Recovery Team 53: Diamonds are Forever – 3

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Wildgrass was the first to walk into the office, yawning as the automatic lights came on. It was odd that nobody was there, then he heard the chatter from down the hall. He poked his head out and saw a bunch of people walking toward the common area where teams would meet for emergency briefings. Wildgrass groaned. It was probably nothing, maybe a birthday or something, but when he looked up and saw Siddew walking towards him, he was curious.

“Morning,” Siddew said as she glanced up from her watch.

“Morning.” Wildgrass yawned again.

“You see the news?” Siddew asked.

“What now?” Wildgrass groaned, earning him a subtle laugh from his teammate.

“Here, check it out.” Siddew held up her wristband and tapped on a few icons to bring up a grainy news video.

It looked like it had been taken from a helicopter that was following a transport of some kind. Wildgrass leaned in closer. It was a transport all right, a prison transport, three hover vans long. The video flickered, then suddenly, there was a flash. The transport truck in the back exploded, launching debris high into the air. The helicopter jerked out of the way, catching only a glimpse of a three-man team on jet-black hover bikes. The police fired back, but in vain, when two more explosions went off under them, sending the trucks sky high.

Wildgrass winced. No one could have survived that. But from the smoke, the truck in the middle rolled slowly to its side. One of the bikers rolled up next to it and cut open a hole with a laser, then the newly formed door dropped into the truck and out climbed four people. The bikers killed three of them, leaving only one person alive. The camera zoomed in, and Wildgrass gasped. It was Specz, one of the higher-ranking members of the Diamond Donors gang.

She hopped on the back of the biker’s hover bike, and the rider joined the other two. They huddled together, and the camera zoomed into the three suspects. They all were wearing black desert capes that covered their faces. Then one of them turned, pulled out a large gun, and pointed its barrel towards the copter. The video went black.

“Damn,” Wildgrass said. “Surprised the copter wasn’t armed.”

“From the report, it looked like they were local news.” Siddew shook her head just as Nickels joined them. “Doing a piece on high profile criminals, apparently Mike ‘The Digger’ Jones was in one of the transports. He’s dead now.”

“Double dang,” Wildgrass pretended to care.

“I wanna see! I wanna see!” Nickels pouted.

“Alright, alright.” Siddew pulled up the video again.

Wildgrass couldn’t believe these low-level crooks would put in that much effort for one of their own. Especially with the police and Rangers being on high alert after the sniping incident that happened two months ago. Wildgrass looked up and saw the captain’s favorite coming down the hall. He already had a response ready, with his shit-eating grin growing on his face. Wildgrass opened his mouth to speak, but Taxes shut him down with one finger.

“Good morning, Siddew. Good morning, Nickels.” Taxes completely ignored Wildgrass, which burned him up inside.

“Hello, missing someone?” Wildgrass said.

Taxes flashed his sharp brown eyes Wildgrass’ way, making his heart jump. “No, I don’t think so.” Wildgrass froze, then his face twisted into a scowl. “I’m kidding. Good morning Wildgrass,” Taxes said as he leaned in close to Wildgrass.

The smell of Taxes’ cocoa butter lotion grazed his nose as a smile bloomed on Taxes’ soft brown lips. Wildgrass fumbled over his words, but Taxes only laughed as he and the others started walking to their office. Wildgrass fumed, following behind them as they talked amongst themselves, but he couldn’t help his wondering eyes that kept shifting Taxes’ way.

Get it together, Wildgrass, he thought to himself as Siddew opened the office door and started her coffee. Wildgrass grumbled all the way to his seat, trying hard to ignore a certain someone. Nickels dug around for snacks as Taxes waited next to Siddew for coffee.

Wildgrass folded his arms, the anger still hot inside him, making him feel like a teenager who couldn’t control his emotions. He had a real problem now—he couldn’t get that stupid goth kid out of his mind. It was worse because the kid was gay and slutty, and it drove him nuts. Wildgrass couldn’t help but notice the way Taxes’ uniform fit snuggly around his small perky ass or the way he walked, switching that butt. It had to be on purpose.

“Wildgrass, you want some tea?” Siddew asked. “Wildgrass?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” Wildgrass turned around quickly. He needed to focus; the kid was nothing special. He fucked a hundred guys just like him. It must have been a side effect of Wildgrass also being gay and slutty; he couldn’t help that he liked fucking.

***

Taxes noticed right away how annoyed Wildgrass was today. Him being moody wasn’t new, but it was starting to get ridiculous. Taxes took the cup of coffee Siddew made for him and thanked her. When he received a text message stating that Copper would be tied up in meetings for the morning, which was nice, leaving Taxes plenty of time to get to catch up on his work.

Taxes sat at his computer, stealing glances at Wildgrass. He looked so grumpy. Then their eyes met, and both of them quickly looked away. Taxes sighed. This was going to be one of those days, but as usual, Taxes wasn’t going to let that bother him. Taxes pulled up his reports and started updating files when his mind started to drift to the incident that morning.

Did the Diamond Donors really go through all that trouble for a crook like Specz? Yes, she was high up, but according to the files, they had plenty of foot soldiers to fill the shoes. In fact, the gang was actually fairly new, about five or six years old, and up until now, they had done nothing but low-level tech grabs. Was Specz working for someone else? Had she traded sides? Gangs came and went in the cities of Ans-on. Taxes minimized his case files and opened the Ranger database. He searched the Diamond Donors and skimmed the information. It was just as he had thought. They were low-level crooks.

The gang was started by two brothers, Eric and Jack Comet, both career criminals, who went by the name the Diamond Brothers. Some other well-known members included Jesse ‘Snake’ McCloy, who was wanted for drug and arms trafficking, and Shauni Baker, who was behind dozens of cyber robberies. Taxes rested his head on his palm. All their rap sheets were impressive, but hardly the worst of the worst. Would they really risk all that heat to bail out one person? Taxes sighed. Who knew?

He finished his coffee and got up to get another. He turned and caught Wildgrass turning away. A bemused smile appeared on Taxes’ face. What was he staring at? Taxes started towards him.

“You my stalker now?” Taxes’ teased, but Wildgrass’ flustered look was not what he was expecting.

“N-no, I was just checking to see if there was any more butt—I mean coffee left. I was just checking to see how much coffee was left. Okay?”

Taxes hid a laugh behind his coffee mug. “Okay, stalker boy. But keep your eyes to yourself.”

“Yeah, well, you just mind your own eyes.” Wildgrass turned around.

Taxes laughed. What kind of comeback was that? And did he mistakenly say butt just now? Was Wildgrass looking at his butt? Taxes sat at his desk, still laughing to himself as he stole glances at Wildgrass’ flustered face. Was he really that excited about seeing him? Taxes’ smile wavered into something else. No, no, no, he would never, Taxes thought to himself, suddenly feeling very self-conscious in his uniform. Taxes looked up again, watching Wildgrass’ face relax as Wildgrass buried himself in his work.

He looked almost like a normal, hard-working ranger, with his bright green eyes and strong jaw that looked perfect on his sun-kissed skin…

Taxes Spool, what are you thinking? This rich boy isn’t into you. He’s probably just looking to add another notch to his belt. Taxes shook himself back to his senses, but not before stealing one last glance.

When Copper returned from his morning meetings, he called everyone in for a meeting. Taxes wondered if this had something to do with the prison transport break. Nickels, who had left for a snack, skipped back into the room and grabbed her chair from her desk. She rolled it over to the table in the center of their small office. Copper looked calm. Well, as calm as a man with permanent forehead wrinkles could look.

“Alright, listen up.” Copper folded his arms. “I’m going to make this quick. The higher-ups want to have coordinated trainings starting next week, and before I hear any huffing and puffing, it’s mandatory.”

Taxes caught Wildgrass groaning as Siddew leaned back and said, “Must be something big coming down the pipeline then.”

Copper grunted. “They’re always showboating for something. The trainings will last for three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” Wildgrass said.

“Can it, Inspread!” Copper shouted.

“Captain, are they sending out teams to take care of the prison break?” Taxes asked.

“Yeah, but they’re leaving that to the ops since it happened in Who-da,” Copper said.

Taxes nodded. “Seems like an awful lot of work to bust one criminal. Is this solely the work of the Diamond Donors?”

Copper shrugged, then Siddew chimed in. “I agree, four transport workers died in that explosion, and they killed three prisoners. If they weren’t the apple of the law’s eye, they are now.”

“They may be up to something,” Wildgrass said, “but it’s probably nothing to worry about.”

Taxes shook his head. Of course, Wildgrass would downplay it. Copper cleared his throat and continued with the meeting before excusing himself early, allowing the team an earlier start to their weekend.

“Man, I’m glad we’re getting out early today,” Wildgrass said.

“Double that,” Siddew added. “What’s everyone’s plans? Nickels, you still heading out to visit your family?”

“Family!” Nickels jumped up and down.

“What about you, Taxes?” Siddew asked.

“Oh, I don’t have much planned. I might get my feet done, maybe go to the shooting range. What about y’all?”

Siddew packed her things, then shrugged. “Mine’s an open book.”

Taxes turned to Wildgrass. “And you?”

“I’ve got nothing whack planned like you, but I think I’ll chill for this weekend.”

Taxes rolled his eyes, ignoring that little taunt. It had been a while since he got his feet done, and he didn’t care how anyone felt about it.

The team filed out of the office and headed to the elevator. It was concerning just how dangerous the Diamond Donors were becoming. They were edging close to the most wanted list at high speeds, but what caused the change? Usually, low-level gangs stayed in their lane. Maybe Specz was being poached by a larger group who wanted to bring the entire gang into the fold. Little was known about her anyways, outside of the fact that she was an orphan from Adum-la. Nothing was on her file about her education or work history.

The elevator doors opened, and everyone said their goodbyes. There would be plenty of time to worry about this later. The weekend was starting, and it was time to relax.

***

Nickels crossed the lobby, wondering if she should drive back to her apartment or walk. The lobby doors opened, bringing with it the cool crisp mid-fall air. Nickels grinned ear to ear as she crossed the threshold. Another beautiful fall day in Ans-on, the nation-state that never soiled. It was fresh here, like baked bread, always new and never stale. That’s what Nickels enjoyed the most about living in Ans-on.

She headed towards the bus stop, passing all the business folks going to and from their jobs. The aromas from the lunchtime food carts were tearing up her stomach with hunger pains. If only she could stop, but not today. Today she would be taking the train home to visit her family in Hash, Huma-ko, for the weekend. She could not wait.

Nickels stood at the bus stop, watching the busy street filled with hover cars and trucks, when a hover car slowed to a stop near her. The window rolled down, and Nickels peeked in.

“Taking the bus today?” Siddew asked.

“Yup, yup. It’s a beautiful, beautiful day,” Nickels said as she rolled on her heels.

Siddew chuckled. “Okay. Need a ride?”

Nickels thought for a second. She loved riding through the city on the bus, but she did have to catch a train. “Okay!” Nickels hopped in, putting her bag between her legs.

“To your apartment on Fifth?” Siddew asked.

“Fifth!” Nickels repeated.

Siddew smiled. “So, you’re visiting family, huh?”

“Family!” Nickels nodded.

“It’s been a while?”

“A while and that is why I am so very happy,” Nickels said.

“Seems like you’re really close, you must miss them a lot.”

Nickels nodded. “I miss them very much, but I know they are proud of me and my career. I just wish I could bundle them up and bring them here with me.”

Siddew laughed. “Don’t we all?”

“Thank you thank you for the ride.”

“No problem, Nickels, and I hope you have a fun weekend.”

Siddew parked in front of Nickel’s apartment building, and Nickels hopped out, waving to her friend before she turned towards the front door. Nickels loved the big, tall buildings in Ans-on. They were much bigger and shinier than the buildings from her hometown. She walked to the elevator and rode it all the way up to her floor, then walked to her room and opened the front door to her cozy one-bedroom apartment that overlooked the city. She tossed her bag on the couch and walked over to the window where she could watch the busy city below.

There were so many people rushing around. Things weren’t like this back home. It was slower there. But even if things weren’t shiny and new, she still loved her hometown.

The train ride to the Hash locale in the nation-state of Huma-ko took all night. Nickels slept through most of it and awoke to the golden sunrise that rose above the large black dunes of mining waste. She smiled as the train slowed to a stop and everyone shuffled off. Nickels stepped onto the platform, taking a deep breath of the smog that hung heavy in the air.

“Home.” Nickels smiled.

“Fae!” a woman’s voice rose over the crowd. Nickels turned and beamed with excitement as she ran over to her mother and father, who stood at the front of the station.

“Mama! Papa!” Nickels pulled them both into a great big hug. They squeezed her back, hugging her tight.

“My Fae, you’ve gotten stronger,” her father, Bard, said.

“Well, she is a ranger now, hun,” her mother, Queenie, replied.

“That’s right.” Bard smiled. “Our little Fae is all grown up.”

“I’m still baby,” Nickels said. “But baby that packs a punch.”

Nickels leapt back and punched the air in front of her amused parents. Her mother clapped as her father smiled a great big smile.

The trio exited the train station and headed towards the family car. The chilly fall air blew through the small parking deck under the clear fall sky. She was sure winter would soon be on its way. Queenie opened the driver’s side door and got in when Bard suddenly gasped and grabbed his leg.

“Papa!” Nickels raced to help him.

“Ah, no need to worry about me, Fae. It’s just this darn leg,” Bard said, but Nickels offered her hand anyways. From inside the car, Queenie reached over to open the door.

“Is it your leg, hun?” Queenie asked.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” Bard winced as he allowed his daughter to help him into the car. “I’m still as strong as an ox—ow ow ow.”

“Papa,” Nickels said, but her father only laughed.

The trio road through their hometown, whose streets were packed with vendors. Mining was strong in this town. They had moved here when Nickels was ten, after the Korda mine collapse that happened in her old town. So many miners were killed or lost their jobs, but her family was able to bounce back with the help of her grandparents, who still lived in the Hash Locale, where her family was originally from.

