Chapter - 11 - Bandits
!!Warning!! Extreme Violence ahead
Melromarc, Somewhere outdside Castletown
Strike force
[Redacted] "Ice" [Redacted]
"Good morning, sunshine," a gruff voice greeted, yanking Ice from his peaceful slumber. He cracked one eye open and was greeted by an unfamiliar face, a man with a scruffy beard and an eyepatch covering his left eye.
"Get lost," Ice muttered, his tone bored and dismissive as he turned his head away and closed his eyes again, as if the interruption wasn't worth his time.
The man let out a hearty laugh, clearly amused by Ice's indifference. With a metallic scrape, he unsheathed his sword. "And what if we don't?" the man taunted, his voice now carrying an edge of challenge.
Ice sighed in annoyance, slowly turning back around to face the intruder. His eyes fell on the tip of the man's sword, hovering dangerously close to his neck. Unfazed, Ice stared at it for a moment before locking eyes with the bandit, his expression unreadable.
"Really?" Ice muttered, a flicker of irritation in his voice. He glanced to the side, noticing the other operatives in the exact same predicament—each staring down the blade of a sword held by a different bandit.
"Yes, really!" the one-eyed bandit, clearly the leader, said with a hearty chuckle. His amusement echoed in the early morning air. "You're getting robbed, my friend. And unless you want to wake up a little... lighter, I'd suggest cooperating."
Ice's gaze drifted over the scene, sizing up the situation without moving a muscle. His fellow MTF operatives were all awake now, their expressions ranging from irritated to bored, yet none of them seemed particularly concerned. This wasn't the first time they'd been caught off guard by an overconfident group of lowlifes.
"You're gonna regret this," Pops muttered, his tone flat but carrying a dangerous undercurrent. His hands remained in plain view, but his posture suggested he was just waiting for the right moment.
Whiskey, never one to miss an opportunity to taunt, spoke up, "You really picked the wrong crowd, mate"
The one-eyed bandit's grin widened. "Oh, did we? Wait till you see what we've got." He gestured toward one of his comrades, who triumphantly held up a collection of AR-15s, HK-416s, and a single AN-94. "Looking for these? Hahaha! You won't get 'em back We're gonna be rich thanks to you lot!"
Ice barely gave the Weapons a glance. Instead, his brow furrowed as his gaze swept their surroundings. "Wait..." he muttered, ignoring the Bandits bravado entirely.
"What, you looking for something else?" the bandit jeered, clearly taken aback by Ice's lack of concern. The other bandits, though grinning, seemed a little confused by the MTFs calmness.
"No..." Ice's frown deepened. His eyes darted around the camp. "Where's Lira?"
Pops shook his head, glancing over to Ice.
"She wasn't here when I woke up. These idiots were."
"Did she-"
"Betray us?" Ares chimed in, his tone casual as he stared down the blade in front of him. could be. They knew exactly what to grab first."
"You've got to be kidding me..." Ice grumbled under his breath, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Lira, you little—"
Before Ice could finish his sentence, a blur of movement shot past the bandit holding the rifles. His hand flew to his Throat. Blood squirting from between his fingers as he staggered, dropping the stolen weapons to the ground. He collapsed with a gurgle, leaving the other bandits wide-eyed and stunned.
The confusion was palpable. The bandits looked at each other, then back at the MTFs, unsure of what had just happened. Even the MTFs looked momentarily caught off guard by the sudden turn of events.
Then, as quickly as the first strike, the figure struck again-moving fast... like a shadow in the night. Another bandit let out a guttural scream as he dropped to his knees, his hamstrings sliced open. He writhed in agony as the remaining three bandits scrambled, their fear now palpable. They swung their swords wildly, slashing at the air as they tried to locate the unseen assailant.
This was the opening Ice had been waiting for. In one fluid motion, he sprang to his feet and delivered a devastating punch to the one-eyed bandit's face, the force of the blow sending the man crumbling to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the dirt.
Pops, Whiskey, Ares, and Polak didn't hesitate, their training kicking in instantly.
They pulled zip-ties and knives, lunging at the remaining bandits with precision. It was over in seconds. The aftermath was grim: two bandits lay dead, another was heavily injured, groaning in agony, while two more knelt on the ground, hands bound behind their backs, trembling as they looked up at the five MTF operatives towering over them like a storm ready to strike again.
