Shackles of the Past

[lawna]

Monica had just got over her sobs, her head still aching, but only a fraction as much add it had been. It was probably purely from her crying. Her tears had mixed with the blood of her former injury, causing weird splotches all over her face and shirt, from where she was trying to wipe get hands and face off. There was still a crusty mess above her eyebrow, but she would need a sink or something to get all that off.

It didn't feel like too much time had gone by when the three hostage holders came back into the office. Byron looked pissed, Roman looked worried, maybe even confused, and the third man acted like he was trying to process something.

"I want to go home," Monica announced, thoroughly done with this whole thing. They weren't going to kill Zrion, she wasn't going to join the Underground, and she would like to avoid as much conflict as she could. She didn't even know how she was going to explain this, to anyone.

"Shut up," Byron said, not even sounding mean, just exhausted or preoccupied.

The room took on a tense silence, and Monica threw herself back against the couch with a huff. What were they going to do, keep her here forever?

Roman's mind was racing. What if the Bastard really had survived the team? What would he be able to put together? It felt blindingly obvious that there was a connection between Roman and Monica and the fact that a bunch of Underground affiliated members came around to assassinate him.

Roman took a big breath and let it out, slowly. The thought was absurd. Zrion couldn't possibly have just put it together...

Unless someone ratted. If that was the case, and he knew Roman was involved, Zrion would start tearing shit up looking for Monica.

"Byron, maybe we should assume the team failed. We-"

"Wow," Byron interrupted. "Don't either of you understand the saying children should be seen and not heard? Didn't your mommies teach you that? Oh, wait..."

Roman didn't like where this was going.

"Your's abandoned you," Byron said, pointing to Roman. "And yours got herself eaten by Metalheads." He said, turning to Monica.

Charlie moved pretty fast for a short, fat guy, but he jumped up as Roman had and held him back as Roman tried to swing at Byron.

"Your a son of a bitch." Roman shouted, spit flying from his mouth. "I hope your wife's dead."

"You listen to me," Byron began, stepping closer to Roman.

The thought was never finished, as someone opened the door.

"Byron," the woman addressed. "Fifteen dead. The guardsmen was not." She paused, looking to the ground. "Julie was among them. Martin is here with more details."

"Send him in now." Byron demanded, letting the seconds drag.

Roman sank into a chair, feeling like a complete piece of shit. His heated blinded him, as it had all week. Byron's wife really was dead.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Monica was relieved that she could finally confirm Zrion wasn't dad. He would have been able to find her.

"I'm sorry," Roman clipped to Byron.

"Don't speak to me," Byron replied.

Then the door opened, and another man stepped through. "Byron, he was just ruthless. I have no clue how he did it, but he did. The rest of us, we just scrambled."

'Cowards.' Monica thought, even though she was glad they were, in the case Zrion would have needed the luck. 'Cowards, spineless, everything Zrion said they were.'

[Darkjak87]

"Okay, so what are we looking at?" Zrion spoke into his radio.

"Standard residence. Family of four and known to host Underground fighters from time to time. We think there might be an arms cache too. You won't find Monica there, but if you're lucky you might recover some intel," Daelos replied.

"Got it. We're moving on it now. Zrion out."

He turned to face Sergeant Rylan Giles. "Wipe it out."

Giles nodded and readied his assault rifle, reaching forward to grip the underslung grenade launcher. "Sulfur Team! Ready grenades!" he barked. The men under his command checked their weapons and ammo, and lifted them to aim toward the front of the safehouse. "Fire on my mark!" A long pause. "Mark!"

A series of thunks followed the command, and the grenades impacted the front of the house, exploding in flares of Red and Yellow Eco and blasting massive holes in the wall. A second volley soared through the gaps, exploding deeper inside and drowning out the terrified screams of the occupants.

The building began to collapse, the supports weakened by the blasts. The entire front half of the building caved in, exposing the inner skeleton and the few twitching bodies of those who hadn't been completely buried in the rubble.

“Angel Team, move in! Check the basement!” Zrion barked. “Take anyone left alive for interrogation.”

At his word, the more lightly armed men of the Fourth Echelon descended upon the building, sweeping the ruins and poking around for any signs of life. Another team was circling around, looking for the basement entrance.

Zrion simply observed, feeling nothing but the same cold anger that encompassed him ever since he had learned of Monica’s kidnapping. The destruction had done nothing to satisfy him, if anything only increasing his hatred.