The savory smells of cooked meat wafted into the car, and the rumbles of everyone’s belly in the car could be heard. Sweet bread, fried potatoes, and grilled pork—all her favorites in one place. She wanted to stop so bad.

Queenie left the city proper and turned down the dirt road of their neighborhood, which was a long street of one-story row houses. Children played in the yellowed grass of their yard as miners walked to and from the bus stops. Nickels perked up when she saw the icy gray paint of her family home. She loved the dark teal shutters that matched the door. In the front yard was the flower garden her mother kept, right next to papa’s welding art. Her father was known for his unique metal planters. It warmed her to see that everything was just as she had left it.

The trio walked into the house, and the smell of sweet cinnamon bread greeted her. Nickels stopped just to take a great big waft of it. Her mother was a bread baker now, and Nickels couldn’t wait to sample her latest creation, but first, she wanted to say hi to her eldest brother. Nickels took off her shoes and left her bag near the door. She walked into the den and over to the shrine of Elven Graves.

His picture sat between fern-green colored candles on their family’s old wooden shrine. Nickels smiled into his soft brown eyes. He looked so much like her papa, with his sandy brown hair and kind smile.

“Elven, it’s good to see you again. I hope the afterlife is treating you well. I miss you so very much, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about you.” Nickels lifted a mechanical match lighter to an incense dish in front of his picture and lit it. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I’m doing fine. I love you.”

Nickels smiled as her mother and father joined her. Her brother Elven died in the Korda mining accident when he was only seventeen, and though his physical body was gone, he never left her memory. Nickels washed up for lunch, changing out of her ride suit into something more comfortable. She pulled out a bubblegum pink baggy one-piece suit from her closet and stuffed her legs in as she pulled it over her shoulders before securing the waist with a belt. She looked at herself in her full body mirror and smiled.

“So comfy.” Nickels tugged at the baggy pant legs as smells of sweet ham and baked beans lured her from her bedroom to the kitchen, where her mother had laid out lunch. “Yummy!” Nickels popped into the kitchen.

Her father turned around and smiled at her, “Your mother sure knows how to whip up a good meal.”

Queenie smiled. “Oh, this is nothing special.”

“It’s super special,” Nickels chimed in, making her mother’s grin grow even more.

Queenie brought over a plate of freshly cut ham and placed it on the table. “Well, I had to prepare my baby’s favorites. She’s our little sun star, shining so bright for us in the coalition.”

“Your mother’s right,” Bard said. “We’re so proud of you, Fae. We always have been. Just be sure to visit us more often. We’d love to hear all about your adventures.”

“Okay, Papa!” Nickels beamed as she helped herself to her mother’s cooking.

The following day, Nickels helped her mother around the house. She would be leaving tomorrow morning, but she wanted to help her parents as much as she could, despite their request for her to take it easy. Nickels cleaned clay pots in the small fenced-in backyard, hosing them down before setting them out to dry.

“Heard you were back in town,” a woman’s voice said behind Nickels.

Nickels jumped around and gasped. “Honey!”

“In the flesh,” her cousin Honey said with a smirk as Nickels ran over to hug her, burying her hands in long black hair that went past her butt. She was thinner than last time Nickels saw her, and her skin was paler, but her big brown eyes looked just as beautiful as the rich dark brown bark of the harper trees that grew in the front yard.

“It’s so very good to see you!” Nickels said, careful not to throw Honey off balance because of her walking cane. “How have you been? How have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” Honey said as she walked toward a stool on her aunt’s small, bricked patio. “I hope you weren’t planning to skip a visit to the kiyko on this trip?” Nickels shook her head, making her two ponytails bounce around. “Good because I’d like to test your skills.”

“My-my skills?”

“You’re not slacking, are you?” Honey’s gaze sharpened.

“Oh no, not me,” Nickels laughed nervously. “I still got it.”

Nickels struck a pose like she was taking a fighting stance. Honey smirked, her face calm and hard to read as usual.

Just as Nickels relaxed, Honey shot from her seat and elbowed Nickels in her gut before taking her arm and tackling her to the ground. Nickels landed on the ground with an oomph. Honey took a shaky step back, finding her way back to the stool.

“Practicing, huh? Seems like you need to cut back on your snacks and clock more hours in the gym.”

Nickels winced as she rubbed her back. “Okay.”

“No, okay isn’t enough,” Honey said as she started to stand. “You’re strong, Fae, and I’m not just talking about your flying ability. You’re strong in your mind and body. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget our family’s legacy.” Nickels nodded as she followed Honey back into the house. “I only stopped by to pick up honey bread for the children at the kiyko. I assumed you would be visiting the gym later today. Would you like to walk back with me?”

“Of course!” Nickels headed inside, where her mother had already prepared two baskets of rolls. Nickels picked up both of them and said goodbyes to her parents before walking out the front door with her cousin.

The day was beautiful. The chill in the air was soft, balanced by the sun’s rays. Her family’s kiyko was only a few blocks down the road.

“How are things at the kiyko?” Nickels asked.

“They’re fine,” Honey said as children ran past them on the sidewalk.

“Do you have lots of pupils?”

“Not many, but we get by.”

“I see,” Nickels said. “Are you still teaching?”

“Martial arts? No, I’m in the office doing paperwork most days, but I get to watch the kids through the window. They’re a good bunch, a strong generation.” Honey turned her face to the sun. The rays made her long black hair shine as a smile blossomed on her lips.

Nickels smiled as she looked up at the sky too. At the kiyko, children ran around playing as the other two instructors talked in the back. Nickels took a great big waft of the polished wood floors, the same floors she trained on in the summers with her grandparents and cousins. Soon the smell of wood was replaced by the smell of sweet buns, luring the kids over like birds to peanuts. They crowded around Honey, begging and reaching, but she ignored them as she walked towards the back.

“Go on, you know we don’t have sweets before practice,” Honey turned and said, striking each child with a sharp glare. The little ones backed up as the other two instructors walked over, calling them back to practice.

“Fae?” A man around her age said.

Nickels turned around, not knowing who this man was at first, but then she gazed into his green eyes. “Green eyes?”

The man turned sheepishly away. “Well, I do have green eyes. That’s the first thing you always notice.” Nickels laughed as she went in for a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

Honey turned and eyed them both. “You’ll have plenty of time to catch up later, David. Now run the kids so they can earn their sweet buns.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.” David bowed and excused himself.

“Why don’t you help, too, Fae?”

“M-me? No-no, I couldn’t. I don’t want to step on any toezies.”

Honey flashed Nickels a look. There was no saying no to Honey.

Nickels slumped but took a great big breath and joined David and the other instructor. David did a double-take when he saw her, but Nickels let him take the lead. Together as a class, they did warmups that consisted of stretch kicks, jumping jacks, and arm circles. Nickels followed along, building up a sweat as her body protested. Then all the children were split into pairs to practice their kicks and punches.

“Follow along,” David commanded as the children pushed to hit their marks.

Nickels wanted to rest so bad. It had been a lot longer than she let on since she practiced any martial arts, and she hoped it didn’t show. The kids beamed at her as she walked around. They were eager to show her their high kicks, punches, and blocks. Nickels clapped and encouraged them. In the back, she saw a young girl fall on her butt. Her partner, a young boy who looked around her age, laughed.

“I don’t know why you keep coming back, Leafy,” the younger boy teased. “You should just go home.”

Leafy’s cheeks were flush, and her eyes looked like they would spill over with tears. Other pairs stopped what they were doing and looked at them.

The young boy put his hands on his hips. “Don’t tell me you’re going to cry again? You’re never going to be a good fighter because you are too weak.”

The boy laughed as some of the other children snickered around them. Nickels stepped in and helped Leafy to her feet.

“This is not a place of bullying,” Nickels barked at the boy.

“B-but it’s not my fault! She’s just weak. She can’t do anything right,” the boy said.

Nickels turned to the boy, her face sour. “That’s not true. She can do anything she wants if she puts her heart to it.”

The young boy’s face went red as he folded his arms. “Says who? A coal princess like you? You could barely keep up with Master David and Master Ayo. I bet you’re not even a master.”

Nickels puffed up her cheeks. “I’ll have you know that I am a master. A master pilot in the Rean Coalition of Rangers.” Nickels flashed her wristband, pressing the screen that projected her official badge. All the kids gasped. “And I grew up right around here and was little, just like her. Weakness comes when you don’t believe in yourself. You can do anything you put your mind to, even if others turn and laugh at you.” Nickels turned to Leafy. The little girl’s face was wet with tears. “You just have to find the thing you’re good at and never give up.”

“That’s all well and good,” Honey’s voice cut above the silence, “but we have a zero tolerance for bullying in this kiyko. If you want anything in life, you must earn it. Now give me ten laps around the gym. Instructors lead by example.”

Master David and Master Ayo sighed, along with Nickels, but took the lead for the young ones. Showing that they were all in this together. Nickels caught a glimpse of her cousin looking at her from the edge of the gym. Her soft but firm smile was waiting for her every time she completed a lap, just like when they were kids.

Honey trained her well, even though times were tough back then and hope was as scarce as the sun on a cloudy day. After Elven died and her family had to move, she didn’t know how she could find hope again. She felt so useless, but Honey encouraged her to follow her dreams and never allowed her to quit.

Honey walked slowly back to her aunt and uncle’s house. If she was in pain, she didn’t show it on her face. Nickels, on the other hand, was beat. She hadn’t trained like that in a long time. The cool breeze blew through Nickel’s hair, wafting the sharp metallic smell of mining dust through the town. Her house was a few blocks away, but Honey started to fall behind.

“Honey, are you okay? Do you want me to call us a ride?” Nickels fretted.

Honey shook her head. “N-no, don’t worry about me. I need the exercise, but I’m happy you stopped by the kiyko today. It was good to see you, Fae.”

“I had a great time as well,” Nickels said.

“J-just promise me one thing. Promise me that no matter what changes blow through your life, you won’t forget your family, your legacy. You’re strong, Fae. You really are.”

Nickels nodded, then silently took Honey’s other hand and helped her the rest of the way to her parents’ house. Nickels didn’t always feel strong, but she appreciated her cousin’s kind words. She still felt like she had so much to learn, and maybe one day, she would return and train to become a master, just like her cousin.

She looked to the sky. Big sky, watch over us and make our days as long as a warm summer day.

***

Taxes typed away on his work computer as the team was busy working on assignments. It was only the second day of the work week, and already Taxes had buried himself in work. He just couldn’t get the sniper from the Oz case off his mind.

It wasn’t that he was traumatized by seeing someone killed in front of him. That sort of thing happened when your profession involved guns. What was out of place, and so had kept Taxes’ attention, was the level of skill required to pull a stunt like that off. This hacker was low-level for sure, but as soon as he mentioned something about his boss, he was snuffed out. Who had Oz gotten himself involved with?

As Taxes worked, he felt someone walking up behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of green. A sigh escaped his lips before he even said a word.

“You’re still obsessing over the sniper case?” Wildgrass said. Taxes could hear the subtle tease in his voice.

“And? My researching bothering you?” Taxes shot back, catching the attention of Siddew, who joined them.

“No, but it’s a waste of time. The cops are on it, and even they have come up with nothing. No one else has been sniped, so it was likely a one-time thing,” Wildgrass said.

Siddew folded her arms on her chest. “I don’t know. Seemed a little big to be small fish to me.”

“Exactly,” Taxes said. “See here. They’ve updated the files. There’s some grainy video footage from a skyscraper a few blocks away. It caught the silhouette of the shooter.” Both Wildgrass and Siddew leaned in as Taxes zoomed into the picture.

Wildgrass scoffed. “Confirmed. The suspect used a sniper rifle. Call me over when you find something we don’t already know.”

Taxes glared as Wildgrass walked away, but Siddew stayed.

“Interesting,” Siddew said. “So, you recognize anything special about the silhouette?”

Taxes nodded. “I think so. Look at how long the barrel is. It looks like it could be a PinCore 350. A classic but uncommon rifle.”

“So, not something you can get from the gun shop casually on a sunny afternoon?” Siddew said.

“No. This weapon is only good for its range. Unless you’re shooting targets from two buildings away for a children’s birthday party, you wouldn’t want to carry one of these. Not to mention the learning curve.”

“Gotcha,” Siddew said.

“I also took a look at the gun used to shoot down the helicopter during the breakout incident. That gun was artillery class and not approved for civilians.”

Wildgrass scoffed from his desk. “So they got connections in the dark markets. Seen plenty of artillery guns in the field.”

Taxes rolled his eyes, but at least Siddew was taking him seriously. Copper returned and barked orders like he usually did. Their training was being moved, but that did nothing to relieve them of their paperwork.

For the rest of the day, Taxes half listened to Siddew and Nickels talk about bread. It was making him hungry, but at least it was nearly time to go. He closed out his files after sending his last report to his captain and started to gather his things to leave for the day. He tossed his stuff in his bag when his wristband buzzed. He glanced at the message from his best friend Zamian when he heard a crashing sound. Taxes looked up and found Wildgrass on the floor, crawling to get up.

“Who put these boxes on the floor?” Wildgrass said as Siddew laughed.

“You did five minutes ago,” Siddew said as she and Nickels walked towards the door to leave. “You becoming an old man?”

Wildgrass glared as he pulled the fabric between his legs down, adjusting his pants. He spun around and caught Taxes looking at him. “What are you looking at?”

“Not your cock, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Taxes laughed. He waited for Wildgrass’ come back but instead found Wildgrass looking at his crotch.

“What’s wrong with my cock?” Wildgrass said.

“N-nothing. Why are we talking about cocks?” Taxes tried to play it off.

“I-I don’t know, you brought it up.”

The two stood there for a few awkward moments before moving at the same time towards the door, nearly bumping into one another.

“Hey! Quit following me.” Wildgrass barked.

“I’m not following you. This is the only way out of the office.”

Wildgrass looked puzzled for a moment. “W-well, go over there.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re such a child,” Taxes said as he pushed past him.

“Yeah, well, you’re a goth, and your butt isn’t even that big.”