Then, out of the corner of Ice's eye, movement caught his attention. The mysterious figure from earlier finally stepped into view— it was Lira. Her face was pale, eyes wide, but before she could speak, Pops was already on her.
In an instant, Pops grabbed her by the throat, slamming her against a nearby tree with enough force to make the bark crack.
His M45 pistol was in his other hand, the barrel pressed against her forehead, and his eyes burned with fury. "Where the fuck were you?! Did you bring these assholes to our camp?! TALK ALREADY!" His voice was a low growl, each word spat out like bullets from an raging M240 Bravo machine gun.
Lira's hands shot up in a defensive motion, her breath shallow, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fear. "I-I didn't—! I swear, I didn't know they were coming! I was scouting the area, making sure we were safe!"
Pops didn't let up, his grip tightening.
"Scouting?! You leave in the middle of the night, and we get jumped by a bunch of bandits right after? Coincidence? I don't think so!"
Whiskey stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension, though his gaze was still sharp. "Pops, take it easy. Let her talk."
Pops' grip didn't ease, but his eyes flicked to Whiskey before returning to Lira. "Start explaining, now."
Lira gasped for breath, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I saw tracks nearby earlier-figured it might be a patrol or something.
I wanted to check it out before I warned you guys. By the time I got back... this happened." Her voice shook, but her tone was genuine.
Ice stepped in, his voice calmer but no less serious. "I really hope, for your sake, you're telling the gruth, Lira. Otherwise, things are going to get a whole lot worse for you."
Lira looked at Ice, desperation in her eyes.
"I'm telling the truth. I didn't betray you! I was trying to help."
Pops finally released her, but not before glaring directly into her eyes, the threat still hanging in the air. "Fine. But you disappear like that again, and I won't hesitate to put a vent hole through your Skull. Do I make myself Clear?!".
"Crystal", Lira nodded, rubbing her throat as she staggered back slightly, her eyes darting between the operatives, still on edge but relieved to be breathing again.
Ice glanced down at the trembling bandits, then back at Lira. "If you didn't lead them here... who did?"
Whiskey, always one to pick up the slack, nudged one of the bound bandits with his boot. "Let's ask our new friends here. See who talks first."
Whiskey grabbed one of the bandits by the collar, dragging him up to eye level while Ares did the same with the other. They both turned the bandits to face their injured comrade, who was writhing in pain on the ground, blood pooling around his legs.
"Listen here, you dumb fucks. Either you bloody talk.." Whiskey began, his voice cold and unforgiving.
Ares, still holding his captive, finished the thought, "Or you're gonna see him in the afterlife again." Both operatives drew their sidearms in unison, the metallic click of the pistols echoing ominously in the morning air. They aimed their weapons directly at the injured bandit, who had been desperately clutching his wounds.
The two captured bandits were visibly shaking now, their eyes darting between the guns and their friend, but to Ice's surprise, they kept their mouths shut, teeth gritted in defiance. A small smirk formed on Ares' face, as if he admired their foolish courage.
He exchanged a quick glance with Whiskey, both of them nodding silently in agreement.
Without another word, they pulled the triggers. Two simultaneous cracks echoed through the clearing as the bullets found their mark, and the injured bandit's screams were abruptly cut off, his body going limp as death claimed him in an instant. His stiffened form lay in the dirt, blood trickling into the soil.
Lira, standing off to the side, was paralyzed by what she had just witnessed. She clamped her hands over her ears as the shots rang out, but her wide, horrified eyes never left the scene. She had seen men killed before-but not like this. The cold efficiency of it, the way Whiskey and Ares carried it out with such calm precision-it wasn't just brutal, it was terrifying. For the first time, she felt true fear coursing through her veins.
These men weren't just soldiers; they were something else, something far more dangerous.
Pops didn't flinch as the shots were fired. He stepped closer to the remaining bandits, his expression dark and unreadable. "Now, let's try this again," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Talk. Or you're next."
This time, the bandits' resolve began to crack. One of them, eyes wide and breath-less, opened his mouth, his voice trembling.
"W-We didn't mean to... It wasn't our idea! We were hired! We were just supposed to steal your gear-"
"By who?" Ice interjected, his gaze locked on the bandit like a predator sizing up its prey.
The bandit swallowed hard, glancing nervously at his fallen comrades before blurting out, "Some noble... a woman. She paid us well to make sure you didn't have your weapons by the time the sun came up. That's all we know, I swear!"
Ice's eyes narrowed. "A noble woman, huh? And you were smart enough to go along with it?"
