a series of terrorist attacks convulsed the cities Pakse, Saravan and Champasak inside the People´s Democratic Republic of Lao, a group that called itself Sons of Phnom Penh confided to those attacks. The Sons of Phnom Penh were descendants of the Red Khmer, a communist party that reigned Cambodia from 1975 to 1978 and killed 2.2 million people.

---

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

---

The attacks, allegedly performed by Cambodian terrorists, were enough for Laos to it as a transgression. Accusations of inaction and even endorsement of the events were spoken out towards the Cambodian monarchy and government. It was a political disaster, every explanation or assurance that measures would be taken hit closed doors on the Laotian side. Meanwhile the Sons of Phnom Penh continued their attacks, now on both sides the Laotian and Cambodian which stoked distrust between the two nations. Their motives were unknown, analists were saying that they wanted to provoke a Laotian invasion to establish a communist regime after the Cambodian monarchy would fall under it. With the situation at hand Lao started to violate the borders to Cambodia during their military operations against the Sons of Phnom Penh. Neither of the sides wanted to declare an active war but the acts of aggression were clear and throwing Cambodia into a civil-warlike condition. As there were not NATO members threatened and no interests at stake the UN interventions boiled down to relief aid convois, medical aid camps and operational supervisors/overseers who were there to prevent war crime during military operations from either side. Typical blue helmet jobs.

In addition to that a consortium of intelligence agencies and military advisors decided to oversee this conflict too, the involvement of a global player or a coup attempt aiming at the whole region was not debarred. Orders were issued to re-activate an old Pony Express staging FOB, one at the that was used to support Hmong guerilla in 1975 during the Laotian Civil War and was abandoned after the communists came to power. The location of the base laid in Thailand so it wouldn´t cause political tensions but it was at the 3 nations border so perfect to for trespassing into Lao or Cambodia. Its official cover story was that the FOB was being used as a medical aid camp and Medevac runway for refugees and victims of the Lao-Cambodian border operations. Resources had to be limited to ensure the secrecy oft he operations launched from there and to keep a low profile on the troops stationed there, after all not everyone would be nurse,doctor or UN observer.

Everybody was worried, After all China had already been planing to expand either into Siberia or somewhere else. Covert agents and contractors were running under Matchbox´s,a JTF consisting of several intelligence services, supervision without its actual involvement. Yet nobody could foresee what happened next, overnight Cambodia and Laos plummet into chaos, while unidentified APC´s and MBT´s moved into Thailand from several directions. The offensive into Thailand was followed by heavy air strikes against high priority TRP´s. Within 24 hours the whole region was in a state of war.

---

To aid the Thai military all US troops inside the country were mobilized and contorted in Bangkok, creating a green zone inside the country that currently was being invaded. Though that was barely enough since resources and manpower were melting under the constant saboteur attacks and indirect fire. It did not take long for the enemy forces to start moving towards the city and with only one carrier group at the coast support was limited. Since the enemy was still unknown and China discount each allegation of having connection to this, it was decided to start evacuating foreign citizens.
Spectre, a DAaR unit under the jurisdiction of Matchbox ,
consisting of various ,sometimes not even existent ,intelligence agency branch members, like people from the ISA and top notch military unit members like the ones from CAG,Vympel and 13th RDP. Their mission was not to do the conventional work that others could do, they were tasked with finding key personell that provided the group money, informations,weapons and shelter, kill or capture HVT´s, gather intelligence and turn arround members that would then work as moles. Spectre´s existence is only known to a few leading positions within the different military´s and intelligence services.
Members of Spectre undergo various procedures like tattoo removal, fingerprint removal and other less pleasant ones, their paperwork is adjusted accordingly as if they never existed.
During the operation in the refugee camp, they had been relocated onto that same carrier group that was at the coast of Thailand just this moment.


would be the retrieval of classified material, sources and agents from several stations within Bangkok, everything under combat conditions. Therefor they inserted into a FOP of the 7th SFG, which was located inside a soccer stadium. It would become their base of operation for duration of their push into Bangkok. Bo has been designated as the element leader for this operation due to his previous experience in such matters. He was just returning from the roof, up there he had used the OGA´s laser designator to mark their target building as a TRP and loaded callsings and frequencies of forces in the are onto his radio. Now Boris was returning to perform a last equipment check with his people, he entered a locker room which was, kindly, given to them. As no other quarters were available the whole team had to make themself at home in this locker room for soccer teams, the only good thing about it was that the showers were right next to it.

