“Man, this heat,” Smith said as he fanned himself with one hand.

The other members of Response Team 4 looked up at Smith with cold glances. Still, he heard a few grunts of approval. They all knew the job, and the importance of stealth, but Reech Industry tactical gear was not made for stakeouts. Especially when that entailed boiling in a van that had no air conditioning.

“So, who do you think it is?”

“No idea, Smith,” said the Lieutenant. “That’s need to know, and your ass doesn’t need to know.”

“Bah,” Smith sighed, “I’ll know as soon as I get ‘em in my sights. Why the suspense? Wessen, what’d you think?”

“Gotta be a high roller, a real whale,” Wessen shook his head. “No other way—"

A cough was enough to shut up both men. Smith turned towards the lieutenant and found a glare that could have cut steel. The grizzled war vet was staring him down, and Smith could tell he was warming himself up to give one of his epic ass chewings. Smith tried to look apologetic, but the truth was that he and the boys would all have a good laugh about it later — preferably over a cold beer.

“Smith, you sorry—” but the officer’s reprimand was cut short as the rear doors were flung open. A tall blonde in four-inch heels stepped onto the grooved, metal floor.

“Officer on Deck!” the lieutenant called out.

There goes my night, Smith thought. Cassandra had earned the nickname “Ice Queen” not only for her ruthless efficiency but also for the brutality she employed while on the job. Smith loathed working with her, not because of her methods, but because he knew that any job she was on would get a lot of attention from the suits. They wouldn’t send the leader of the Assassin Quad without good reason.

“At ease, men,” she said.

Cassandra stepped into the center of the van and turned to look at each man. The hard clicks of her heels sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Smith pushed down a premonition of dread, but he couldn’t quite shake the coldness in his gut.

“My name is Cassandra Fleming, but I suspect most of you already know that,” she paused as Smith exchanged glances with his teammates. “I have taken direct control of this operation. I expect your full cooperation.”

Cassandra turned to make eye contact with the lieutenant.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said with a meek nod.

“Good. You will be the breach team. You will approach the main entrance, place charges, and secure the area. Teams 3, 6, and 7 are already in position. I will give the order to detonate the charges once the heavies are in place. There is zero room for error, any questions?”

“Yeah,” Smith said, receiving a glare from both Cassandra and the lieutenant. “Uh, I mean no Ma’am. Just eager to kick some ass.”

“You have your orders,” screamed the lieutenant, “move, move, move!”

***

Max heard a crash. A shattered bowl was spread across the kitchen, and the bent bamboo stalk was once again lying on the floor. He looked back up at the boy hiding behind Nina’s legs and then back at the mess.

“I’m getting a broom,” he said.

“Max, we don’t have time for this! Leave it, you’re never coming back here. I’m sorry.”

“This is …” Max looked around. He sighed, dropping his eyes to the floor once more. “Fine, I understand. But you need to tell me what is going on.”

“I will,” Nina said, “but we really don’t have much time. I’ll tell you everything once the dungeon has closed behind us.”

“Just,” Max sighed, “Just tell me why you dragged a child into all of this.”

“This is George,” she smiled and kneeled while taking the small boy’s face in her hands. “George, it’s okay, Max is a friend.”

The child pressed his forehead against Nina’s, holding it there for several seconds before turning to regard Max. The boy sniffed at the air before dropping to all fours and growling. The sound didn’t seem human. Is that what she’s been hiding this whole time, Max thought, a feral child?

“George, honey,” Nina said. “Please show Max what you can do, okay?”

The boy’s expression immediately brightened as he looked up at Nina with wide eyes. He looked back at Max, frowning slightly, but no longer growling.

“What’s going on?”

“Just wait —”

Max was looking at the child. The boy was standing with a straight back and his chest puffed out. He had a look of mischievous joy was on his face. Is that … Max thought, is his skin getting darker?

The boom of shattering rock startled Max, causing him to look towards the front door. Three loud crashes were followed by an animal roar and the sound of human screams punctuated by rapid gunfire.

“They found us!” Nina yelled, turning towards Max. “How long will it take you to get the dungeon ready for all of us to enter?”

“Uh … what?”

“Max concentrate!”

“Right, umm less than a minute but I’ll need you all there.”

