Chapter 14: Suckerpunch

December 2nd, 2568

22:04 Local Time

10,542 Meters AGL, Inland Desert, Minerva, Lambda Rho System

They were already at terminal velocity. The wind rushed past as they fell from eleven kilometers above the surface of the vast desert. Andrew shifted his weight, pulling himself away from the team. "Kneeling down" he gripped the nose of his board and threw his weight back, launching himself into a backflip. His boisterous laughter came over TEAMCOM, causing Thermer to roll his eyes. They weren't here for fun, but he knew nothing would stop the other three from enjoying themselves.

"Go ahead and have some fun, but keep your eye on your altimeter. Remember 'chute deployment is at nine hundred and fourteen," As he predicted the others immediately jumped at the chance. Were it not for the restrictive wind he would have shaken his head at the silhouettes of the Spartans' aerobatic antics. The sound of Andrew's laughter was something else though. It didn't have the touch of malice that could be heard after he pranked someone, nor the unrestrained mania of him cutting loose on his enemies. This laugh was far simpler, it was boisterous and mirthful. He was getting a taste of civilian life and he was enjoying every millisecond. It wasn't long before Andrew rode the wind towards Thermer, motioning for him to join in on the fun.

"No can do, someone has gotta keep you guys alert. Seven thousand two hundred and counting," Thermer saw Andrew's shoulders drop as he pulled away. As much as he may have wanted to join in, someone had to be professional.

As they descended the Spartans' antics slowly ceased. The closer to the ground they got, the more their spacing seemed to resemble an actual drop formation. Eventually Thermer called out to them, "Nine fourteen, pop chutes and prepare for decel."

The four parafoils opened in near perfect sync. The wind filled the cells of the parachutes, forcing them into their winged shape. Andrew barked over the comms, "We'll be touching down in a little over two mikes, be prepared to lose the 'chute. The 'hog will pulse a waypoint for us once it lands. Immediately head for the waypoint."

Their landing was rough. The speed at which they hit the sand was higher than anticipated. The four Spartans slalomed down the dune, kicking up sand in their wake. Their practice over the last couple weeks had paid off in a big way. By the time the warthog touched down they had already cleared half the distance.


December 3rd

10:27 Local Time

Thermer and Sam had been watching the village for or a few hours now. King and Andrew were going over their supplies for the next few days. Thermer confirmed their observation, "Yup, guard rotation about every ninety minutes. Towers have marksmen."

"No snipers though, just DMRs. Seems weird for such an important cache," Sam stated.

"I miss the dog," King said.

"That came outta left fuckin' field. Anyway, I agree with you Sam. That's a bit odd, so was the increased movement around the objective last night." Andrew knew Sam was right. His work was cut off by a buzzing on his wrist. Andrew answered the call after synching his headset to the Chatter.

"Bothrops, you need to get out of there. It's not safe."

"Slow the hell down, J. What's happening?"

"The syndicate sold us out. They know you're after their camps. The Red Hand is coming after us. I don't know about the others, but I'm safe for now."

"Fuck, that complicates things. Look, it's too late for us to back out of this mission. We're just gonna have to adjust the plan."

"Just stay safe. I'll see you when- CRASH! Shit!" The call cut short.

"J! Fuck. We need to come up with a new plan before sundown."

"Why," Thermer asked.

"Fucking syndicate stabbed us in the back. All of those odd observations? They're because they know we're going for their camps. We need to come up with a new plan, execute it and get the fuck out tonight."

King closed the duffle he was sorting through and looked Andrew over. "Have you lost it? It took you and Thermer almost a week to come up with this. Isn't there an alternative?

"The alternative is we take Mrs. J's advice and leave."

"What do you think, Boss?"

"I think that they're starting to send motorized patrols. I think that this cache is too dangerous to be left alone. Sam, what are your thoughts?"

"You're right, patrols are leaving right now. Too many for us to get passed. If we were to run, it would have to be at night. May as well cause some chaos when we do," Sam replied dryly.

"That settles it. He hit them tonight and bolt. Sorry King, but you're the minority vote. Andrew, this was your plan from the get-go. I know you're already coming up with a new one. Spill it."

"Well it ain't no lie to say we thrive on chaos. I say we thrive. Their response to us will be complete chaos no matter what. We can take advantage of that. Create a hole in their defense by drawing it to one area, slip in the back, wire up the explosives at all three target buildings and bug out before they know what hit them."

