“Knock knock,” I muttered under my breath, giving the thumbs up to a hulking brute named Michael, a member of Three Arrows.

  He chuckled, low and rumbling, raising his breaching shotgun. Two blasts into the lock and then he gave the door an almighty kick. I rushed into the short hallway beyond, then out onto the warehouse floor. There were only four gangsters scattered around the room, none of them prepared for what was coming. They barely got their sidearms out before they were cut down. Two more ran out from a room in the back and dropped my team’s fusillade.

  Like that, everything was quiet. We quickly checked the remaining rooms before returning to the warehouse itself. A thin pall of gunsmoke hung in the air, but it didn’t obscure what we were here for. I ordered my team to break out the crowbars and we started breaking into the crates stacked on racks at the back of the warehouse.

  “Damn, so this is where they’ve been keeping the good stuff,” Michael rumbled as he tossed the lid of a crate aside. “Boss, check it out.”

  “Nice,” I commented when I saw the AKs sitting in packing material. “Not what we need though. If there’s nothing better, we’ll pack them up.”

  “Turning down free guns?” Sheepdog asked, walking over. “That’s not like you.”

  “I think I’ve found something for the young woman,” the old man of Three Arrows, Chesty, said. “How do you feel about explosives?” I felt a grin growing on my lips and trotted over to him.

  “Oh fuck,” I said, eyes widening. “That’s…”

  “A few firecrackers,” Chesty said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

  Firecrackers indeed. Packed into a crate, only a little smaller than the one holding the assault rifles, were dozens of bricks of plastic explosives. The label said it was Semtex, and I knew enough to know it made a hell of a bang. Considering how deep the box was, there must have been a hundred pounds. It was exactly what I’d been hoping to find.

  “Get it into the van now,” I snapped, slapping his shoulder. “Great find. The rest of you keep digging for more presents, I’m going to check the back rooms for any intel we can use.”

  Sheepdog gave me an affirmative and started whipping his men into action. I slung my rifle and drew my pistol, heading to the rooms we’d cleared earlier for a closer look. The only useful thing I found was an inventory, detailing what was stored here and where. I perused it slowly, looking for anything we could use. Detonators for the explosives, stored just above according to the list. Some ammo too, though it was apparently stored ‘loose’ which wasn’t a great sign.

  No matter, we had enough for now. I returned to my team and directed them to the detonators. They’d found some detcord and fuses too, which hadn’t been inventoried but were stored right beside the Semtex. The crates were taken out and loaded in the back of the van, then we gathered outside with molotovs in hand.

  “Rang the firemen a second ago,” Sheepdog said, lighting the fuse on his firebomb. “Figured it was a good idea, with all the ammo inside.”

  “Agreed,” I said, taking his lighter and setting my own molotov aflame. “Then let’s finish this and move on.”

  I cocked my arm back and let the firebomb fly. It flew through a broken window and detonated inside with a roar. The others threw theirs in after, in various windows and a couple through the door. Thick, black smoke was rolling out of the building by the time we piled in the van and got moving.

  “Next target is two blocks away,” I directed the driver from the passenger seat. “Let’s move.”

  “Yessir.” The engine roared as my phone rang in my pocket.

  “Go ahead,” I said quickly.

  “Nadir, target at Barker and Benjamin is down,” she reported. I could hear crackling in the background, like firecrackers; ammunition no doubt, or maybe gunfire. “We seized several machine guns and some grenades, but reinforcements arrived before we could get more, had to torch it.”

  “Good work,” I said. “Resistance?”

  “Negligible,” she replied. “Had to be sure though. We’re packing up now to move to Bale Lounge.”

  “Understood.” The line clicked and I returned my phone to my pocket.

  It buzzed a moment later and I dragged it out again. Texts from other team leaders, targets hit all across the South End. The response, it seemed, was ragged and confused so far. Probably because we’d timed our strike to exactly midnight. How could you mount a solid defence when the enemy had struck at your heart?

  Three armouries, four drug labs, and one to an operation that was a front for laundering. A huge success there, half a million dollars in cash liberated. Well, my guys wouldn’t go unpaid at least. Despite the easy start, I still felt tense. We hadn’t encountered a cape response yet, but I knew it would be coming. We had three PK teams, all led by a parahuman, who could put down their capes; plus the enhancing devices dispersed through our more conventional forces. In theory, we could bring down just about anyone we encountered.

