I hear the telltale screech of an injured ant followed by the fast clicking of its charge out of the dark alley, black flames bursting forth from its brown chitinous body. Finally able to see what I'm shooting at, I take aim, account for lead, and let fly three bolts. All three pass through its flaming barrier. The first enters its mouth, the second quickly follows, and the third strikes its antenna, snapping it in half. The ant staggers forward, collapses, and bursts into flame before becoming ash blown away by the wind.

“Sam, call in an update. I’ll keep watch for more,” I tell him without pulling my attention from the alley.

I see him nod out of the corner of my eye and hear, “Target eliminated. One ant found and terminated. Commander Bulvo has been killed and turned to ash by long-range missile fire.”

“What?" I winced at the loud exclamation in my ear. I realize it was the pilot.

The female dwarf we heard give instructions before says into our earcomms, “Identify yourself.”

“Sampson Georgia,” Sam responds.

I hear the door to the cockpit open and turn to see the pilot walk out carrying a mana projectile repeating rifle.

“Ya killed him, didn’t ya?!" The dwarf’s voice blazes with fury while aims his projector’s barrel at Sam.

Sam holds his hands up, one still holding his projector. “No, the ants did.”

I nod. “It’s true. The ants-”

“Shu up!" he screams while repeatedly moving its barrel between us both.

“What is your situation, 13-1?” sounds in my ear.

The dwarf is looking at the floor of the flyer between Sam and me and mumbles loud enough that I can hear. “Thi was na how it was supposed ta go." Then he glares at me and screams again, “Ya messed it all up!”

I blink and look at Sam who shrugs and looks back at the twitchy and scrambled dwarf. “Messed up what?” I ask.

“Da plan!" The dwarf is hysterical now, his eyes, moving between us continuously. Clearly, my suspicions about the dwarves were on target but I have no idea what was actually supposed to have happened. The dwarf starts pacing in the limited space of the flyer, his projector now aiming away from us but not at the floor.

“I was gunna be rich!” he says to nobody while his eyes moved all over the place.

I sigh as I realize he’s totally lost it.

Then I see a red flash and the dwarf is struck in the face with a mana projectile. He staggers back and apparently presses the trigger mechanism on his rifle because it discharges multiple purple blasts through the open door of the cockpit. We hear a number of explosion sounds and the flyer jerks to the side and then down. The rope around my chest, waist, and groin all tighten painfully as I'm jerked through the open doorway and outside of the flyer. My right shoulder smacks into the side of the vehicle as it speeds ahead out of control and smashes into and through the first floor of the glass building across the street from our target alley.

I curl up, covering my face and head with my arms just before I make contact. I feel the pain of innumerable shards of shattered infused glass slice into me. The flyer stops abruptly as it crashes into a thick square column and I'm flung forward by the momentum.

Adding to my already cut and bleeding body, I slide and roll over the broken glass until I'm jerked to a sudden halt by the rope, taking my breath from me in the quick compression of my makeshift chest harness.

Everything is fuzzy and a little dark until I manage to force my diaphragm to move and I pull in a breath of air. When it finally exits my body, it does so as a moaning sound that was completely involuntary. After a few more painful breaths I'm able to think straight enough to feel the pain all over my body. I moan again and look around, finding myself in a building of glass and steel with much of the glass shattered. Looking down I discover that I'm bleeding from numerous cuts, some with glass sticking out. I wish I had taken the time to put on my armor. This is going to suck.

But all that training and suffering wasn’t for nothing. I need to act before I bleed out too much and cannot focus sufficiently to act correctly and eventually use Magica. The first thing to do is get the glass out. Thankfully, Vic owns a company that makes amazing medical products. I tap my left earring and a large azure-blue box crunches onto the glass-covered floor. I tap the top, select the skin-debris remover from the list of items, and open the box. On top is a smaller steel box five inches wide by three inches tall by seven inches deep. Five of the six sides are dark gray steel while the last thin side is indented and medium gray, glittering with holes filled with small round crystals.

Thankfully, Vic and I had practiced with every piece of this medical kit so we would both know how to use it. I’d wager he was experienced with almost all of the various devices anyway, but as always he allowed me to use them on him. In this object’s case, he stabbed himself with a sharp piece of iron that he took from one of his mines and had purified. Of course, I told him we could find another way but he insisted this was the easiest and he did not feel pain as he turned his skin sensitivity down. Honestly, he may not have actually turned it down. Pain doesn’t mean the same thing to him as it does the rest of us.

Taking the same steps as during our practice, I hold the indented crystal-lined side of the box and press it to one of the wounds on my arm. There is a slight twinge and sucking feeling followed by the clink-zap of the piece of glass being removed from my body, pulled into the box opening, and being vaporized.

I exhale in relief as it worked the same as with practice. Great. Now I need to make it so I'm able to avoid fainting from blood loss and then I can check on Sam in the flyer. I doubt it will help, but I call out to him. As expected, there is no answer. Hopefully, he is just unconscious.

Moving onto my legs, I continue to pull glass shards with one hand and I call in with the other. “Team 13-1 calling in for support. Flyer is down and we have two dead and two injured. Requesting a rescue team with medicos.”

I send life Magica to the wound I just used the box on, verify it has no further debris, and close it.

“13-1,” I hear in my earcomm. “No medicos are immediately available, we have injuries everywhere. What is the severity of your situation?”

“One moderately injured and bleeding but awake, and one unresponsive, possibly with severe injuries. Assistance requested.”

Looking down at myself, I sigh. This is going to take a while.

“We don’t have anyone available. Recommend you find the closest defense position. HQ out.”

“Helpful,” I mumble. “Sorry, Sam. It sounds like we are on our own – for a while at least.”

Hopefully, no ants will come while I’m trying to avoid dying from blood loss.

Great, now I sound like Vic when he’s being a sarcastic ass about his life. He would be so proud…