"How exactly do we do that," Sam asked, far more interested now.

"King our flare shells have variable fuses, right?"

"Yeah. Wait, are you suggesting we bring them here?"

"We set the flares to stagger. Fire them off in different directions and head down there. We roll in like a patrol coming back home and boom, flares light up," Andrew confirmed

"We say that we're back in and need to resupply before joining the search," King cut in.

"They let us in, we wire up some C-12 at the targets, yoink some relay antennae and plant them on the way out," Sam said.

"By the time they find out what's going on, those buildings are long gone and we're out of there," Thermer finished. "If this works, I owe you a bottle."


23:07

So far, the plan had gone off without a hitch. The mess of Red Hand forces that had left the base were panicking. Pure chaos, this was Fireteam Phoenix's element. A guard stopped them as they rolled up to the Southern housing complex. "What are you four doing here? Don't you know what's going on?"

"Yeah we were on our way back when we saw the flares. If there really are that many out there then we need to stock up," Thermer had a decent poker face.

"Alright, c'mon, grab what you need and get back out there." Andrew couldn't believe that this was working. The four jumped out, letting the 'hog run idle. They had to stifle their shock as they walked into the building. Aside from load bearing walls the entire ground floor was full of shelves. Literal tons of ordnance lined the store house. Andrew immediately began searching for a damage pack. King started searching for the relay antennae.

"Andrew, did you know they'd have all of this," Thermer asked.

"No, this is … it's more than I expected. Let's stay on task. Help me find a damage pack or help King look for the relays."

"Copy. Sam, help Andrew, I'll help King."

"You got it, Boss."

Andrew's wrist buzzed again. A simple message this time. "They're all dead. I'm fine, but the rest of our network is gone. -Mrs. J"

"Change of plans. We're hitting their barracks too," Andrew growled.

"Care to explain? I know this is your Op, but I need to know why," Thermer asked cautiously. He pulled his shemagh down to uncover his face.

Andrew reciprocated the action. His lips pulled in a thin line. "My entire network is gone. J is the only survivor. They know we're out here. I aim to misbehave."

"Don't let your emotions get the better of you. I'll let you do it just this once. Our cover is blown and it's advantageous to destroy their quarters. Don't get carried away." Andrew flashed an unsettling smile. It was one Thermer was well acquainted with. One that conveyed malice and guaranteed Thermer would be filling out paperwork for hours. It was one he hated. Andrew's hands came to rest on a damage pack. The Spartan pulled a brick of C-12 from the pack and cut a five-centimeter cube from it.

"What's taking you all so-" The guard was cut off as Andrew's knife sailed across the store house. The blade sunk into the base of his throat, causing the man to let out a gurgling gasp. He stood there in shock as the irate Spartan walked to him and retrieved the knife. CLACK CLACK! The others hadn't noticed Andrew draw the pistol.

"King, hand me those relays you've got."

Brandon took a moment coming to. He'd seen Andrew in battle. He'd seen how ruthless he could be, but this was something else. There was none of his usual flair; it was cold, calculated and efficient. He'd wasted no time and now he was just acting like he hadn't just executed the man. Not wanting to cross the man, King brought the relays over. Andrew immediately went to work pairing the detonator to them.

"Thermer, King. You two take these over to the east complex. Take out the guardsmen, plant the relay by the door, stick this to a load bearing wall and stick the receiver into it. Make sure you can't see the contacts anymore and don't forget to turn it on."

Thermer took the items from Andrew and stuffed them into his cargo pockets. "We'll take the 'hog. Link up with us when you two are done. Try not to get too messy."

Andrew nodded and returned to his task. He cut another cube of plastic explosive from the brick and taped it to a load bearing wall. With the receiver planted into the charge and turned on, he turned towards Sam. "Hey, grab a case of plasma grenades and set them near the charge. I want this place to look like a Victory Day parade."

"Aren't you going a little overboard? I'm all for causing trouble, but you barely knew your informants," Sam's concerned voice filled the stale air.

"Doesn't matter. They were under the impression that they were safe. That their clients wouldn't sell them out. I'll make sure that bitch pays too," Andrew packed up the damage pack and the relays. Sam placed the crate of grenades by the charge and followed Andrew to the door. The older Spartan planted a relay in the ground before motioning for them to link up with the others.

