“Eagle One, this is Flealeader. Are we clear?” My voice whispered into the mic, seeking permission to proceed.
Our scouts, or attackers as they were known, had gone ahead to ensure our path was clear of any surprises.
“Flealeader, be advised, hold a minute. There’s an unknown branch; we need to check it,” Magnum’s tense voice crackled.
This mission had already been incredibly demanding.
We’d been navigating these pipes for over five hours, and our progress felt minimal, as the pipework was far more extensive than we’d initially expected.
However, our primary route remained clear, and it seemed these offshoots were solely for collecting rainwater to prevent road flooding.
They had been installed within the last five years, but our latest intel was over seven years old.
Patience, therefore, was paramount.
We halted our progression, standing by to await the go-ahead.
It felt like the fiftieth time this had happened, a thought my sarcastic mind couldn’t help but entertain.
After what seemed like an eternity, we finally received the signal.
Once again, our long line of operatives continued crawling through the pipes.
Because of their smaller diameter, taller members like Charles, Alaric, and Adam had to contort themselves into awkward positions, all while remaining ready to fire should we be detected.
Our gear further complicated matters, but we pressed on.
This would work; it had to.
We would ensure its success and complete the mission.
Periodically, we stopped at intersections where Magnum consulted his map, verifying our position with Charles and Adam to ensure we were on the right track.
This was no time for overconfidence; getting lost in this far more extensive network of pipes than we’d initially believed was a real possibility.
I knew the going was slow, and we had to pace ourselves.
There was no reason to rush and risk careless mistakes that could lead to our capture.
Our footsteps echoed in the damp pipes as we moved onward, speaking little but remaining keenly aware.
We kept our adrenaline in check.
Tim and Taylor were ahead of me, while Dresden and Constantine were behind.
I could sense our pheromones, our collective tension, and my senses were hyper-aware, attuned to the slightest sound and disturbance.
I’m not sure if I was irritated, but the entire process of optimizing our gear felt a bit much.
As a creature of habit, I had interpreted this new normal correctly, and with Magnum wanting everyone to craft gear and take measurements for a more form-fitting approach, it was a significant change.
I preferred my looser clothing, which allowed me to tuck in undergarments.
However, Magnum explained that in colder climates, the gear would have decent insulation, eliminating the need for woolen shirts.
He truly wanted to optimize everything.
Murdock, on the other hand, thrived in his new role as gunsmith.
He could instantly determine the best firearm for each person.
For instance, my larger Browning went to Adam or Charles, while a few of my Berettas were assigned to Lepard and Demon.
It felt like new winds were blowing through my life, both professionally and perhaps personally.
Colin had also planned extensive medical studies and implemented metal detectors at the entrances.
These detectors would identify any shrapnel or bullets, ensuring they were immediately sent to medbay.
With a 250% increase in our medical staff, Colin believed we were still stretched thin, especially considering the possibility of larger rescues.
He had visited the “magic house” to discuss these matters, and most of our new medics originated from there.
Numerous new initiatives were being implemented, and it was all a bit of a blur.
The past few weeks had been incredibly busy with work reorientation, and now this mission.
My mind raced as I considered all the changes.
However, now wasn’t the time to judge whether they were good or bad; they simply were, and time would reveal their true impact and what improvements were necessary.
It felt like an eternity, though it was actually hours of relentless travel before we finally reached the pipe system within the facility.
Now, we had to be extra vigilant.
The journey here had exposed just how limited our intelligence was, and it was reasonable to assume this deficiency would continue inside, meaning surprises, and likely many of them, were on the way.
This realization didn’t prompt us to ready our weapons; instead, we proceeded with caution, taking our time to listen, assess, and pace ourselves.
The interior of the pipes was dark.
Those with feline eyes had no trouble navigating, but for others, it was a different story.
While wizards could see perfectly in the dark, Tim and Taylor relied on small, dim lights, just enough to guide their steps and prevent them from falling.
Vampires like Wulfe, Elena, Alaric, and Katherine, however, could see as well as anyone in the gloom.
One might wonder if it would have been wiser for me and the other vampires to turn into mist and flow through.
However, unless we wanted to end up imprisoned in VCRS – the Vampire Crystal Restraint System, a fancy name for crystal cubes that would trap any vampire in mist form – that wasn’t an option.
These were one of Sark’s favorite toys, originally created by Damien, Damon’s deceased twin brother.
I had destroyed Damien for good, but Damien had possessed them initially and had once captured Damon in them, a truly unpleasant experience.
Furthermore, Bridgette, the original witch, had also secured two versions of Salvatores for safekeeping in these cubes, and their experience with them had been rough.
Thus, it was an ordeal I was very keen to avoid.
God knows I’ve had enough hardship in my life already.
Our new gear, I had to admit, was perfect.
My vest and jacket now fit properly, feeling almost as light as feathers.
The all-too-familiar sensation of them shifting slightly was gone; they stayed firm, neither bouncing nor sliding.
I had to concede that Magnum had been right once again.
This made a world of difference, considering the substantial amount of gear we carried: handguns, grenades (each weighing between 11 and 19 ounces, and we usually carried several), knives, spare ammunition, and potentially a spare gun, all adding significant weight to our already heavy armor.
The fact that the gear fit perfectly and didn’t move around could make a critical difference on a mission.
As I’ve said countless times, this work truly teaches its practitioners, and one should never underestimate the experience of others.
Tim said in a low voice, “Not long anymore; we are reaching for the first hatch. We’ll check it out, and if it pans out, we can go from there. All we have to do is see that we do not end up in a closed room with a locked door. ”
Taylor grunted as a reply, and Alaric said, “Roger that, we are ready. I, Magnum, and Murdock will go and scout and check the door as well as the lock. If it needs to have a charge heavier than the BRT-55, then we move on to the next point.”
