thing that cut through the shadows the glow sticks left.

“Airtight.” He repeated as they made it to the second floor, still no sign of the Kill Teams save for the evidence of their work in bullet holes in the walls and bodies they passed. There were still open doors to rooms, but given the Kill Teams had already gone through, Donnelley and his team only gave them cursory once overs as they passed them.

He tried keying his comms again, and again was met with nothing. The electronics had to have been killed, nothing to do with interference. EMPs might make sense, but that would mean whoever ran the Retreat was expecting a raid like this. He stopped any thought towards those implications short and led his team through the halls, “Door right.”

He called out the first door they’d found closed. From what Donnelley’s gun light shone on, there weren’t any signs of entry, forced or not. Without having to give commands, his team formed up on the door.

When everyone else was set, Donnelley pivoted and put all his strength into a solid backwards kick, bashing the door open and letting them flow into the room. When no gunfire erupted, he assumed the room was empty, but something else he wasn’t expecting greeted his eyes…///