The narrow streets of the mining village were mostly empty. Those that saw the two didn't seem to care about them. Jesse and Brandon were already in the warthog waiting. The drive to the garage was dead silent. One couldn't help but gawk at the size of the structure. Sure, they had seen it on the maps and from a distance, but being close to it was something else. It was far larger than any other building around. It was easy to forget how large some of the mining equipment Nomolos employed was. The guards followed the warthog into the massive garage.

"What are you guys doing here? Shouldn't you be out there with the rest of our forces?"

"We're new here. Transfers from the main camp. We saw the flares go up and figured we should come here to get a vehicle better suited to fight," Andrew's lie was sickeningly calm.

"Oh, that makes sense actually. What were you guys transferred here for," the other guard asked.

"Explosive ordnance prep." It wasn't a lie, but it certainly wasn't true.

"Well, it looks like all we've got is the little project our mechanics have been working on. I don't think they're too keen on anyone taking it out yet. Something about needing some more tests."

"What better test than search and destroy?" Andrew asked, giving King an almost imperceptible nod. The two guards looked to each other and shrugged before turning to resume their post. Andrew and King fired simultaneously, dropping the man and woman quickly. The Spartans dragged the bodies to a dimly lit corner of the garage. Thermer stopped Andrew before he could do anything.

"I don't know what your malfunction is, but you better get your head on straight. I ain't getting caught because you're throwing a shit fit."

"Boss, you aren't gonna get to him like that. Lemme talk to him," King cut in. Thermer backed away, giving King the space he needed. "Look big guy, I need you to come back to us, aight?"

"Get out of my way," Andrew tried pushing past his battle brother only to be met with a right hook. Andrew recovered from the punch quickly and grabbed King by the shirt collar. "The FUCK was that?!"

"Great, now that I'm not talking to O.N.I's machine anymore we can get to brass tacks. I get that you're pissed off about your informants, but that gives you no fucking right to treat us like we're just a pawn in your grand plan. I'll gladly take orders from Andrew-G199, but I'll be damned if I take orders from someone who shuts down and becomes an empty shell. Either you get your shit in gear or we leave you here, and you can poison them like you did on New Harmony," King's words cut deep. He could see it across Andrew's face; how wide his eyes were, how his jaw moved and his mouth failed to produce words. Andrew's grip on King's collar loosened, giving him a chance to step back. "So, how do we create more chaos."

Andrew looked around the garage. The only other vehicle was a heavily modified transport warthog that Sam and Thermer were looking over. Near that was a fuel pump. Along another wall was a workbench and tool cart. "I need to suss out how much C-12 is needed to blow this shit sky high. Tell the others to move our gear onto that technical and then find the keys for it. They might be over by that workbench."

"Copy, good to have you back. Don't make a habit of that shit." King walked off leaving Andrew to his calculations. With the fuel and oil, the place would light up fairly well, the only issue was its size. A five-centimeter cube certainly wouldn't be enough. The building was seventeen point two tall and thirty-one meters long. Andrew cut out a prism of C-12 ten by seven centimeters. Placing that in his pocket, he went to the doors and set up the relay antenna.

"Hey, Andrew, get over here and give us a hand," Sam called out. Andrew jogged over to see what they needed help with, only to find them hoisting an M247H Heavy Machine Gun over a mount on the side of the vehicle. Andrew helped move the mounting arm into place and locked the weapon into place. Upon further inspection the phrase 'heavily modified' seemed like an understatement. The bed of the truck had been extended to accommodate more troops, there was a blast shield that replaced the first two passenger seats and protected them from the rocket pod mounted on a robotic arm on the roll cage. The two MG mounts on either side of the bed looked like they'd been stripped from a Falcon gunship. The numerous ammo boxes to either side of the mounts indicated that this thing was made for extended combat.

"You name her yet, King," Andrew asked as he looked the thing over.

"Not yet, but I'm thinkin' 'The Warcrime Mobile.'"

"That's not catchy, what about 'Murder Wagon,'" Sam suggested.

"Doesn't matter right now. Andrew, how long," Thermer asked. Andrew tapped his earpiece and listened for a brief moment.

