Smith watched the house through the “T” shaped slit in his shield as he slowly moved forward. This place must be owned by a classer, he thought. It wasn’t large, but the subtle signs of taste and wealth were apparent.

The walls were made of solid stone and surrounded by well-maintained landscaping. The front door alone was ringed by relief sculptures that must have cost more to commission than everything Smith had ever owned. He smiled, anticipating the feeling of burying a few ounces of lead in the lucky bastard.

Nothing like class warfare, Smith thought, while chuckling at his own joke.

He caught Wessen giving him a sidelong glance, but the large man stayed silent. Behind Wessen trailed a thin copper wire that he was unraveling from a spool with one hand, as he kept the other on his rifle.

“Smith,” he heard the buzzing voice of lieutenant in his ear, “Hold once you are in position, slow and steady. We can’t afford any mistakes on this job.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Then do it. Just remember, shields high asses low.”

Smith shook his head but bit back his usual retort. They were all on edge tonight, even the never rattled lieutenant. Something about this job felt off, and Smith knew he would feel a lot better once it was behind him.

Smith felt a hand clasp his shoulder, causing him to drop to one knee and plant his shield in the soft dirt. He looked up at Wessen and gave a nod. The big man kept moving, slowly unraveling the wire behind him. Smith raised his weapon, keeping it trained on the door, ready to lay down suppressing fire.

Just a bit more …

There! Wessen placed the charge and began slowly walking backward. Smith raised his hand, giving the signal for the rest of the team to begin advancing. So far, so good.

The rest of the response team charged forward, quickly taking a formation around the yard, covering the flanks. All that firepower at his back bolstered Smith’s confidence. What was I getting worked up for? he thought.

Everything is …

The relief sculptures around the door were beginning to glow a faint blue, and the carved lines seemed to be stretching. They were moving. Smith watched in shock as an orange-furred paw reached out from the carvings as if conjured from another world.

“Golems!” he shouted, picking up his shield and charging towards Wessen.

The large man had stopped walking backward but had dropped the copper wire and had his weapon trained on the door. Smith collided with him from behind, pushing him out of the way. An orange streak struck Smith’s shield as a crushing weight pressed him into the ground.

Something powerful and massive bashed into his shield, and Smith struggled to push upwards at the weight that was bearing down on him. Four white claws pierced his shield, slowly moving down as they tore long gashes in black metal.

Smith struggled at his belt to remove his knife. Another heavy blow sent the shield downward, pinning his hand to the ground and pushing the air from his lungs. Smith let out a silent scream just as he heard gunfire.

The weight immediately lessened, and Smith rolled to the side. He set his shield down horizontally and used it to steady his rifle. He still struggled for breath, but his body seemed to be reacting on instinct. Countless hours of drills and simulation had proven their worth.

Where was it?

Behind him, Smith could still hear gunfire. The salvo seemed unfocused, there wasn’t the slow steady sound of aimed bursts. Instead, all he heard was the constant hum of suppressing fire. The team didn’t have a shot, and Smith was exposed in no man’s land.

“Fuck,” he yelled. “Wessen, you okay?”

“Wessen?”

Smith looked in the direction his teammate had fallen, but he could see only shadow. He spun around, moving his shield with him but there was nothing there.

A scream cut through the night. One less gun was firing.

“Lieutenant!” Smith yelled into the radio, “We’re getting killed out here, I’m falling back.”

“Negative,” said the crackling radio, “Detonate the charge. If we take out the Animus we ca …”

The transmission cut off just as Smith heard another scream. Shit, what had the lieutenant said? The Animus … the carving! Smith realized.

He picked up his shield and began to charge towards where Wessen had fallen. He had to be close by. When Smith reached the area he again planted his shield in the ground and swept his weapon in a circle.

Was that a flash of orange?

There! Smith saw a small spool of copper wire resting in a pool of blood. Probably the blood of the only other guy he knew with a sense of humor. More’s the pity.

Smith dove forward, ending his roll with his shield held above him and one hand on the detonator. He pressed the button and held. Three seconds, then … nothing.