The bandit nodded frantically. "Yes! I swear, we didn't know who you were! Please, let us go! We told you everything!"
Ice exchanged a glance with his team, then turned to Pops. "What do you think?"
Pops eyed the trembling bandit, then let out a deep sigh. "Well, they can't prove their story now, can they? I guess we just give them the special treatment."
The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, and Ice glanced over at Whiskey, who was already grinning, clearly anticipating what was coming next. The bandits' faces paled even further, their eyes widening in fear as they caught the predatory gleam in Whiskey's eyes.
"Special treatment?" one of the bandits stammered, his voice shaking.
Whiskey's grin widened as he leaned in closer. "Oh, don't worry, mate. It's nothing personal." His voice dripped with mock comfort, but the sinister undertone wasn't lost on anyone.
Ares, standing nearby, cracked his knuckles, the sound making the bandits flinch. "You should've known better than to mess with us."
Lira stood frozen, watching the scene unfold with a growing sense of dread. These men, despite their lighthearted nature earlier, could shift into something far more terrifying at a moment's notice. She wasn't sure if she should intervene or keep silent, but either way, it was clear that the MTF operatives weren't going to show mercy.
Pops gave a curt nod to Whiskey and Ares, who wasted no time. They moved with a practiced efficiency, grabbing the bandits by their collars and dragging them a short distance away from the campfire, ignoring their frantic pleas for mercy.
"Whiskey, you ready?" Ares asked, his tone casual as if they were discussing a routine procedure.
"Always," Whiskey replied with a dark chuckle, as he pulled out a pair of zip ties.
The bandits, now fully aware of the danger they were in, began to struggle, but it was futile. Polak stood guard, rifle in hand, his expression calm and unbothered by the chaos unfolding in front of him.
Lira felt her stomach twist as she watched the operatives carry out their work. This wasn't a simple interrogation anymore. It was something much darker, and for the first time since she'd joined up with them, she began to question whether or not she'd made the right decision aligning herself with these men.
Still, she knew better than to speak up now. These bandits had made their choice. And now, they were going to pay for it in full.
"Lira! With me," Ice suddenly called out, his voice cutting through the tension, making Lira jump a little. Her eyes had been glued to the unfolding scene by the campfire, where Whiskey and Ares were about to get to work. The fear and confusion she saw in the bandits' eyes made her stomach churn, but she couldn't tear herself away.
"Lira!" Ice yelled, his voice more commanding this time.
"C… Coming," she replied, her voice trembling slightly as she reluctantly turned away from the scene. With one last glance at the bandits, she finally made her way to Ice.
"What is it?" she asked cautiously, walking beside him, trying to push the disturbing images from her mind.
"Let's go check the immediate area for more of these guys," Ice said, his tone calm but with an edge of urgency.
Lira glanced around, her senses still heightened from the earlier ambush. She could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her, but being away from the others, even for a moment, was a relief. Still, the unease gnawed at her as they moved further into the darkened woods.
"Ice…" she began, her voice uncertain. "Back there… what are they going to do to them?"
Ice didn't look at her as he replied, his tone steady but cold. "They're getting information the only way that works in situations like these. Trust me, it's better you don't get involved in that part."
Lira bit her lip, nodding but not fully convinced. She had seen cruelty before—she was no stranger to the harshness of this world—but there was something unsettling about the way the operatives handled everything, so casually, so efficiently. It was as though they had done this a hundred times before.
"So... you only pulled me away because..." Lira began, her voice trailing off with a mix of uncertainty and suspicion.
Ice cut her off swiftly, his voice firm but with an undercurrent of something softer. "Because you don't want to see that. You should stay innocent, kid. You don't know what that will do to you... it'll change you—for the worse."
Lira blinked, taken aback by his sudden shift in tone. She had seen these operatives as unshakable, ruthless even, but there was something different in Ice's words now—a hint of concern. It was strange to hear from someone who had been so cold and calculating just moments before.
She swallowed hard, trying to gather her thoughts. "But I'm not innocent, Ice. I've seen things too—things that would break most people. You can't protect me from that."
Ice glanced at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the darkened woods. "You've nothing Lira. What they're doing back there... it's one of the reasons the public doesn't even know we exist. It breaks something inside you. Trust me, you don't want that."
There was a long pause as they walked in silence, the weight of Ice's words hanging in the air between them. Lira felt a strange sense of conflict within herself. She had always believed she could handle anything this world threw at her. But something about Ice's warning made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, there were some lines she wasn't ready to cross.