Taxes ignored that last comment as he headed down the hall toward the parking deck. Taxes arrived home and tossed his bags on his couch. He wondered if he should go to the shooting range or if he should stay in and watch TV. Work was easy but boring, and it made him want to stay in, so it was take-out and TV for the win. He slipped into something a bit more comfortable as he placed an order for food in a delivery app. His long black hair flowed behind him as he walked to the bathroom to wrap it.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he knew he should put on a face mask, but he didn’t feel like doing that either. So he picked up his brush and started to brush his hair in a tight circle around his head.

Today was boring, but Wildgrass was acting stranger than normal. That comment about his butt should have had Taxes walking to HR, but for some reason, it didn’t bother him. Was Wildgrass Inspread flirting with him?

Taxes snickered at the idea. It couldn’t be. And why now? Taxes had been on the team for almost six months. Was Wildgrass out of ass and desperate for anything that walked?

Taxes sighed. Wildgrass was cute, he’d give him that, but the truth was likely nothing more than a proximity attraction. They were both gay, and Wildgrass probably thought Taxes would be an easy lay, but Taxes wasn’t interested in that kind of relationship.

Once his hair was pinned, Taxes reached for his bonnet and put it on as he forced his mind to think about something else. He had made some progress on his personal project. That grainy photo provided by the security cam on that skyscraper proved to be very interesting.

Taxes curled up on his couch, turned on his laptop, and headed to the Gun Collectors forum. Here, hundreds of slingers posted about their favorite pieces and set ups. He loved to browse the sniper rifle thread for the latest scopes and accessories.

This time around he searched the legacy thread, a thread about legendary guns and their users. On the third page was an article posted called Deadly Combos. The picture that went with it featured a sniper rifle and an artillery gun crossed like an “X”. Taxes skimmed through the article; it was a fascinating read. The rifle in the article was definitely a classic—not the same as the one in the grainy video, the barrel was different—but the artillery gun made his eyes pop open. He opened another tab and logged into his work system, then brought up the picture from the prison transport break.

“Holy shit,” he uttered.

Looking back at the article, he skimmed back to the top to find the subjects of the piece. It was a piece about the infamous Bukori twins, an assassin duo that had been exiled from the planet years ago. Taxes looked between the article and the case files. It couldn’t be.

He had just started to look up more info when he got a message from his captain. He paused and tapped on the message on his wristband. It was a video, and he projected it from his wristband.

The video was from a street cam and showed a convoy of three or so armored ranger hover trucks driving at speed limit. As they got closer to the street cam, four figures on hover bikes closed in. Suddenly, there was an explosion in the back, and from the smoke and fire, the four bikers sped to the front, cutting off the convoy. The driver tried to ascend but was shot down by one of the riders with a large artillery gun.

Taxes gasped as the truck crashed to the ground but did not explode. Rangers jumped out but were stunned. Another rider, dressed in all black and carrying an artillery gun, their face covered by their hood, walked over to the middle truck and blasted open the door with a smaller hand cannon from their hip. The rider then walked to the door and ripped it open with the type of strength Taxes would expect only from someone as strong as Wildgrass.

The rider yanked a person in a white lab coat out and cuffed them before throwing them onto the back of their bike. The shooter with the stun rifle then looked at the street cam dead in the lens as the other riders made quick work of busting open the other vans. He raised his gun and shot the camera. Everything went black.

Taxes immediately scrambled to watch the video again. Those guns, the accuracy, the power… Everything was so similar. But it couldn’t be.

Had the Bukori twins returned to Rean?

***

Wildgrass yawned as Copper played the video from the kidnapping for the fourth time. He got the point the first time Copper started barking at them; they were wasting time at this point.

Dr. Domii Soloane, a high-ranking weapons scientist from Research and Development, had been kidnapped on her way back from a big tech convention just one locale over. She’d been traveling with her experimental new weapons. The higher ups were fuming and wanted this cleaned up quick, and of course, they needed Wildgrass. At least these opponents looked interesting.

“Inspread!” Copper shouted. “Quit your daydreaming!” Wildgrass straightened up as Copper’s hot gaze fanned over the room. “As I was saying… The higher ups want this put six feet under. Dr. Soloane’s tech is highly valuable, and she herself is an important asset to R&D.”

Siddew nodded. “So we’re looking at tech thieves? They got balls for going after R&D.”

“Big balls!” Nickels added.

“Captain,” Taxes said, “I’ve been watching the video over and over since I received it, and I think I have a theory on who might be behind this.”

Wildgrass rolled his eyes. Of course wonder boy would have a theory already. But Copper waved him on.

“I think the team behind this is none other than the infamous Bukori Twins,” Taxes said.

“Bukori?” Wildgrass said with a smirk.

“Ignore him,” Taxes said. “I’ve looked at the videos, all of them, including the one from the Specz prison break. It’s the same gun, artillery class. The accuracy of the shots, the firepower… There has only been one duo who could pull something like this off.”

Wildgrass groaned. “You can’t be serious. The Bukori twins have been exiled to Fandour, and even if they were back, there’s more money to be made there than here.”

“Hmm.” Copper rubbed his chin. “It’s a stretch. We haven’t seen them in years. What would call those bastards back, especially with execution looming over their necks if found?”

“I’m not sure why, but the sniper/artillery combo is their trademark, maybe they were attracted to the tech,” Taxes said.

Copper paced toward his desk and back. “Let’s go over what was stolen. If the Bukori twins are back, and that’s a big if, they must have wealthy employers. Those assassins don’t work for cheap.”

Wildgrass couldn’t believe Copper was entertaining this. It was farfetched—beyond farfetched. Wildgrass folded his arms and glanced at Taxes. The goth boy was focused on his work like a good soldier, sitting there looking like a wind-up doll forced into a box, ready to explode. Wildgrass smirked; he knew something that would make him pop…if only he could capture those glossy brown lips.

Wait, what was he thinking about? He didn’t need to fuck the guy; he just wanted him to stop working so hard. Wildgrass sighed. His mind was really in the gutter today.

“The tech,” Copper said over Wildgrass’ thoughts. “Dr. Soloane was working on dealt with converter tubes.”

“Converter tubes?” Siddew asked.

“It’s new tech,” Copper said. “She created a new more powerful CuCore blast canon with these converter tubes. It’s hot stuff in the R&D world. She was the keynote at the conference, showcasing this tech for the first time. The thieves not only made off with one of R&D’s best scientist, they also stole all twenty-five of Dr. Soloane’s prototype blast canons.”

“Interesting,” Siddew added as she started to thumb through the street cam video on the mini projector on the table. She zoomed in closer to each of the four bikers. All of them were wearing black and had face coverings, but there was a glimpse of something on one of the biker’s arms. It looked like their sleeve had got caught on the back door of the truck. “I think I see something.”

Everyone looked at the video as Siddew made the image larger and captured what looked like a tattoo.

“Nickels, can you run this through our tattoo database?” Siddew asked.

“On it!” Nickels bounced in her seat as she accessed the database on her tablet. She captured the picture from the projector and ran it. “Finding the image in three, two, one, Bingo! Lookie lookie!”

Siddew gasped. “That’s Snake.”

Wildgrass leaned in. There was no way.

Taxes gasped. “The Diamond Donors. They’re behind this?”

“Couldn’t be,” Siddew said. “And what about the twins?”

Taxes turned to Siddew. “How? How are they funding this? What’s their plan?”

Shock colored everyone’s faces, except their captain who immediately got on the phone to the higher-ups. Wildgrass stared at the criminals on the screen…the Diamond Donors. Those fuckers had upgraded. If they weren’t already enemy number one, they were now.

Orders were issued for the team to move to the Anix Locale, where the kidnapping took place. They already had SOs on the scene. Since it was close, they would be traveling by train, but that meant Wildgrass only had a few hours to pack. After a quick visit to his apartment, he was back at the base with the rest of his team.

He couldn’t believe goth boy was right. That know it all was probably bragging about it at this very moment.

Wildgrass thought as he passed the vending machine room on his way to the office. The light was on, and he popped his head in only to find that the room was empty.

“Oh, good. You’re locking up,” a voice said from behind him.

Wildgrass turned to find Taxes pointing to the door. “Locking up?”

“The door dumbass, everyone is in the parking deck. I came up here to check the door because Nickels wasn’t sure if she locked up yet,” Taxes said as he folded his arms.

“O-oh yeah, right. I knew that.” Wildgrass lied, but it looked like goth boy wasn’t taking the bait. Taxes walked past him, reached for the handle, and pulled the door shut. “I know how to close a door.”

“You sure? Because you’re standing there like we don’t have shit fuck to do,” Taxes said.

“Okay sassy pants, I get it. You want to be the one who looks good all the time.”

Taxes laughed. “It’s a simple task. Lock the door, come back downstairs. What’s hard about that?”

Wildgrass could feel something bubbling up inside of him, capturing his tongue. He struggled with a response as Taxes shook his head and headed for the elevator. What was with him today? He could barely get out a comeback that could wipe that stupid grin off that goth boy’s face.

The pair entered the elevator, and Taxes punched the garage level button. The doors closed, and the hum of the elevator filled the air.

Come on, Wildgrass. Don’t let this brat best you. And then his mind jumped to the idea of what it would feel like to have Taxes ride his cock. Okay, Wildgrass, too horny. He’s your coworker. Have some class.

The elevator doors opened somewhere outside of his train of thought as the sound of his name filtered in. “Hello, Wildgrass? You coming?” Taxes said as Wildgrass bounced back into the real world. A grin was forming at the edge of his soft brown lips. The smirk found its way to Taxes’ dark brown eyes and the look practically screamed ‘could this guy look any dumber?’

“Why are you waiting for me? Something wrong with your legs?” Wildgrass retorted.

“No, but I think there’s something wrong with yours since you’ve been standing there looking foolish for ten seconds.”

Wildgrass waved him off as he finally walked out of the elevator toward their hover car. Taxes walked in front of him, a smirk likely still plastered on his face, but all Wildgrass could focus on was his plump butt.

***

The train zoomed them into town in no time. Nickels liked the fast trains; they made everything that went by look like a blur. The Anix locale wasn’t very big, but it had humongous buildings. They left the train station and headed to their hover car. Nickels drove them to the briefing site in a hurry. They couldn’t waste time on this mission. The first seventy-two hours after a kidnapping were vital. They arrived at the big convention center, where the conference was, and Nickels gasped as she stopped to peek into the main hall.

“Nickels,” Siddew called.

“Coming!” Nickels skipped into high gear.

She raced to catch up with her friends three doors down from the vending machine that was calling her name. She walked in and spotted her captain shaking hands with other captains and SO types. They welcomed them to a standing briefing. Her team stood at the door, drawing a lot of attention from the SOs and captains in the room. Nickels scanned every face. Nope, she thought to herself, no one here she knew. Some folks made a b-line for her captain, while others approached Wildgrass. Nickels stuck next to Siddew when a shadow popped up in the corner of her eye. Nickels rolled on the balls of her heel only to come face to face with a skeptical look.

“Didn’t know they had cadets in recovery,” the bald man said as a smirk grew on the corners of his lips.

“I’m not a cadet,” Nickels said with her hands on her hips. This earned a raised eyebrow from the guy.

“Right. Excuse me. I need to speak with the person in charge,” the bald guy walked right past Nickels, only acknowledging Siddew with a respectful nod.

Nickels huffed. She wasn’t the tallest or the strongest, but she’d earned her spot all the same. Clearly, this guy had pickles for eyes because she was wearing her recovery team uniform.

Copper’s voice boomed above the rest as he shared a brief laugh with his colleagues. The bald guy was standing next to him. Nickels folded her arms and made a face when a voice crept into her mind. Maybe she didn’t look like everyone else, maybe she wasn’t the greatest fighter, but she was still strong, right?

A large body bumped into her, almost toppling her over. “Oof. Sorry, Nickels,” Siddew caught her. “Sometimes I don’t know where my feet are going.”

“It’s okay, Si,” Nickels said as she rotated her shoulder to shake it off. “I’m big and tough. I can handle it.”

Siddew returned her remark with a big smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Siddew patted Nickels on the back with powerful swipes that thudded against her small frame. Nickels forced a smile to ignore the pain when Copper called everyone over. The bald guy from earlier nodded to their captain before addressing the group.

“Thank you all for joining us on such short notice. My name is SO-903 Captain Tym Harry, and I’ll be your person of contact for this coordinated mission,” Captain Harry said. “R&D has turned everything over to us, along with Recovery support from Captain Copper and his team, Recovery Team 53.”

Attention turned to Copper and Wildgrass before returning to Baldie. “As the briefing states, Dr. Domii Soloane, co-head of CuCore Weapons and Design, was kidnapped at twenty-one thirty-five hundred hours last night, along with her experimental tech. While the tech is valuable on the dark markets, we believe that both the doctor and the load were targets. And I don’t have to tell you what a sharp mind like hers could do if placed in the wrong hands.”

Baldie turned it back over to Copper, who closed the meeting, and then the team moved to their temporary base camp at a giant hotel across the street. In their large suite, computers and weapons were already unpacked, set up, and ready to go. Copper told everyone to dive into the files while he stepped out for another meeting despite Wildgrass’ protest.

“Oh, come on! Paperwork already?” Wildgrass said to a closed door.

“We have to brush up on the facts first,” Taxes said. “New information is flooding in. Not to mention the possible connection to the Bukori twins.”

“Possible, not factual,” Wildgrass retorted, and Taxes rolled his eyes.

Siddew shoulders bounced as she laughed before she turned to Nickels. “Wonder what’s new.”

“New!” Nickels chimed and put her fingers to work, pulling up photos, witness reports, and videos. She quickly sorted everything from newest to oldest and gathered up a slew of grainy surveillance pictures. “Oooo, looky.”

“Got something?” Siddew leaned in.

Though the picture was in color, it was too grainy to make out a face. Nickels took this as a personal challenge and pulled the image into a photo correction software. She hit the keyboard, editing this, brightening that, until the image cleared into something she could work with. Once the image was cleaned up, Nickels bounced in her seat as she ran a photo identification on the person. The picture was grabbed from one of the cameras that was about five blocks from the crime scene. The guy was still wearing his kidnapper get-up, and he just so happened to take off his mask right in front of one of the speed cameras.

