“Would you stop flirting with Control for two seconds so we can hurry up and kill these people?” Stan says, Caleb nodding in agreeance.

I pity those two boys. They really think that I’m not capable of doing both. It’s sad to see evidence of their minds finally deteriorating from the job.

“You should focus on the mission, Rachel,” Dayna says over comms.

I slide bullets into my revolver. “Thought I taught you to not doubt me.”

Dayna laughs. “Trust me, after your little introduction in October, I’m not going to doubt you any time soon. That said, I’d rather you focus on the people trying to kill you.”

“Glad you care.” I face the boys. “Let’s shoot some gangsters.”

I take the lead, like usual, Caleb close behind and Stan bringing up the rear. The front lawn is suspiciously empty. Then again, it is 5am. They’re probably not expecting an attack. These days they should always expect an attack. Caleb passes me the lock-picking set and I get to work on the front door. It’s weird to not be kicking it down and blasting our way through, but Dayna insists on being at least a little subtle. She couldn’t stop us from being armed to the teeth. Though, I did promise that we’d less obvious if the mission warrants it.

The lock clicks and I trade the picks for my revolver. I swing the door open and spot our opposition lounging around and chatting. Ten guards. No problem. I aim my revolver and smile. The first one drops, her expression settled in a scowl. Everyone snaps into action. I dive for cover behind a lounge worth more than my apartment. Stan runs straight at them, his two rifles tearing three of them apart. The thunder of Caleb’s sniper deafens the room. One shot. Two guards drop. I leap over the lounge, shoot the guard wrestling Stan and flip my dagger into hand. A guard jumps me from behind. Their hands latch around my neck. I lodge my dagger in their side and they fall off my back.

I retrieve my dagger. Then the room explodes. I’m thrown through a wall, plaster raining down and a support beam narrowly missing me. My ears are ringing, no, that’s the alarm. I struggle to my feet and cough up half the wall. Nobody else seems to be emerging from the wreckage of a living room. Where the hell are Stan and Caleb? And what set off that explosion? It couldn’t have been a grenade. I made sure the boys weren’t armed with any. The guards certainly weren’t either.

“Boys?” I sound like my throat is caked in dust “I’m not kidding here. Where are you two?”

Nothing. Dammit. I carefully step around the bits of expensive lounge to where Caleb was crouched. Parts of the ceiling have fallen here. I try shifting some off and they collapse into themselves. Would that alarm stop blaring already? Seriously, I get it. Someone else is coming. Shit. Someone else is coming. I need to find the boys and get out of here. Forget the mission. I’ll take the consequences.

“What happened?” Dayna, her voice never sounded so reassuring. “I’ve had a massive anomaly on the heat signatures.”

“The room exploded. I can’t find the boys. Dammit Dayna, this wasn’t part of the briefing.”

“I know, I know. Just hold up and I’ll get you three an extraction team.”

“No!” I cough up more wall. “Look, you’ve got an infrared scan, right? Can’t you direct me to the boys?”

“Yeah, um, someone is right next to you.”

“Great. Now how’d you think is the best way to move the debris without crushing him?”

“Don’t move anything that looks like its supporting something else.”

“Helpful as always,” I mutter, crouching down and carefully shifting the little bits of everything away.

“I don’t know why the hell there was an explosion! How about next time you do your research properly so I don’t have to keep cleaning up your bloody messes!” Dayna swears loudly. “Sorry Rachel. I’ve got three hostiles approaching your position. I recommend you find whatever cover you can so they think you got caught up in the blast.”

“Radio silence,” I whisper, following her instructions.

They enter through what’s left of the front door, the slab of wood falling off its hinges behind them. The first immediately sweeps the room, his pistol raised. The second heads towards me in the second room. She doesn’t notice me until the bullet is through her left temple. The third shouts an order and storms over to me, automatic gun blazing. I dive for better cover, taking a shot at him and wincing when he’s firing doesn’t stop. Miss. Dammit. Two shots left. Better make them count.

He lets off for a moment, no doubt reloading. I take the chance and jump out, scoring a clean shot between his eyes. He drops. The first one locks eyes with me and shoots. My body convulses inwards at my stomach, the raw pain blinding me for a moment. I slam a hand onto the wound, putting as much pressure on it as I can tolerate. The guy who shot me looks like he might pass out. Guess I’m the first to take a bullet to the gut and still stand. I shoot at him with one hand. It skims his leg. I’m out. I grab my dagger.

A bullet pierces my shoulder. I scream and almost drop my dagger. He starts shooting randomly, thankfully missing. I’m going to regret this. I stagger forward, trying my best to not trip on debris as I close in on him. He stumbles backwards, clearly intimidated by the bleeding woman still trying to kill him. His shots are getting closer. I’ll have to throw it. I never hit my mark with these. A wave of nausea hits me like the front end of a bus. I force the bile back and step forward. My legs give out. I throw the dagger on my way down. It hits his throat. I smile and pass out.

Caleb hovers over me like a worried puppy, his eyes darting back and forth between me and Stan, as if one would magically make everything better. I groan and try sitting up. Pain explodes in my shoulder and stomach, sending me back down. Caleb gently props my head on something and focuses on what he must have been doing before I came to: extracting the bullet from my gut. He stays silent, even while pouring alcohol over my wound and causing me to find a few inventive swears. A silver thing appears in front of me, which Stan grabs and throws across the demolished room.

“Don’t know how you fought with that thing in you,” he mutters.

“Had to protect my boys, of course.” I manage a laugh and immediately regret it.

Caleb frowns. “You make us sound like children.”

“Well you did both nap after that little explosion.”

“And I woke them up after you got shot, twice,” Dayna says, her voice low over comms.

“Did you call an extraction team?”

“Right after you told me not to. They’ll be there in five. Don’t worry about the consequences for this. We had bad intel. I’ll see you three in debriefing.” Her mic switches off with a definite click.

“She seems angry at me.”

“She screamed at us over comms when you went silent for too long.” Stan shivers. “That woman can match a banshee if she wants to.”

Caleb nods. “Luckily someone had already moved a lot of debris off me so getting out and helping Stan was easy.”

“Think that blast took out the target?” I ask.

“Probably not,” Caleb says. “But we’re still all alive. And that’s the only thing that matters.”

Stan high fives Caleb and I reach my uninjured arm up to clasp their hands. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my boys, my team. And these won’t be the last bullets I take for them.