None of the remaining soldiers spoke, their actions speaking for themselves. While they did not share Zrion’s fury, they did share his determination. Each and every man there would lay his life on the line for any of his comrades, Zrion included.

After a few minutes, the soldiers returned from the house empty-handed. “No survivors, commander,” Mendoza informed him. “There was an arms cache in the basement though, just like we were told.”

“Maybe we’ll have better luck at the next safehouse,” Zrion said. He didn’t seem very disappointed by the news. If anything, he seemed eager for an excuse to continue the raids. "Everyone form up and move out. Let the regulars handle the mess."

[lawna]

"So he was left alive. What is it like out there?" Byron asked, slinking down into a chair.

The man shrugged, shifting his weight. "A bike was delivered to the destroyed house. The KG, rodent and it looked like a civilian peeled out of there. They could have went anywhere."

"Yeah, like right here after he figured out where I was." Monica snapped. "They could be on their way here right now."

"He's not coming here Girl," the stranger said. "Probably too busy killing someone else's wife across town."

Monica's jaw dropped, shock spreading across her whole face.

She wasn't given time to respond before he went on. "Or someone's mommy or daddy, or maybe someone's BABY SISTER!"

He was roaring at her, seeming to take a step forward with every word. She shrank into the couch cushions as the smell of his breath hit her nose.

"Maybe he'll just charge his eco up and bash in some more skulls!" The man lifted up his fist, and Monica shrieked because she thought he was going to hit her. Instead, some paint flecks rained down on her from where he punched the wall.

"These black armored reapers will kill anyone." The man whispered, pressing his cheek to Monica's as his lips moved next to her ear. "You aren't any different from any of us. It only feels like a bullet wasted to them."

"Get away from me." Monica hissed, fingernails digging into his face as she pushed him away.

The man shook his head, backing up. "I'm sure you'll see for yourself sooner or later."

[Darkjak87]

"Alright, what's next on the list?" Zrion asked.

Mendoza glanced at the datapad he was holding. "Looks like another residence three streets over. Two permanent residents, both male. Suspected involvement in the Underground Railroad."

"The railroad? They're the ones who try to free Lurker slaves, right?" Zrion asked.

"Yeah, that's them. It's one of the Underground's bigger investments because it gets them a lot of support from the lower class." He frowned. "Honestly, I'd be willing to look the other way on this one."

Zrion grimaced. "I know what you mean. Using Lurkers for slave labor is nasty business. Still, we need to hit every safehouse we can if we want to find Monica."

"Are you sure we're the good guys?" Marcus muttered to Zephan. The ottsel just shrugged in response.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Mendoza said. "I already checked around, we're still good on ammo, and no injuries so far. We can move whenever you're ready."

"Okay, good. Get everyone together and—"

"Commander!" Braeburn called, causing Zrion to look toward him. "I've got an incoming transmission from Shield Team! They're pinned down with Magma Team about half a klick to the south. Ambushed by rebels."

"Dammit. Can they deal with them?"

"Negative. They're surrounded and under heavy fire."

"Well, what about the regular guards?" Zrion tried, growing increasingly frustrated.

"Rebels have launched an attack on a nearby supply depot. All local units have already responded. We're on our own for now."

"Great." Zrion sighed. "Change of plans people!" He shouted, getting the attention of his men. "We've got a squad pinned down to the south! We're gonna go save their asses!"

The soldiers shouted in acknowledgement and readied their weapons. Zrion gave Zephan a moment to climb up on his shoulder before he took off, the mass of soldiers behind him following his lead.

[lawna]

"That's enough Martin." Roman said, quietly, almost like he was whispering.

Martin, the man that had come in to report about the mission, was right, but he was taking it out on the wrong person. Monica was just a product of positive Krimzon Guard propaganda, coming from the mouth of someone she thought she should admire.

That thought caused Roman to stop, and think. In Monica's eyes, Zrion must be one hundred percent admirable. He saved her, fed her, gave her a safe place to stay... And then came through a Safe House, guns blazing, gunning down the old, young, and women.

Roman still couldn't figure out why Zrion ever took Monica in. Was it pity for Monica? There were a thousand more in her same exact position. Roman thought it was more like trying to regain some karma, but if that was the case, Zrion must have been the most superficial, hypocritical person in the world.

Taking in one orphan wouldn't subtract from the fact that he killed countless more.

"What, don't you believe what I say?" Martin asked, rounding on Roman. "How could you say that, after what happened? Or," And Martin turned back to Monica. "Are you trying to spare the KG bitch's feelings?"