A red notification popped up on the taskbar. Nickels’ eyes went big. “Looks like we have a match.” Everyone scooted over to Nickels’ screen as Siddew leaned in to read the information.

“Good work, Nickels,” Siddew said. “Let’s see. That’s a young guy, DJ Alen, wanted for one, two, three petty theft charges. Wonder what a small fish like this is doing running with the big dogs?”

“Big dogs!” Nickels chirped.

Wildgrass shook his head. “Where are they finding these people? There must be some job board on the dark market called dumbasses for hire.”

Taxes laughed. “He is a small timer. Maybe the Diamond Donors aren’t picky.”

“Picky!” Nickels added.

“Let’s add him to a person of interest list and get that in-depth background running,” Siddew said.

***

Taxes sat in their temporary base at the Lelend Grand Hotel across the street from the convention center. The Diamond Donors may be suspect number one, but they didn’t move like a world-class gang. Nickels easily broke the case wide open with her photomanipulation skills. She was good at using the computer like that; it must have been one of her pilot skills because she had the eyes of a hawk. This DJ guy was sloppy. He’d been caught on a dozen surveillance cameras around the area.

While Taxes was still having a hard time convincing Copper that the Bukori Twins were involved, he didn’t give up looking for them. Everyone else in the room worked on finding the rest of the Diamond Donors. As of now, there was evidence that Snake was involved, but the gang wasn’t as sloppy when it came to using old locations as bases. The higher-ups in the gang hadn’t been seen at all, just the lower grunts who left breadcrumbs that led to nowhere.

“Any eyes on Shauni?” Siddew asked the room. She was another high-ranking member of the Diamond Donors.

“Not yet,” Taxes replied.

“Man, when did these assholes get all high-tech,” Wildgrass complained, not even paying attention to Copper who walked into the room.

“Because when you let children run amuck, they grow up to be shitty adults.” Copper’s gaze ended on Wildgrass before he turned to the group. “It doesn’t matter how big they think they are. They have our full attention now, and if they want the heat, we’ll bring the hammer down.”

Taxes nodded as more updates popped up on his computer. Captain Harry was pushing reports from eyewitnesses collected by the local police. There was so much to sift through, it made him feel like he was running out of time. After all, Dr. Soloane had been missing for nearly twenty-four hours. Taxes took sips of his coffee as he toiled away in the office. An hour passed before a notification popped up on his taskbar. It was from the photo identification software. Taxes blinked several times before clicking on the icon. The software picked up a guy that was flagged because he was seen next to DJ. The guy was two locales from here, in the Chaz Locale.

“Guys, I got a hit,” Taxes said. Siddew was the first to roll over to him, with the others not far behind. “Picque picked up a grunt. He’s been seen with DJ.”

“Location?” Copper said.

“Chaz Locale,” Taxes said.

Siddew stood. “I’ve been there. They’ve got a lot of casinos and brothels.”

“Shady place?” Taxes inquired.

Siddew shrugged. “Not really. More of a place to lose your money. The brothels are nice, though.”

Wildgrass laughed. “And what do you know about brothels, Siddew?”

Siddew smirked. “What can I say? I like the company of pretty women.”

Copper grunted. “Forward this information to Captain Harry. We’re moving out.”

DJ was a lot more reckless than they thought. Tracking him down was as easy as spotting a black rifle in an empty white room. The guy used his personal card and appeared on every camera in the casinos. Taxes didn’t gamble much, but according to Siddew, the casinos in Chaz weren’t the truly seedy types who used more unlawful means to keep their guests in line.

Nickels flew them to the locale in under thirty minutes. The plan was to capture this guy and squeeze the information from him. After all, he had been present for the kidnapping. Taxes just hoped that their target wouldn’t be snuffed out again.

Captain Harry gained them access to the live casino feeds. DJ had been spotted at the Luck Brown Gambling House an hour ago. Taxes hoped he stuck around. Copper made sure the local SOs had a base for them when they arrived. Rangers from the tech department were still moving monitors into their room when they arrived.

“Police are on the ground looking for this guy,” Copper told them. “If he’s running in a crew, he’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“No one can be that dumb,” Wildgrass said.

“Well, they let you in,” Taxes said. “So, I think anything can be possible.”

“Hey,” Wildgrass grumbled.

“The monitors are up,” Copper said. “Get to work finding this guy. We can’t let him slip away.”

Taxes agreed. He could feel the heat coming off the emails from the case. Research and Development were pulling their hair out, putting the pressure on the SOs to close this.

Nickels worked Picque like a pro. Maybe this was a game for her or something, but after four hours of intense searching, they got a hit. DJ and five others had been spotted walking out of a convenience store. Copper ordered Taxes and Wildgrass to scout the area in a small hover car with black-out windows. It would be too obvious for Wildgrass to be seen out in the open, so it was up to Taxes to get close and listen in. Wildgrass would be there for the extra muscle.

It was nearing midnight, but the streets were filled with people. DJ hadn’t moved very far. Taxes watched the last of his crew walk into a crowded bar a block from the convenience store. Taxes slipped in a few minutes after him. He didn’t need to wear much of a disguise. All the patrons looked around his age and were dressed casually. The bar wasn’t very big; a few pool tables hugged the walls towards his left, while booths and standing tables clustered to his right. It smelled of grilled fish and beer, and large hover screens floated around the room with the latest race stats and betting slots for all the local games. Men flirted with horny, drunken smiles as Taxes walked by. Not rudely, but it forced him to crane his neck around the wobbly suiters.

“You spot him?” Wildgrass asked over their headset.

“Not yet,” Taxes said just loud enough for his microphone, shaped like a decorative pin, to pick up.

Taxes then spotted DJ and his crew in the back towards the pool tables. “Gotcha.” The group looked at ease—a little too at ease for being involved in the things they were involved in. A waitress passed Taxes with a circular tray filled with frothy beers. DJ and his friends took their beers and toasted as Taxes slipped behind one of the slot machines next to the group and turned up his mic.

“Gah! Finally, some good stuff,” DJ said. “I’ve been working hard as shit, and I need a fucking break.”

“Ain’t that the truth man,” one of the others said. “No one can match your lock picking skills.”

“Damn right! But fuck these casinos. I dropped 5k at Luck Brown and ain’t won shit. Damn scammers,” DJ said after taking a few generous sips from his beer.

“That’s okay. We still got plenty of cash,” another person chimed in.

“Ain’t that right,” DJ said. “And I know just where to spend it. You boys up for a train at Mr. Fine’s?”

The men all nodded as hungry grins grew on their faces. Taxes played the slot machine as he continued to listen. He put in five tones, not caring if he lost it or not. The conversation didn’t mention anything about the kidnapping or the Diamond Donors. Was DJ just another hired hand like Oz? This was starting to look too similar, as both people seemed to treat this like a game.

The crew stayed for another hour and a half. Copper had SOs on standby to catch them, but they waited to see if the guy dropped any more information. When DJ and his crew closed their tab and headed out of the bar, Taxes wasn’t far behind them. He joined Wildgrass back at the car.

“Well, that was boring,” Wildgrass said.

“Yeah, but we have him,” Taxes said. “Copper, should we arrest him now?”

“Let’s see where he leads us.”

“Roger,” Taxes said. “He said he was heading to a place called Mr. Fine? Is that a club or something?”

“According to Siddew, it’s a brothel. She looked it up.”

“I see,” Taxes said.

“What? You nervous?” Wildgrass snickered.

Taxes rolled his eyes. “I’m not a fifteen-year-old virgin, Wildgrass.”

“I-I know,” Wildgrass said.

Copper had already given the brothel a heads up, and they were told to allow the group in as normal. Wildgrass and Taxes arrived shortly after the group checked in, and despite Wildgrass’ little comments about Taxes being nervous, it was Wildgrass who was looking around, dodging stares. Of course, he would draw a lot of attention with his bright green hair, but it didn’t matter much. DJ was in a room with no windows, in case a sneaky assassin lurked nearby. Not to mention Copper had the entire building surrounded.

The host greeted them at the door. It was a young guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties. The place was clean enough and smelled of rose and cherry. The host knew the plan and ushered the duo to the room.

“He’s with one of our workers,” the host said. “I trust you won’t go in and shoot up the place.”

“Of course not,” Taxes said.

The host smiled as they knocked on the door. “Housekeeping.”

“Come back later!” DJ shouted as the door opened.

Wildgrass slipped in and made a big show of summoning bright green sparks of electricity from his hands. Taxes followed behind him, his cucore blaster drawn, as he swiped over the six men in the room. DJ shrieked as he stepped away from the half-naked guy laying on the bed, who turned and winked at Wildgrass. Wildgrass, of course, returned his gaze with a grin. Taxes rolled his eyes. Did he ever have an off button when it came to his cock?

Taxes turned to the sex worker. “It’s safe to go.” Once he’d dashed away, he turned his attention back to the others. “Don’t do anything stupid. We have the place surrounded.”

DJ squirmed in his metal chair under the hot gaze of Copper and Siddew. There was no kindness or comfort in this holding cell at the locale’s biggest police department. Copper booked the entire crew and let Captain Harry have the rest of them. DJ was for Copper to chew on.

Taxes, Wildgrass, and Nickels stood in another room and watched the video feed. The guy wasn’t saying much, but he was sweating in his boots. DJ flinched when Copper slammed his hands on the table and shied away as he scratched his short black messy hair.

“We know you’ve been running with the Diamond Donors,” Copper barked. “And we know the Diamond Donors are responsible for the kidnapping of Dr. Soloane. You know what kind of weight a crime like that carries? Exile.”

DJ’s mouth dipped into a frown, but he didn’t say a word, so Siddew pulled out a chair in front of him.

“We caught you, kid. We’ve got video of you walking away from the crime scene,” Siddew said. “You’re going to jail, but if you talk, it could mean the difference between a few years in a cell in Tel-sa or permanent exile to Fandour.”

“F-Fandour?” DJ shrieked.

“You like deserts, kid?” Copper leaned in. “’Cause you don’t seem like the surviving type. I’ll break it down for you. Out there on Fandour, if the meteorites don’t kill ya, the slavers will. You think you’ve got the balls to survive that?”

“Wait, wait, wait. Nobody said nothing about slavers! You can’t send me there! That’s cruel.”

Siddew shrugged. “That’s exile. But maybe you can choose to negotiate with the kind folks on Labadora or take a hike to Ceapeaya. Doesn’t much matter to the higher ups. If you don’t talk, you can’t stay here.”

Taxes studied DJ’s face. The kid was clearly scared. He was big talk in the bar, bragging about how he could take on anyone and how he was such a baller. He was low ranked; his rap sheet was small. He could easily get sentenced to ten years and be out in six on good behavior. He was only twenty-four; he could still have a good life. Was he really that loyal to the gang?

Taxes’ mind shifted to Oz. He was just the hired help, and he was eager to talk and look what happened to him. No, whatever the Diamond Donors had gotten involved in was big, and talking would likely cost DJ his life.

Copper and Siddew took a break and joined the crew in a small briefing room provided by the department. It seemed like Captain Harry’s team wasn’t having much luck either. From the notes, it appeared that half of the crew they’d arrested were new, just small timers. Most swore up and down they didn’t even know about the kidnapping.

“The kid’s a coward for sure,” Siddew said, “but he’s a stubborn coward.”

Wildgrass scoffed. “Can’t we just turn off the camera and let me in there with him?”

“That’s unethical Wildgrass,” Taxes said.

“He was talking so much shit earlier,” Siddew said. “Thought he’d be able to square up, but if we hadn’t cornered him, he’d likely run home to his mommy with his pants down.”

Copper rubbed the stubble on his chin. The creases of his forehead pulled his brow into angry contemplation. “Wait. Maybe he should run.”

“You got a screw loose?” Wildgrass said.

“Can it, Inspread!” Copper snapped. “The Diamond Donors go through a lot of trouble to get their own back. Maybe this little squealer will run back to the pin.”

“What are you getting at?” Siddew said.

“Cut him lose,” Copper said. “Make it look believable, and see where the dove flies. We don’t have time to waste chatting, and it’s clear we aren’t going to get anything from him.”

“That’s risky,” Taxes said.

“Risky!” Nickels said. “But I agree with Tax-Tax.”

“Don’t worry,” Copper said. “We’ve got plenty of tracking devices.”

***

Morning came without much sleep, but Wildgrass didn’t care. He looked up when Captain Harry walked into their latest pop-up base. The way Copper ordered people to create bases for them at these breakneck speeds was something to admire about the man. Copper greeted Harry, and the duo walked to the back table, where four large surveillance screens watched the target.

“You sure about this?” Harry asked skeptically.

“We don’t have many leads, and the higher-ups want this squashed. If the rat leads us to the nest, we’ll take care of the rest.”

Harry nodded as the others walked over. For all this DJ kid knew, he was given a one-way ticket to one of the worst prisons on Rean. Not that Rean had torture chambers or anything like that, but it wasn’t a vacation resort either. The police forced him to trade out his normal clothes for prison rags, and that’s where the trackers were hidden; one was sewn behind his nametag, another was sewn into the seam of his left pantleg, and the final one was embedded in his right shoe. There were also dozens of SOs on standby, ready to give chase in case things didn’t pan out the way they wanted. DJ was either going to lead them to gold or wind up back at square one in lock up.

“Roger,” Copper said into his headset, “the transport is leaving now.”

Taxes and Siddew minded the cameras, checking to make sure everything was in good working order.

“I’m surprised they don’t issue you tech support for your missions,” Harry said.

“Don’t need it,” Copper said. “We can handle anything after set-up is complete. Recovery, like Special Ops, has to be completely mobile and versatile.”

Harry stepped out of the way as Nickels grabbed the last seat. “That makes sense. You have to have someone to pick up the desk work.”

