Snow danced gracefully through the apartment blocks looming overhead. Each flake glowed like an ember drifting into the city from a distant fire when looking through the gentle bluish-green of night vision. Not a single light poured out from the towering behemoths, allowing Mouse and his kill team to move like specters from shadow to shadow—the only evidence of their passage was the quickly filling footprints they left behind.

  Tonight was going to be a wonderful time for Mouse. Sure, he had to skip the gym for this OP, but that was a small price to pay when hunting was involved. They were moving to snatch and grab an Aviex doctor who had been reporting back to her government.

  From what Chloe intercepted, the Aviex government was in the early stages of preparing to move on Martinez’s wife. As far as Chloe and Tech could tell, the Aviex government was unsure what they would do once they took Lysa, but they knew they had to keep her under lock and key and ensure that news of this pregnancy never became mainstream.

  The Aviex were also considering giving Martinez a long walk out of a short airlock, but as of now, those were unconfirmed reports.

  It would be a shame if that happened, as Mouse was fond of the man. Martinez was more than happy to chat with him about the gym, diets, and even bodybuilding—-something even his team refused to do.

  If Mouse had his way, Martinez would have been brought into the fold and stayed with the team. It's too bad Blondie and Chloe had other plans: apparently, Martinez was the linchpin in some grand plan Chloe was concocting.

  Mouse had tried to make sense of Chloe’s plan but had given up. Hundreds-of-year-old legalese was not his battlefield. Mouse was perfectly fine with his failure to understand. He would stick to what he knew: picking up heavy objects and putting them back down, kicking in heads, and, of course, tossing some ribs on the grill. Chloe and her vicious intelligence could tackle nebulous laws and the jurisprudence of ancient alien documents.

  The team stopped a block from the apartment complex they planned to raid. Mouse took a moment to take in a deep, steadying breath. Sure, he had been in dozens of battles at this point, but he knew damn well CQB was nine times out of ten a death sentence.

  “Team one in position,” Mouse said.

  “Team two in position,” replied Blondie, “Overwatch?”

  “Eyes on OBJ,” Rat said over the radio. At the same time, he activated the laser on the custom suppressed sniper rifle he was toting. The laser lanced through the frosty breeze, its bright beem caressing a balcony on the third floor. “No visible movement from my POS.”

  “Same on mine,” Falcon, the overwatch for the other side of the building, replied.

  “Alright, team. Remember that all on-site personnel are expendable other than the doctor. Capture her, and anyone else we get the drop on,” Blondie ordered, ensuring that all the teams were reminded one last time about their goal here.

  “Yup, yup,” all teams replied, their voices overlapping nearly perfectly.

  Mouse sighed and checked the chamber on his SMG one last time, nodding to his team to do the same. As the team racked bolts and did last-minute x-checks on their kit, he could not help but detest how Blondie and Chloe treated much of the team.

  They might be former criminals who turned to a life of crime in the name of the government, but that did not mean they were stupid. For fucks sake, they were, as far as the Human government was concerned, one of their most highly trained and successful special forces groups.

  That they were former criminals was precisely why they were effective. They leaned toward psychopathic tendencies, had hardened minds, were willing to question authority when it was needed, and, above all else, were desperate for a new life.

  That need for a fresh start let the Human government use them as effective scalpels, hammers, bombs, hell—whatever the fuck they required.

  L.O.S.T. would get it done while living by their mantra, ‘We might be lost, but we are not done.’

  As they moved from cover and toward the door, Mouse subconsciously reviewed all the intel collected for this raid.

  Over the last two weeks, Tech and the others had been keeping tabs on this place, its happenings, and anything that caught their eye. There had certainly been many changes in that time: registered residents vanished completely, no longer going to work or anything, and even their kids went up in smoke.

  The other thing that scratched the team's operation itch was that a massive number of Aviex MAMs (military-age males) had been seen coming and going while flooding the building with military equipment.

  Those events were suspicious on their own. But to the team, hell, anyone with a moderate amount of training, they were red flags. Those events were a clear sign that the Aviex government was setting up a black site for operations in Draun.

  Because of those revelations, the team was given the ‘crew expendable’ order. The only one who had to live was the doctor; all others they met were good targets—well, except for the typical occupants. The team would do their best not to kill random civilians and would save them if possible.

  If a civilian got caught in the crossfire or the OP went south, the Aviex couldn’t play the victim. What would they say? Oh my god, we did not know our men were there, trying and succeeding in kidnapping people. Yeah, that would not fly on the galactic stage.