“Dammit, alright just get there and wait. Don’t let anyone through until I get there and take ... George?”

“He was just here,” Max said.

“Just go! I’ll take care of him.”

“Alri…” he started to say, but Nina was already charging towards the front door.

“Dammit,” Max yelled, considering chasing after the strange pair.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I can’t fight strike teams and Quads, Max thought. It was supposed to be a quiet evening at home, maybe a little light dungeon delving. Nothing too strenuous. Instead, he was a fugitive being hunted in his own home.

He paced for a few moments, before tucking his grandfather’s book under his left arm and drawing his revolver with the right.

The weight of the gun in his hand calmed Max. It gave him a feeling of control and conjured nostalgic memories of his grandfather’s stories. The tales had obviously been full of embellishment and outright falsehoods, but Max had always felt they held some truth. This revolver had featured prominently in many of them.

What would Gramps do? Max thought, but the answer was obvious. He’d back up his team.

Max sprinted from the kitchen and navigated the narrow hall leading towards the rear door. Once he was outside, it would only be a few short steps to the shed.

Eve, Max thought, Re-spec: Put all points into reaction.

“Re-Spec successful, all points allocated to reaction: The user is granted the Acrobat role for the next 45 min 27 sec.”

Max shot forward, his speed and coordination instantly exploding. He sped up as he hit a turn in the hallway. His feet slid over the smooth tile. Rather than put a human-sized hole in the drywall, Max leaped from the floor and turned sideways. For a fleeting moment, he was running across the wall.

After a brief feeling of weightlessness, Max flipped and skid to a halt right before the back door. He was almost there. Max reached out towards the handle, but he pulled back right before something hot tore through his left bicep. A small red book fell to the ground.

Max leaped to the side as three rapid shotgun blasts tore through the door. He pulled himself into a small laundry room next to the back door.

“I’m shot!” Max yelled, his back sliding down the wall. “You bastards shot me.”

Max felt something warm and wet flow down his arm as a red pool formed under him. He grabbed a shirt from an overturned hamper and wrapped it around the wound. Just as he was tightening the knot, Max heard a crash as the wooden door exploded inward.

Shattered wood slid across the white tile, stopping just outside the entrance to the laundry room. Max tried to stand, but the process was slow, and his legs were wobbly.

“Eve,” Max said aloud, “Re-Spec: Might”

“Re-Spec partially successful, all points allocated to Might for the next 42 min 53 sec. The user has not gained a role.”

“WARNING: Re-Spec has zero (0) daily uses remaining.”

“Thanks, Eve,” Max said, as he released a sigh of relief.

He didn’t feel as tough as he did when under the effects of the Warrior role, but neither did he suffer the slow down in thinking. This might actually be better, Max thought. More importantly, his legs were no longer shaking, and he was able to stand just as he heard boots stepping onto broken glass.

Max grabbed the nearby washing machine and lifted it above his head, pulling the cable and exhaust hose from the wall. Max waited, his arms beginning to shake after only a few seconds. Blood began to run down his arms once more. His makeshift bandage had become completely soaked.

Just one more second …

Max saw the barrel of a gun appear in the doorway. He heaved the washing machine. The doorway was too small for the machine to pass through, and the frame exploded into splinters. Max heard a yell of pain and the clang of metal crashing into the hard tile before bouncing off a wall.

“Is anyone there?”

No one answered. Max took a step forward, letting the barrel of his revolver exit the doorway first. He stayed there, motionless, for a moment. Still nothing.

Max leaped out into the hallway and rolled with his gun held in front of him. As his acrobatics ended he looked up, steadying his gun before him. Once his vision began to focus, he found himself looking into Nina’s eyes. They were blue with just the barest hint of silver flecks.

A soldier in a mask and black body armor lay unconscious, pinned under the heavy washing machine. Two more identical looking soldiers had collapsed like ragdolls outside the door, which was now more like a splintered hole in the back of the house.

“Nina! How did you get here so fast?”

“It doesn’t matter. We need to go.”

As Nina turned Max noticed the strange creature resting on her shoulder. It was like a lizard, but jet black and it had large wings folded behind its back. Its snake-like tail wrapped around Nina’s throat like a pitch-black choker.

“Wait,” Max said, “where’s George?”