He looked towards Nickels, who tossed him a dirty look. If this was his way of flirting, he was doing a crappy job, Wildgrass thought as he sized the guy up. He was clearly packing heat in the front, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Nickels like that. She was more into food than cock.

The prison transport finished loading all the prisoners up. The only real suspect in this scenario was DJ; the other three prisoners were undercover SOs. Even the police transporting the group were SOs. Nobody wanted a repeat of the other prison break, where officers were killed. The plan was easy, stage a fight, then allow DJ to escape. The mission was a go as the doors to the police garage opened. Everyone in the office watched the screens closely as Siddew turned up the audio in the holding area in the back of the transport truck.

“This fucking sucks,” said undercover agent one.

“Tell me about it!” undercover agent two said. “I accidentally nailed a bitch during a robbery! I only took a couple of TVs. It wasn’t supposed to go that way.”

“TVs?” DJ scoffed. “I’m in bigger shit.”

“Yeah? Like what string bean?” undercover agent three said.

DJ turned away with a laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

DJ talked big shit for a guy who looked like he was going to crap himself only hours before, but the plan was running smoothly. The transport took back roads and traveled east toward the border of Ans-on. The transport reached its first checkpoint after an uneventful three hours and stopped for refueling. After the undercover police officers fueled up, they walked to the back of the van to check on the suspects, as captured by the rear cameras on the van, when suddenly undercover agent two started wailing in pain. The undercover police officers made a show of checking the video feed in the back of the van on their wristbands while DJ and the others looked on skeptically.

“Whatever you’re trying to pull, it’s not going to work,” said one of the undercover police officers over the intercom in the back of the van.

Undercover agent two gasped and fell out of their seat. “I-I’m not faking.”

The undercover police officer dismissed it with a hand wave until undercover agent two started vomiting blood.

“Shit, dude!” DJ gasped as the others started to panic as well.

The undercover police radioed for backup loud enough for DJ to hear and rushed to open the back door with their blaster out. As soon as they opened the door, the same undercover agent who had vomited fake blood lunged at the first police officer, knocking the gun from their hand.

“Fuck you! I’m not going to jail over some dumb bitch who died protecting TVs!” undercover agent two yelled.

DJ gasped again, but the other two agents didn’t waste time going after the other officer, who tripped onto their back. A fight broke out, and the officers were outnumbered. DJ looked at the weapon on the ground, which was nothing more than a souped-up taser. He grabbed it and jumped out of the van. Wildgrass had to give the kid credit for helping kick the shit out of the cops before taking off. Even if the only reason he wasn’t dead right now was because it was staged. Undercover agent three tugged at DJ’s ridesuit and pointed to the flashing sirens. Then the duo took off, and the chase was on.

“Wow!” Harry said. “Can’t believe that actually worked.”

Taxes turned from his screen and smiled. “To be fair, this wasn’t a very smart criminal, but let’s just hope he leads us to where we want.”

Wildgrass hoped the same. Normally they wouldn’t do something this risky, but the Diamond Donors hired the kid presumably because of his lockpicking skills. So, if he was good enough to help with the kidnapping, he must have had some kind of value to them.

True to Copper’s gut, the kid ran all the way home with a few annoying stops on the way. Undercover agent three made sure to secure him a hover car before splitting ways. They were worried about him ditching the trackers, but he only threw away the ridesuit and not the shoes. The kid drove two hours before ditching the hover car, then walked a little before he was picked up by a hovercar with tinted windows.

They were grateful that whoever hired him didn’t kill him right away, but the tracker on the shoe didn’t have a microphone in it, like the one in his nametag, so they were in the dark about what was really going on. This trip took the unit following them via drone out of the nation-state of Ans-on and into the neighboring nation-state of Huma-ko, traveling west to the Berch locale.

A mid-sized metropolis, the Berch locale was hardly a kittens and rainbows vacation destination. It was mostly filled with warehouses and fulfillment centers. So, imagine everyone’s surprise when the car arrived at a large warehouse with a space-class ship parked in the back. Everyone gasped when the drone took aerial footage of it from a distance.

“Check out that thing,” Siddew said at her desk.

“That’s an MB-c3 class!” Nickels chimed in.

“Seems kind of odd to park a ship out there,” Taxes said, but Nickels shook her head vigorously.

“Nope, nope, nope, not in Berch. Many ships park there. It’s very common to see the space ones, very much,” Nickels said.

Harry stared with wide eyes. “That means they’re planning to leave the planet.”

“Or someone from another planet has landed here,” Taxes said with a cold look in his eyes. “Captain Copper, I think we need to re-visit the idea that the Bukori Twins are here.”

“Not this again,” Wildgrass said.

“Can it, Inspread!” Copper barked. “It’s farfetched, but Spool has a point.”

“I agree,” Siddew said. “I’ve been following up on Taxes’ research. The guns and expertise required to pull something like this off… Sounds like the twins.”

“Bukori?” Harry said. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”

“Whatever the case may be, we won’t underestimate them this time,” Copper said. “Captain Harry, ready your units and be prepared to execute the plan in twenty-four hours.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said before turning and getting on his headset to make calls.

Wildgrass didn’t care who the gang hired, he could take them, but he was sure Taxes was feeling pretty smug right now.

Copper dished out the orders. Their crew would be split into two teams. Nickels and Siddew would head up one team, while Wildgrass and Taxes would take charge of the other. Wildgrass stretched his arms and rotated his neck. Finally, they were getting to the good part.

***

By the time the sun set, Copper had everything in place for their mission the following day. All the intel coming in was making Taxes’ head spin, but it confirmed that this warehouse belonged to the Diamond Donors. The drones picked up pictures of Shauni and Specz walking around the outside, which double-confirmed everything.

If Taxes were being honest with himself, he was a little nervous about the prospect of going up against the Bukori twins, if they were here. Their rap sheet was brutal, with dozens of assassinations and high-stakes robberies throughout the nation-state of Tel-sa. The twins rarely failed a mission. So, Taxes hoped that his hunch was wrong and that they were dealing with copycats.

His team weren’t staying in the Berch locale for the night but forty minutes away in a base town the rangers used to train cadets. It was good cover. They didn’t want their targets to know they were closing in.

To calm everyone’s nerves, they all went out to a local ranger bar. Taxes knew he shouldn’t get drunk, but he could really use a beer. Nickels led the way and didn’t waste time ordering the table a plate of loaded bacon cheese fries. Siddew paid for the first round of drinks, cooling the mood instantly.

“Man, all this traveling can suck it,” Wildgrass said as he finished his beer. “Copper had us jumping from basecamp to basecamp like animals; the guy moves like a damn squirrel.”

“No arguments there,” Siddew said as she ordered them another round of drinks. “This is the last round.”

“Last?” Nickels pouted.

“For drinks,” Siddew chuckled. Nickels nodded, not caring about alcohol as usual.

“That’s fair. I think we should go easy,” Taxes said. “But I could use a triple.”

“A triple?” Siddew raised an eyebrow. “Going bold tonight.”

Wildgrass stuffed his mouth full of fries. “Nah, he’s just trying to show off. I see you eyeing those cadets over there.” Wildgrass playfully shoved Taxes’ arm.

“Hey, I’m not afraid to admit when I need a glass of liquid courage,” Taxes said, not caring that the beer was already loosening him up. He wasn’t one to get terrible hangovers. The waitress returned with their beers and sat them on the table. “I’ll have a rolling triple.”

“Of course,” the woman said.

“Make that two,” Wildgrass said.

Taxes shot him a look as the waitress nodded before leaving. “You are such a shadow.”

Wildgrass scoffed. “Anything you can do, I can do better.”

“Child,” Taxes countered.

“Brat,” Wildgrass said as he got in Taxes’ space, breathing his hot breath into his face.

Taxes wanted to push him away, but Wildgrass had used Taxes’ thigh to keep his balance, and it was conjuring up an unwanted reaction in the lower region of Taxes’ body.

“Get a room you two,” Siddew laughed.

“W-what!” Wildgrass gasped. Shock riddled his face, but Taxes only laughed.

Their triple shots arrived, and the team toasted.

“Let’s end this.” Siddew raised her beer.

“End this!” Nickels chimed in, raising her fry.

Taxes and Wildgrass raised their shots and threw them back. It burned so good, clearing Taxes’ mind. He ordered one more before calling it a night, but he didn’t feel like going back to the hotel just yet. Siddew and Nickels retired for the night, leaving Wildgrass and Taxes at the bar. Wildgrass nodded towards the pool tables, and Taxes agreed. If Wildgrass thought his drunken state was going to make this an easy win, he was wrong. However, five minutes into the game, it was clear they were both too drunk to play.

“Come on.” Wildgrass waved his hand. “You’re supposed to hit that one.”

“What the fuck does it matter?” Taxes slurred. “The balls all have to go into the holes; who cares which ball it is?”

Wildgrass slapped his hand to his face as the sounds of balls clacking on other tables echoed around them.

“Let me show you.” Wildgrass moved behind him, pressing his warm body onto his.

Taxes jumped, but was surprised how gently Wildgrass eased into helping him. Taxes could feel Wildgrass’ firm muscles on his back; he knew Wildgrass was ripped, but boy did his body feel good on his. Taxes allowed himself to be taught and took to making sure as much of his body found its way to Wildgrass’. Before he knew it, he somehow found himself facing Wildgrass directly. Wildgrass stood over him, their bodies pressed together, with his legs in between Taxes’. Those electric green eyes were staring hungrily at him, like stars burning in the sky. The heat coming off Wildgrass’ body drew Taxes to his lips. They moved in but stopped when they heard someone shouting behind them.

“Y’all finished?” a patron asked.

“The table’s yours,” Wildgrass said as he took Taxes’ hand.

Wildgrass closed out their tab, apparently not caring who ordered what. They found an inn not far from the bar and burst through the door to their shared room with their lips fighting for dominance. They found the bed, and soon, clothes were rolling off. The cool night air felt good on Taxes’ hot back; his body was dangerously close, but his mind was in chaos.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Taxes tore himself away.

“What?” Wildgrass asked from underneath him.

“W-we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?” Wildgrass said between heavy breaths.

“We’re teammates.”

“Like you’ve never fucked a teammate before,” Wildgrass said. He went in for another kiss, but Taxes stopped him.

“You’re not a normal teammate.”

Wildgrass rolled his eyes. “I’m famous, I get it, but who cares? I don’t.”

“I don’t mean it that way.” Taxes’ voice lowered. “I-I don’t know if I see you as just that anymore.”

Taxes met Wildgrass’ green eyes. There was confusion at first, but then Wildgrass’ eyes got bigger.

“I…I don’t want to be a cheap fuck.”

Wildgrass’ lips turned up into a soft smile. He reached up and ran his fingers through Taxes’ long, straightened hair. “Y-you’re not. I like you, Taxes.”

Taxes sucked in his breath. He wasn’t expecting that, so all he could do was return Wildgrass’ confession with a smile. Taxes fell into Wildgrass’ arms, and the pair peeled away the rest of their clothes as their bodies tangled together under the moonlight.

An alarm woke Taxes from his sleep. He groaned, but it wasn’t their captain, just the meeting time alarm. He turned around, expecting to see Wildgrass next to him, but he was gone. Taxes looked around and noticed the light on in the bathroom. Taxes exhaled.

Their night together was unexpected indeed but amazing all the same. He was still so unsure of his feelings and couldn’t believe all that stuff he said last night, but at least Wildgrass felt the same.

The bathroom door opened, and Wildgrass walked out fully dressed, a grin on his face.

“Finally, you’re up,” Wildgrass said. Taxes crawled out of bed, grabbing his clothes. “Never thought I’d be adding you to my body count.”

Taxes froze and returned Wildgrass’ comment with an icy glare.

“Don’t be mad. You put up a good fight, but I always get what I want in the end.” Wildgrass moved to close the gap between them.

Rage sparked inside of Taxes’ gut as Wildgrass reached out. Taxes dodged and punched him in the gut; Wildgrass cried out. Was that all this was? After everything they’d said? What a fucking asshole.

Taxes saw red. He wished he could beat Wildgrass bloody into the carpet, but they had a mission to complete, so Taxes put on his clothes and barreled out of the room. How could he have been so stupid? Taxes rushed to his own hotel room and hopped into the shower. Wildgrass was a jackass, but Taxes never thought he would stoop this low.

Taxes was the last one to enter the meeting room that morning, but he made it just in time to dodge Copper’s fury. He didn’t spare a glance at Wildgrass and stood in silence as Copper started the briefing.

“Alright,” Copper said. “Let’s make this quick. The map of the warehouse has been sent to your wristbands. SOs led by Captain Harry will secure the ship. You are the payload; your assigned SO units will get you in. Oven, Graves—your job is to find and rescue Dr. Soloane. Inspread, Spool—your job is to find and secure the weapons. Your orders take priority but stay flexible. They don’t know we’re coming, and we don’t want a repeat of our last run-in with them. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” everyone said in unison.

Taxes walked ahead of Wildgrass, ignoring his little comments and small talk. He was still furious, but the mission came first.

The pair climbed into their transport and didn’t utter a word. Once on site, Taxes jumped out first and joined his unit. He had to give it to Captain Harry; the guy knew how to put together a team. Intel on everything’s exact location was limited, but according to the drones, the place was humming with activity.

The plan was simple. Go in hot, close off all exits, and find the targets. It was risky, but they figured if the gang went through all that trouble to kidnap Dr. Soloane, they wouldn’t kill her right away.

The units gathered at the west side of the warehouse. They hid behind large shipping containers. Video surveillance showed workers walking in and out of the warehouse from doors next to a large green bay that was closed. It wasn’t a bad entry point. Through the chaos, their teams should be able to rush the place and get to work. Taxes took a deep breath and readied himself, but then he felt a hand on his arm.

“Hey,” Wildgrass said. “I’m—”

“Save it,” Taxes hissed through closed teeth. He couldn’t even look at Wildgrass in fear he would lose it and clock him in the face.