"You're part of this now," Ice continued quietly. "But it doesn't mean you have to lose yourself in it."
Lira nodded, her expression thoughtful. She wasn't sure what to make of it all yet, but she knew one thing—whatever happened next, she couldn't afford to show weakness.
But before she could say anything else, Ice's radio crackled to life. "Yo, Ice, here Whiskey! One of 'em broke."
Ice paused, his hand instinctively moving to the radio. "Alright… what'd he say?" he replied, his voice calm but expectant.
There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Whiskey's voice came back, a bit more grave this time. "No, I mean he broke literally. He's brain dead."
Ice closed his eyes, shaking his head in frustration. "Goddamn it," he muttered, the tension building again. "Alright… let Ares handle the other one. Maybe he'll get something out of him."
Lira, who had been listening quietly to the exchange, felt a chill run down her spine. She wasn't naïve—she knew these men weren't exactly gentle—but the cold efficiency with which they dealt with their prisoners was something entirely different from what she was used to.
Ice caught the look on her face and sighed. "This is the world we're in now. It's ugly, but it's survival." He turned, beginning to walk back toward the camp. "Let's hope the other one holds out a little longer."
Lira followed, her mind racing as she tried to reconcile everything she had seen and heard. She wasn't sure what scared her more—the bandits, or the men she was now traveling with.
She swallowed hard before asking, "C... can you tell me... how do you t... torture f... for information?"
Ice stopped in his tracks, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow. "What now?"
Lira hesitated, feeling the weight of her own question. "I-I mean... you guys seem to know exactly what you're doing. How do you... make people talk like that? Without... without hesitation?"
Ice's expression darkened, the lightness in his tone disappearing. "You don't want to know that, Lira. Trust me."
"But I asked," she pressed, her voice a little stronger now, despite the fear gnawing at her. "I need to understand who I'm working with. If you're going to be... doing things like that around me."
Ice studied her for a moment, his gaze piercing through her unease. "We do what we have to do to survive. It's not something anyone should enjoy, and we don't do it unless it's necessary." His voice lowered. "But when it is necessary, you don't think about it. You don't give your target the luxury of hope. You apply pressure until something cracks. Sometimes it's their will. Sometimes..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Sometimes it's their mind or their body. And when that happens, you don't get anything useful."
Lira's stomach churned as Ice spoke, but she couldn't stop herself from asking the next question. "How do you live with it? Knowing what you've done?"
Ice's face hardened, his gaze distant. "You don't live with it. You just... keep going. Because someone has to. We die in the dark so others can live in the light. That's the job. It's necessary, to protect the ones you love, and during this job, you do things... things even your loved ones would despise you for." His voice was low, almost a growl, carrying the weight of countless unspeakable acts. The darkness in his tone made it clear—this wasn't a matter of choice. It was a burden, one that couldn't be undone.
Lira felt a cold shiver run down her spine as she absorbed his words. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She had asked for the truth, but the answer was far heavier than she had anticipated.
Ice glanced at her briefly, his face unreadable. "That's the reality of what we do. We're not heroes, Lira. We're soldiers. And soldiers don't get happy endings."
With that, he turned and continued walking, leaving Lira standing there, wrestling with her thoughts. What kind of world had she stepped into, where survival meant becoming something—someone—unrecognizable?
She hurried to catch up with Ice, the echoes of his words lingering in the air between them.
Ice stopped dead in his tracks, the question hitting him harder than any blow he'd taken in the arena. His eyes, barely visible under the shadow of his balaclava, flickered with something unreadable. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Lira, the weight of the moment heavy between them.
For a long second, he said nothing, just staring at her as if weighing whether or not to answer.
"I did," he finally muttered, his voice quiet, almost too quiet to hear. "A long time ago."
"W... What happened to them?" Lira asked, her voice low and cautious, not wanting to pry too deep but needing to understand.
Ice started walking again, the weight of her question hanging in the air. His steps slowed slightly, his posture tensing. For a moment, Lira thought he might not answer at all. But then he spoke, his tone flat, almost detached.
"Nothing," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "The question you should be asking is what happened to me."
Lira furrowed her brow in confusion but stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.
"They think I'm dead... and that's for the better," Ice said, his voice harder now, as if forcing the words out. "The Foundation erased me, wiped me clean from existence, like I never was. It's how it works. The job gets dangerous, things go sideways, and you disappear—officially, permanently."