Isabela was quick to roll up her sleeping bag. It was odd to think of it as a luxury, but given their current condition, that's exactly what it was. She stretched out the wrinkles before stuffing it into its bag. Melnikov was due back any moment now and she refused to appear sloppy. But she hadn't been feeling too well for the last couple of days; a lingering cold that just wouldn't leave her alone made her weak and with the desire to do absolutely nothing but sleep for days. Isabela suffered in silence though. She moved a tad slower, but she performed her job to expectations nonetheless. Or at least, she hoped that's what she was doing.

While some of the others chattered amongst themselves, Isabella put her sleeping bag away in her locker before she sat on one of the benches to lean back against the wall. She hugged her rifle purely out of instinct, probably because it made her feel a small amount of comfort. Not that she was in any imminent danger amongst her teammates per se, but the chills she was currently experiencing certainly didn't help.

Finally, as her superior walked through the entrance to the locker room, Isabela straightened up.

"Alright listen up!" he called out as he entered the locker room, clapping with his hands a few times to get their attention.
"I have scoped out the target area with the guys from 7th, it does not look good. The latest reports indicate that the lines are getting pushed further back into the city and the auxiliary forces are barely managing to evacuate people over the river. That makes our time window smaller. After talking to command they relaid to me that we have a 12 hour window, after that the JSOC will order the destruction of the target AREA. I stress AREA because they don´t even know which building it is and neither do we, the CIA is playing hard to get, saying that they´ll only provide the information when a team is on site. Justifying it with some theory about communication being intercepted." Bo walked over to a board at the end of the room, took out a piece of paper and photo from his A-Tacs pants and fixed it on the board with a magnet.
"Satellite images were not available but thank google and printers."


"So, the blue one is us right now. The red circle is the area where the CIA station is and the green square is the airport of Bangkok, that is where we are supposed to take the hardware and data after acquiring it. Apparently it is so important that it has to be flown out of country." Bo was pointing at each one as he talked, it wasn´t more than a sheet of paper with marker on it but that´s all he had. "The black lines mark the buffer zone, basically the front line, it´s filled with BluFor holding off the OpFor."

"The city is full of civilians, line infantry and saboteurs that break trough so we will use unmarked civilian vehicles."

"Our priority is to recover as much as we can and blow the rest or mark it for the indirect fire. The sooner we´re done, the sooner we can leave the country. That is all."
With that Boris stepped away from the board to his locker, he began to get ready by putting on the bullet proof vest and the plate carrier, checking if everything was in place. Prepping his weapons, headgear and backpack which he also would take with him.

"This sounds too easy," muttered Daniel, heaving a backpack onto his shoulder and grabbing his rifle by the centre. "Won't there be an interception if the intelligence is so important?"

Perhaps, he thought, his irritability was brought on by the lack of sleep- even without rough conditions, his body seemed to stay back in the west, taking a toll no matter how much he slept. It was the first time since training back in 2003 that he felt tired. Instinctual wariness in this new environment kept him awake, though.

In the desert, guns in heavy use tended to soak up heat, especially with the sun out. A desperate gunner on a truck could find himself stuck without a weapon because it would start glowing too much, like the eyes of the approaching fanatics trying to tear your friends apart. Daniel's gun was cold. Heavier, too, but that was probably just the suppressor.

Serena tapped her finger against her knee idly, her full focus dedicated to the Russian, Bo, as they called him. A steady gaze wandered upon the other members, her eyes resting upon each of them for just a short moment. Serena hadn’t served in an international unit before, though she had served alongside foreigners. It was an interesting change, though the life with The Ninth had been interesting enough already.
The woman’s attention briefly swapped to the short haired Spanish woman, Isabela, far as she recalled. So far, Isabela had been the person most alike Serena, in terms of nationality, at least. A latin country, just like her own. They were yet to talk properly though, it seemed like all of them were.

Alas, Serena turned her head back towards Melnikov, as he finished up the briefing. Instinctively, she rose to her feet, grabbing her trusty rifle just as her teammates had done. Her ear flickered towards the question from Daniel, squinting her eyes in agreement. There was bound to be resistance on the way, at least she was expecting it to happen. Before Boris could properly answer Daniel, Serena followed up his question with another.

