I stared out from the Chinook and saw dozens of smoky pillars scattered through the urban center, obscuring the destruction still hidden within.

What the hell was Midway going to look like once the smoke cleared, and we could see the actual devastation?

Fires were raging everywhere, burning through large swaths of the city, reducing it all to smoke and ash.

Croc, Slipknot, and even Boomerang were quiet, too, perhaps affected by the mass destruction they were seeing.

Or maybe they were finally realizing they'd been brought here to battle whatever the hell had the power to level skyscrapers.

Or, I thought, maybe they were just smart enough not to give Flag a reason to set off their neck explosives.

But it didn't matter why.

It was good enough not having to listen to them complain.

Even Harley was unexpectedly quiet. She hadn't looked at the devastation. She wasn't paying attention to the thousands of dead and dying below.

I took out my cell phone and began to look at the photos, most of which had Kowalski in them. This was the first mission without him for several years. My partner, by brother, my other half. How would I cope without his reassurance and smart alec jokes to keep the mood from being too serious?

I missed it all. The three musketeers- Kowalski, Andy and I. We were always together. Until Kowalski and I signed up to the Special Forces. My eyes flicked to Andy's face. Where was he right now? Had he been deployed abroad while all of this was happening? What if he wasn't? My fingers composed a new message without thinking. Hey, going to Midway City. Miss you. Jaz.

I pushed send, and waited for it go through. But I ended back at the gallery, looking at the familiar faces, and the memories which seemed like so long ago now.

I concentrated on my memories of the long few weeks, of letting the humanity bleed out of me until I was more animal than human. What was I without my brothers?

I looked away from them, trying very hard not to think about what was next. So I put the phone in my pouch, but I when I looked up, Carter, Flag and Taylor were looking at me.

Flag arched one eyebrow, is face full of sympathy.

I gave him and okay with my hand, and he relaxed, but didn't look away. I had girded myself with extra ammo, stuffing magazines and grenades into every available pocket and pouch of my load-bearing harnesses, leaving behind canteens, bayonets and any other gear I felt would be dead weight on a city raid.

The prospect of getting into a scrape didn't worry me.

Not at all. I welcomed it.

For we were predators, heavy metal avengers, unstoppable, invincible. The feeling was, after weeks of diddling around I was finally going in to kick some serious ass.

As the helicopter force swept in over the city, gliding back in from the ocean and then banking right and sprinting northeast along the city's western edge, Midway City spread beneath it in its awful reality.

It was as if the city had been ravaged by some Apocalypse.

The few paved avenues were crumbling and littered with mountains of trash, debris, and the rusted hulks of burned-out vehicles.

Those walls and buildings that had not been reduced to heaps of gray rubble were pockmarked with bullet scars.

Telephone poles leaned at ominous angles like voodoo totems topped by stiff sprays of dreadlocks - the stubs of their severed wires.

I turned back slowly, and met eyes with Harley Quinn. She didn't look insane or evil-no, she had wonder in her eyes. "Hey, you, aren't you scared?"

I shook my head.

"Huh. I never knew the army had girls in it." She laughed nervously as she eyed the rifle in my hand. "Where were you born? You're not from here, are you?"

Taylor scoffed and gave Harley an antagonistic stare. "Trig wasn't born, she was government issued."

Flag smiled to himself as I rolled my eyes and looked away. I didn't want to get any closer to these freaks, even if I had to.

"Are you a Muslim?" Harley probed.

"I was raised a New Yorker." I answered flatly. It wasn't the first time someone had asked me. My mother was Cuban, my father American.

Harley grinned. "Me too!" Of course, she had the accent to match.

The two Chinooks and their Apache escorts raced over the river.

Harley looked out and saw Midway City off to the left, largely blanketed in darkness, the electricity obviously out. "No power to the people," she said, laughing.

The others didn't crack a smile. "Sour pusses. That joke would have killed, a few decades back."

Two Navy destroyers patrolled the river.