He glanced at Lira, his expression cold but not unkind. "It's easier for them. No waiting for me to come home, no wondering what's next, no lies to cover the blood on my hands. They get to live in the light while I stay in the dark, and that's how it needs to be."
Lira swallowed hard, her chest tightening. She'd known Ice was different, hardened by something deeper than just the battles they'd faced together. But now, hearing the truth, she felt the enormity of his burden.
"They think you're... dead?" she repeated in a whisper, her voice barely above a breath.
Ice nodded, his gaze distant. "Yeah. And I'll keep it that way." He said it with finality, the conversation clearly over. But in that moment, Lira understood the weight Ice carried every day—fighting not just to survive, but to keep others from carrying the same darkness that followed him.
She didn't know what to say. How do you respond to something like that? So she stayed silent, walking beside him, feeling the quiet between them grow heavier. "Does that count for all your Team mates?".
Ice sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as they walked. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "Every one of us. It's part of the job. When we signed up, we knew what we were getting into. We all have people back home who think we're dead, people who've moved on. It's easier for them... and it's what we agreed to."
Lira looked down, processing the weight of what he had just revealed. "So... none of you have any connection to your old lives?"
"None," Ice replied, his voice firm but tinged with a sadness he rarely let show. "That's the deal. Once you're part of the Foundation, you're erased from the world you knew. You die in the dark, and everyone else gets to live in the light."
Lira bit her lip, feeling a deep sense of pity for the team. "That's... a heavy burden to carry."
"It's not about burden," Ice said, his tone matter-of-fact. "It's about doing what needs to be done. We made our choice. We protect the world from things it doesn't even know exist. And to do that, we have to become ghosts."
She glanced over at him, her voice softer this time. "And what about after this mission? Will you just... disappear again?"
Ice glanced at her briefly, then looked away. "That's the thing about the job," he said quietly. "There's always another mission. Always something else in the dark waiting for us."
Lira remained quiet, the weight of his words settling over her like a heavy cloak. This team, these men—they weren't just soldiers. They were shadows, living on the edge of the world, forgotten by everyone they'd ever known. And yet, they still fought on.
"I don't think I could do that," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
"You don't have to," Ice replied, his voice low and cold. "That's why we do it."
Lira's brow furrowed as she glanced up at Ice. "Does no one have any second thoughts on one of these missions? Are you guys really ready to just… give your life?"
Ice didn't look at her, his eyes focused ahead, scanning their surroundings as they walked. "Yeah," he said, his tone even. "We're ready to give the ultimate sacrifice just to keep the world safe for one more day."
Lira bit her lip, the weight of those words hanging heavy between them. "But… doesn't that scare you? The thought of just… disappearing. No one knowing. No one remembering."
Ice finally turned to meet her gaze, his eyes hard but not unkind. "Every day we step into the unknown, we know it might be the last. But that's the job. Someone has to stand between the world and the monsters. If it's not us, it's no one."
Lira fell silent for a moment, absorbing the gravity of what Ice was saying. "But… doesn't it ever feel… unfair? Like the world is asking too much?"
Ice's jaw clenched slightly as he considered her question. "Maybe. But it's not about fairness. We made a choice. We accepted the cost."
Lira nodded slowly, feeling a mix of admiration and sorrow for the team she was now part of. "You guys are something else," she said quietly. "It's like… you're not even human sometimes."
Ice let out a low chuckle, though there was no real humor in it. "We're human. More than you might think. But when you've seen the things we've seen… you learn to put aside the fear. You bury it deep down, where it can't touch you. Because to fight the true evil… you have to become the true evil."
He paused for a moment, his gaze hardening as memories flashed behind his eyes. "You might think we're monsters… and maybe we are, to an extent. But the true monsters are the ones who make us do our jobs. The ones hiding in the shadows, pulling the strings, forcing us to step into hell over and over again."
Lira's footsteps faltered as she processed his words. "So… you think that's what it takes? Becoming something dark to fight what's worse?"
Ice nodded without hesitation. "Sometimes, yeah. The things we face… they don't fight fair. They don't follow rules. They exploit fear, pain, and chaos. So we have to be worse. We have to be what they fear."
Lira shivered at the cold truth in his voice. She had seen only a glimpse of their world, but now it was clearer than ever—these men weren't just soldiers, they were a different breed entirely. She wondered how long it had taken them to become like this. To lose the part of themselves that once clung to ideals of good and evil.
