[IC] The Division - Tragedy is Invisible

[Rare]

Day 6, November 29th
Subway Tracks
10:50

New York City has changed a whole lot from the past six days. If anyone would of told you that this was going to happen—all in the matter of six days—, you'd tell them that they are fucking crazy. But it fucking did happened. In six fucking days. The city, that symbolized the American Dream and showed how powerful America was, would collapse in six days for an outbreak. The city always has been weaken, crushed down until collapse; but, the city and its' people always stool tall and proud despite terrible things happening. The virus is one of them and in the end of this, New Yorkers will still be staying here until they die.

Javier was walking ahead of the group on the dark subway tracks as he grabbed an other flare, twisted the top, and threw it far. It was the only light source as the lights were not blight enough, plus it was orange. The color stool out for the dark, empty subway trucks as it made the tracks easier to see. He kept walking forward, passing by large, white paint words that said:

"None of this matters.."

Soon, he stopped walking and turned towards the other members of the group as they were still walking forward. Javier looked around to see a couple tents (due to the darkness, it was unable clear if people are inside or not), a subway train, and the writing on the wall. He began to speak to the group, "Alright, we have been walking for a hour. We should be close to a platform and get to the surface and out of the darkness. But, we need to take a break before advancing forward. We haven't see inside New York City yet; but, be ready for the worst. Reports from the city in the first days of the outbreak were bad. So please watch each others' backs and look around for supplies. We also need food and useful things.".

Javier was about to finish until he remember one important thing: the masks. The masks were to be wear around a dead infected body, so the agents wouldn't get the virus and die. To be such of his team's safely, Javier made a note to the time as he said to them, "Don't forget to wear the mask when you see a dead infected body. I don't want you to die at all until we have found the cure.".

"Since I have nothing more to say, let's go look around." he quickly said as he began to walk towards an empty spot of the tracks. He looked at the watch and in the matter of a couple seconds, the map of where they were appeared. Such enough, they were near a platform and at the surface a police station is just a couple blocks away from their position. They could go look there to make such that the officers were safe. The NYPD was the only form of order during the five days. They were made such to guard their stations and the Quarantine zones. By now, some of their stations and all of the zones are guarded by the NYPD, the US military, and the agents from the Division. They are just starting to take back their stations for gangs and active them so people can turn to them for protection.

Javier kept looking at the map as he tried to find other interesting areas until it disappeared as he walked towards the flare.

[DJAtomika]

Without a second thought Christina patted her chest to find her breather mask, satisfied once she found it hanging by its clip on her side. The New York subways were cold places, and even though she'd lived here most of her life, even she shivered a little underneath the thick coat and combat rigging she wore.

Their mission was simple: gain access into New York City via the tunnels, and once done, assess the situation of the city. Theirs was a covert insertion; the military by itself was already up to their necks in the shitstorm that had followed the outbreaks of the infection throughout the Big Apple. That was why the Division had been formed. They only took who they needed to undergo these extremely high-danger missions, where others wouldn't for fear of death or infection, which was also death. She knew how close and personal the virus could get, that was the reason she wore the rigging, the suit and the watch and computer. Hopefully, somehow, she'd make sure her friends wouldn't have gone in vain. The mission they were on was paramount to the success of the New York Quarantine in general: once they had assessed the situation of the pandemic within the city, they were to go on and help the local law enforcement and military that were still trapped within the quarantine zone to maintain some semblance of order, while investigating the outbreak in general; perhaps to find the source, or a cure. Whatever the case, they operated alone. This ragtag team of soldiers was her new crew now, and she had to fit in as best as she could.

New York City was under quarantine, had been for the past five days now. What relative order within was quickly being lost when the general public had realised the military was putting up fences and walls and mounted gun posts and not allowing anyone to leave. The riots right after that horrific realisation had been intense; several had died, some soldiers, most civilians, caught in the bloody struggle between freedom and safety; civs wanted out to get away from the horrible stuff within the city, military wanted to keep the public in for fear of spreading the infection outward. Today there had been no clashes. Yet. Christina didn't keep her hopes up on the good New Yorkers to keep the peace.

