Building The Strongest Family

Mireille was right behind him, her eyes sharp and determined as ever; Rask's footfalls echoed like a metronome keeping time amidst chaos.

Stone remained calm under pressure; Vance's armor bore scorched marks but still held strong.

Ethan slid through last without haste,his small smile hinted at pride but masked deeper emotions.

They crossed into the staging bay where high doors groaned open to reveal night's embrace outside,a cold honesty washed over them as they stepped out into fresh air.

Behind them, the facility exhaled one final low groan pulled from deep within before surrendering to eternal silence.

They climbed up a ramp and dropped into an extraction trench where two drones hovered silently above them,their rotors whispering secrets to one another while cameras began recording everything unfolding below them.

A perfect circle carved from land now smoking with ash around its edges,a wound that would never heal but also left no rubble or bodies behind,just an empty space where nightmares once thrived.

"Objective complete," Gunner announced flatly over comms without any hint of triumph or excitement.

"Confirm crater," Stone added as he monitored feeds for updates

"Crater confirmed," Silas announced, his voice steady against the cold air.

"Edge temperature is dropping. We can see the plume from ten klicks out. Perimeter teams are stunned. No chase expected in the next six."

Ethan slung his rifle over his shoulder and cracked his neck, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Good thing I brought more than one."

Silence enveloped them, thick with unspoken understanding. Gunner scanned each visor, assessing their readiness. "Count off."

"Alpha green," Mireille replied.

"Bravo green," Holt chimed in.

"Charlie green," Stone added.

"Silas?" Gunner pressed.

"Drone two has a feed you'll want to see," Silas said, pushing an image into their HUDs.

The convoy that had been just two minutes late now lay wrecked on the east road, metal twisted and smoking where the Skyfang had left its mark.

Small lights flickered along the perimeter as someone far away attempted to summon fire crews to a scene where water would be useless.

"Skyfang is egressing," Stone reported. "Fuel's at sixty percent. On my cue, he'll target any fast movers trying to play hero."

"Cue him home," Gunner instructed sharply. "No further noise."

"Copy that."

They moved toward the secondary exfil route, trucks hidden beneath cam nets dusted with grit.

Engines hummed softly; the driver of the lead truck raised a hand but thought better of speaking,he'd seen the plume and could taste metal on his tongue from this distance.

Gunner paused at the trench's edge, glancing back one last time at the crater glowing ominously red around its rim, heat shimmering like a mirage above it.

This sight would trend before midnight; certain eyes would notice it, certain hands would twitch,it was all part of their plan.

They boarded swiftly; doors thumped shut behind them as they rolled out of sight, tires whispering over gravel while the desert smoothed over their tracks like it never happened.

Inside the lead truck, an uneasy calm settled among them,the kind that follows a clean kill: no cheers or chatter filled the air; only holsters clicking and plates shifting broke the silence.

The scent of cordite mixed with sweat and medfoam,a familiar perfume for men who had survived another day.

Ethan sat across from Gunner, fiddling with a detonator that lay silent in his hand as he turned it over twice before looking up to find Gunner's gaze fixed on him.

"What?" Ethan asked with a half-smile playing on his lips.

"You don't film," Gunner stated flatly.

Ethan raised his free hand defensively. "I didn't! I asked!"

"You asked because you knew I'd say no," Gunner replied coolly. "And you wanted that denial on record."

Ethan chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in his voice. "You make me sound like a lawyer."

"You're the one doing that," Gunner replied, glancing away as if the conversation bored him.

Rask pulled a rag from his kit and scrubbed the streak of blood from his cheek, treating it like engine grease.

Mireille meticulously checked her knife against a strip of cloth, cleaning the hilt with deliberate, graceful motions.

Holt flexed his healed forearm and observed the medfoam set into place, his expression unreadable.

Vance took the bent panel from his thigh, rolled it thoughtfully in his hands, and tucked it into a side pocket as if preserving a trophy forged from steel.

"The North net is buzzing like crazy," Silas called out from the second truck.

"Local enforcement is running around in circles, no one wants to approach the heat. Someone's trying to reach someone higher up without using the usual channels."

"Let them," Gunner said dismissively. "We're not there."

Ethan turned back toward the darkness where an ominous hole awaited.

"Ever think about those who built that?" he mused aloud, addressing no one in particular.

"Spent years in white coats making it look nice,pressed keys, grabbed lunch, went home... came back every day believing in their creation."

"They chose their work," Mireille remarked flatly,no warmth or sympathy in her tone.

"Some did," Ethan countered. "Others just needed to pay rent."

"Rent doesn't excuse rot," Stone chimed in.

Ethan shrugged with open palms. "I never said it did; I just think about it sometimes."

"Save your thoughts for later," Gunner interrupted sharply. "Briefing in five,we go again."

A quick grin returned to Ethan's face, sharp and infectious. "Music to my ears!"

Silence settled over them not awkward but familiar,as they drove on through an oil-black sky stretching over the desert landscape.

A red crown burned low on the horizon like a city that had forgotten how to thrive.

Gunner keyed into a narrow channel: "Command receives."

A cold voice responded with calm authority: "Received."

"Package planted," Gunner reported coolly. "Site one erased,no survivors, no trace."

"Understood," came the reply. "Confirm second package inventory."

"Micronova units: four remaining; Warbird on station; Ghostveils nominal; X5s nominal; Drones two and three intact,one clean scratch on Bravo Three's arm; foam took care of it."

A brief pause followed before Command confirmed: "You have a green board."

"Copy," Gunner acknowledged before cutting off communication.

The cab light of the second truck flickered briefly before going dark again as Lyra passed a canteen back then forward again without uttering a word,each sip shared was part of their unspoken ritual.

"Media drones will have it in an hour," Silas announced, his tone sharp and urgent. "Then the feeds will roll in. Then the questions."