"Roman's trying to spare your feelings actually." Monica snapped back. The only other time she had been called that name to her face was the night she had came to Haven, and it made her shake in fury. "He can't bring himself to tell you that people who work to destroy the only force between civilians and evil deserve what they get in the end."

Monica couldn't think why she had worded that retort that way, or even why she said it at all, as all thought was wiped from her mind when the back of Martin's hand came across her mouth.

And then there was a tussle as the three original hostage holders ushered Martin out of the office, as hurting Monica wasn't really in any part of this hellacious plan.

She had been knocked over into the couch cushions, trying to keep her jaw in place, as she didn't know if it was her jaw or teeth that had made that cracking sound. Her ears were still ringing from the impact, but she slowly sat up, gently holding the right side of her face.

Roman removed himself as the other two men hauled Martin away. Byron was quietly cursing at him, and Martin was cursing not so quietly back. Instead, Roman slipped right back into the office.

He shook his head at the shock on Monica's face, and the red welt that was forming across it. Her hand was to her face, and her jaw was held in a weird way.

"Are you alright?"

Monica had decided that a couple of her teeth had came loose, and was trying to see if she could reattach them to their sockets, but she didn't really know how. Zephan's lessons hadn't came with any kind of dental work.

When she noticed Roman had spoken, she spit the two teeth out and into her hand. Her bottom right canine and a premolar came out, along with a puddle of blood that she could still feel dripping down her lip.

"Do I look alright?" She spit, trying to ignore the blood that was mixing with the saliva in her mouth, polluting the whole thing with the bitter taste.

[Darkjak87]

It wasn’t long before Zrion heard the first sounds of gunfire. The weak booms of Eco blasters, followed by a heavy barrage of automatic gunfire. That was a relief; it meant his men were still in the fight.

When Zrion rounded the corner, he paused to assess the situation. Directly ahead, there was a large group of rebels, taking cover behind parked zoomers and taking potshots over them. Several were already dead on the ground, but not nearly enough.

Further on, he could make out Shield Team, taking cover in a hastily assembled hardpoint they’d thrown together out of more zoomers in the middle of the road. It provided decent cover from street level, but they were pinned by more rebels that had taken up positions in the buildings nearby, firing down at his soldiers from above. Completing the ambush was another line of rebels on the other side, leaving the soldiers completely surrounded.

Zrion frowned thoughtfully. So far, the rebels hadn’t noticed them. Their failure to set up a rear guard betrayed their lack of training. Of course, the moment Zrion opened fire, that advantage would be lost. If he wasn’t careful, he’d just get his reinforcements pinned down like Shield Team.

“Hang on,” Mendoza said abruptly. “Where’s Magma Team? Shield Team said they were both pinned.”

“Maybe they broke out,” Zrion said thoughtfully. “But where are they now?” He shook his head. It was something to worry about later. “Alright, listen up everyone! Angel Team will move up and break through to Shield Team. Sulfur Team, focus fire on those buildings and keep those rebels suppressed.”

A chorus of affirmatives met his orders, and Zrion steeled his resolve as he readied his weapon. “Sulfur Team, suppressive fire at my word!” he instructed. He gave them about ten seconds to get into position. “Fire!”

A sound not unlike tearing canvas rang out as Sulfur Team opened fire with their heavy machine guns. Zrion watched in satisfaction as several rebels standing in the windows were quickly cut down, and the rest were forced into cover.

The rebels in front immediately responded, half their number turning around and opening fire with their Yellow Eco blasters. Zrion and his soldiers scattered, presenting as many targets as possible for the slow-moving bolts. They returned fire themselves a moment later as they charged toward the enemy positions.

“Reinforcements! Concentrate fire!” One of the rebels barked. He had the air of command about him, and even worse, he seemed to know what he was doing. That made him a priority target, but Zrion wasn’t able to tell who had said it.

At the leader’s word, more of the rebels began firing on Zrion’s soldiers, but fortunately they weren’t particularly good shots. Before long, Zrion and his men reached the rebel line. Zrion met the eyes of one rebel, fumbling with his rifle as he tried to reload. Without a second thought, Zrion raised his own rifle and bashed him in the face with the butt, dropping him like a rock. Zrion stepped over him a moment later, climbing over the barricade and putting him in Shield Team’s line of sight.

