The firing stopped abruptly and the soldiers lowered their weapons, but their fingers remained poised on the triggers, ready to fire again.
A man raised his hand, accompanied by a pitiful moan. The soldier nearest him cocked his rifle and opened up, emptying half his clip in the man's back.
The Sergeant in command had a pistol in his hands, a fresh clip locked in. He heard the sound of an infant crying and whipped around, firing three deft shots to silence the baby.
The sickening stench of rotting flesh reached the nostrils of the soldiers. One of them gagged reflexively, but none showed any remorse at what they had done.
"Sergeant, command here," the Sergeant picked up the radio on his belt, "Roger command, Tango squad here. Mission completed, we're heading to the Academy-Woodmen intersection."
There was a slight hesitation the reply, "Copy that. Move with caution. Reports of resistance against Valkyrie squad were reported last night.
"Roger that, over and out. See you back at base in an hour."
"Down! GET DOWN!" The Sergeant screamed as bullets pounded around them.
A soldier cried out as a bullet connected with his shoulder. He reached for it but jerked his hands to his throat and another round sliced his windpipe in half.
As the man went down, the two ends of his throat closing and opening in a vain attempt for air, the Sergeant ordered his men to seek refuge in an old warehouse.
The squad neared the entry when their murderers descended upon them.
A quartet of men in black uniforms leapt from the second story, landing deftly on the concrete and immediately pressing the attack.
The lead on fired his 9mm casually, as if he killed men for a living, which he did.
Five bullets ravaged the gut of one soldier. As stomach acid and other bodily materials poured from the gaping hole in his middle, the lead man pulled out a viscous looking knife, about 8 inches long with a keen edge.
The other three shrouded fighters did likewise.
The Sergeant's gun clattered from his cold fingers, blood spurting from an expert cut to both his jugular arteries. The other assassins moved in, twirling their knives easily and stabbing at the soldiers.
One maneuvered him so his victim's back faced him, and stabbed his knife upward between the third and fourth ribs. As the lung collapsed, the man tried to cry out but to no avail.
The one that appeared to be the strongest had a huge knife, like a machete. He grabbed a young soldier by the scruff of his neck and lifted him a foot off the ground. He brought the knife back and drove it into the man's skull with all his strength.
As gray mattered ran down the man's face, the dark warrior removed his knife and plunged it deep into the man's chest. As the cartilage in his sternum cracked and snapped, he twisted the knife cruelly and levered and entire chuck of muscle out of the man's body. Blood gushed from the wound, pooling at the man's feet instantly.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled around, muscle tissue flying off his knife. The man raised it to strike but lowered his hand to see the leader of the quartet of assassins. "Our work is done," he whispered, turning to leave.
"In the black of the next night, the Chang dynasty shall feel the bite of the Wolf once more."