  Maybe striking their homes first would have been a better bet, killing their entire cape force in their beds. But I wasn’t convinced they would all be home, and I really didn’t want to drag families into this if I didn’t have to. Gang members were one thing, but dragging civilians in… No matter, their weapons and labs couldn’t move around like their capes, so they were a more sensible starting location.

  The van screeched to a halt, slamming me out of my thoughts as I jerked against the seatbelt. I reacted quickly enough though, and as soon as we’d stopped I’d pulled off my restraints and leaped out of the door. Target two, a squat brick building with two garages; apparently where they serviced their vehicles.

  I shot out the lock myself and kicked the door open before my team caught up; no time to waste. A barrage of bullets struck me, and I fired back more on instinct than actual sight. Despite that, I was rewarded with a cut-off scream and a yell of rage. That gave me all the time I needed to actually get on target and take down the two remaining gangsters. Once the rest of my team caught up, we moved quickly to sweep the remaining rooms.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  The rest of the building was empty, of enemies at least. On the shop floor, we found four cars being serviced, and checking out the back there were half a dozen more in various states. Working quickly, we stuffed oily rags in the gas tanks and set them alight before retreating to the van. We waited a few minutes to make sure the garage was up in flames, then got back in and started moving on to the next.

  “Got a feeling this is gonna be a long night,” the driver commented, sounding a little out of breath.

  “You don’t know the half of it…” I muttered.

  “Cape cape cape!” a startled yell went up as a wall of flame exploded to my right.

  “Regulars fall back!” I called, turning and charging towards the fire.

  I threw my guns to the ground, knowing they’d only be burned to ash. I wanted to keep them for more than eight hours… My team began to retreat, but the flames raced around their rear, then turned into a thick wall of ice. I reached them just as Nifelheim appeared, a spike of ice extending from his hand and aimed squarely at Sheepdog’s neck.

  I caught it, barely, and crushed the weapon without a second thought. Nifelheim pulled away and leaped back, a flash of flame and heat blasting us as my team returned fire. A wall of ice caught the bullets before they could strike their mark, and I heard Sheepdog swear viciously. More rounds slammed into it, cracking the ice. It exploded in a burst of flame, and I dove straight in, hands outstretched.

  The heat was awful, but I felt Muspelheim strike my arm while the fire blinded me. I twisted towards him, catching a glimpse and throwing a vicious punch. It caught his solar plexus, and over the roar of flames I heard his breath driven out in a pained gasp. Fire burned around my hand, then it was frozen solid. Dumbass, he’d just given me a weapon.

  I swung the block of ice around my hand up, hard, and caught Nifelheim on the chin. Flames flashed around me, and then vanished, leaving us alone in the parking lot of the shell company we’d been raiding. Breathing heavily, I walked away to retrieve my weapons, then returned to my team.

  “You alright boss?” Sheepdog asked.

  “No injuries,” I said simply. “Let’s get back to the FOB, restock, let me get more gear.”

  “Got it,” he said with a nod. “Team, mount up! We’re heading back to base.”

  A chorus of acknowledgments echoed around and we all headed back to the van. Looking around, I could see in the early morning light that everyone was tired. We’d been going for a while now, four raids plus running QRF for a few hours. So far, things had been going well though. We’d taken casualties, but so far nobody had died. My investment in armour and in Whatchamacalit was paying dividends, and I prayed it kept up.

  As we drove, I got in touch with the other team leaders. Our pace was slowing as Werwolf’s response solidified. A few had encountered roadblocks and were forced to divert to secondary targets. I made mental notes about where the blockades were, eager to put them on the map when we got home. I’d lead the assault to break through, maybe the RPG order would finally come in handy.

  We got back to the FOB unmolested, but the sirens echoing around the city told me that wouldn’t last forever. Our attacks had been too fast to be caught so far, but as the battle lines formed I expected confrontations to start happening. How we handled them was an unanswered question, and not one I was looking forward to being asked.

  “Go bomb up, then get something to eat, take a piss, whatever you need,” I ordered my team as we entered the building. “We’ll get back out there in thirty minutes.”

  A chorus of tired, but happy, affirmatives and I was left alone. I headed up the stairs to the top floor and pushed into the last apartment on the left. I was pleasantly surprised to find Richard in the command room, converted from the living room, and headed over to him.