The unit was ready, and Taxes took his position in the middle. Captain Harry shouted over the headset, doing the final check. Everything was ready. Wildgrass stepped beside him. Taxes could sense him but didn’t look his way.

“On my count,” Captain Harry said over his headset. “Charge in three…two…one!”

The two units rushed the west and east sides of the warehouse. Chaos broke out around the loading areas as gang members rushed for cover. Taxes’ unit made it to the bay doors and readied for a breach. The SOs did their thing as Taxes and Wildgrass hid in the middle. He heard the sound of the bay doors come crashing down. They were in, but the unit was pushed backward.

“Abort! Abort!” was all Taxes heard in his headset right before the entire loading area exploded.

***

Pain shot up Nickels’ back, the same kind of pain she always got if she accidentally fell asleep on the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut as the sounds of voices rose over the ringing in her ears. She should never have fallen asleep on the floor…but wait. She didn’t fall asleep. She was at work only a few minutes ago. She was on a mission.

Her eyes shot open, and the first thing she saw was a dark gray ceiling. Except it wasn’t a ceiling. She looked around and saw metal bars. She leaned up. She wasn’t where she had been a moment ago. She was in a cage.

On high alert, Nickels shot up but noticed right away that the cage was only big enough for her to sit in. She checked her ears for her headset, but it was gone, and so were her weapons and wristband. The pain in her back and sides increased the more she wiggled around, but she could manage. She peered out of the cage and saw the legs of two rectangular desks and bright monitors that showed surveillance feeds on top of them. Papers and boxes littered the floor like someone was in a hurry to get going, but the room itself wasn’t very big. To her left and right were open doors, and next to them were more boxes and a pair of rolling chairs. She heard a laugh and jerked her head to her right.

“Fucking idiots,” a skinny man said.

Nickels inched closer to the right and gasped. It was Eric Diamond, and he was talking to his younger brother, Jack Diamond.

“Yeah, they played right into our hands,” Jack, a heavier-set man, said.

Eric patted his brother on his back. “I mean, how dumb do they think we are? Guess the twins were right, but that was a nice trick using DJ to smoke us out.”

Jack sneered. “Guess we can’t kill him now since he didn’t snitch, but it was clever of ’em to put a bleeder in his shoe. We’re almost done with the move now anyway.”

Jack and Eric walked over to Nickels’ cage and kicked it. Nickels yelped and scooted back.

“Look here, Eric,” Jack said, “we even caught ourselves a pretty one. Promise me you’ll let me have first dibs?”

Eric waved him off. “You’re so greedy.”

Jack laughed a big hardy laugh. “Don’t worry. I won’t run a train on her.” He leaned down close to Nickels. “Hope they train you rangers for endurance ‘cause Daddy can last.”

“Yuck!” Nickels stuck out her tongue.

Jack laughed as he stood and kicked the cage again, making Nickels jump. The two brothers walked out of the room. She was in trouble now, but what did they mean when they said move? She needed to find a way out and contact her team. Nickels pressed her hands against the doors, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Come on! Come on, door! Move!” Nickels pushed, but she only lost her footing and slipped to the bottom of the cage. “Fuck. Fuckity fuck.”

Nickels slumped. How could she have allowed this to happen? She was captured so easily, and who knew what was happening to her team? Maybe she wasn’t as versatile as her other teammates.

“No, Nickels. Don’t give up, okay?” Nickels said to herself.

Nickels peered around the room. Her eyes shifted to one of the security feeds. It was hard to see, but she saw someone running. No, two people running. The pair stopped and started swinging on each other. Nickels gasped. She recognized that fighting style right away; that was Siddew, and it looked like she was fighting another woman. Nickels pressed her face to the bars to get a better look.

“Oh, no,” Nickels said.

Siddew was fighting Shauni, one of the Diamond Donors higher ups, and she was all alone. The video feed flickered and flashed bits and pieces of Siddew taking hit after hit. Then the video went out.

“Siddew!” Nickels cried out.

Her teammate was in trouble, and there was little Nickels could do. In frustration, she kicked the cage door again and again and again. She didn’t care if the door was sealed shut; she couldn’t sit by and let her team fight alone.

A person ran into the room right past her, through the door the Diamond Brothers went into. Nickels stopped and looked out of her cage at the person who looked more like a child. The person returned shortly after with a large brown box that was nearly as big as their body. A child? What was a child doing here? The kid ran past her again.

“Hey!” Nickels called out, stopping the kid in their tracks.

“Ah? Um? Are you talking to me?” Their voice was high pitched like a kid; they couldn’t’ve been over three or four feet. They put down their box and shuffled over in their green coveralls.

Nickels noticed right away that they weren’t Reanian with their light blue sclera and all black pupils. “Hey. What’s your name, kid?”

“M-my my name? My name’s Avery,” they said.

“And you’re working for them?” Nickels tilted her head towards the door the Diamond Brothers walked in. Avery lowered their eyes.

“I-I got in a little trouble stealing,” Avery said. “Boss says I gotta work it off for, um…” Avery counted on their fingers all the way up to five before moving to their other hand. “Gee, I don’t know.”

Nickels smiled. “I can help you get out of here if you let me out.”

“L-let you out?” Avery’s face went spooked. “I-I—”

“Please. My friends are in danger,” Nickels pleaded.

“I…”

“Avery, you little punk!” Eric shouted from the other room. “Where the hell are you?”

Avery jumped to their feet and lifted their box. “I-I gotta go.”

“Wait, no,” Nickels called out. “Come back.”

Nickels watched Avery disappear, feeling the weight of utter defeat in her chest. Maybe Baldie was right. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this.

***

Wildgrass raced down the hallway of the warehouse, not sure where he was going, but mostly shocked to see that there weren’t a lot of people. He expected more push back, but the place was mostly empty, with boxes and papers littering the halls the deeper he went in. Static fizzed over his headset; the damn thing must have broken in the explosion. He hoped his team was okay and wished he could search for them, but the mission was priority.

Behind him, he could hear gun fire. That must be the remaining SOs. Those diamond bastards were clever, he’d give them that. Putting explosives beneath them to sink the teams was smart, but they likely didn’t expect the underground tunnels to be triple reinforced. A mining nation-state like Huma-ko didn’t play around when it came to tunnels, and Wildgrass was grateful for that.

Up ahead, he saw a group of three grunts running around a corner. Wildgrass pushed all his power to his hands, then threw them up at the lights, blasting them out. He rounded the corner and blasted his lightning out like a web; he stunned all three men to the ground.

He turned on his flashlight. He didn’t recognize them, so he carried on. He tried his headset again, but nothing.

“Fuck,” Wildgrass said through closed teeth.

This mission had already gone to shit, but worst of all, he felt double shitty after the way things ended with Taxes. He was such a dumbass to make that joke. Why did he have to make that joke? The sex was awesome, yes, but he meant what he said last night. He liked him—he liked Taxes—and for the first time in a long time, he wanted to try for something more. Maybe give this elusive boyfriend thing a try. But of course, who knew if Taxes was even alive now?

Fuck, come on, Wildgrass. This is not the time, Wildgrass thought to himself as he felt his temper start to flare. He needed to keep his head straight.

Wildgrass pulled up the map on his wristband. The SOs were aware of the tunnels and secured them, but they likely weren’t aware of the explosives. Who knew how many units were injured down there? But the SOs were strong. They would not quit a mission until they breathed their last breath. That was the Special Ops way and the Recovery Team way.

Wildgrass ran door to door, fingers ready to blast anyone hiding inside. Room after room was empty. There was nothing but half put together boxes and tape. These bastards were moving out and fast.

He ran out of another empty room and spotted a staircase. According to the map, there were offices up there. He ran to the stairs and raced to the top. He pushed the handle and found a waiting room of sorts. On his right were floor-to-ceiling windows; to his left were a few closed wooden doors and a hallway. Fuck, he thought to himself. He needed to be careful up here.

As he inched further into the room, he peered out the window at the warehouse floor. It was mostly empty. The SOs were clearing it out, chasing whoever was dumb enough to stick around back towards the halls. Wildgrass withdrew his blaster. This had better range and allowed him more control than his lightning.

“What a surprise,” a woman’s voice caught Wildgrass off guard. “Remember me, Wildgrass Inspread?”

Wildgrass only had a split second to turn before Specz started blasting him with an automatic laser gun. Wildgrass crashed to the floor as glass exploded around him. He scrambled to his feet as she played with him, shooting out every window as she cackled. She chased him around the room, blasting chairs, couches, plants, and doors, caring little about anything that lie in her wake. Wildgrass threw himself through one of the wooden office doors and rolled out of the way of her fire, behind a cheap metal desk.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Specz said. “It’s an import from Fandour. Them folks know how to construct a weapon. No need for that CuCore shit or bullets. Just pure energy.”

Fuck, Wildgrass thought to himself. It wouldn’t be long until she blew up the office. He heard her boots crunch the glass on the tiled floor.

“Aww, don’t make this easy for me,” Specz said. “I want to see your face when I kill you.”

She started blasting again, tearing up everything. Holes burned through the file cabinets and wall and through boxes full of papers. Pings bounced off the metal desk, but it was thin, and it wouldn’t last long. Wildgrass growled, but he wasn’t completely helpless.

He pulled all his energy to his core. Green sparks popped around his knees and elbows as it traveled to his shoulders and hips, where he held it there in his chest. He slammed his hands on the floor and released a blast of electrifying energy outward, blowing the desk and laser ridden chairs back.

He heard Specz scream, and then he jumped up and ran through the office door right towards her. Her laser gun was on the floor next to her, a few feet away, but she wasn’t down for the count just yet. She rolled out of the way, jumped to her feet, and kicked at him with lightning speed. Wildgrass leaned back to dodge. His body felt sluggish from the last attack, but he was able to dodge her punches and kicks. She was fast, clearly a skilled fighter, but she didn’t have an ace like him.

Wildgrass slowed and allowed one of Specz kicks to make contact with his right shoulder. It hurt like hell, as the hard safety tip toe struck his back. He grimaced but grabbed her left leg with his free hand and let a nasty shock travel up her leg and into her gut. Specz yelped and collapsed to the ground as she trembled. He couldn’t afford to let her walk away this time, so he took out a pair of paralyzing cuffs and threw them on the bare skin of her wrist. Upon making contact, the cuffs expanded and captured her other wrist and ankles, hogtying her like an animal. If she struggled, it would electrocute her. It was rough, but effective.

***

Taxes limped down the hall behind his unit as they cleared the way. His left leg was bruised but not completely taken out of commission. He struggled to keep up, but he had a mission to complete.

Communication with his team was spotty. He could only talk with Copper who said Siddew was fine, but there was no word on Nickels or Wildgrass. Taxes cursed the gang. How had they known they were coming? Or was this a defense mechanism? It didn’t matter now. Most of his unit split when they reached the warehouse level, but three SOs lingered with him. Taxes gave them the all-clear to scatter when the halls were clear.

He appreciated them getting him through the tunnels, but they had different missions to complete, and it would make them less of a target if they each moved alone.

Taxes pulled up the map and took a left into a large room, hoping to find something. He slowed and entered with his blaster in front of him. No one was in the room, but it was full of cardboard boxes and large wooden crates of various sizes.

He ran to the largest crate he saw and used it for cover. He looked inside and saw the barrels of short canons. More weapons. They really had a big operation here, which puzzled him. How could such a low-level gang become so big?

Taxes heard the sound of a door close from across the room. He pulled his blaster toward him before peeking around the edge to his right. He didn’t see anyone that way, so he inched to his left, but all he saw was more wooden crates. Some were stacked three high, while others hung from ropes on cranes. Taxes inched back to the middle. Someone was in here…and then something small, metal, and round rolled to a stop a few feet away from him. An electro-grenade.

The tiny bomb exploded in a fit of electric shocks that singed everything around him. Taxes ran out of the way as dozens more detonated. Whoever this was, they were drawing him out. Taxes heard a laugh as he scurried for cover behind a midsized crate.

“Come on out now,” a man’s voice said.

Taxes crouched down as he inched over the edge to see his opponent. Crap, Taxes said mentally. It was Snake, and he was wearing armor. The hulk of a man threw out more electro-grenades as his eyes wondered around the room. Suddenly, they landed on Taxes.

“Found ya,” Snake said.

His heavy footsteps echoed louder as he ran. Taxes jumped up and shot at Snake’s shoulders and head, but his armor protected him. Snake closed the gap and kicked the crate away with his powerful legs.

“Shame they sent a weasel. I was expecting the green one,” Snake said.

Taxes dashed out of the way, then turned and shot at Snake’s gut, thigh, and face, again. It didn’t even slow the man down. He seemed to be as fast as he was strong. Taxes cursed under his breath. He was in the middle of the room now, too far to make it to one of the exits.

“Come now, is that all you’ve got?” Snake taunted him. “You’re in Recovery, right? I can tell by your uniform. Don’t they train y’all to do more than fire your little guns?”

Taxes glared at him as Snake charged, closing the gap. Taxes rolled out of the way. His gun was useless, but then he noticed the crane. He wasn’t sure what was in those crates, but it looked heavy, and Snake was only inches away from being under it. Taxes needed to get him closer.

Snake laughed as Taxes charged him. Bemused, Snake readied himself, but Taxes danced around him with the speed of a dragonfly. While Snake taunted and swiped at him, Taxes lured him closer and closer to the right spot.

“Cute moves, boy. Can’t wait to break those legs,” Snake laughed.

Taxes dodged Snake’s powerful swipes, but his leg cramped, and he lost his footing. Taxes fell on his back, and Snake was nearly upon him, only a few steps away. Taxes glared and fired his blaster up Snake’s body as the armored man laughed. Then Taxes turned his blaster upward and snapped the line in three perfect shots. Snake was still laughing, up until the moment the crate landed on him, crushing his legs. Snake wailed in pain.

“Sorry, man. I’ve got a mission to complete,” Taxes stood, his leg complaining loudly now. “And just in case you wiggle out of that, take this.”

Taxes kicked Snake in the head and knocked him out cold, then he tugged off the armored gloves on his hands before tossing the paralyzing cuffs on his wrist. When the deed was done, Taxes gave a sigh of relief. One higher up down.