"Not long enough. We need to check the fuel level and get a move on ASAP. They'll be back in minutes. Sam, get it started up and check fuel. If you need to go to the fuel pump over there. King, double check the hog we brought, make sure we left nothing in it. Boss, help me drag some oil drums to the fuel pump. This place is gonna look like a Victory Day celebration."

The four split off for their roles. King scanned over every surface in the transport hog to find nothing. Sam got the vehicle running and found the fuel tank to be half empty. He let King hop in the back before driving over to the fuel pump. Andrew and Thermer were busy stacking oil drums around the fuel pump. "Andrew, we got half a tank. I'm gonna top her off. How much time we got?"

"Five minutes at best. I'm gonna plant the bomb now. Everything is ready apart from fuel right," Andrew asked as he ripped a strip of tape from the roll.

"Yeah, we're all good," King replied.

"Thermer, passenger seat. Punch in the coords for Windfall Airbase and then suss out that MLRS. Sam, King, you're on MG duty."

"Why can't I drive evasion," Sam exclaimed.

"Last time you drove we ended up in a lake," King deadpanned. Sam's shoulders slumped as he shot King a cock-eyed look. Andrew gave Sam a pat on the back as he opened the rudimentary door that had been attached to the vehicle. Andrew's earpiece exploded with activity.

"Oi oi, hurry it the hell up you two. They just found the dead marksman. We don't have any more time," Andrew said as he started up the engine. The feeling of the back swaying side to side was all the indication he needed. Popping the clutch and shifting into first he peeled out of the garage.

"Don't mean to alarm you big guy, but we've already got a tail," Sam yelled. They neared an intersection. Dropping back into first he pulled the wheel hard and yanked on the hand brake. The vehicle slid through the intersection with practiced ease. Everyone in the UNSC was expected to be able to handle a warthog's cumbersome controls. Having been indoctrinated at age five, the Spartan had nearly his entire life to practice. Another intersection, yet again he slid through. Checking the GPS, jumped the shoulder and drove straight into the sand.

"Thermer, hit the detonator," Andrew barked. Thermer turned the key and pressed the button. Three thumps resonated behind them, then came the secondary explosions. The weapon cache and garage exploded spectacularly. Tons of ordnance and fuel turned night to day and leveled the surrounding buildings. Andrew could see it from the side mirrors. He could also see their tail gaining on them. At least a dozen vehicles.

"You two better be ready with those guns. Boss, we're gonna need air support."

Thermer flicked his comms to the UNSC's E-Band. "Airbase Windfall this is Fireteam Phoenix rescinding No-Fly in grid Bravo Three. Need immediate close air support on mobile IFF. Large hostile force. How copy?"

"Phoenix Actual, this is Windfall control we read you Lima Charlie. Valkyrie 2-1 will be joining you ASAP. Keep your IFF active and comms online."

"Copy Windfall, Phoenix out." Thermer opened a box attached to the dashboard in front of him. A small screen and control console turned on. Thermer pulled the joy stick to one side, causing the MLRS up top to spin around. A throttle on the other side controlled the pitch of the weapon. Whipping the turret around he lined up a shot on a hostile warthog. The 'hog lurched as a rocket tore its way through the cool night air. The explosive slammed into the engine of his target. The vehicle detonated, sending its remains skittering across the sand.

"We had it all wrong, it should be Murder Mobile or War Crime Wagon," King shouted over his machine gun. His rounds traced across the night sky, slamming into the turret of another warthog.

"Time and place, dude. Time and place," Sam said as he fired on the driver of another vehicle. To say the sniper wasn't used to manning a machine gun was an understatement.

"Sam, short bursts, lead the target like you would any other mid-range engagement. You don't need to take them down, just suppress them. Remember, you're firing twelve point seven by ninety-nine. It's similar to what you fire on the daily. Pull up on your grip to manage recoil," King yelled over his shoulder. The Spartan looked over the hostile vehicles. Several mongooses, at least a dozen more 'hogs and several older civets. The lumbering tracked vehicles carried troops in modified cargo boxes. "Andrew, you seein' what they got? There's no way we're getting out of this mess. Maximum airspeed of a Sparrowhawk is approximately six hundred and ten kilos per hour. Factor in loading, I really doubt they'll make it in time to save us."