Trusting his teammates to be following in his wake, Zrion charged toward Shield Team up ahead. Bolts of Yellow Eco whizzed past him as he moved, but his luck held out as he reached the barricade and ducked back into cover next to one of the soldiers. A moment later, the rest of his squad and Marcus followed, cramming themselves into the already confined space.

“Glad you could join us, sir!” Sergeant Thorn greeted. “We could use the help!”

“How’s it looking?” Zrion asked, keeping his head as low as possible while the rest of the soldiers took potshots over their barricade.

“Lot better now, but we’ve still gotta get the hell out of this,” Thorn replied.

Zrion flinched as an incoming shot burned the paint off the zoomer mere inches from his head. “Where’s Magma Team?” he asked.

“They got cut off. They were running point, now they’re over there somewhere.” Thorn gestured toward the rebels. “Better off than us though. You got a plan?”

An explosion shook him as a grenade detonated nearby. “Just one,” he said. “Sulfur Team’s back behind us. They’re gonna give us covering fire, and we’re gonna punch through and link up with Magma Team.”

“Great, out of the frying pan, into another frying pan,” Mendoza said sardonically.

Zrion raised an eyebrow. “You’re usually pretty confident, Mendoza. What happened to that?”

“I’m ‘confident’ that there’s about thirty rebels between us and Magma Team,” Mendoza retorted. “But I have armor and they don’t, so what the hell, let’s do it.”

Zrion gave him a nod. “Alright, listen up people!” he shouted. “I want Shield Team to lay down suppressive fire, and Angel Team to punch through the rebel line on our flank! We’re gonna fight our way right past ‘em! So everyone make your peace with the precursors and get ready!”

“But sir, I’m an atheist!” a soldier called out.

“Someone else pray for that heathen bastard!” Zrion shouted back. “Now fire on my mark!” A long pause. “Mark!” The four soldiers of Shield Team popped out of cover and opened fire. Barely a second later, Angel Team charged out of cover and toward the rebel line.

The rebels immediately concentrated fire on them. Out of the corner of his eye, Zrion saw Braeburn take a hit and stumble to the ground. Cursing, Zrion knelt down and helped him stand back up. He did so somewhat unsteadily. A cursory inspection showed an ugly new burn mark on the front of his armor, but fortunately it had held.

Giving him a nod, Zrion resumed his advance. He heard a thump, and a loud explosion ripped through the rebel line, courtesy of Mendoza’s grenade launcher. The rest of the rebels began panicking and falling back, abandoning their barricade as the soldiers approached.

Unfortunately for them, they had nowhere else to go. Plumes of flame and a hail of machine gun fire erupted from behind them as Magma Team saw their opportunity to counterattack. The rebels routed within seconds, many of them either being cut down, burned alive, or simply throwing down their guns and surrendering.

After another minute of frenzied fighting, it was over. The assembled soldiers surveyed the aftermath of the brief firefight. Once Zrion’s reinforcements had arrived, the rebels hadn’t stood a chance. They had been outgunned, outmaneuvered, and taken completely by surprise. The results were predictable; every single rebel now lay dead or wounded, and the KG hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch.

“Medics, check for survivors!” Zrion barked, waving them forward. “Anyone left alive is to be stabilized and taken for questioning. Everyone else, take up positions and cover them. We haven’t swept the area yet, so be ready for a counterattack.”

After a chorus of ‘yessirs’ and ‘acknowledged’, the assembled soldiers moved in. A pair of them slung their weapons across their backs and produced medical kits instead, getting to work on the most promising survivors. Zephan hopped off Zrion's shoulder to join them, knowing they would benefit greatly from his abilities.

For the black-armored commandos, this was just another day on the job. Every one of them had seen similar things dozens of times before, and although they might have had nightmares or regrets later, now was the time for professionalism. However, the 'Civilian Contractor' that Zrion had recruited seemed to be having rather more trouble dealing with it.

Marcus was staring in stunned silence at a groaning rebel lying at his feet, a bloody chunk ripped out of his hand where a shot had connected. Marcus' hand was trembling on the grip of the pistol Zrion had loaned him, his knuckles pale white from clenching so hard.

Zrion frowned at the sight. Marcus may have been decent in a fight, but he wasn't cut out for this kind of thing. All his experiences in the Wasteland aside, he was still a civilian. After a moment's thought, Zrion walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder, startling him into looking up at him. "Hey, you alright?" he asked.

[lawna]

Marcus was glad his reflexes were currently so slow that he didn't turn and shoot Zrion in the face. His nerves were too fried for this to go on for too much longer.