  If this did all go wrong, both sides would treat the event like the Cold War on Earth. Both governments would deny it, all while those in the know would clearly understand why so many people died. And just like then, the keen-eyed civilians would be able to see through the governmental bullshit but would never gain any traction—they would just be crazy people, or, worst case, they mysteriously killed themselves by ten gunshots to the back of the head.

  Neither the Humans, the Aviex, nor the GU would blow a hundred years of diplomacy over a random civilian’s suspicions. A few lives were worth that cost.

  “Team one is moving to breach,” Mouse said, a statement Blondie echoed only a moment later.

  Once across the road, Mouse softly moved the handle to the gate. To his surprise, it was unlocked; however, not to his shock, a chain held the door closed. He sighed and ran his hand across his neck, signaling to the breacher to come to deal with it.

  Without any hesitation, Viper pushed up. He looked at the gate like it was a puzzle for a few moments before reaching into his pocket and fishing out an Omni-tool. He sniggered like a madman as the red-hot blade erupted from the small tool. His cruel, welcoming chuckle made Mouse shudder.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Mouse had long ago made peace with his team's oddities, but every once in a while, the sheer jubilance his men felt at doing what they used to do illegally but was now approved by higher powers was as unsettling as seeing a corpse salsa-dancing.

  It took less than a second for Viper to cut through the chains, leaving the glowing links dangling in the wind as a dozen operators flowed through the entrance.

  They spread out and covered all angles as they inaudibly flowed past snow-covered chairs and long-forgotten children's toys. They stacked on the door, their weapons pointed outward like the quills of a porcupine, ready to defend themselves.

  Viper quickly picked the lock, allowing the team entry into the complex. Like a well-timed and controlled symphony, the team breached. Two by two, they broke off the main element and tackled each room.

  As his team tackled the first floor, Blondie and his entered from the far side. Blondie and Mouse shared a nod, both knowing the plan and not needing further deconfliction. Blondie would take the second floor, and then Mouse and his team would bound past them to secure the third. Simultaneously, the trailing element would come in and begin SII(sensitive information inspection)

  It did not take long for the team to secure the first floor; thankfully, because of this zero dark thirty raid, everyone was upstairs in the bedrooms and asleep.

  As Mouse and his team ascended the stairs to the third floor, they peaked in on the second deck. Blondie and his team already had about a dozen MAMs zip-cuffed and on the deck. The men were already screaming, demanding they be let go.

  Mouse rolled his eyes when one of them said they were doing nothing wrong moments before Archer pulled on a dresser to reveal a weapons and armor cache. Did these Aviex operators seriously believe the arguments of petty gangers would get them out of this?

  All was going as well as it possibly could have. No one was dead, and the team still had some element of surprise—until Raptor, Mouse's point-man, reached the top of the stairs.

  Bright muzzle flashes lit up their visors—gunfire erupted from a kill hole overhead. Raptor barely got a step forward before rounds punched into his armor, staggering him like a ragdoll. He crashed to the ground, his screams swallowed by the crack of rifle fire.

  Mouse grabbed the man's ankle with one hand and suppressed the hole with SMG fire. Duracrete chipped off the walls as each round screamed against the cover, filling the stairwell with dust and acrid gunsmoke.

  “Tech, drone up,” Mouse yelled, resting Raptor against the wall.

  Mouse took a moment to assess damages using tools built into his suit visor. As a squad leader, Mouse's Artemis armor showed him displays of each of his team members with information on their vitals. Scanning Raptors, Mouse breathed a sigh of relief.

  None of the rounds got through the plating,

  “You're going to be fine,” Mouse assured, patting the man's shoulder.

  “That hurt like hell,” Raptor chuckled, “I think they broke a few ribs.”

  “That they did, brother. Stay here; hold security,” Mouse instructed as Tech reached the bottom stairs.

  “Drone going out,” Tech said in his typical cold analytical monotone.

  Tech pulled out a small egg-shaped drone and tossed it up the stairs. The drone split in half, and two small blades folded out, letting the little device fly. With the same precision and dexterity as a housefly, Tech used his Artemis suit to pilot the drone.

  Mouse always found how easily the tech-head could pilot that thing horrifying. He was inhumanly precise and quick with how the screaming drone zipped around.

  A few moments later, the infamy of their drone operator was proven yet again. HE flew the drone right through the kill hole, crashing the small airborne explosive into the Aviex soldier's head.

  BOOM!

  An explosion about as powerful as a frag grenade shape charged into the man's skull, splashing the three other soldiers behind him with brain matter, frag, and their friend's sins.