He ran for the other door, out into the hall, and caught sight of someone he’d hoped he wouldn’t encounter. Sanja Bukori. Taxes gasped as Sanja, quick as lightning, started her assault with fast kicks and powerful punches.

She knocked the blaster from his hand and found his weakness in his leg like a shark who could smell blood. She hit his injured leg with four powerful kicks, bringing Taxes to his knees. He was sure she was going to kill him, but she brought her foot down into his gut, making Taxes gasp for air, and then she ran the other way. Taxes choked as the searing pain pulsed through his body.

“Shit.” She was no joke, but he had to go after her.

Taxes heard gun fire to his left, the opposite direction from which Sanja ran. He saw a SO unit fighting off an enemy. They were getting nailed. One SO went down. Taxes couldn’t abandon them.

Taxes grabbed his blaster and hopped to his feet. The pain was still fresh, but his adrenaline was kicking in again. He hugged the wall, turned the corner, and saw a grunt with a canon blaster. Taxes raised his blaster and aimed for his head and shot. The grunt went down as the SO unit pulled back toward Taxes. They could finish clearing the building, but Taxes needed to find Dr. Soloane, and if Sanja was running the other way, that was likely where everyone was holed up.

***

Nickels watched as Avery shuffled by, carrying box after box. There was little hope of escaping, and being trapped was making her feel useless. She’d stopped looking at the surveillance screens, where all she saw were SOs fighting for their lives and little of her teammates.

Eric and Jack returned to the room, and one of them kicked Nickels’ cage, startling her.

“Wake up, Princess,” Jack said. “It’s almost time for you to move.”

Nickels said nothing as her gaze fell toward Avery, who was standing next to Jack. Avery averted their eyes as they played with their dark, short, curly hair.

“What are you looking at?” Jack kicked Avery to the ground.

“S-sorry, sir.” Avery trembled.

“Get your ass up and finish packing!” Jack shouted.

Eric stepped away from the surveillance screens and turned to his brother. “We need to make sure we pack all of the load for The Client.”

Avery returned with another box, and Jack kicked him in the butt to hurry him along.

“We should be done soon,” Jack said.

“Good. We don’t want to keep The Client waiting,” Eric said.

The two brothers headed out the door to Nickels’ right as Avery scrambled back and forth. The poor kid. But what could Nickels do to help when she couldn’t even save herself?

Avery rushed back from the door the brothers went through, slipped on a piece of paper, and fell flat on his face.

“Avery!” Nickels gasped.

“Ow, ow, ow.” Avery rubbed his round nose, that looked more like a piggy’s nose.

“Are you okay?”

Avery looked up, their eyes wide. “I-I’ll be okay.”

“Those guys are mean,” Nickels said as Avery lowered his head. “You don’t have to serve them. I can help you.”

Avery looked down at the ground. “B-But I stole stuff. I-I’m a criminal.”

“It’s okay. It’s not too late to change. If you help me, I’ll make sure that they’re locked up for a very long time. Plus, you’re a juvenile and won’t be sentenced to prison time.”

“R-really? Jack and Eric said the law would lock me up for good after what I did,” Avery said.

“Sometimes grownups lie, and I know it’s scary to trust people, but trust me when I say this, Avery. I will protect you.”

Avery looked down at their hands, their blue eyes deep in thought. Laughter could be heard from the other room, the voices of Eric and Jack boomed. Avery squeezed their eyes shut.

“Okay. I-I’ll do it,” Avery said as they stood up. “Hold tight, um…what’s your name?”

“I’m Nickels, and I’m a ranger. One of the good guys.”

A smile bloomed on Avery’s face as they scurried away into the room Jack and Eric went in. Nickels watched the door, worried they would hurt Avery again, but Avery returned with a tiny dark gray key fob in their hand. They placed the fob to the cage, and the lock popped open. Nickels scooted out and jumped to her feet before she reached down and scooped Avery up into a hug.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Nickels said, before putting them down. “Stay here okay. I’m going to go after Jack and Eric.”

“W-wait! They’re big men,” Avery said. “They’re strong.”

Nickels looked around the room and found a blaster on the desk. She rushed over to grab it. “I got this.”

Avery nodded but didn’t stay behind even though they must have been scared.  Nickels didn’t mind. Her heart raced. Both men were big, but she wasn’t going to let them get away.

Nickels rushed into the room, but it wasn’t a normal room. She spotted Jack and Eric on a cage elevator.

“Let’s head to the pad,” Eric said to his brother before he noticed Nickels.

“Freeze!” Nickels shouted.

“Avery, you little shit!” Eric bit as Jack hit a button and the doors slammed shut.

Nickels rushed to the door, but it was too late. The brothers were heading down. Nickels tried the other two elevators, but they were locked.

“Damnit,” Nickels said. “Avery, do you know where they are going? One of them said something about going to a pad.”

Avery shook their head, but Nickels wasn’t mad. Instead, her anger softened. At least Avery was safe from those monsters.

In a hall on the opposite side of the room, Nickels heard gun shots. She ran to the door and out into the hall. There was a commotion around the corner. Nickels hoped it wasn’t someone she knew. She rounded the corner into another storage room, running into Siddew.

“Siddew!” Nickels shouted to her friend with Avery not far behind her.

“Nickels!” Siddew said as the pair ran in for a hug.

Nickels’ face lit up, but they weren’t the only ones here. There was another person, a woman with dark brown skin, long black hair, and a nasty scar lining their face. Nickels mouth formed an O shape, which caused Siddew to turn around and see who she was looking at.

“Sanja Bukori.” Siddew glared.

***

This place was like a maze. There were more empty rooms than people. Wildgrass cursed. He couldn’t believe those bastards might get away with this. Wildgrass tried his headset again, and this time, he could hear something. The faint sounds of his captain barking orders echoed over the static. Of course, the first voice he would hear was of his annoying captain, but it was something. Wildgrass wasn’t sure if the team had found Dr. Soloane or the load, but Wildgrass decided to check the exit routes that led out into the tunnels. It wasn’t likely the group would be escaping above ground, but just like the last time, they picked a location with tunnels that went deep.

Down the hall, Wildgrass heard a door slam. He rushed to the area where he heard it and slid to a stop when he came face to face with none other than Jaguar Bukori. In his arms was a hand huffed and gagged Dr. Soloane. Jaguar yanked her up the stairs, and Wildgrass followed. He took out his blaster and shouted for Jaguar to stop, but the bastard blocked his shot with Dr. Soloane’s body. He was using her as a meat shield.

“Damnit,” Wildgrass said as he ascended after them.

He didn’t know what he was pissed at more, the fact that the fucking Bukori twins were back on Rean or the fact that goth boy was right. Wildgrass tried his headset again as he lifted his wrist to check the map. Jaguar was heading to a dead end. If he could only radio for help…but there was nothing but static. Damnit. It looked like he would be on his own.

Jaguar pushed open a double exterior door and the light rushed in, stinging Wildgrass’ eyes. Wildgrass followed and found himself outside, on the edge of a giant abandoned water tank. Jaguar was running down the metal walkway that stretched across the tank, dragging Dr. Soloane behind him.

“It’s a dead-end, Jaguar,” Wildgrass shouted. This seemed to slow him, but he still had a tight grip on Dr. Soloane. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Wildgrass approached, his blaster still pointing at Jaguar, who was about his height, with long black locs that went past his shoulders. Scars riddled his dark brown face, but he did not budge. “Would be nice of you to hand the doctor and yourself over. We’ve got this place surrounded,” Wildgrass said as he inched down the rusted walkway.

Jaguar pulled the Doctor closer, making a clear shot impossible, but Wildgrass still inched closer.

“Don’t make me have to hurt you,” Wildgrass said.

Jaguar glared and pushed Dr. Soloane over the rail. Wildgrass gasped and ran after her, not noticing the clear rope attached to her cuffs. Jaguar closed the gap between them and knocked the blaster from his hand as Dr. Soloane hung on a rope below them. The dude was fast. He moved like lightning with his punches and kicks, but something was off. Something was stronger.

Wildgrass blocked a kick from Jaguar’s right leg; it was cybernetic. Jaguar swung with his left arm knocking Wildgrass back, before charging him again. His punches were definitely going to leave Wildgrass black and blue. Wildgrass tried his best to block, and he dodged a punch from Jaguar’s right hand. The punch landed on the rail and bent the metal. His right arm was cybernetic too. Wildgrass cursed. This guy was built like a tank. Wildgrass inched back as he drew energy to his fist. If this guy’s fist packed a punch, Wildgrass could match it.

Jaguar charged him again, and Wildgrass swung, but Jaguar dipped below Wildgrass’ waist for a low punch. Just where Wildgrass wanted him. Wildgrass punched his electrified fist into Jaguar’s back and sent his body into the metal. Jaguar hit the steel grating with a thud, and Wildgrass jumped back, recharging for another attack. Jaguar lifted his head, a smile growing on his face.

“You pack a punch, kid. Maybe you should be working for yourself.” Jaguar’s voice was deep and calm. He got up as if Wildgrass’ last attack was nothing.

“I’ll pass. I don’t take work from jackasses,” Wildgrass said.

Jaguar shrugged before grabbing the metal rail with his right arm. The arm’s cybernetic network started to glow a bright gold, then Jaguar discharged a powerful electric shock through the metal. It reached Wildgrass’ body with such power that it seized his body. Wildgrass gasped for air. He was getting a taste of his own medicine.

Wildgrass fell backward as he heard Jaguar’s heavy footsteps on the metal grating. Wildgrass cursed, his body stunned, and shut his eyes to prepare for a final blow when he heard a single gunshot. Wildgrass hit the grating; it stung, but when he opened his eyes, Jaguar was clenching his bleeding gut. He looked at something to his left before he wobbled back and threw himself over the edge of the rail into the dark water below.

Regaining his strength, Wildgrass peered over the edge. Jaguar did not resurface.

Wildgrass turned from the water to see who had fired and found Taxes standing at the door to the water silo. Taxes ran towards him, but Wildgrass could barely move.

“Take it easy,” Taxes said with a bit of chill in his voice. “I’ll get Dr. Soloane.”

The pain started to wear off, which made Wildgrass grateful his father forced him to do electric pulse training when he was young, even if it hurt like hell. “How is she?”

Taxes lifted her up. He took the gag from her mouth and untied her. “Are you okay?” Dr. Soloane nodded.

“Oh, good,” Wildgrass said. “’Cause that would suck if we went through all that only to come up empty-handed.”

Taxes glared at him. “Try to be more careful next time. You’re not invincible, Wildgrass. Come on, let’s go.”

Taxes helped Dr. Soloane along without even offering a hand to Wildgrass. Crap, he was still pissed. Wildgrass sighed but used the rail to get up and peered down into the dark water one last time. He would be hurting for a bit, but at least this would be the last they would hear from Jaguar Bukori.

***

Sanja Bukori stared both Nickels and Siddew down. Nickels stepped in front of Avery.

“Avery, go hide,” Nickels said without looking at them. When she didn’t hear them move, she turned to them. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be okay.”

Avery’s blue eyes looked full of worry, but they finally nodded and headed back toward the other room. Nickels sighed a breath of relief, then turned back to her opponent.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Siddew said to Sanja’s sharpening gaze. “You going to come quietly or make a big deal out of it?”

Siddew reached for her weapon, and in an instant, Sanja charged at them. The assassin threw out a few flash grenades, blinding them. Nickels shielded her eyes, but then Sanja was suddenly beside her, and she kicked the blaster from Siddew’s hand. Siddew backed away but ducked and dodged Sanja’s kicks and punches. She was fast and clearly trained in a kickboxing style of fighting. Nickels looked to Siddew’s weapon on the floor, but Sanja made sure to block them from getting to it. Nickels couldn’t let her friend fight alone.

Nickels charged, but Sanja kicked her to the ground with the force of a cinderblock. Nickels rolled on the ground, grabbing her gut, as Sanja landed right next to Siddew’s weapon and kicked it to the far side of the room. Nickels trembled as she tried to get up, noticing that Sanja’s eyes were on her.

“You’re weak,” Sanja said with her cold brown eyes staring down at her. “If you cannot defend yourself as a woman, then you do not deserve to survive.”

“Hey!” Siddew said. “Quit your yapping. This isn’t even close to being over.”

Sanja’s gaze moved from Nickels the way one would move on from a piece of trash thrown in the garbage. Siddew charged at Sanja with one of her killer punches, and the two women duked it out. The pain in Nickels’ gut hurt, but that was nothing compared to her heavy heart.

All she’d done this mission was be rescued. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe she wasn’t as versatile as the others, and maybe she should step back into a more pilot-centered role. She was good at that.

Nickels lowered her head, but then her cousin’s face flashed in her mind.

“I-I don’t know if I can do this, Honey,” Nickels whimpered.

“You’re strong, Fae, and I’m not just talking about your flying ability. You’re strong in your mind and body, don’t forget that…”

Honey’s words planted themselves inside Nickels’ heart, digging their roots deep. Nickels clenched her fist. Even if Nickels didn’t fully believe it, she had to do something. Nickels heard Siddew gasp, followed by the sound of something hitting the wall.

“Siddew!” Nickels cried out to her friend, who was lying motionlessly on the ground.

“It’s a pity to waste my time on someone as weak as you…” Sanja turned to Nickels. “But someone must teach you your place.”

Nickels’ face soured. “I-I’m not weak,” she said as she crawled to her feet.

Sanja charged her, throwing punches that knocked Nickels back like a punching bag. They stung like hell, but each hit took her back to her years of training in her family’s kiyko. Take the hit, then deliver the hit! Honey’s voice blared in Nickels’ head.

Nickels threw a punch, narrowly missing Sanja’s face. Sanja flipped backward and returned with a slew of kicks. Nickels blocked as her body fell in line with the rhythm of Sanja’s fighting style.

Nickels ducked and kick-tripped Sanja, who bounced back with lightning speed. Sanja was highly skilled, there was no denying that, but so was Nickels. She just needed to believe in her own fighting skills.