"It's a max of six eleven. I hope you're all strapped in. King, be ready to fire on your two," Andrew yelled. An enemy 'hog had started gaining on their left. Andrew shifted into sixth and the 'hog's engine roared. Whatever was under the hood wasn't stock. The hulking technical surpassed the encroaching enemy and within moments they were a hundred meters ahead of the target. The Spartan downshifted to third gear, cranked the wheel and damn near ripped the hand brake out. The four Spartans fought the sudden deceleration as the vehicle pulled a three sixty, drifting across the enemy's path and put the offending driver right in King's gunsights. "Light that fucker up!"

King didn't need to be told. As soon as he had the shot, he took it. The 7.62x99mm HE rounds tore the cabin of the Red Hand warthog apart. The vehicle turned sharply and rolled as its driver slumped in a bloody heap. Andrew pushed their vehicle to its limits, rapidly shifting back into sixth gear. He could practically hear Chief Mendez giving him an earful for recklessly driving. He could almost feel the spittle as Mendez would surely be yelling for pushing the transmission like this. Andrew shook his head clear of those thoughts and continued his desperate attempt to evade the hostile gunfire. Every second seemed like an eternity. Every kilometer felt like hundreds. They weren't more than three hundred klicks from Windfall by now. Valkyrie 2-1 had to be closing in soon. Any moment now. Any second. 'Come on! Hurry the fuck up!'

"Phoenix Actual, this is Valkyrie 2-1; respond."

"Valkyrie 2-1 this is Phoenix Actual. Good to hear your voice!"

"Likewise, Phoenix. Patch me through to your driver, I need him to hear me."

"Copy that."

"Phoenix Two, I need a reaction test, understood?"

"Copy that, standing by."

"Mark," the pilot ordered.

"Mark."

"Mark."

"Mark."

"Mark."

"Mark," Andrew parroted back instantly.

"Good, on my mark I need you to take a sharp turn to your nine. You're coming into view now."

"Copy Valkyrie." Andrew steadied his breathing. He felt his heart rate slowing, his vision focused on the desert ahead, he blocked out all sound save the radio. His grip on the wheel tightened. His right hand hovered over the hand brake.

"Mark." Andrew pulled the hand brake and cranked the wheel once again. The vehicle hauled off to the left just barely missing the nose of another warthog. He could see the destruction in his side mirrors before he heard the rumble of the Sparrowhawk's twin 20mm GAU-23s. Several of the Red Hand vehicles either flipped, rolled or just slid to a stop as the gunfire ceased. That didn't mean it was over. Andrew could still see several vehicles begin to turn after them. Three seconds passed and night turned to day once more as a civet erupted in flame. The Valkyrie 2-1's gunner had hit it with the Sparrowhawk's M6 Nonlinear Cannon, a much more powerful version of the Spartan Laser. The remaining Red Hand vehicles scattered as Valkyrie continued to rain hell upon them. Eventually they were all out of Andrew's sight.

"Phoenix you are in the clear. Say again, you are in the clear. Head to Airbase Windfall as fast as possible."

"Copy that Valkyrie. Good shooting out there. See you back at base."


December 4th

11:00 Local Time

Airbase Windfall

"Colonel I understand that you don't appreciate such sudden calls for help, but you had been informed of a joint operation in your territory and the potential need to support it. The fact of the matter is that my Spartans did what was necessary." The call had been going on like this for somewhere near fifteen minutes. It was starting to bore the members of Fireteam Phoenix.

"With all due respect Commander McKnight, I don't see how destroying an abandoned mining village is necessary."

"Andrew, fill him in."

"Yes ma'am. Colonel Bulton, that mining village was a Red Hand encampment. In recent months Fireteam Phoenix has been investigating increased insurrection activity across the planet. A trust-worthy source led us to that village. We identified a building that held several tons of ordnance, all given to the Hand by a rogue element within O.N.I. Our objective was simple. Destroy the weapon cache and any other supplies we could find. Things got complicated when the people who provided my intel brokers sold us out. However; satellite images from this morning confirm that we managed to destroy the entirety of the cache, supply depot, garage and their bunkhouse. If they can't get back to the main base, they'll die of dehydration."

"You people didn't think to inform me of what you were doing before you started?"

"Honestly Colonel, that information was need-to-know. All you needed to know was that if we called for help, you were expected to help," Thermer stated bluntly. "As for the help we got, Valkyrie 2-1 did an outstanding job. Approximately half the enemy's mechanized forces were eliminated before they scattered."