He was referring to one of our smaller charges; we had estimated that it was faint and silent enough not to draw too much attention, as we could hardly go and blast the door open with a heavier charge, as the sound would be too loud and we would end up getting caught.
We had 8 points of entry mapped, so this was not a big deal if this did not pan out; we had options, and this took patience, careful consideration, and expertise.
Rushing into things would yield no excellent results.
In our most optimistic plans, there would be heavy gunfire to be expected once we could get victims up and running, so to speak, and in the most pessimistic, well, we would end up on the wrong end of the stick, so to speak.
Getting caught.
As we reached the hatch, we stopped and waited while our scouts went to first very carefully check the valve so there were no booby traps, and it was going to open silently, and there was no welcoming committee waiting for us.
Well, this was done by first getting the valve open and then finally moving just a tiny bit of the hatch so Magnum could put out our latest invention, Nanoswarm.
Size of dust mites, and they were kind of fly’s eyes; each of them recorded its own bits and pieces, and that data was transmitted to the receiver in Magnum’s hands.
It took a bit of time to get a clear picture, but the swarm was pretty damn hard to notice, and as they had their own evasive capabilities, they were able to move out if warm bodies would come near and end up in someone’s lungs, even though Colin had envisioned something like using them as well, but right now, we did not need to see bad guys’ lung health, only make sure there was no one here and it was safe to enter.
A swarm flooded the floor; it started to map the floor space at first, checking traps and surveillance, and then always took a bit of height.
It took time, but safety first.
And as most of the gear, like this, was handprint as well as voice-activated, no bad guys would be able to use it, but this also had self-destruction capabilities in case of tampering. Get faster updates on novelping(.)com.
We were careful, and then some.
After 33 minutes, it was clear that we were going in.
There was a door, but it was not reinforced; this was a lower-level, forgotten supply room, and as we emerged from old sewer pipes, no one had thought of this as a point of entry, as the Sark were usually pretty cocky about their own danger, meaning they expected flashy hard hits to their facilities, not this kind of ultra-stealth first-in-line infiltration scheme.
Sure, after this, it might be that this approach might not be as easy to pull off.
Well, considering if one sees this as easy, but anyway.
The hatch was opened all the way, and we slowly got out from there, staying silent and alert in any case and ready to act.
We had our formation, meaning Magnum and other attackers would go in first, or they were also scouts, but they would make sure it was safe to proceed from one point to another and that there were not so many surprises coming our way.
The air smelled old and dusty, and it was obvious this was largely unused space, as I could not really smell any pheromones in here, so no one had been in here for quite some time.
There was a ventilation grid, so this was connected to the main ventilation system, but the grid looked small even for me in human form.
Sure, in feline form it might be doable, but then again, a sand cat is pretty unarmed if some nasty snatches me; changing my shape takes only seconds, but those seconds can be crucial.
We had hashed all this out earlier, so it was not my usual case of improvisation and being unexpected.
Maybe this kind of methodical approach might be just what they did not expect.
As the door was opened, there was no need to blast it open; we slowly made our way to the corridor, again moving slowly, silently, and with the utmost vigilance.
This would take time, but then again, once we made contact or got this show on the road, we would have to move our asses at quite a brisk pace.
So the time for action was coming as well.
Our progression moved at a steady pace, and so far there had not been any surprises, but we were two floors below the official cellar floor, meaning these floors were largely unused, but one can never know; one always has to be vigilant and not assume too much.
We would have to walk all the way to the other end of the floor to always reach the correct stairs, and then they would lead us to the right spot eventually.
I kept my eyes peeled.
Was there the tiniest flash of red?
Was there something moving?
Was there a hidden camera somewhere?
I knew I was not the only one, and I could smell our pheromones, our tension in the air literally; it gave me this feeling of zing, almost.
Kind of an electric feeling as I had gotten used to our web more and more, feeling others around me; it felt kind of natural, and I was not sure what the future would bring to us.
Could I have any more of such a need to be alone, or had I grown into a pack animal, needing others near me?
Now was not the time to ponder things like this; now it was time to get this mission done, save all whom we could save, and blow this damn place to pieces.
Not getting caught in the process.
And then it would be time to do the next mission or whatever life would throw at us; one just could never know.
Just like in this mission, there was a veritable maze of these corridors, and it was always a surprise what the next corner might reveal.
Was it just an empty corridor safe to proceed, or was there even the smallest hint that there might be some level of surveillance there?
If so, then we would have to see if we could divert it, or would we have to find another way, or was the risk worth taking and tripping those alarms?
As we moved on to the next level, so far so good, and our tension kept on growing.
So far there had been no kind of hint that we would have been noticed or that there would be any kind of surveillance in these lower levels; we were ready to exit from these cellar floors and enter the first floor, where there might be some surveillance or even movement.
Our nano swarm did not indicate anything amiss as Magnum let it out as we were behind the door leading to the floor, and as he called the swarm back, it went into a tiny box, and that box went with one magic word whispered by Wulfe into a tattoo encasing Magnum’s biceps.
He had a lot of old tattoos, and Wulfe had cleverly hidden this swarm in one of his old tattoos, so in case they might have some medical records, those tattoos were old, recorded decades ago, so no need to poke them.
As the door opened when it seemed to be safe to enter, my world exploded into agony.
Lights flashed before my eyes, and buzzing dizziness hit me as stun grenades were launched, and a sonic boom caused my eardrums to rupture, as well as tiny vessels in my eyes.
The world lurched nastily, and nausea hit me like a tidal wave.
I barely understood where up was and where down was, and then there was more pain in my neck and head, and then black nothingness took over.