“Speaking of an interception, what’s the rules of engagement?” She asked, her Italian accent being heard from every few words. “Do not engage before fired upon?”

Boris slammed his locker close, the headset dangling around his neck, mask and googles in the helmet which he held in his right.
"If it was easy they would not have sent us. You should listen to the briefing more closely next time, even if there is a safe cordon around the city center we still have to deal with saboteur commandos. Like mentioned,"
He pointed at the rifle which was hanging down on a sling, " that is the reason why we have those."

Then Bo tilted his head towards Serena, his eyes scanned her, yet he kept the assessment to himself.
"We´re bogeymen, this might be the first time for some of you but we act outside the conventional rules on engagement.
Since we do not know if the intelligence is compromised and the enemy might be in disguise, the engagement is on your own terms. Just don´t do anything you will regret. If you screw up there won´t be a court martial, investigation or anything. You will simply be replaced, period. We do not exist, so there is no crime for us. But that does not mean we forgot what ethics are."
With that Bo considered the questions answered appropriately, he pulled the balaclava over his head, put on the headset, strapped the helmet and pulled on the glasses. Last but not least he checked if his M203 was empty before heaving the backpack onto his back.
"Once you´re done meet me at the vehicles. We´re in the parking lot A, deck 2." he stepped out, trough the door he came in, making his way trough the lit hallways. The air was used, reeked of sweat and gun oil and together with the neon lamps it was a gloomy atmosphere. Especially while hearing the muffled gunfire and explosions from inside the city.
As expected he was the first to be at the cars, Bo put his backpack into the truck of vehicle 1 (one out of two), the lead vehicle. Though he only got into the passenger seat to ride shotgun, he´d be navigating and operating the radio for the duration of the trip.

Tokarev was leaning against the wall, casually talking with some of his teammates. They would be his comrades for the time being, so the least he could do was to break the ice with some of them.

*Clap* *Clap* "Alright, listen up!"

The room went silent, not that it was loud to begin with. Melnikov had come to brief them. Vadim, his focus on Melnikov, carefully listened to the briefing.
After Melnikov finished, Vadim immediately walked over to his locker, right next to David's.

"This sounds too easy..."

Having put on his plate carrier and backpack, he picked up his helmet and ran his fingers over it, feeling a small trail of scratches and dents. Syria, 2016 - mine, 8 meters away. Easy or not, you have to be prepared for anything, thats part of the job description.

*SLAM*

Vadim put his helmet down and turned to Melnikov when he began answering David's & Serena's questions. When he left the room, Vadim put on his headset, turned to David and said:

"Somebody is stuck up."

Having said that, he put on his shades, grabbed his rifle with his right hand, barrel pointing up, and helmet with his left, with the half mask attached to it dangling below, and headed for the parking lot.

"And so it beings..." she whispered, briefly shooting Serena a sympathetic look. Isabela then got up and turned around to get the rest of the gear from her locker. She put some magazines in the appropriate pouches that were attached to her vest, and the rest remained in her bag. Hopefully there wouldn't be a need to go through them, but that was merely wishful thinking on her behalf. She expected to be shot at and hit, but dying from those injuries would be different. She couldn't even accept the thought.

Once she had the gear she needed, Isabela pulled up the balaclava which hung around her neck. She adjusted the comms device they were assigned and strapped on her helmet. She was about to grab her rifle when she realized she still wasn't done. Reaching into her locker, Isabela pulled out a pair of knee pads and adjusted them around each knee.

Ahora estoy lista, she thought to herself, grabbing her weapon and slinging the bag on her shoulder. "See you guys out there."

Outside, Isabela put her stuff next to Melnikov's and made her way around the side of the vehicle. Once she took the driver's seat, she turned to Melnikov.

"Mind if I drive?"