"Look how young he is," was the first thing Marcus could think to utter, not answering Zrion's question. "He just came up behind me, knife in his hand." Indeed, the knife in question was laying on the ground a few feet away, and Marcus pointed at it with the nose of his gun, to make sure Zrion saw it.

"And I shot it right out of his hand. Before I even looked at his face."

The young man had gone silent, and pale, holding his hand to his chest and shaking.

"I really don't understand how this whole thing could happen. There is so much hardship in the world naturally. Why do we have to come and hurt people, why would somebody ever want to take my little girl? Why?"

Monica was echoing the same question in her mind when Roman sat next to her on the couch. She really didn't know what to do with her teeth either, so she kept them in the palm of her hand, avoiding Roman's eyes. Her bad ass streak had evaporated. Now she was really rattled, and her head hurt again.

"I'm sorry Monica. I didn't want any of this to happen to you." Roman said, hands on his knees and looking at the floor.

Monica shook her head, the drying blood at the corner of her mouth cracking. "I can't believe anything you say."

Roman turned to look at her, putting his hand on her forearm, which laid on her leg. "And I can understand why, obviously. But, Monica, I didn't think it would be like this."

"Be like what? Me suffering a concussion and a couple of broken teeth as I was kidnapped and held hostage? That you wouldn't be killing my second father? Did you think I'd shrug that off? Do you think I'm really that stupid?" Monica paused, wishing that she could understand this stupid boy.

"I didn't expect Byron to want you to be recruited. I thought Zrion was the only one strictly in the cross hairs. This might be hard to believe, but it was like you were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You're telling me." Monica snarked under her breath.

"The only thing standing between us is the Krimzon Guard and the Underground." Roman breathed. "If it were just you and I, you would know that I really feel something for you, and think that you are the greatest girl in my life, blood all over your face or not." With that, Roman took the hand not on Monica's arm to turn her eyes away from the floor and to look into his.

Monica paused, not knowing how to take that. He couldn't be telling the truth, but that didn't stop her from blushing anyway. She couldn't help but think that those same brown eyes had closed as the owner had kissed her a few nights ago.

But she wasn't kissing any one with a mouthful of blood. That was gross.

She pulled her face out of Roman's hand, eyes going back to the floor. "If you really cared about me, you wouldn't leave me sitting here like this."

[Darkjak87]

“The KG has most people too scared to join the Underground,” Zrion answered, before removing his hand from Marcus’ shoulder. "Because of that, most of their new members are born into it, so we end up fighting teenagers and their parents in the same battle. A lot of these so-called safehouses are really just regular homes.

“Wake up, make coffee, take a shower and get ready for work. Leave a key under the mat on your way out the door. Come home in the evening and pick up a package someone left under the mattress. Drop it off at another house on your way to the store for a bite to eat," he listed off.

He sighed, looking tired. "They aren't bomb-throwing anarchists, not really. Most of them aren’t even actual combatants, they’re just normal people who pitch in a few favors now and then. For them, supporting the Underground is just part of everyday life. It doesn't even seem like a big deal to them, at least until we kick the door down and start shooting.”

Marcus shook his head. "So this kid wasn't even a fighter? Just someone in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"When we see red, we shoot 'em dead," Zrion quoted. "That's what they say about the KG. These people hate us, Marcus. We fight on their behalf, and they hate us for it.”

He gestured toward the rebel. “He’s not in this for food or money. He picked up that weapon and chose to attack us because he wanted us dead. If you hadn't shot him, he'd have killed you, and probably with a lot less regret than what you're feeling."

"But he's still just a kid, probably younger than Monica. I can't believe I almost killed him," Marcus said, still sounding stunned.

"You're missing the point," Zrion said. "The problem is that you almost missed him. When someone gets this close to you with a knife, you don’t try to shoot it out of his hand. You go for a kill-shot.”

"Doesn't this bother you at all?" Marcus said, tearing his eyes away from the whimpering teenager to glare at Zrion.

"They shot first," he retorted. "And I didn't kill as many of them as I could have. You need to shake this off, because we've got a lot more ground to cover if we want to find Monica."

"I don't want to shoot anyone else," Marcus said firmly.

"Shouldn't be a problem. You almost didn't shoot the last one," Zrion said wryly.

"Stop always trying to be funny!" Marcus snarled. "This isn't a joke! People died!"

