"I'm seeing three tangos. Wait, make that five."

Nomad sighed.

"Probably more inside. Send Scout in."

"Ten-Four" responded Holt. "Okay, drone's up, moving for the building."

Nomad crouched behind Holt, peering over his shoulder at Scout's camera feed.

Like a phantom, the little drone floated past the ignorant cultists patrolling the compound, heading for the doorway.

"Holy-"

"Jesus..."

The camera feed showed a group of people, all of them in prayer, while another man, dressed in white camo with a red balaclava read phrases from a bible.

"Fucking lunatics..." grunted Nomad.

"Alright, how do you want to play this?" Holt asked.

"Weaver, you still got those assholes on the roof?" Inquired the squad leader.

"Roger that Nomad, got a visual on all five of em'." responded the sniper.

"Okay then. Holt, bring the drone up to the roof and prepare for strafe maneuver."

"Ten-Four."

"Weaver, get ready to fire."

"Yessir."

"3, 2, 1, open fire!" Called Nomad.

Weaver fired. One of the cultists' heads burst open. His comrades spun around, taken completely by surprise.

"Holt!"

Like clockwork, the drone zoomed up, it's integrated SMG peppering the remaining cultists with nine millimeter bullets. Immediately cultists began spilling out of the factory, only for Midas to spray them with 5.56 caliber rounds. The survivors attempted to retreat inside, barely managing to get through the doorway without being killed.

"Go!" Shouted Nomad.

And with the professional demeanor only shown by Ghosts, he and Midas rushed inside, killing everyone save for their "Preacher". In the firefight he'd been shot in the hand. That, however, was the least of his worries. For he was now faced with two highly trained and heavily armed special forces soldiers.

"Here's the deal asshole." Snarled Nomad as he grabbed the cultist and forced him into a kneeling position. "Either you answer all of my questions or I put a bullet in your chest and leave you to choke on your own blood. Now what's it gonna be?"

"I ain't scared of you, pig!" spat the cultist in defiance. "Praise be to the father!"

"Hey boss, check this out." Midas said, pointing at something.

Nomad looked. Midas had found a circular saw stand.

"Perfect. Rev it up Midas." He said, grinning.

The powered saw spun up with a buzz. Nomad dragged the struggling cultist over to it. Seeing the piece of machinery, the cultist began to get a little nervous.

"Wait, hang on a tick!"

"Shut up and keep moving." Growled Nomad.

Reaching the saw, Nomad turned the cultist around to look him in the eye.

"Now I'll ask you again. Answer my questions, or talk to this saw blade. Time's ticking, and I'm not in a particularly merciful mood today."

Still defiant, the cultist held his silence.

"Saw blade it is!" Nomad announced as he held the cultist up to the spinning blade.

"FUCK! Okay, I'll talk! I'll TALK!" screamed the cultist.

"What's John Seed planning?!" Shouted Nomad. "Sing Bitch!"

"He's making bombs!" Squealed the panicked man.

"Okay bombs, what's he doing with them?" Growled the soldier.

"They're being put on trucks. Gonna send them all over the valley! Please that's all I know!" screamed the cultist, as a puddle began to form at his feet.

"Bitch!" Nomad snapped. "Enjoy your headache!"

Nomad slammed his pistol against the cultist's head, knocking him out. Midas smirked. He loved seeing Nomad's inner sadist.

"Hey boss, I got a laptop here." Holt said.

"Hack it man."

"With pleasure." the technician said. "Hmmm. Oh. Wow. There is a LOT of porn on this thing. Aha!"

"What'd you find? Aside from all the details about the owner's sexual fantasies." Asked Nomad.

"The location of one of the bliss factories. It's in a bunker just southeast of here."

"Does this mean we get to blow shit up?" Midas asked hopefully.

"Yes indeed we get to blow shit up." Replied Nomad.