Boris puckered his lips, of course she couldn´t see it, then he shook his head. The radio has been playing while Bo waited for the others, now he reached for it, turned down the volume, "No, not at all." was the only thing he said to Isabela. Then he took out his phone, dialed a number which he had on speed dial. Moments passed in silence, he could hear and Isabelas breath, finally the other side picked up.
"Good morning sunshine, don´t be late for school"
"Oh...am I too early? Sorry, must´ve mistaken the time.."
"No no, go back to bed. Just make sure your alarm is set."
"Yes.. uncle Dima will pick you up for school...like always.."
"Well, Natasha, you are a pretty girl. Many guys would dare to kidnap you while I am away." he chuckled slightly.
"Alright sweetheart, I´ll talk to you as soon as I can. But you know....this meetings can take forever."
"I love you too, now hush under the blanket before you get cold."
When the talk was over Bo´s phone disappeared in one of his pockets and he turned the radio louder again. His voice during the talk, had been completely different than the one in the locker room.

The vehicle was old, so it had no board computer or navigation system. Boris took out his Garmin GPS fed it the coordinates of their destination, checking back by using a map like they were sold in any tourist bureau or book store. From time to time he tried to scratch his chin, while scribbling all over the map with a pencil. A good while passed before he looked over to Isabella, "Do you have experience with driving under fire?" he asked, seemingly on the side.
"If not, today will probably be your first time." a sigh escaped his mouth, Boris looked outside. Not much of the city was visible from where they were, but the tracer rounds lighting the midnight sky were still impressive.
@Xandrya
"Are you thinking the same as the others? That this will go bad?"

Serena kept her arms folded as Boris answered, her expression blank as she gave a light, but clear nod. She met the gaze of Isabela, returning the look with a faint smile. And as the group began gathering the last of their things, Serena walked towards her locker, finding the rest of her own items. Once again, she checked her bag, for the third time. She did not forget things, ever, but it was a simple habit, almost a ritual by now. It had become a strange sense of familiarity in each new environment she found herself in. Surely it seemed strange, but it was time she spent to make sure her mind was in the right place – and it was. Throughout her time in The Ninth she had developed a few rituals alongside her comrades; triple checking their bags was one of them. ‘Una terza volta per buona fortuna.’ they’d say. ‘A third time for good luck’.

Everything was in order, as it should be. The woman tightened the short braid she had made for her hair, to keep it in check during the operation. With a silent thud, Serena closed her locker, grabbed her bag and rifle and headed towards the door. She found two cars outside, one empty and one containing Boris and Isabela. The Italian took a moment outside in the dark, watching the destructive firework in the distance. The sound of muffled gunfire and explosions was a strange one; calming in a sense. It was the instrumental opera; indicating your last minutes to contemplate with yourself before the actual fighting would break out, if it was going to, at least. Her eyes went flew back towards the car; Boris was talking to someone on the phone, most likely an officer of sorts. Nevertheless; Serena approached the car.

The woman sat herself behind Boris, placing her trust 416 between her legs, and pulled up her balaclava, taking in a silent deep breath. Boris had just put the phone down, asking Isabela something as soon as Serena had entered; nothing Serena herself paid a lot of attention to at first. She remained silent, her eyes locked on the horizon, filled with muffled guns and tracer rounds still. It was going to be a long night.

Walking down the gloomy neon lit hallway, Vadim lowered his rifle. Even from here he could hear the distant shots and explosions coming from within the city. Under normal circumstances it should have been the city that echoed from the shouts of fans - friends, families and lovers that would be here to support the teams and players playing the football matches. But now, to the citizens of this city such a memory would not be so distant, and yet, it would feel so foreign. Atleast, thats what Vadim thought.

He stopped for a second, letting Isabella and Serena pass him. Having put on his helmet, the half mask still dangling. Vadim took a guarana shot, after all he would need all the energy he could have right now.

"Парковка A..." He muttered to himself as he walked into the parking lot. Logically, Melnikov was the first one to leave the locker room, so he was the first one to arrive. He was riding shotgun in the lead car, Isabella was the driver and Serena sat in the rear. Vadim decided to drive the second car. Popping the boot, Vadim put his bag into the trunk. Leaving the hatch open, he sat into the drivers seat and said: "Last one into the car closes the trunk!" Taking off his shades, he slid its temples into the closed sun visor. Relaxing in the seat and properly attaching his mask to the helmet, Vadim waited for everyone to get into the cars.

Daniel shook his head as he followed Tokarev, striding in quick rhythm towards the exit, clothing falling under the pristine lights and casting shadows on a dirt-specked floor.
"He's just doing his job," he responded simply to the Russian #2's comment on Russian #1.