“Shit,” he yelled. “Lieutenant? Lieutenant can you …”

“I think I see your problem,” said a woman’s voice.

A woman in glowing white armor looked down at him. She held a massive, curved blade in one hand and in the other — she held a clump of grey putty. Something small and black moved behind her head, but it was too dark for Smith to make out what.

“You’re …”

“That’s right,” she smiled.

The pommel of her sword collided with Smith’s head.

***

“All response teams,” Cassandra yelled, her finger pressed against her earpiece. “All teams sound off!”

Static was the only answer.

“If you want something done …”

She kicked off her heels and held her arm out in front of her. A long staff of spiraling black wood appeared in her hand. Wind began to spin beneath her as she rose into the air.

“Quad Zulu, do you copy?”

“Yes, Ma’am. We’re in position now, should we move in?”

“Affirmative, sweep the house. Eliminate all hostiles.”

“Acknowledged.”

Cassandra surveyed the battle from above. She could see the bodies of Response Team 4 strewn about the front lawn, a complete casualty. Team 3 was little better; they were currently engaged with a mastiff sized orange cat that seemed to be able to shrug off bullets like rainwater.

At least the golem was distracted, she didn’t have time to deal with it now.

“Quad leader Zulu.”

“Sweep in progress, Ma’am.”

“Can you confirm the status of Team 7?”

“Complete casualty Ma’am, dead or incapacitated.”

So, she thought, they exited from the rear of the building. A stone wall divided the property from a thick growth of trees. It would have been easy for Nina to scale the wall, and the girl had shown a knack for escaping.

“Quad Alpha,” she called to her own Quad, “report.”

“In position.”

“Spread out on the other side of the tree line behind the house. Call in the reserve team to search in grids eight, seven, and thirteen. Advise air support to break silence and put out an APB with the locals.”

“Acknowledged.”

Now, where have you gone? Cassandra had a feeling there was something she wasn’t seeing. It didn’t make sense for Nina to come here without a backup plan. The man helping her was still an unknown factor, as well. They obviously had a plan, Cassandra just couldn’t see what it could be.

There was nothing else behind the house besides a garden and a small stone path that wound around a small, white shed. Cassandra frowned as she examined it. The door was still ajar, and a faint light flashed from inside. Something about that light seemed familiar …

No!

“Everyone, they are in the garden shed! I want all resources on me, surround and contain. No one, I repeat, no one is to enter until I have given the all clear.”

Cassandra ignored the cascade of questions and responses that came over the radio. She dashed towards the shed just as the light was growing stronger. She had only seconds before it was too late.

She burst through the door, bringing with her hurricane-level winds. Dust and pebbles spun around her and metal tools clanged against the rear wall. In the center of the room was a small metal pedestal covered in markings. Centered at the top of the pedestal was a recession that was currently filled by a spinning orb.

A Command Orb! Lord Reech had suspected that Nina was being aided by one of the major families, most likely Class-Tech. Cassandra had been sure he was wrong, Nina had always been so loyal to the family … And yet who else? Who else could expend such resources?

“Nina!” she yelled.

The girl was still visible, though she was quickly fading. Already it was too late for Cassandra to follow or attack. All she could do was sow doubt. She looked towards the accomplice.

“And you must be Max,” she said. “I know that’s not your real name, but I also know how difficult it is to avoid … attachments while undercover.”

Max looked towards her, a look of confusion on his face. It gave nothing away, and only served to reinforce his cover. For a moment Cassandra even began to believe he might just be a hapless bystander. What she could do with ten just like him!

“Take this,” she tossed a fingernail-sized card towards him. “This is the file we have on you, and we’ve just started digging.”

Cassandra smiled as she saw the first lines of doubt on his face. Talented, but still green. That had been a genuine reaction. I have you now.

“We have the girl.”

The fading forms disappeared in a flash of light just before she finished her threat. She knew he had heard it. The fact that Cassandra wasn’t even sure what girl she intended to take, hardly mattered. There was always a girl.