"And after all that… how do you even look at yourself in the mirror?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ice's lips curled into a grim smile. "You don't. You just keep moving. Keep fighting. Because if we don't… no one else will."
Before Lira could respond, the radio crackled again, cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Ice, Pops here. The second one broke."
"Don't tell me he fucking died too," Ice muttered, exasperation clear in his tone.
"Negative. He Spilled."
Ice sighed in mild relief. "Roger that. We're Oscar-Mike."
Without another word, Ice turned to Lira, his expression still as unreadable as ever. "Let's go."
They moved swiftly through the woods, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of their earlier conversation. Lira followed beside him, her thoughts racing. She had never imagined that the men she found herself tied to operated under such cold, brutal logic. The reality of what it meant to stand beside them in this world—or any world—was sinking in deeper with every word Ice had shared.
As they approached the camp, the low glow of the dying fire came into view, along with the familiar forms of Pops, Whiskey, and Ares, who stood near the last remaining bandit. Lira's eyes widened in shock as she took in the state he was in—a grown man, lying on the ground, crying and wailing, yet not a single visible scratch on his body. *How did they do that?* she wondered, her mind racing. The sight was both disturbing and oddly impressive, a reminder of the control and precision these men wielded.
The air was thick with tension, but the MTFs were calm, methodical, like wolves circling prey they had already claimed.
Pops turned to Ice as they arrived. "He gave us the location of their hideout. It's not far from here. We can hit it before the sun's fully up."
"Numbers?" Ice asked, his voice flat.
"About a dozen. Few more, give or take. But they aren't expecting us."
Ice looked at Lira, then back at Pops. "What's the plan?"
Whiskey, leaning casually against a tree, answered first. "We go in hard, take them out quick. They won't know what hit them."
Lira frowned, her discomfort clear as she spoke up. "You're really just going to kill them? No second chances?"
Ice's eyes locked onto hers, his tone cold. "We've given them enough chances. They made their choice when they tried to rob us."
Ares, always the more measured of the group, added, "Besides, they know too much now. They've seen our gear, our tactics. That's not something we can let walk away."
Lira's throat tightened. She wanted to argue, but she could feel the finality in their words. These men had no room for mercy, no space for moral debates. In their line of work, survival trumped everything.
"Let's get ready," Ice ordered, his voice cutting through the tension. He pulled on his gloves, eyes scanning the group. "We move in five."
As the team began to prepare, Lira stood off to the side, her mind spinning with questions she didn't know how to voice. How far would she have to go alongside these men? How long before she, too, became like them?
And more than anything, could she handle it?
Whiskey chuckled at Ice's response, the two sharing a brief glance of understanding. Lira, on the other hand, felt a knot tighten in her stomach at the mention of white phosphorus. She didn't know the full extent of what they were planning, but the casual way they spoke about it sent a shiver down her spine.
"White phosphorus?" Lira finally asked, unable to keep quiet any longer. Her voice was cautious, uncertain of what they were truly suggesting.
"Oh yeah," Polak's voice chimed in from a few feet behind her, his tone casual, almost like he was discussing the weather. "Think of it as very, very spicy white smoke."
Lira turned slightly, her face reflecting both confusion and unease. These men talked about destruction like it was just another tool in their belt—a weapon as casual as a sword or a knife. It wasn't that she hadn't seen violence before, but this level of cold calculation, the nonchalance, was unsettling.
"Yeah, no, Polak, Whiskey," Ice said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We're not using that. I want to keep it a secret… for now. The bandits nor the Kingdom should know something like that exists… especially not the Kingdom. We stick to standard one-five-five H-E rounds. That should be more than enough for these guys."
Polak gave a slight nod, clearly understanding Ice's caution. Whiskey, however, smirked as if disappointed but not surprised. "Ah, well, there goes the fun part. But you're the boss," he muttered, still leaning casually on his rifle.
Ares chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Always thinking ahead, Ice. Can't blame you for that."
Ice's eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the horizon, making sure no other threats were lingering. "We're playing a long game here. The less they know about what we're really capable of, the better. Let them think they've seen all we've got."
Lira, standing off to the side, tried to make sense of their conversation. She had no idea what kind of weaponry they were referring to, but the way they spoke about it—it sounded like something far more destructive than anything she had ever encountered. It made her realize just how much these men held back, how much power they were choosing not to use.