Just ahead of them she saw that the city's bridges had been downed, their spans destroyed by smart bombs.

What the hell did this? I wondered. What the hell are we being sent here to fight?

"You all seeing what I'm seeing?" she asked. "I mean, is this the kinda place we wanna be?" No one answered. They just kept staring at the infinite devastation below. Her eyes widened and she put her hands on the window, looking very much like an overly excited kid on a road trip.

Flag stared at the destruction too.

How many people were killed in that single, searing moment?

"Terror attack," he said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. He almost succeeded. "Dirty bombs. Bad guys shooting everything that moved with AKs. The usual shit." He was talking like a soldier, but he locked eyes with Deadshot, and I was pretty sure the man could see fear creeping into his eyes.

"You're a really bad liar, Flag," Lawton confirmed. "Didn't they tell you? I'm a hitman, not a fireman. I don't save people."

Flag scowled at him.

This crap was why I didn't want to work with these killers.

"Anything for a dollar, right, Lawton? Sorry we're not smothering retired mobsters with pillows."

Deadshot just stared at him. Killer to killer. "You know the dark places too, Flag," he replied. "Don't tell me you don't."

"I'm a soldier, Lawton." Flag turned to stare at the wreckage below. "You're just a serial killer who takes credit cards."

Deadshot stared daggers at him.

"Let me ask you this, Lawton," Flag continued. "Would you die for a word? Like integrity? Or duty? I've buried too many friends who have. When the shooting starts here, and it will, you'll cut and run. I know your kind too well."

Deadshot's hand slid to his holster. He rested his hand on his gun, then saw the sharpshooters sitting across from him as they suddenly went tense. Slowly he moved his hand away, but their eyes never left him.

Since they were all too overwhelmed, I took out my handgun and aimed it in Deadshot's direction, resting my elbow on my knee. "Try it, I dare you." I said lowly.

Deadshot scoffed. "That's why they call you Trig, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I won't think twice about pulling it, either."

I could see Katana and Flag relax their shoulders a little, but the others locked eyes on the infamous hitman.

Boomer glanced over to see Croc holding his stomach, looking sick. "Hey. Is he supposed to be green like that?"

"Don't like flying," Croc started to say before his stomach screamed and regurgitated last night's rancid goat meat dinner all over the chopper floor.

Harley stared at the chewed goat head rolling toward her feet. She quickly lifted them out of the way and tucked them under her, yoga style. "Whoa. Party foul. Not cool." For once nobody disagreed with her.

The four choppers turned toward the city center, then weaved through the steel and glass canyons.

Bathed in the glow of the setting sun, the city deceptively looked like it could still be saved. Anyone still standing on the ground would know better.

Suddenly gunfire whipped up from the streets.

Bullets shattered the left turbine on Chinook-2, and its engine ground like pebbles in a blender.

The chopper lurched back and forth uncontrollably, the pilot unable to right its course. "Hold on tight," Flag bellowed.

I saw the Squad, pressed against the shell by the G-forces of the spinning bird, trying to find anything to grab.

"The hell with you," Slipknot shouted. "I'm saving myself." He uncoiled his rope and moved to the open bulkhead.

Before he could get there, however, Katana drew her sword and braced herself. She cocked it back, ready to slice off his head.

Flag tried to reason with him. "She'll kill you before you get anywhere near the exit," he shouted. "And if she does, your soul's going to be trapped in the sword forever."

Slipknot turned to Flag and stared at him as if he was insane—yet Flag looked dead serious. The killer edged away from the open bulkhead and sat back down, resigned. Better safe than sorry.

"Okay, we're all here," Deadshot shouted. "Now what?"

Flag flashed a morbid grin and with his thumb made a slicing motion across his throat. "We die."

Deadshot laughed. "You see, Flag, it's just like I said. You're as crazy as me." He turned to find Harley grinning at him like the maniac she was.

She blew him a provocative kiss. "Back at you, princess."

The Chinook's engine was nearly gone, but the pilot was able to force the chopper in at an angle, barely topping the shorter office buildings surrounding the city center.