Though he held his identity close as the last part of family in foreign lands, the mechanic did have a level of respect for Russians, especially those who served their country without bombing a shitstain village for political change. The land there was harsh, and the ruthless military even more so. They were a complete reflection of their background, which was enough evidence of their strength.

As his companion found way to the parking, Daniel threw his bag in after Vadim's and joining in the passenger seat.
"Lazy motherfucker," he muttered with a smirk, throwing the door open and entering.

­

It was a simple question, yet it resonated with Isabela. "I'm afraid so, yes," she nodded, finally placing her rifle down between the two front seats after making sure the safety was on. "I have plenty of experience, but strictly speaking I've never been in an actual war zone. But now that I think about it," she stopped, looking forward for a moment before turning to Melnikov once more, "I've never been deployed anywhere overseas." Isabela shrugged her shoulders. "I've traveled for leisure, but that's about it. Guess I'll soon find out what it's actually like, huh?"

She gave Melnikov a slight smile to keep the conversation light, but the fear of the unknown was evident in her eyes. Isabela then looked back at Serena who had remained quiet.

"Welcome aboard! Happy you could join us!"

Noticing that one of their teammates had gotten into the other vehicle, Isabela turned the car on but left it in park. She then noticed the last man also get in the other car.

"Say the word and we're good to go, boss."

"Let us hope you won´t make the experience." Boris looked at the vehicle behind them trough the rear view mirror, rolled down the window and pressed the PT button on his wire to talk over the radio. "Alright, we are rolling out if you forgot something your fault." the Vympel operative exclaimed before knocking on the roof of the car with his right, the signal for the driver to roll out.
As Bo had inspected the vehicles previously he discovered that those still had players which played cartridges, so in a touch of nostalgia he prepared the glove compartment of the one he was sitting in.
"Hope you don´t mind some music." Boris opened the compartment which held 3 cartridges he previously placed there, as the vehicle drove onto the highway which was going right past the stadium Bo took one of them and slid it in. He turned off the radio and switched to the player, turning up the volume so the music blared out louder than before from the radio.

Fresh, cold night air was filling the car trough the open window, it bore the scent of salt from the sea. From the his behavior one could easily get the impression that it was only a few friends taking a night ride on the high way, if it only wasn´t for the the explosion several miles ahead of them. 'A 155' he guessed.

At night the fight´s were not as heavy as during day but therefor more infiltration attempts and air strikes occurred, by pressing a switch next to the wheel Bo turned off the lights. 3 light bombers did a overpass on them, they were unlike ones he had seen before and that was something that gave them away. During reconnaissance training inside Vympel they were smoked to memorize military hardware. The jets that just were Indian, HAL Tejas to be exact. But what the hell were Indian jets doing in Thailand?

Bo´s hand was on the PT button again, "Cossack, you´re with Patch. Low and me will take the front, work on obstacles. Mortimer you got the 6. Stick to Cossack and Patch, make sure you got their backs."
The vehicles were approached town center, from there it was only a 15 to 20 minutes drive until their destination. So far nothing interesting had happened, on they Bo saw some abandoned cars on the highway, people pillaging houses, a few traffic jams which they had to avoid trough detour but nobody shot at them. Which was good. And they still had more than 10 hours left until the deadline.

"Lazy motherfucker."

Vadim chuckled as he got into a proper driving position and turned on the car. He kept his G36 close to his chest, stock folded, in case he would need to use it as fast as possible. When Melnikov gave the signal, Vadim shifted the gear into drive and began following the lead car.

...

When the lead car shut off its lights, Vadim followed suit. He caught a glimpse of the three jets that passed over them, muttering:

"Что за..." (What the...)

What startled him was the tailless delta wing configuration on the jets - these weren't F-16s, Chengdus or Migs... While the thought that these were Mirages or Eurofighters did cross his mind, Vadim singled out one type of jet: HAL Tejas from India. So there was only one question left...

"The hell is the IAF doing here?" Vadim exclaimed. He sighted and immediately focused back on the road. No point in worrying about them now, if these truly were Indian jets then we would get confirmation later, he thought.

"Cossack, you're with Patch. Low and me will take the front, work on obstacles. Mortimer you got the 6. Stick to Cossack and Patch, make sure you got their backs."

Using his left hand Vadim pressed the PTT button on his chest: "Cossack here, gotcha."