Within a second of the words leaving his mouth, Zrion was less than an inch from his face. "How do you think I've gone this long without suffering a nervous breakdown or turning into a complete sociopath?” he asked rhetorically. “Find your own way to cope and don't criticize mine," he said coldly, before walking away.

[lawna]

Marcus seethed for maybe another second before deflating. Zrion has been doing things like this since he was old enough to do so, and Marcus was wrong to judge him so harshly for those few seconds. Everyone in their little family was going to have to take a couple of steps back after this, get away from all the dark clouds that had rolled in. Things would be better once they found Monica.

Marcus stood over the boy until a medic came to tend him, and then went off to apologize to Zrion.

Similar emotions were rolling through Roman. Monica was absolutely right: Roman wasn't proving that he was any kind of knight in shining armor. But that was because he wasn't, he was technically the villain in this story. How could he ever prove that he really didn't mean to do this to her?

What would he do if he couldn't? He was sick of only thinking about himself, when he should have thought about her from the very beginning. But at the beginning, she was nothing but someone to get to Zrion. It was Roman who had become attached.

"Monica, I wouldn't be wasting me breath, I promise you, if I didn't mean what I said." Roman began again. "All the cards are on the table. Yes, I even volunteered to do this, I had to go out with you to figure out things about Zrion. But then I saw you, and I spoke with you, and you are everything I'm not, literally. I don't know what's going to happen in the next day or so, maybe the next couple of hours, but all I know is that I want you to know how sorry I am, and how I wish things were different."

Monica had dragged her eyes from the floor to look at him through the corner of her eye, seeing only half of his face. 'Puts a whole new meaning on two-faced,' Monica thought, and then slowly let go of the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Me too, I wish things could be different. But these are the consequences we have to live with. You have to live with the role you played in this, and I have to deal with the fact that I lead an important part of my family to slaughter. He's alive for the second, it seems like he's always only a step ahead of death. I gave death a short cut. I can blame you and the Underground and everyone else that I want, but this is really my fault. Zephan was right, I will be the death of Zrion, willingly or not."

There it was, the thought that Monica had been slapped in the face with since she understood what had happened. Then her lips quivered, her eyes got wet, and she was crying. Crying because she was essentially Zrion's downfall.

Roman shook his head, but put his arms around Monica anyway. He took a second to word what he wanted to say next perfectly. "You're shedding tears for the living, while he doesn't shed tears for the ones he's killed."

[Darkjak87]

Zrion took deep breaths to calm himself as he searched for Mendoza. In hindsight, he regretted treating Marcus so harshly. Zrion may have been used to this, the death and destruction, but it was new to Marcus. Every soldier had his doubts, and Marcus wasn't even a soldier, yet he had to act like one. Still, Zrion had a mission to do. The reconciliation could come later.

He found Mendoza after a few minutes of searching, who was currently directing the efforts to secure the wounded. Zrion felt a small smile tugging at his lips as he saw the gunnery sergeant at work. It was a time-honored tradition that officers were helpless without their NCOs to keep them in line. Mendoza was definitely all the evidence he needed.

Mendoza spotted him a moment later and waved him over. "Commander," he greeted. "I've got good news and bad news. What do you want first?"

"Good news," Zrion replied.

"Okay. I got a message from Daelos. They think they have a lead on Monica. A safehouse in South Town, just below the farming district."

Zrion sighed in relief. "Thank the precursors. Okay, get everyone ready. I want all combat teams to rendezvous in the port. Our snipers too."

"I didn't give you the bad news yet," Mendoza interrupted. "The Baron's wised up. He knows what we're up to."

"Goddammit," Zrion cursed.

"But, it's not as bad as it could have been," Mendoza added quickly. "Dekker convinced him that this is a routine op against the Underground and that somebody just forgot to pass the message along. Unfortunately, he's forcing us to bring in the regulars. He wants this to be a joint operation."

"Great." Zrion sighed. "Well, at least he's not putting a stop to it. Orders still stand, I want everyone to converge on South Town."

"Consider it done," Mendoza replied, giving Zrion a salute. Zrion returned it before heading off to look for Marcus and Zephan to fill them in.

Marcus found him first, an apologetic look on his face. "Hey, Zrion, I—"

Zrion held up a hand to stop him. "I want to apologize," he said. "I was acting like a real ass. You'd just shot somebody and all I did was complain that you didn't finish him off. You've been handling this well so far, so I keep forgetting that you're not a soldier. Even soldiers have trouble with this sort of thing. Anyone with a conscience does. So, I'm sorry for forgetting that."