"Thanks for the positive review Spartan," Valkyrie's pilot said. Her voice was far more chipper than it was last night.

"What about now? They obviously know we're on to them. Should I start running scouting flights and bomb every village I see? You can't expect them to take it lying down," Bulton huffed.

"I still have one contact left. Knowing her, she managed to snag all the data the others had. We lay low a while, give them a false sense of security and in the meantime, we plan out simultaneous strikes on every location we know of. Scare them off this planet with one fell swoop."

"What about the vehicle you commandeered?"

"I'm sorry, they did what?" McKnight's tone of voice was something else. A rare mix of confusion, irritation and amusement that Andrew had never heard from anyone.

"We commandeered a technical found in the garage. Saying that it is a heavily modded transport 'hog is the understatement of the century."

"Continue."

"The bed has been extended. However, the first third of the bed is dedicated to a blast shield to protect the passengers. More on that later. Along the sides of the bed are troughs for ammo boxes and hardpoints for supplies. There are mounts for M247H MGs. The engine and drivetrain definitely aren't stock. Checked that myself. The driver and passenger have doors. The front was up-armored and has more hardpoints for supplies. This brings us to the coup de gras, the MLRS ripped off a rocket 'hog. It's been mounted to a remote-controlled arm on top of the roll cage. Passenger can use it with a joystick for rotation and throttle for elevation and depression."

"Spartan Thermer, your thoughts on the vehicle?"

"The modifications made to it are a touch excessive. The MLRS could easily be replaced with an and you'd get a lighter vehicle with more passenger space. That being said, the concept is good. It's geared towards extended patrols, search and rescue, and extended combat. It handles just as well as a regular warthog. With an even better engine it has potential to provide the Spartan branch with a rapid response vehicle. Therefore, I'd like to request permission to bring it home and keep it."

"You can't be serious? You want to keep that death trap? Even more, you want to mass produce them?"

"Colonel, it is often that the victor of a conflict owes their good fortune to the appropriation of enemy technologies. The United States stole research from Nazi Germany and developed the atom bomb. The UNSC stole Jackal shield gauntlets and created portable energy shields. This vehicle could provide us with a much-needed upper hand when it comes to hit and run vehicular combat."

"Well said Thermer. Permission granted. I expect you'll be home later today?"

"No can-do ma'am. Sandstorm coming in. We'll be home tomorrow."


December 5th

12:00 Local Time

Fort Keyes

The Pelican hovered just a few meters off the ground as it dropped the Frankenstein's monster of a vehicle off. The members of Phoenix hopped down from the ramp with ease. A group of mechanics had come out from the garage to look over the abomination. The group could be heard chattering to themselves as they looked over the modifications the Red Hand had made. One looked at Thermer and spoke, "This is what you want us to analyse? Really? I don't even know where to start with this thing. It's missing a side mirror!"

"Did they fail to mention that it saw combat the night we stole it?" Thermer asked. Before anything else could be said a young MP approached them.

"Fireteam Phoenix, if you could please grab your gear and follow me? The Commander would like to speak with you." The team promptly grabbed their kit from what they voted to be the War Crime Wagon and followed the young man to a conference room. Their cobbled gear stood out against the uniforms of the fort. Mix-matched armor and camouflages, webbing wherever it would fit. All-in-all, they looked like a group of ragtag insurrectionists and it showed. Much of the base personnel stopped and stared as they passed by. It was good to know that their disguises passed for the real thing. The MP stopped at a door and motioned for them to enter. The first person Andrew saw as he walked in was Mrs. J. He breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing her face.

"Good to see you made it out safe Mrs. J."

"Likewise, Bothrops, I'll presume this is the rest of your psychotic team?"

"Don't tell me the Commander filled your head with lies."

"No, she let me listen in on the call yesterday. So, I've gotta ask, where does one get Bothrops from Andrew?"

"Long story short someone called me a viper a long time ago and the nickname kinda stuck. Bothrops is a genus of viper."

"So, snakes."

"With neurotoxic venom, you know, because I take out key functions of insurrection cells."

"No, they use cytotoxins to poison the bloodstream."

"Very good, no one else picks up on that lie. I knew I trusted you for a reason."

"Because I can smell moa shit a mile away?"

"Bingo."