  “We are good,” Tech said calmly.

  “KT1 move up,” Mouse ordered.

  Hound took point, and they quickly moved up the stairs. This time, they paid keen attention to that kill hole, waiting for the enemy to start shooting them again. Spreading out in three teams, they tackled the four remaining rooms on this floor.

  Mouse, Hound, and Viper stacked on what they believed to be the master bedroom, where the doctor should be. Viper pulled out his omni tool getting ready to open the door as he typically did but Mouse stopped him.

  “I get that. Prep a banger,” Mouse said, pulling the sledgehammer off his back.

  Following the order, Viper put away his tool and pulled the pin on a flashbang. Mouse swung the hammer with all the might of a Greek god. Not only did the door cave under the immense force, but the entire floor shuddered. Bits of wood, plaster, and duracrete went flying into the room, along with half of the door frame.

  The flashbang was tossed in with perfect timing. There was a moment of pause on their end. Inside the room, however, it was an entirely different story. There was the sound of a woman screaming, along with a man warning about the grenade. It was too bad for them; they had no real say in how that night's events would go.

  The three Humans flowed into the room as soon as the flashbang detonated. Viper was quick to act; when a MAM came into his view, his weapons were off-safe, dumping suppressed shots into the target. The Aviex fell in a bloody heap while Mouse moved to secure the still-screaming doctor.

  Mouse grabbed her by the wrist, pivoted around, and shoulder-threw her to the ground. As she landed, all her breath erupted, leaving her gasping like a fish out of water.

  He held her down, his gargantuan build allowing Mouse to manhandle the woman like the average person would a child. Viper turned the woman's head and confirmed her ID. In a flash, she was zip-cuffed and black-bagged.

  “KT2 Actual, this is KT1 Actual, we have secured the target,” Mouse said, standing the woman up.

  “What are you doing?” doctor Pellagro spat, trying to wrench herself from Mouse's vice-like grip.

  In response, Mouse shoved the woman into the wall while yelling at her to shut the fuck up. That treatment was something the woman clearly did not enjoy because she suddenly was more concerned about her broken nose than the fact she was handcuffed and bagged.

  It took Blondie and the rest of the team a few minutes to clear the remainder of the building. Once it was, Blondie arrived and instructed Mouse to take the bag off the woman. The moment it was removed, she snarled and spat on Blondie's visor.

  “Do you have any idea who you are messing with,” Pellagro hissed, blood dripping from her split lip.

  Blondie used a rag to clean the blood off his visor. “We do. But what really matters is what we don’t know—yet.”

  “I won’t talk,” Pellagro swallowed trying to sound defiant.

  Blondie sat down on the bed, stepping on the body of the man Viper had killed. He sighed and hung his head. “You know, I figured you’d say that. Everyone does. They think being strong will benefit them.” He shrugged. “And that’s alright. We have ways of making you and the dozen or so other Aviex we have downstairs talk.”

  “What do you mean?” Pellagro asked, swallowing her spit and glancing at Viper fiddling with a knife.

  “Ah, it’s no fun if I ruin the surprise,” Blondie shrugged. “Bag her back up; take her to the vic.”

  “You got it, boss,” Mouse nodded.

  As Mouse put the bag back on Pellagro, he noticed the look in her four ruby-red eyes. She knew exactly what they meant by that. The Aviex were not above-enhanced interrogation; the images she was conjuring in her mind of what these men would do to her and the others were nothing compared to what Mouse knew they were going to do. But those were her issues, not his. She could always sing like a canary, and the pain would end.

  Blondie stood up, stretched, and keyed on his radio as Mouse and the others left the room. “Task Master, This is Actual. Prep the rooms for 16.” Crack, the dull sound of a suppressed round went off. “15 guests.”

  "Affirm Actual, what is the word on the locals?" Chloe asked over the radio.

  "We found them on the second floor, a bit roughed up but alive," Blondie confirmed.

  "All twenty?"

  "Yeah, all twenty, send the bus for them; I've got some guys doing rough aid for now," Blondie said, walking over to the balcony and watching as some of his men tended to the civilians moved out into the backyard.

  He smiled, seeing Butcher crouch beside a Jurintik mother and daughter, offering the kid a candy bar. The little girl took it with a smile as her mother gently brushed her blonde fur.

  They were criminals, killers, and cutthroats—but they were still Human. And that meant something. It meant a team that could offer a child a candy bar with one hand… and execute a war criminal with the other.