As they got closer to the front line all the gunshots and explosions from it became louder and more threatening - they were in a true warzone. They took some detours to avoid the biggest obstacles, Melnikov had this planned out rather well. Vadim's respect for the man was growing. Although in his position,  Vadim would try to push the Yankees for more intel regarding the CIA station. Dirty means or otherwise.

As they got closer to the AO, Vadim said to Daniel: "Low, keep your eyes peeled. While I doubt an interception might happen before we get to the "Cutthroat's" station," He made a brief pause. "Lord knows into whom we might run into around these parts."

The airspace created little thought in Daniel- they were probably covering something other than a group of specific, secret operatives. What caught his attention was the apparent combat beginning to come into earshot, his experience with such sounds keeping him wary.

Despite this, he remained still for the duration of their journey, holding onto the rifle sat between his legs as they passed the wonderful sights of the city. He noted the closeness of the AO to a river. The fighting was likely over a strategic position.
Daniel made no comment, as a job for him was now present, according to the radio talk.

"Well, if the Lord is a CIA agent, then he bloody better know what we'll run into," he responded to Vadim's worries. He remembered working with intelligence services back in the Middle East.
"Cholerne wojny."

Serena flicked her head up again once Boris assigned the positions over the radio. In response to Vadim, Serena turned on her own radio, speaking into it. “Affirmative. See you out there, Cossack.” She adjusted her position in the seat slightly, furrowing her brows as the jets flew across the sky. The roaring engines were as thunderous cracks throughout the ground beneath them, though it seemed none of the soldiers in the car flinched at all. A familiar sound to a lot of them.

The cars continued to drive through the town, with many different sounds outside. By now, Serena’s eyes had gotten used to the darkness that surrounded the town. She began to see figures in the many streets. Some were scattering around for God knows what, whilst some kids were playing with a bashed-up football in a bomb crater. It was a bittersweet sight; at least they were still trying to play, in this torn up war zone that Bangkok had turned into the last couple of months. The area around the operatives had been somewhat silent so far, besides the occasional gunshot a few streets away.

After a sharp right, Serena squinted her eyes at one of the rooftops. A small figure stood still, before he took off, sprinting across a couple of rooftops, before he disappeared back into the night. It stung in Serena’s stomach at the sight, and she quickly went to turn on her radio again. “Eyes open, everyone. Might just have been a scared mouse, but we’ve got a runner on a rooftop. Could be a lookout, might be more. Patch out.” She wrinkled her nose, pulling the rifle from between her legs, holding it tightly as she continued to scan the houses. Surely, it could have been nothing, but it might’ve not been.

The radio lit up again as Bo pushed the PTT, "Alright, we´ve been made. Don´t know by whom but we´re marked."
Of course it was a little exaggerated but non the less true, common sense would dictate to hide, probably as deep as possible underground as the city was bombarded. Or evacuate if possible. Not to stand on a elevated position, looking for incoming vehicles. Partially it was his fault, nobody sane would drive into a city that was under siege, unless of course they had some sort of business there. Yet it had been the fastest option, plus as soon as they would´ve been in the vehicles would work as perfect cover up.
Chance, that´s the thing that decided everything and by chance they´ve been made in the suburbs of the city. 4 Miles out of the AO.
"Get your weapons ready and fire at will, we might have to push through an ambush if that runner reports." Boris himself had the window rolled down prior, so he only had to rest the weapon on the door.

Since the circumstances changed he was forced to act, putting the satellite phone he had with him to use Boris called a number which transferred his call to the mobile command station.
"This is Melnikov. Fauda, I reapeat, Fauda."
The reply took only a few seconds.
"You heard right, I need all the CIA access codes and passwords right now."
"I know about OPSEC. If you want the data out we still need the access codes."
"Listen, I don´t have to time to work door after door if we got imminent contact."
"Well tell that attache from Langley to get the broom out of his ass. If he won´t comply we´ll just break contact and leave the intel on site, just like OUR protocol tells us to. After all keeping the unit secret is more important than doing the CIA a favor."
"Fine, our sincere thanks then. We´ll follow protocol."
He hung up, more determined than agitated. Stored the phone back in a pouch,pressed his PTT again.
"We´re getting access codes on site...if we require them. We´ve got a real dick as an attache, if we take contact or run out of resources to proceed we´re pulling back."