Whiskey, always the joker, shot Lira a quick grin. "Don't worry. You'll see it in action when the time's right. It's… well, let's just say it's something you don't forget."
"Alright," Ice's voice cut through Whiskey's like a hot knife through butter. "We're Oscar-Mike at this time. Let's get a vantage point and call in the steel rain." He paused, turning his attention to Ares. "Oh, and Ares—clean up your mess, would you?"
Ares didn't need to be told twice. With a nod and that all-too-familiar sickening grin, he racked the charging handle of his rifle and aimed it squarely at the still-crying bandit. The bandit, realizing what was about to happen, sat up with wide, panicked eyes, his pleas for mercy spilling out frantically.
"No! No, no! Please, I'll do whatever you w—"
His desperate words were silenced by two suppressed gunshots. The rounds struck his face with brutal precision, and his body collapsed, stiffening almost immediately as the life drained from him. The sound of the shots seemed to hang in the air for a moment before the camp fell back into eerie silence.
Lira flinched slightly but kept her gaze forward, forcing herself not to react. She had seen enough to know that this was simply how they operated—cold, efficient, and without hesitation. Even still, she couldn't shake the unease that settled in her chest every time she saw them so casually take a life.
Ice glanced at the now-limp body before turning back to his team. "Let's move. We've got work to do."
Whiskey gave a slight nod, though the smirk never left his face. "Steel rain, huh? This is going to be one hell of a show."
The rest of the MTF operatives fell into formation, each moving with the same practiced efficiency they always did. For them, this was just another mission—another necessary evil in a world filled with them. They didn't dwell on the aftermath; they moved forward, always ready for what came next.
Lira followed behind, her thoughts swirling. She still didn't fully understand these men or the dark path they walked, but one thing was clear—she was in far deeper than she had ever expected.
The walk to the small hill was relatively uneventful, save for the occasional encounter with a Balloon monster or a stray bunny-like creature. Each time, before Lira could even react, the creatures were dispatched swiftly by a single, precise bullet from one of the MTF operatives. The crack of gunfire echoed briefly in the still air, and then it was back to silence, save for the soft crunch of their boots on the uneven ground.
Lira found herself glancing at the men from time to time, amazed by how calm and efficient they were in handling these so-called monsters. What seemed like a threat to others was little more than a target practice session for them. No hesitation, no fanfare—just a clean shot, and the threat was gone.
Whiskey, as usual, led the group, keeping an eye on the path ahead with his sniper rifle slung across his back. "Nothing but target practice," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "Starting to feel like we're out on a walk, not a mission."
"Better a quiet stroll than a firefight," Pops grunted. He kept his rifle at the ready, scanning their surroundings with a practiced eye. "We'll have enough action when we call in the artillery."
Ice, walking near the back, was quiet, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Lira couldn't tell if he was deep in planning or simply lost in whatever cold place he retreated to when things got quiet. She kept her distance, still uncertain how to feel about the man leading this team of deadly operatives.
When they finally reached the hill, Whiskey took the first steps to the crest and dropped to a knee, pulling his scope up to survey the landscape below. "Looks clear. We've got a good vantage point here."
"Perfect," Ice said, joining him at the crest of the hill. He reached into his pouch and pulled out his radio, pressing the PTT button on the side with a practiced motion.
"Station, this is Strike Force. We need Warhammer, I say again. We need Warhammer, over."
There was a brief moment of static before the familiar voice of Station crackled through the speaker. "Strike Force, this is Station. Linking you to FDC now. Station out."
Ice waited for a few tense seconds, the silence of the hill punctuated only by the faint wind rustling through the grass. Then, the radio crackled again, this time with a new voice.
"Strike Force, this is FDC Warhammer. We are locked and loaded, waiting for instructions. Over."
Ice glanced at Whiskey, who was peering through his sniper scope, surveying the target area below. Without missing a beat, Ice responded.
"Warhammer, call for fire on grid two-four-six, niner-three-one. Danger close. Over."
"Call for fire on grid two-four-six, niner-three-one. Stand by for confirmation. FDC copies all, out."
"Message to Observer. One-Gun spotting round. Two-Gun, Three-Gun, H-E in effect. Five rounds. Over." War-Hammer added.
Ice replied swiftly. "One-Gun spotting round. Two-Gun, Three-Gun, H-E in effect. Five rounds. Out."