I spotted the ground-level parking lot on which the Chinooks were supposed to land, only two blocks south. The chopper headed for it, a thick trail of black smoke stretching out behind us. The landing struts broke off as they slammed into the row of satellite dishes dotting the rooftops.

The lot was still a block away, and we were losing altitude fast.

The other chopper descended to land safely on the parking lot.

The Seals aboard sprinted off the tail ramp and took shelter behind cement columns. Chinook-1 roared back into the air, clearing the lot for our copter.

Its engine grinding, Chinook-2 howled toward its target. Two hundred feet to go. Any cars on the road below them scrambled to get out of the chopper's way.

It came in just feet above their rooftops. One hundred sixty feet to go. A large black van with a roof-mounted luggage attachment tried to pull out of the way, but the Chinook's tail rotor slammed into the luggage, slicing it open, scattering its contents to the wind. One hundred feet.

The Chinook was spinning now, but the pilot refused to surrender the controls.

At the same time he raised the collective, he adjusted the throttle to increase speed. The copter nosed up slightly as it jerked ahead. Fifty-seven feet to go.

He carefully manipulated the Chinook, swinging the nose to the left while raising the collective as far as he could. The copter's nose lifted again, but I knew it wasn't nearly enough.

We were over the parking lot and needed to decrease speed as the pilot struggled to lower the collective. But the Chinook was coming in too fast. Its burning turbine belched fire and smoke. It careened sideways and rolled as it hit the ground hard.

Its twin rotors pounded themselves to pieces against the ground.

Kicked-up dust and debris were everywhere, obscuring visibility while the passengers hugged the columns to avoid getting hit by the rotor shrapnel.

"Move. Move. Get out."

I had barely maintained consciousness.

"You alright?" Hayes shouted at me over the chaos.

I nodded morbidly.

The villains followed Flag as he scrambled out of the ruined Chinook and headed for a freeway underpass where the Seals waited for us.

A drone, flying three hundred feet above, followed our every move, faithfully recording everything it saw.

We made the first down, but the real game was just beginning.

"We're okay," Flag said into the comm. "We're okay. Assets are undamaged." he led the Alpha Dogs and his Squad under the freeway to the ramp heading north, where we joined forces with the Seals from Chinook-1.

"What now, Colonel?" GQ asked.

Flag checked his phone's GPS. "We're ten blocks from the objective. Gimme two columns. Long rifle elements will leapfrog and maintain over watch. We come in any contact with the enemy, peel off. No John Wayne garbage. No taking them on by yourself, or even in pairs. Our real mission comes once we're at base. I need everyone there. So let me repeat—you make contact, you fall back and we find another route. Capisce?"

Boomer shot him a dirty look. "Yeah, we got it the first five hundred times you told it to us."

Flag turned back to GQ. "Your men ready?"

"Roger all, Colonel," the soldier said as he turned to his Seals. "First squad, left echelon. Second squad, take right. Senior Chief?"

"Sir?" Gomez, one of the Seals, ran up to him.

"You grew up here, right?" GQ asked.

Gomez nodded. "Yessir."

"Then you've got point, Senior."

Flag addressed his Suicide Squad. "Watch how the pros do it," he shouted as the Twenty Seals moved out, elegantly deploying into perfectly choreographed teams.

Deadshot nodded, somewhat impressed. He seemed to respect our discipline. Unfortunately, we also had to follow ordered often given but cowards who hid in control rooms while snipers put their asses on the line. Best thing you could say about Flag was he was no chicken. He was here marching into hell alongside us.

"So what do we do?"

"Nothing," Flag answered. "Unless I tell you. Follow me." He started out toward the city centre, which lay less than half a mile away. A tall cloud of black smoke rose from it, a grim arrow pointing us to our target.

"Look at all this," Boomerang said. "We're gonna die aren't we?"

"Maybe." I shrugged my shoulder. "Maybe not, but if things are as bad as I suspect, you're gonna wish you did."

