Captain Oxley: *Patrol on the corner. Move out.*

  Near an intersection of two floor fts with short walled front yards, the squad quickly jumped out or kept themselves away on the corners as a patrol approached.

  *Ugh! Can we take it slow tonight?! Nothing's happened for days.*

  *And risk get us in trouble? Bah! Well...whatever. I'm too exhausted for this work. Day-in, day-out - when's the true Wilo Jawi supposed to arrive?*

  *My lover's parents are grateful for that handful of extra supplies you procured, by the way.*

  *I tell you, this state of siege DOES create interesting opportunities...*

  The conversation continued on for two minutes too much. A small creek inside one of the fts was more than enough of a sign.

  Peering over in a shallow angle, Oxley observed that the patrol had their backs turned just enough to have a blind-spot.

  Captain Oxley: *Marmadu'e, ge' the one on you' side. Bdes only.*~

  Marmaduke: *On your word, sir.*~

  Captain Oxley: *Action.*~

  The mara-mara on the right had his mouth shut by Marmaduke as a Fairbairn-Sykes knife slipped between the small ptes on his lmelr armor into the kidney, twisted down to the dirt. His partner could not react as his mouth was covered and Oxley jammed an exact knife right in the jugur, punching the knife out with the hilt until the bde sliced out of the throat, tripping the rapidly dying warrior where his blood was swallowed by the tan ground.

  The others emerged from hiding with the forward men covering the killings as fast as could. A few of the mercenaries kept their weapons trained at the windows, unsure where the noise came from.

  Further down their path, the streets narrowed due to the constructions jamming on top of each other - newer small buildings mingling with awkward combinations of ancient pyramid structures and shack-quality dwellings.

  At one intersection, the main road lead directly south, but the adjacent three alleyways bend around in their own direction, with the focal point on one small round brick house with a bit of steam coming out of the wooden windows.

  *Are you sure we'll be alright? It all seems more dangerous than before...*

  *I'm sure we'll be fine. Besides, it's not like I'm robbing anyone.*

  *Yeah, but the way things are now? Oh, maybe ought to give it all back..."

  The squad kept by the descending alleyway to the right of the house, all the while cautious to not let their steps resound through the paper-thin walls, taking them to a dead end. Between two windowless buildings to the right, the squad just about squeezed into a slum/warehouse ghetto, seedy filth and musky solitude about.

  Cutting through the buildings, they encountered one enclosure with rays of light beaming through the cracks on the celr. Captain Oxley halted the squad as he and another went forth to inspect it. Unfortunately for them, the cracks were too small to see what was really happening, but the through what they could see through the peep holes gave them an idea as to what were their function - assorted materials, tight sacks hanging from pilrs, and some naked girls cuffed in cramped cages.

  *...no guarantee what the traitors will do, but we ought to keep them for now.*

  *Can't say I'm happy for that. I may be getting jumpy, but I feel like we're being watched at every turn...*

  *We have a situation! Some strange men were spotted some time ago heading in this direction!*

  *What?! Describe them.*

  *I don't know. I don't think we've seen them before...*

  *It's probably just some of those vilge vagrants...*

  Captain Oxley: "Abe'cromby, set a signa' beacon. We'll let t' othe's set this straigh'.*~

  Abercromby: *For shame, sir, the Magpie unable to get us a gnce of these birds.*~

  His temperament demanded action be taken now. His experience told him not to get involved where things might not be as straight as it may seem. His training was clear to the job at hand.

  Captain Oxley: *Everyone move ou' befo'e t' roadmen spo' us.*~

  At st, Mandrake Squad arrived within the vicinity of the gate.

  Splitting in two, Oxley and five other scouted the adjacent sleepy neighborhood on the left side of the gate while the others waited nearby the right side. A few single floor thatch houses mingled with two floor tile buildings in irregur clusters, nothing like well ordered blocks; a few carts yed idle with tepid puddles on the cobblestones and two small archways hedging in the vicinity.

  *Patrol approaching from behind by my right.*~

  Captain Oxley: *Ou' o' t' streets!*~

  Four managed to get out in time; one mercenary bolted towards one of the archways with thick vines hanging by the wall and a caged doorway, and just as he managed to climb to the roof, the st one followed behind.

  *SNAP*

  The st mercenary managed to nd on his feet as he fell but was still exposed, for the archway left nowhere to conceal oneself.