Commander McKnight cleared her throat rather loudly, gaining everyone's attention. "If we're all done catching up I'd like to get on with why I brought you all here. Stow the formalities and take a seat gentlemen. Seeing as everyone's cover has been blown open, I feel it prudent that we know each other by name. Fireteam Phoenix, this is O.N.I Agent Jacqueline Briggs. Since the fall of Trost she's been working with the Office in order to wipe her records clean. Briggs is a former insurrectionist and has as much knowledge of their inner workings as you Andrew."

"Wait, Jac Briggs? Ain't you the one that was shacked up with King here? You're a bit shorter than I expected." Andrew asked rather unceremoniously.

"Hold on a second. Brandon King? Is that really you?" Jacqueline exclaimed.

"Yup. So, you've been with the spooks this whole time. I was wondering where you ended up after Trost."

"I'm going to assume we don't need to cover introductions in that case?" McKnight asked impatiently.

"I still don't know the other two."

"This is Sam Caster, our sniper. This is Jesse Thermer, the Boss and our other sniper." Andrew said. "There, intros are over and we can get down to brass tacks."

"Fair enough. As I was saying, our cover is fucked. The syndicate sold you out and got your network killed. Agent Briggs did manage to secure the information your other brokers had before she came to us. Briggs' previous mission under the office was to investigate the insurrection's ties to the local underground and find the source of their armaments. You boys found the snake guarding the armadillo and killed it. Unfortunately, you've kicked up a Yanme'e nest within the underground in doing so. That's where the intel Briggs secured comes in. You have three weeks to analyze what she brought and bring me a plan." McKnight tossed a data-pad to Andrew. "I want them running scared. You bring me a plan; you get clearance to take out the one that stabbed you in the back."

"You've got a deal, ma'am. Considering you took the time to introduce us to Jac, I presume Suckerpunch isn't the only reason we're here?" Andrew asked with a hint of amusement.

"Ma'am, before you say anything, I'd like to request that I be reassigned as an attaché to Fireteam Phoenix. It's evident to me that they need someone with a little more tact to liaise with O.N.I."

"That would certainly save time and money, but I already have a proposition for you Agent Briggs. The Office of Naval Intelligence has agreed to clear your records effective immediately. Congratulations, you're a free woman. While making you an attaché would be cost effective and get you on the team starting today, I'd like to propose that you join the Spartan Branch. You'd be assigned to Fireteam Phoenix as their sixth member. The augmentations are agonizing, you'll be in and out of surgery for three weeks and recovering for a month. Many of the augmentations are irreversible. The squids will open you up, pull you apart and put you back together again. At the end of it you'll be strong enough to lift several times your own body weight, break femurs with your bare hands, see in the dark and so much more. It's your choice. I won't force you."

"Way to lead with the grim part." Jac said sarcastically. "Wait, you said their sixth. I only count four?"

"Fireteam Phoenix is in the unique position of being the only known unit to employ a military working dog. Sylas is an augmented German Shepherd. As for your other remark, I'm not going to sugar coat something to convince you to join. I'll be upfront with you about it. Everyone in this room and their dog knows how much the procedures hurt. Andrew had it worse than the rest of us. Spartan Three augmentations were brutal. At least with the Spartan Four augmentations you won't die."

"Speaking of Sylas, was he a good boy while we were gone?" Andrew interjected.

"Yes, he was well behaved. He followed his regimen to a tee and ate everything he was given. So what do you say Briggs? Willing to go through hell to run with the best?"

"I've already been through a few hells, Commander. What's one more?"

"Welcome to the family. Hope you can deal with a few jackasses and a huge dog." Andrew said.

"Spartan Thermer, do you have any objections."

"No ma'am. The more the merrier. I'll have to do the paperwork for another bunk after I finish my after action report."

"Briggs, feel free to follow them to your new barracks. Meet me in my office at sixteen hundred to fill out the paperwork. You should be headed out tomorrow."


Notes:

Fun fact: The pink fairy armadillo and fer-de-lance or Bothrops Asper have a mutualistic relationship. The snake guards the armadillo's burrow and the armadillo's feces helps the snake produce venom.

If anyone remembers the earlier chapters you might remember Andrew saying that vipers use neurotoxic venom. He lied. He likes to see if people are willing to blindly believe what they are told.

The War Crime Wagon is based on a vehicle created by a friend in SFM. It looks as jank as it sounds.