Flag threw me an amused grin.

Harley snorted. "So why are we marching into battle like good little soldiers?"

Deadshot pointed to the explosive in his neck. "This, and 'sides, you got anything better to do?"

"Give me a few seconds and I'm sure I'll figure something out."

The squad followed behind Flag, staring at the horrifying devastation that was everywhere. Buildings had collapsed-once tall and mighty, now headstones for the thousands buried beneath.

They were killers, all of them, unshaken by the violent death that often came at their own hands. But this was more than any of them had ever seen before. More… and worse.

I followed closely, my hand close to my rifle.

Harley slowed down and paced alongside me. "I'm thinking the good guys probably pay better than my guy. So, what does a girl like you make, anyway?"

Silent, I kept walking.

"Oh, c'mon, it's not a big deal," Harley persisted. "You getting a grand a week? Two? Five? Don't tell me you get more?"

I glared at her. "Move, or I blow your head off."

"Well, you're out of freakin' luck. Look, we're both babes, right? On the same side, chromosomally speaking. I thought maybe…"

"You thought wrong. We're not on the same side. We'll never be on the same side."

"Mr. J used to say the same thing. Now we're closer than nipples on a pig. You and me, it could still happen. So give me a ballpark. They pay you by the fight, or you under contract? What about medical? I gotta say, this job isn't that good on the ol' skull and bones."

I stopped in my tracks and grabbed Harley by the throat. "One does not get paid to do what is right." I pushed Harley back to the road. "Now shut up and walk, or I'll see to it you won't have any feet to walk on."

"Hey, no problem, I get it. You're embarrassed they don't pay you enough. But I understand. Mr. J doesn't pay me. So, between us chicks, you think that's 'cause we're minions, or is it the girl thing?"

I stared at Harley, who gave me a big smile and hurried to catch up with the others. "Okay, okay. I'm zipping it."

"Nice talk. Let's not do it again." I mumbled., looking around. Everyone was calmly walking ahead into battle. Even Flag and the Ninja.

Suddenly, Slipknot tossed a grapple up to a balcony. Boomer pulled one of his boomerangs from inside his jacket pocket, ready to move.

Before I had time to grab my rifle and aim it at him, Slipknot activated his rope ratchet and launched himself upward. Boomer threw a boomerang at Katana's legs-but she jumped like a cat and it flew off, missing her completely.

"Hold your fire," Flag shouted, waiting.

Slipknot was partially up the wall when he fired a second grapple to the roof, then smoothly transferred to that rope. Once he made it the top, he could disappear into the city.

Katana's sword found Boomerang's throat.

He raised his hands in surrender. "You got me," he said. "Sorry about the 'rang. Please don't kill me."

Another moment passed and his boomerang suddenly returned to his hand. He dropped it instantly and smiled at her. "It's what they do."

Flag tapped his cell phone casually. There was a sharp explosion, and something the size of a melon came flying down from above, landing on a pile of garbage.

It was Slipknot's head. His eyes were wide with surprise.

Harley turned to Deadshot and laughed. "Now that's a killer app."

I found the others staring at Flag, dumbfounded.

He showed them his cell phone, strapped to his arm. Their mug shots were on the screen, a red button under each of them. "I wasn't bluffing." He said. "I never do. So if you wanna keep playing the Hollywood Squares version of I'll blow your frikkin' head off, I'm ready. Who's next? You, Deadshot?'

Lawton's pistol was in his hand before I knew it. It was aimed at Flag's face.

I raised my rifle at Deadshot, adrenaline kicking in. No one was going to hold a gun at anyone's face and get away with it. "Give me the word, Boss, I'll drop him."

Flag waved for me to lower my gun, but I didn't. His thumb hovered over the button.

No, you're too close! I thought, flicking off the safety on my rifle.

The Squad stepped back. They wanted nothing to do with whatever the hell was going on, but they were content watching it unfold. It was a Mexican standoff.

I waited for Deadshot's finger to flinch, but it wasn't on the trigger yet. I wasn't going to let him get that far.