  *Five seconds!*~

  The only closest thing to concealment was a short two wheel cart next to three short barrels. The mercenary did his best to lie on the ground and keep his K7 pointing in the direction of the oncoming patrol. One of the mara-mara had the build of the schlub with an unkempt beard, while his partner with the torch had a tall slim physique with a hunter's eyes and a clean face.

  Slim mara-mara: I heard it over here, I'm sure.

  Schlubby mara-mara: Could just be a critter don't you think?

  The man with the torch cautiously walked through the street, lighting his torch upon any potential hiding spot.

  Captain Oxley: *Jolliffe, take the shot.*~

  Though Jollife's HK91A3 was trained at the patrol, his vision was elsewhere.

  Jollife: *Sir, it doesn't seem they're interested in Knatchbull.*~

  Captain Oxley: *They're too close to him. Take the shot!*~

  The shlubby warrior's attention heightened as his partner kept moving about like a bloodhound tracking its preay, eyes shifting and head twisting trying to pay attention to the slightest of noises.

  Jollife: *Sir, something else is amiss.*~

  Knatchbull trained his K7 in anticipation to where their bellies would be if they approached him.

  The warrior pulled out his sword, ready to cut forth.

  Slim mara-mara: YOU THERE! IDENTIFY YOURSELF!

  As he spoke, he turned his attention towards a narrow street heading towards the northeast.

  A tall young woman with short spiky brown hair in a light green head scarf and peasant garb slowed her rushed pace from the darkness as the warriors intercepted her path. She hugged her pin shawl across her chest as she faced the warriors, the bit of exposed palms red and rough compared to her otherwise soft, clear skin.

  Slim mara-mara: Wait... Jahdaga? What are you doing out so te?!

  Jahdaga: Forgive me. We were unable to leave work earlier. Orders are orders, you know.

  Schlubby mara-mara: Jahdaga, you realize that the city is under curfew? You should have stayed with the rest.

  Jahdaga: I understand, but I ask you to overlook this indiscretion. I didn't realize we would...

  From the one floor house nearest to where Knatchbull was a small girl emerged, perhaps around the age of eight, running towards the young woman with a worried face and watery eyes.

  Small girl: Mother!

  Jahdaga embraced her daughter, bringing her up and comforting her before she broke into tears.

  Jahdaga: Oh, no, no don't cry! I'm here now.~

  She returned to look at the two warriors, their alertness tempering quickly.

  Slim mara-mara: Go. Rest well, you two.

  Schlubby mara-mara: Salute Ronjimpo for us.

  Jahdaga: I will. Thank you for your consideration.

  Slim mara-mara: May your parents continue to do well.

  She briskly walked back to her house, while the warriors looked on with tender longing at the two before continuing on at a tranquil pace.

  Schlubby mara-mara: So why did you never became one with her?

  Slim mara-mara: It just felt strange to ask her. Besides, her heart always raced for...

  Their blood rushed forth was their chins lift up and the 18 centimeter bdes jamming into their jugurs, pushing and punching forward in a messy rough tear.

  Captain Oxley and Knatchbull cleaned themselves on the clothing of the dead men before being helped in throwing the bodies by the wall.

  Captain Oxley: *Any signs from the house, Jollife?*~

  Jollife: *A light is on, so watch out when you climb up.*~

  As the squad climbed up the vines, Jollife kept his weapon pointing at the window and door of the house Jahdaga lived in, all the while overlooking the adjacent streets should anyone else show up.

  With a better idea of what was around the gate, the squad at st readied themselves.

  Captain Oxley: *Abe'cromby, status?*~

  Abercromby: *We surprised another patrol. Status is linear.*~

  Captain Oxley: *Pistols and SMGs only. Edmonstone, Ponsonby - switch to shotguns. 'ennssey, K16 at the ready. Switch wit' Makins when we make fo' t'doo's, keep 'em secu'e. On you' go, Makins.*~

  Two mara-mara on the ground, two on top of the stone steps on the side of the towers, all next to small fire cauldrons. Their firm stance with spears at the ready were betrayed by their tired, sullen eyes. Ahead of them, the quiet streets with critters singing the night away.

  And with no novelty in sight, their sleepy night became permanent.