The rest of the team stood at the ready, tension building as they waited for the reply. Lira, standing slightly behind them, watched the exchange with wide eyes, still trying to grasp the immense power that these men were capable of summoning at a moment's notice.
"Shot. Over," came the reply from Warhammer.
"Shot. Out," Ice responded. The back-and-forth jargon between Ice and Warhammer was like a foreign language to Lira. New words and phrases echoed in her head, each one adding to the weight of what was happening.
Seconds later, the faint sound of distant artillery fire reached them, followed by the unmistakable high-pitched whistle of the incoming round.
Whiskey grinned. "Here comes the boom."
The first explosion tore through the air, followed by a deafening blast as the H-E round hit the target area below. The ground trembled, and plumes of smoke and dirt shot into the sky. However, the actual bandit camp stood sturdy, the artillery shell missing by a considerable margin.
"Splash. Over," Ice said calmly into the radio.
The reply came swiftly. "Splash. Out."
"War-Hammer, Strike Force, adjust fire. Direction one—five—zero—zero, add one—zero—zero, right three—five—zero. Over." Ice commanded through the radio, his voice steady.
"Direction one—five—zero—zero, add one—zero—zero, right three—five—zero. Out," Warhammer confirmed.
"Shot. Over."
"Shot. Out."
The second round hit directly in the center of the bandit camp, sending debris and rubble flying through the air. Bandits ran frantically, panicking as the reality of their situation hit them. Whiskey and Ares exchanged a fist bump and broke into laughter, while Pops and Polak remained stoic, focused on the mission. Ice stayed on the radio, all business, while Lira couldn't help but feel a pang of pity for the bandits below.
"Splash. Over," Ice said again, his voice unshaken.
"Splash. Out," War-Hammer responded.
"Warhammer, this is Strike Force. Direct hit. Same coordinates—fire for effect."
The grim efficiency of the MTF operatives left Lira standing in quiet awe as the reality of the situation settled over her. This was their world—a world of absolute precision, devastating force, and ruthless action.
The sounds of the following rounds whistling through the air echoed louder this time, the impending destruction about to rain down on the bandit camp once more.
Then it all began.
The high-explosive warheads rained down, their impact like the hammer of an unforgiving god. Each blast sent shockwaves through the ground, tearing apart the bandit camp in a fiery storm of chaos. The sheer power of the shells obliterated everything in their path—tents were shredded, makeshift barricades splintered into the air, and bodies were flung like ragdolls amidst the fury.
Smoke filled the air, rising into the sky as the camp was reduced to nothing more than smoldering debris. The bandits who had been scrambling in a desperate attempt to flee were caught in the blasts, their screams of terror silenced by the roar of the artillery. The destruction was absolute—nothing survived within the radius of devastation.
Whiskey peered through his scope, watching the carnage unfold below. His grin had faded into something more serious, more professional. "Looks like the job's done."
"Good effect on target," Ice said coldly into the radio. "War-Hammer, mission complete. Good Shit Warhammer. Over."
"Roger that, Strike Force. Ceasing fire. Warhammer out," came the swift reply, and just like that, the bombardment ended.
For a moment, all was quiet, the only sound being the wind blowing through the now-ruined landscape. The bandit camp had been wiped from existence—just a smoldering graveyard of destruction left in its place.
Lira stood frozen, her eyes wide as she looked at the aftermath. She had known these men were dangerous, but this... this was a level of devastation she had never witnessed before. The sheer, cold efficiency with which they operated left her both awed and unsettled.
Ice, Pops, Whiskey, Ares, and Polak exchanged glances, their faces hard but showing no signs of regret. They had done what needed to be done.
"Alright, pack it up," Pops said, his tone casual but firm. "We're moving out."
Ice glanced over at Lira, his eyes sharp but calm. "Now you see why we don't need magic," he said quietly. "We have our own ways."
Lira could only nod, still trying to process the level of destruction she had just witnessed. These men weren't just soldiers—they were something else entirely. Something far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.
Authors Note:
HOT DAMN. Longest chapter yet. Revsing this was a damn bitch god damnit. 8 bloody K words. I hope y'all enjoyed it. Sorry not sorry to anyone who's sensitive to detailed violence and graphic scenes and still kept reading. I warned you lol.
Reviews:
Guest- (FanBoy01) Yeah... yeah I totally agree
Guest- (FanBoy01) Don't say that out loud damnit!! They'll find you!
Guest- (Ice) Keep on reading. You'll find out