Flag sneered. "You wanted to shoot me, you wouldn't have waited for me to call up your picture."

Deadshot nodded. "And you would have blown off my head before I got the chance to shoot."

Flag slowly lowered his arm, taking his thumb away from the phone.

Deadshot followed suit, and stared at the Colonel. "Next time, don't threaten me. Just do what you think you need to do."

Flag nodded at Katana, who released Boomerang. She sheathed her sword as he eyes the rest of the Squad.

"Do we all believe now?" Flag paced around the others, watching them like a hawk.

Harley looked around at the rest of the Belle Reve inmates. "Yeah," she said. "We don't push your buttons, you don't push ours." Then she looked right at me.

"That was a close one," Flag mumbled.

I strode alongside him, gripping my rifle. I wasn't going to relax enough to put it away. "What were you thinking?"

"Hoping someone would ankle, I don't know." He looked down at me and grinned. "I won't do it again, I promise."

Twenty six hours earlier, everyone in midway City got up and left. Nearly two million people drove or walked across the bridges before the missiles knocked them down, or they crowded onto city transit then transferred to trains that would take them to Gateway City, across the bay.

Thousands of other boarded ferries they prayed would not be sunk before the too, made it to Gateway-or even better, Central City, a hundred plus miles to the north. Many survived the short mile-long trip. Most didn't.

Nearly a million and a half men, women and children died in the first wave of attacks. A series of underground gas explosions had rippled through the area. Even would-be thieves, believing the city was theirs to loot, soon found themselves hunkered indoors, praying they were safe behind locked doors. They weren't.

There were no more trains. No more busses. No way to leave. Nobody was walking the sidewalks of the Fifth Street Promenade, the city's major shopping district extending from Ostrander at the north end to Grell at the south.

Something dreadful was out there, and it was killing everyone it found. Nobody could fight it. Nobody was safe. Whoever remained in Midway City was going to die in Midway City.

We turned left and headed toward the Tenth Street circle, then took the third outlet to Mooney Drive. Our target, mostly hidden by smoke, was only five blocks away.

Something dreadful was out there, and it was killing everyone it found. Nobody could fight it. Nobody was safe. Whoever remained in Midway City was going to die in Midway City.

We turned left and headed toward the Tenth Street circle, then took the third outlet to Mooney Drive. Our target, mostly hidden by smoke, was only five blocks away.

We moved carefully through the city wreckage.

Out of earshot, Hayes wondered aloud why Flag wouldn't tell us who we were to fight. Did that mean he didn't want to know either, or that whatever was out there was so bad he was afraid to tell us? I shuddered.

"If that's the case," he murmured, "heaven help us all, 'cause nothing else can."

Spenser suddenly stopped. "This isn't good," he said. "You see them?"

"See what, Clay?" Hayes said.

"They're all dead."

Then I saw it. Mooney Drive was littered with corpses. Piles of them tossed aside like garbage.

Flag gestured for us to stop as he stepped closer.

"Now that's weird," Taylor suddenly said. He stepped up, right behind me.

"What's weird?" Flag asked.

He kneeled down as if to touch one of the corpses, but then pulled back. It was an only man, probably in his eighties.

"No one here is young," he said. "Or strong. These guys are all older, or crippled." He pointed to a walker, lying on its side, bent out of shape. "Like they were rejected and tossed away."

"Rejected for what?" Perry probed.

"Yeah. What you said."

Flag's radio bleeped. GQ's voice could be heard through the static.

"Boss, we've got people up here."

"Roger. On my way." Flag responded.

Carter checked their ammunition supply, but with even with nearly fifteen thousand rounds, he wasn't sure if they had enough.

What if, I worried, it was like Superman, and bullets bounced off them? Or they could melt the metal with heat vision, or something equally alien?

Planet Earth would be totally screwed.

Flag stared through his scope and scanned the next street.

A half a dozen cars were turned over and on fire. A school bus had crashed into a clothing store windows, it's front half inside, it's back half gone as if it torn off and thrown away. As far as I could tell, nobody was inside.