  Makins's HK417 16" Recce struck the first guard on the right, and with no time to react the other three colpsed under 9mm fire. Leading the fireteams, Edmonstone and Ponsonby bared suppressed Royal Remington 870 Expresses, nobody bothering to hide the bodies and their night vision goggles removed.

  Captain Oxley followed Edmonston on the left tower with his suppressed Sig Sauer P228 covering him and his Fairbairn-Sykes underneath, both of their battle rifles hanging on their backs. There was no need to force their way through the doors, for they were not even locked. Swinging the door open, Edmonston let in Oxley immediately blowing off the optic nerve of the dozing warrior, ending him with a knife under the back of the skull.

  Up the flight of stairs, Oxley encountered a doorway with the room behind it evidently facing into the city. He signaled to Edmonston, who in turn signaled the one behind him with a K7 at the ready. As he moved away from the doorway and turned to the left back towards the stairs, the pair behind pced their backs by the walls while Knatchbull hurried to catch up to the captain.

  The sounds of firing mechanisms reverberated in the narrow stairwell as Oxley just about reached to top level, when to his surprise, a fresh faced young man opened the door; if it weren't for the bck boots and trousers common for the mara-mara, he might look like any ordinary peasant with the worn-out long brown shirt he wore, free from the melr suit.

  As much as it had been drilled into him to never pce personal feelings into these situations, it always felt off whenever facing someone so young, barely into adulthood. Only cliché hypotheticals ran in his mind - he should be at a pub with his neighborhood blokes, perhaps try his luck with a bird...anything else but where he was now.

  But not even back on Earth that was the case with many others. Nay, not even back at the heartless center of Home was this the case.

  At least, what he was always told to refer to as Home, even if he was not born in it per se.

  That's all the luxury he allowed himself to think of, all in under a fraction of a second.

  The next time his mind had a single focus he gunned down a mara-mara running towards a gong between the towers, emptying three bullets in the back of the stumbling warrior. Behind him, Knatchbull tore at an approaching mara-mara unaware of the ensuing violence. By the doorway the youth lied on the ground with two perforations in his face and his hand clenching tightly to the handle, his vacant eyes never loosing their novice look.

  At st, both fireteams met each other on top of the gate, with ft parapets on either side of the walkway that reached up to the chest.

  Captain Oxley: Css, gen'lemen. Css! Edmonstone, Ponsonby - ge' th' ga'e cranked open. Remembe' all - mind you' shots.

  As the teams dispersed and Abercromby radioed Hennessey and Makins to head up and close the doors below, Captain Oxley noticed a couple of fast-moving blips of light throughout the city. They moved hitherto without a clear direction, certainly searching for something. The only relief was that there were not conchs blowing or anything else that would indicate a heightened alert status.

  And soon, the distant barks expined away what was the commotion.

  The time for stealth was over.

  Walking towards the gong Oxley adjusted his hat back onto his head, took out his torch light and pointed it out into the bleak darkness, using his left hand to send a message in Morse code.

  Captain Oxley: (Attack. Attack. Attack.)

  Far out into the dead of night, where the corpses still polluted the air, a 1.9 meter man with a slightly rge rim Far East slouch hat on was kneeling with one leg observing the message with his binocurs on the left hand and a bck Valmet M78/83 on his right. Seeing the message, he pced the binocurs away and unfastened an officer's cane hanging by the his right.

  With burnt umber full eyebrows and a fearsome mustache, the man moved his shoulders a bit to relieve the tension, expanding his broad chest and kicking the ground with the heels of his feet.

  Raising his left arm slowly, he brought it down with a vicious blow, quickly holstering back the officer's cane on his belt and rushing forward towards the bridges.

  Immediately behind him, the rest of the ptoon surged forth, a few of the mercenaries cracking blue glow sticks and leaving them on the ground all the way towards the other side. Catching up to them, Kumio Darkapa and his be'ti followed, and soon the night came to life with his host stomping in an effort to reach the opening gates.

  And overlooking the surge of warriors with murder in their breath was the Wilo Jawi, Sarjenko, decked in a brigandine-and-pte bck suit with a teal-blue hue tint, surrounded by a coterie of dreadful men wrapped in skins with baroque polearms and carved animal heads muttering in a low drone. Their very presence made the rot on the ground less obscene, for their incomprehensible words pced an oppressive weight on the air around.