Nickels charged, throwing punches as fast and hard as the hail that rained from the Huma-ko sky. Sanja was pushed back as Nickels delivered kicks on par with the pickaxes that chiseled her hometown’s mines.

Nickels fluttered around Sanja like a fairy, and time seemed to slow as the two women locked eyes. Nickels let her arm swing out wide for the punch. She broke through Sanja’s defenses and punched her square in the face. Sanja twirled backward, and Nickels struck three and four more times with kicks and punches that threw the woman into the wall and to the floor. Sanja breathed hard on the ground.

“N-Nickels!” Siddew called out and tossed her something from the other side of the room.

Nickels looked down; it was a pair of paralyzing cuffs. Nickels scooped them up but not before Sanja was back on her feet. “Hey! Who told you to get up!”

Nickels closed the gap between them again and flip-kicked Sanja in the face. The assassin went down, and Nickels placed the paralyzing cuffs on Sanja’s bare wrist.

“Damn, Nickels!” Siddew limped over.

“Nobody messes with me or my friends,” Nickels said, and then she remembered her new friend. “Avery!”

“Who?” Siddew asked.

“Avery, the little kid that helped me break out of the cage.” Nickels rushed to the room Avery ran to hide in but couldn’t find them anywhere. “Avery! Avery!”

Nickels worried for her new friend, but she still had a mission to complete. She had to help Siddew to safety. “I’ll come back for you, okay?”

***

Taxes breathed a sigh of relief when he and Wildgrass got Dr. Soloane back to the basecamp. Much to their relief, the SO units had cleared out most of the building with minimal casualties. Taxes started to go back in to look for the weapons when Captain Harry announced over his headset that the Diamond Brothers had been captured. Taxes ran to the location they were bringing them out from. Both men were kicking and screaming like children, cursing up a storm. It brought a smile to Taxes’ face.

“Tax-Tax!”

Taxes turned around, and Nickels hopped into his arms. “Nickels! You’re okay.”

“Yup, yup,” Nickels said. “I kicked Sanja Bukori’s ass.”

“Really?” Taxes said as Siddew walked over to them, looking a little worse for wear but alive.

“She sure did,” Siddew said. “Looks like the SOs cleared the building. I saw Dr. Soloane.”

“Me and Wildgrass recovered her, but we didn’t find the weapons,” Taxes said.

“It’s all good,” Siddew said. “We found them. Or should we say, what was left of them.”

“Left of them?” Taxes said.

“Tax-Tax, have you seen a little kid about this high?” Nickels asked, holding her hand down level with her hips.

“A little kid?” Taxes shook his head.

Siddew folded her arms. “Nickels is looking for the kid who helped break her out. And yeah, we found the weapons, but they were crushed to pieces.”

“Crushed?” Taxes said.

“Not sure if the gang was using them for target practice or what, but it didn’t look like they were interested in the blast canons,” Siddew said.

Taxes looked behind Siddew and saw Copper and Wildgrass approach. Taxes greeted his captain, which drew the attention of both Nickels and Siddew.

“Good work, team,” Copper said.

“We’re all done?” Taxes asked.

“Looks like it,” Copper said. “Captain Harry’s team is clearing up the rest. We’ve got most of the Diamond Donors’ higher-ups, but there was no sign of Sanja Bukori, and we’ll have to drain the tank to recover Jaguar’s body.”

Nickels gasped. “No sign of Sanja Bukori? But me and Si left her tied up in the room next to the computer monitors.”

“Not saying I don’t believe ya, but the SOs have been in and out of the place, and they didn’t see her anywhere,” Copper said. “As for the weapons, they’re broken to shit. Maybe they were only after Dr. Soloane.”

“Hmm,” Nickels said. “They put so much into packing them up. Or at least that’s what I thought I saw Avery doing.”

“Avery?” Copper lifted an eyebrow.

“Captain Copper!” Captain Harry ran over. “You might want to take a look at this.”

Taxes looked at his captain, then followed him to a tent. Inside was a team working on surveillance footage. Captain Harry told an SO to run a piece of footage again.

“I think we found out what happened to Sanja Bukori. Look,” Captain Harry said.

Taxes leaned forward and looked at the screen with the team. It was body footage from an SO unit that was clearing the underground tunnels. Shots echoed on the video, and something jumped into the frame. Taxes’ eyes went wide. Was that a little kid? A kid that could not have been more than three feet tall pulled out a gun and blasted scatter rounds at two SOs before knocking out a third one. The captain in the video shouted for the kid to stop, but they flipped in the air and kicked them to the ground before turning their gun on three other SOs who ran in the room. The child waved their hand, and in a blur, Taxes saw Sanja Bukori run past the unit.

“Wow. And I thought I’d seen everything,” Siddew said.

“Avery,” Nickels said with a sad look in her eyes.

Taxes guessed they were all fooled, but even if the kid was bad, he’d helped Nickels, and that counted for something.

The following day, Taxes dreaded coming into work because he was so sore. He wished his captain had let them have a day off, but sadly, there would be no slack after such a high-profile mission. At least they were able to recover Dr. Soloane; her life was way more important than the weapons.

Taxes walked through the elevator out onto the floor where his office was. He spotted Wildgrass grinning at him and promptly ignored him. Taxes heard Wildgrass whining behind him, but he didn’t even hold the door for him. After what he did, Wildgrass should be lucky Taxes didn’t beat his ass.

Taxes still felt a tinge of embarrassment. He gave Wildgrass his body, only for him to use it to up his body count. Taxes didn’t know who he was angrier with—Wildgrass or himself.

Siddew followed in not long after and started up the coffee machine. She asked if anyone wanted any, and Taxes raised his hand. Nickels walked in next, followed by Copper, who was working on his own cup of coffee.

“Good work, team,” Copper said before taking a long sip of his coffee. “Oven, would you fix me a cup?”

“Yes, sir,” Siddew said.

“Thank you. I’ve been reading over the reports. We reaped ourselves a big one. Nearly eighty percent of the Diamond Donors are in custody, including all the higher-ups, and we’ve recovered thousands of tones in stolen weapons and tech.”

“That’s all well and good, but what about Sanja Bukori? And did they find Jaguar’s body?” Wildgrass asked.

“No dice,” Copper said. “They drained the silo and didn’t find a thing.”

“That can’t be,” Taxes said. “I shot Jaguar Bukori. I saw him go over the rail.”

Copper shrugged. “Son of a bitch is like a roach, hard to kill. Captain Harry believes they might have gotten away with the help of the little kid Nickels met, Avery or whatever, using some kind of unknown tech. There were strange circular burn marks found in the room where Dr. Soloane’s crushed weapons were found.”

“Interesting,” Siddew said.

“That’s not all,’ Copper said. “After inspecting the weapons, we learned all of them were missing the new tubes Dr. Soloane created. It looks like that might have been what they were after. And I know Nickels wrote in her brief about the Diamond Brothers mentioning a client. They might have been beefing up the gang, and when shit hit the fan, the twins and this Avery kid trimmed the fat and let the Diamond Donors take the fall.”

“Ain’t that some shit,” Wildgrass said.

“Regardless, we were able to recover Dr. Soloane alive and unharmed,” Copper said. “That’s all that matters. I expect a full report from everyone by the week’s end. Take tomorrow off. You deserve it.”

Taxes breathed a sigh of relief. He was so tired and already looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow.

He turned around and started on his report when he got a text from his best friend, Zamian. Taxes opened the message; he wanted to know if Taxes wanted to go to the Festival of Lights tomorrow night. Taxes smiled. Cotton candy and time with the bestie sounded like the perfect way to end a stressful mission.

Taxes typed away, fully aware of the green eyes that stared at him. Wildgrass was still trying to wiggle his way back onto Taxes’ good side, but whatever had grown between them had been obliterated.

The day went by much faster than Taxes expected, and soon, it was time for Taxes to clock out for the day. Copper made sure to keep their schedule clear of missions, mostly because he himself had a ton of meetings to attend. Taxes picked up his bag when Wildgrass cornered him.

“Hey, I-I need to talk to you,” Wildgrass said, but Taxes only returned his statement with a glare. Taxes sidestepped him and headed for the door. “Taxes, come on.”

Wildgrass chased after him. Taxes punched the button for the elevator.

“Taxes,” Wildgrass called out. This time Taxes turned around.

“Quit following me, Wildgrass,” Taxes said, then cut him off before he had a chance to speak. “I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses, so piss off.”

Taxes walked into the elevator and punched the close door button, leaving Wildgrass standing alone in the hallway.

***

Wildgrass had fucked up. He had really fucked up this time. He kicked the air, then turned and headed back to the office. He needed to fix this. He didn’t want things to be awkward between them. Even if he had damaged any prospect of them being a couple, he at least wanted to be on good terms again. Everyone had left for the day, leaving him alone.

“Stupid idiot face,” Wildgrass said as he buried his face in his palms.

The goth kid had really grown on him. Dare he even say that he was starting to feel the L word for him? After that drunken night together, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to go on without sampling another taste of his lips.

“Damnit,” Wildgrass said.

He needed to fix this somehow. Wildgrass stood and paced the office. What would his best friend Odie do? An expensive gift? No, Taxes wasn’t materialistic. A trip to the opera? Who was he kidding? Wildgrass sighed. No, he couldn’t buy Taxes’ forgiveness. Even pitching that idea would probably make Odie burst into laughter. Wildgrass needed to go to Taxes, face to face, and apologize…but when?

Nickels returned to the office and stopped at the door. “Wildy?”

“Hey, Nickels. You forget something?” Wildgrass asked.

“Yup, yup, yup. Gotta grab my walking shoes for the Festival of Lights tomorrow. I’m going to go with my friends.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Tax-Tax said he was going to be there too. It’s going to be fun.”

Wildgrass turned from his friend. Taxes was going to be at the Festival of Lights tomorrow night. Maybe that was his chance. “Thanks, Nickels!”

“Um…you’re welcome?” Nickels said as Wildgrass rushed out of the office.

Wildgrass washed his ass and slicked his bright green hair up into a ponytail. He picked up a white and red ridesuit from the cleaners and put it on as he checked his body out in the mirror. He wondered if he should buy flowers or something, but that was probably too much. He was acting like they had broken up when they weren’t even dating, but even if they weren’t it still hurt like hell. He took one more glance at himself in the mirror before heading towards the door. He needed to make this right.

The Festival of Lights was one of Ans-on’s many technology-adjacent festivals. This one honored JX Conor, the creator of the solar light, who revolutionized light bulb production for thousands of people. These festivals weren’t Wildgrass’ thing, but at least it was free.

Wildgrass took the train ten stops into the city center. The air was chilly, and the streets were crowded with people. Soft gold and pink lights lined the streets, and the smells of popcorn and funnel cake filled the air. How the heck was he going to find Taxes in all this?

Wildgrass walked past game booths that erupted with children’s laughter. There was a hot dog stand to his right, the line filled with couples holding hands. Wildgrass frowned. So many people called his name and asked for pictures. He didn’t feel like posing for the camera, but he already created enough bad blood for the week, so he posed with a few families and groups of ranger cadets.

Finally, he saw a familiar figure standing under the soft pink light. It was Taxes. He was chatting with his friend, holding cotton candy in his hands, with a big smile on his face.

“Excuse me,” Wildgrass said as he broke away from the fans.

Taxes turned his head at that very moment, and his smile evaporated. It was now or never.

“T-Taxes,” Wildgrass said.

“What are you doing here?” Taxes glared.

“Want me to take care of this, Taxes?” Taxes’ friend said.

“Wait, wait,” Wildgrass said. “Can I get a moment with Taxes alone?”

Taxes didn’t look amused, but surprisingly, he turned to his friend and nodded. The other guy looked at him with concern, but Taxes reassured him with a nod, and his friend gave them some space. The laughter of the people around them faded into the background as Wildgrass stood before Taxes under the clear starry sky.

“I don’t care what you have to say, Wildgrass, so you can save your dumb excuses,” Taxes said.

“Taxes, look… No, you’re right. I fucked up, and you have every right to be mad at me. It was a dumb joke, and I should have been more considerate. For that, I am truly sorry. I do value you as a teammate and a friend, and I want you to know, even if this never turns into anything, I meant what I said back there. I…I like you, Taxes Spool.”

Wildgrass waited for Taxes to say something, anything, but he only glared at him. Taxes finally scoffed.

“Sounds like some shit you would say. You were probably counting down the days until you could use me.”

“Wait, what, no. I wasn’t, I mean it.”

“Listen, Wildgrass, we both know we were just drunk and horny that night. This little thing we had, it wasn’t meant to be anything but a one-night stand. I mean, you’re a rich boy from a prominent military family. What would you want with a poor kid from the slums?”

“I don’t care if you’re from the slums or about my family. You’re not some replaceable plaything. Taxes…the way I feel about you is…special.”

When Wildgrass met Taxes’ gaze again, his expression had shifted away from anger into something else. Something that gave Wildgrass hope.

Wildgrass took a step forward and placed his hand over the hand Taxes was holding his cotton candy with. “I mean it. You’re not a passing fling,” Wildgrass said, mere inches away from Taxes’ face.

“H-How do you know? How do you know you won’t get tired of me as you move up in your career? What about your family?” Taxes said. His voice was starting to break.

“I won’t, and I don’t care what my family says. They control everything else in my life, but you, this, us…I want to be in control of that. And I want to take this journey with a snarky goth sharpshooter who is a killer in the streets and in the sheets.”

Taxes laughed. “You’re so corny.”

“That may be so, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart,” Wildgrass said.

Taxes didn’t say anything for a while, and Wildgrass was starting to feel like his stomach was going to jump up through his throat.

“Fine.” Taxes leaned in and captured Wildgrass’ lips. The sugar from the cotton candy was sweet, and Wildgrass moaned at the taste when he deepened the kiss. Taxes pulled away. “But maybe we can take it slow?”

“Deal,” Wildgrass said. And then he leaned in to kiss Taxes again.