  “Hey,” I said, setting my weapons on the table. “How’s things?”

  “Proceeding well enough,” Richard replied. “Two men in the infirmary, but they should recover by the evening. Just taking account of what targets we’ll strike next.”

  “Let’s run our squads together and go break some road blocks,” I suggested, grabbing a pen and pulling the large map of the city over. I marked a few intersections where there had been resistance. “My team hits them block, you punch through to the target beyond. We could do it a couple times, probably.”

  “I’m worried about villains,” he said with a frown. “Have you encountered any?”

  “Just got hit by Nifelheim and Muspelheim,” I said, gesturing to my scorched equipment. “Drove them off, but didn’t kill them.”

  “We haven’t seen any yet,” he said. “I suppose they’re stretched thin.”

  “After breaking the roadblock, we’ll hold the exit,” I said. “And if you get stuck in with a cape, we’ll come running. Does that work?”

  “These targets are what, armouries?”

  “One armoury, two major grow ops,” I said, pointing to the objectives on the map. “The first is probably emptied at this point though, so we should just focus on the drugs.”

  “The armoury will still have ammunition,” Richard countered. “Plus reserve weapons to replace losses. However, it’s also likely to be well guarded at this point.”

  “So what then?”

  “Break through as a full assault group, use thermobaric warheads to set the building on fire, then retreat,” he explained.

  “We have those?” I asked, cocking my head.

  “The TBG-7V,” he replied. “Looks like a propane tank on the end of the rocket motor. I’ll show you.”

  “Well if you think it’ll work, I’m willing to give it a shot,” I said with a nod. “Let’s put together a quick plan, see what we come up with.”

  We put our heads together and tried to come up with a way we could all make it out alive.

  “Diverting, fucking cops,” Misha swore, turning the wheel and sending us down a sidestreet.

  “It’s fine, five minutes out of our way,” I reassured him, double checking my carbine was ready one again. I clicked my radio and brought it to my mouth. “Richard, you good?”

  “Still behind you,” he replied. “Up one block and over, right?”

  “Right,” I confirmed. “Your MG team ready?”

  “They’ll be second out,” Richard said. “RPG?”

  “It’s in the back,” I said, glancing into the cabin behind me. “I’ll grab it when we get to the armoury, it’s pre-loaded.”

  “Good, out.”

  I set it back on my vest as we made the last turn. Ahead, I could see the lights of Werwolf’s vehicles. Halfway up the street, our van pulled to the side of the road and I leaped out. I knew my part was at the vanguard, being a distraction while the MG set up a base of fire. One benefit of working so closely with these ex-military types was I learned a hell of a lot about tactics.

  My carbine barked and started the firefight, getting yells and return fire from the roadblock up ahead. I advanced slowly, firing careful shots at the muzzle flashes I could see. I wasn’t expecting too many hits at this distance, just keeping their heads down until I could close the range. More gunfire echoed around me as the rest of the squad engaged, the machine gun rattling.

  The effect was immediate. Return fire slackened, allowing me to race forward into a range I could actually expect to hit someone. I did in spades, taking down three before I had to turn my back and reload. As I did, I snagged a grenade from my belt and pulled the pin. Whipping around, I threw it beneath one of the vehicles. The blast ruptured the fuel tank, judging by how it turned into an inferno.

  I tossed another overhand, behind the wreckage, then charged forward with my weapon raised. The blast hit a split-second before I rounded the bumper, sending the defenders into disarray. I didn’t hesitate to cut them down, not sparing one. With the position cleared, a few guys helped me shift one of the barricades as the vans pulled up. Once it was clear, we hopped in the back and got moving again.

  As we raced towards the armoury, I readied the RPG. Being able to take a bullet meant I was the one who’d have to fire. I mimed the procedure, just to make sure I didn’t fumble it when I needed it most. Despite the action, I found my heart beating relatively steadily, rather than the discordant pattering when I was truly, deeply afraid. I was ready, I suppose, and used to the insanity of combat. I knew when the capes started flying in though, then I’d have problems.

  My head smacked into the panels as the van slammed on its brakes; thank god for my built in helmet. I got out, RPG on my back, and paused for just a moment to take in the scene. Over a dozen Werwolf gangsters were out front of the building, an unassuming warehouse. Sandbags had been set up in makeshift positions, and I could see at least one machine gun mounted there. They opened fire without hesitating.

  So did we.