He slowly panned the gun sight, then abruptly stopped.

I followed suit, and I could make out three shadowy figures skittering in the dark.

Silhouettes.

Flag lowered his weapon and grabbed me by the arm. "We're diverting. Bump out second squad two blocks east," he whispered. "Once they're set, we'll pass through them and we'll continue north."

I nodded, then got GQ on the comm frequency. "Post up your peeps two majors east." I said into the mic. "We'll leapfrog through you once you roger out. Initiate your peel."

"Roger that," the Seal snapped back. I took my comm and forwarded the others. "Okay, second squad. We're leapfrogging to the next intersection. Peel. Go!"

The Seals took off in three-man fire teams. Weapons ready, they made their way to the adjacent street.

I looked over to Flag, and waited for him to finish his call.

"What?" he grunted.

"What's going on Flag?"

Flag nodded toward a vehicle parked a short distance up the street.

Moving shadows crouched behind it. I raised my scope for a closer look. My crosshairs swept the vehicle, then landed on a figure hiding behind it. For a moment I thought it was one of Midway's police or firefighters-tall, powerful, and dressed in the tatters of what had been once a uniform. He'd been through the grinder.

Then the figure turned, and I saw what should have been a face looking back at me. Instead, I was staring at a large, black misshapen mass sitting on top of a semi-human body with the proper number of arms and legs in their appropriate places, but twisted and bent in an almost inhuman way.

There was no flesh on its face, but something that looked like it had been coated with tar then left to dry and crack in the sun. There seemed to be no front or back view, no mouth or ears or even a nose. The entire head was a massive, encrusted barnacle.

That wasn't what was really scary.

Pocked into its crusted façade were eyes, Thousands of glowing eyes, and the eyes were all staring at me. Not just where the face should have been, but where the gaps and tears were in clothing revealed bare flesh. Impossible eyes that didn't blink.

I pulled back, stunned. I didn't know what I was looking at, but I knew it deified reason. I knew the thing was evil.

"What the hell, Flag?"

"Something we don't want to tangle with," Flag said, his voice low.

Then I felt my neck hairs bristle. I saw Diablo behind us, frightening in his stillness.

"They are the eyes of enemy," Diablo said softly, "Executing Agents. EA's." Sombre, frightened, he stared past us. His eyes were focussed. "Our deaths."

Boomerang walked up past Hayes and took his carbine and looked through the scope. He turned back to the other, his face ashen. "Looks like crap with eyeballs."

Diablo turned to Flag with uncharacteristic urgency. "Shut this place down, Flag. Cleanse it now, while we still can."

"That ain't right," Boomerang stared into the dark. He didn't have to see the thing again-it had already permanently burned into his memory. But it was there, in the dark. And it may not have been alone. "That ain't even possible." He looked to see the others staring at him. Because they too, didn't know what to make of whatever they were seeing.

They too, needed reassurance.

For the first time they all looked to Flag for their next move.

"Get ready," Flag said, understanding the sudden shift, and ready to use it to his advantage.

Then the thing, the "EA" suddenly charged, darting from behind the vehicle. These EAs weren't just people-they were something very different. The Seals raised their weapons, ready to fire on command.

Another EA suddenly darted out from an alleyway between office buildings, while others pushed aside manhole covers and flowed up through them and onto South Paul Street. Many of them were carrying weapons, guns, rifles taken from soldiers they had murdered.

They were all moving inhumanely fast, and they were coming from every direction at once. Flag shouted to the squad, shocking them from their catatonic rigor. "Hit 'em," he bellowed. "Now! Aim for their eyes. They can't attack what they can't see."

It only took moments to fire several hundred rounds, but the things, the EAs did not stop coming. Even more poured in after the initial swarm.

I kept firing. Perry and Spenser had nearly three dozen grenades each. They tossed them all, one after another, but the creatures would not be stopped. They separated and scattered in different directions, moving too fast for me to focus my gunfire.

I clipped several of them, but my weapons weren't powerful enough to put them down. A few of the things for close enough to land blows, each time they did there was a scream, short and quickly cut off. The other EAs darted into doorways and hurried to hide around corners. Dozens jumped into op sewer entrances, disappearing in underground. In seconds, they were gone.

Flag embraced the momentary calm. They desperately needed the break to reassess what just happened.

"Cease fire," he said, "we need to conserve our ammo."

It was quiet once again. I spotted two of our men lying dead in the street, but I couldn't find a single EA corpse. "No kills. We didn't even drop one."

We stood for a very long time.

The lifeless body of Howe from Bravo Team was draped over a concrete barrier, and Stebbins has a gigantic hole through his torso.

It was what I had feared. I was disappointed in the Bravo Team first Squad. These were supposed to be the army's crack infantry? Despite all the hype and Hoo-ah horse-shit, he saw the men as poorly trained and potentially dangerous in combat. During training exercises, I had the impression that they were always craning their necks to watch Flag and his men instead of paying attention to their own very important part of the job. And the job demanded more. It demanded all you had,

and more... because the price of failure was often death.

That's why Flag and the rest of the Alpha Dogs loved it. It separated them from other men. War was ugly and evil, for sure, but it was still the way things got done on most of the planet.
Intellectuals could theorize until they sucked their thumbs right off their hands, but in the real world, power still flowed from the barrel of a gun.

They was obviously dead.

"Flag, what have you sent us to fight?" Deadshot turned to Flag.

"Once we get to our checkpoint, we'll find that out."

"The hell," Carter interrupted. "Those dudes run fast. Lightning fast."

"You'll protect me, right, doll face?" Boomerang asked hopefully. He fluttered his eyes and smiled at me.

I stared at him for another few second, then, without a word, I walked away, apathetic.

They didn't have to talk to know this was a momentary respite. The things, the EAs, had checked out the humans, and now they were most likely plotting their next move.

I took the moment to reload my weapons, but I wasn't at all sure if it mattered. Hundreds of rounds had been spent, but there were no enemy kills.

"So how do we stop 'em, Trig?" Carter asked. "We need bigger guns? Nukes? What?"

"We'll figure that out, Carter. Because we have to." I didn't turn to answer him as I watched Flag talk into his earpiece lowly. I watched his face carefully, for any sign of hope. I didn't see any.

"So, 'because we have to' is your plan? Why am I not encouraged?" Ramer looked at me harshly.

"Ask 'em if I care. I just need your goddamn bullets hitting those things until they stay the hell down."

"And there's that good ol' team rah-rah speech I've waiting for," Deadshot shook his rifle and walked off, disgusted.

Hayes stood to the side and watched Deadshot leave. "You can't blame him, Trig. He's a paid sniper. He's never failed 'cause he plans out everything to the last detail, but you're telling him to trust luck. That's not in his DNA."

Flag turned slightly, his ear in our direction. I wasn't sure if he was listening or not.

"And handing out orange slices and chocolate chip cookies isn't in mine," I replied, no reaction in my voice. It almost startled me, the sound was so careless.

"You gotta remember, we're putting our lives on the line cos Flag gave us a choice of die or die trying. But if we don't think we're going to make it, that promise is smoke. You've got to give us something more. Even some real info would do. You and Flag are like peas and carrots, but you can't even give us a tiny bit of intel?"

"Guess becoming heroes by saving the world from those creatures isn't enough, huh?" Flag snapped back, then he too, left. He had better things to do than argue with a Seal.

"You don't get any of it, do you?" Hayes shouted after him, but Flag was already halfway down the block, going over his attack plans with GQ in his ear.

"Damn, Flag, you're gonna get us all killed!" Hayes turned and glared at me. "And you're not at all different."

I felt my anger grow. I looked at my gun and squeezed the barrel. No. I don't need this. Not now. Yeah, we're a suicide squad, and we're going to die. Had to happen someday. Might as well be now.