She sighed under her scarf. Five long, bloody days and only today were they finally deployed to actually do something. Christina had spent the past few days sitting on her ass in the rudimentary FOB outside of NYC, fiddling with her new gear but doing almost nothing of worth. No orders had been given from the mysterious men at the top of the Division, but she knew that once those orders came down she'd be put right in the thick of it. And here she was, in the thick of it. Catching sight of Javier checking his map, she did the same. The holographic display blossomed in a sheen of orange and white from her wristwatch, displaying the same things he saw; the platform several hundred feet ahead of them, the escalators and stairs up, and a little of the streets and buildings around the subway entrance. That's where they were headed then. She shut down the map and gave her sector a scan with her eyes. Being the rear scout, she was in the prime area to help any of her comrades should they get injured, and at the same time she had several soldiers worth of muscle and bullets between her and whatever dangers lay ahead. The grim thought wasn't much, but it was her position as the medic after all. During a firefight, anyone that went down was her priority, but during a patrol or travel like this, the back of the group was her focus.

Christina swept her vision round to behind them. The flare Javier had laid moments earlier was still burning strong, illuminating the train car and the makeshift camp next to it in a halo of red. No one there. Someone must've used this as home until they'd escaped...or died. She couldn't tell which. Her scarf made smelling the area mighty difficult, but she didn't keep her mind on it. No telling what laid in the darkness.

Nothing else to do but follow orders and proceed with the mission, she thought to herself. She kept at the team's rear, rifle loaded and ready to deal with anything that came their way.

[The New Yorker]

Day 6, November 29th
An apartment above 59th St
8:30 AM

Tiny lines of frozen moisture crept along the window pane toward the center, it’s blue aura glowing in the new day sun. The light easily broke through the frozen pane and was lain across Tracie Armond’s face as she slept sitting against an empty book shelf. Most of the books had been used to light a fire, the remains of which sat in the center of the living room surrounded by sheets of metal and loose hunks of concrete. Tracie awoke suddenly, silently. Her deep eyes scanned the area around her quickly as her hand gripped the trigger of her stubby Beryl. The room was empty, and quiet, and still. Exactly as it had been 8 hours ago, when Tracie found it and set it up as a camp. She heard thugs running in the street below, their boots crunching against the ice and snow. Hush grumblings echoed in her ear, even four stories up with the windows closed.

Tracie shed the linens and quilts she had covering her, revealing her armored form; sat cross-legged with her rifle held gently across her lap. She pressed the scanner on her wrist and watched the four men jog down the street. She couldn’t tell if they were infected, but she didn’t rightly care. There wasn’t much she was willing to do right now.

Food.

Tracie munched on a packet of oatmeal as her eyes scanned the only part of the skyline she could see: the top of the recently dubbed Ed Koch Bridge, formerly known as the Queensboro Bridge. Her new team would be coming through the subways underneath it. She smiled a girlish smile as she remembered that she was present during the renaming of the bridge. Being upper echelon of the CIA often times meant attending events like that, especially if they were being held a few miles from your HQ. She could still feel the fresh sea breeze, smell the cork popping on the champagne bottle. Then all she could smell was the soggy oatmeal and she settled back into reality. Remembering the renaming, however, set off a course of remembrances, all tied to the CIA.

Day 4, November 27th
Somewhere above 33rd St
12:21 PM

Tracie forcefully placed the receiver back on it’s base, making the lamp on her desk wobble. She slid a lock of hair behind her ear and sat down at the chair. Her office was large; brown and eggshell white were the primary colors of the room. Spots and splashes of green and blue could be found in knick-knacks She was set on the 60th floor of a split high-riser. She read through an emailed report as her cell phone rang and buzzed next to her. She copied down a note on a legal pad and buzzed her intercom.

“Get in here, Gerad.” She picked up her cell and answered the call. “Yeah, Jack. Go ahead.”

A thin, yet smart looking young man entered the room, rim horned glasses framed his face quite delicately. His eyebrows were thick but they only accentuated his full orbs of green, he knew that. Tracie hardly looked at him as she handed him the note she’d written. He went off back into the hallway.

Jack was saying something Tracie had expected to hear.

She’d been up here for two days straight. Luckily, communications could still be handled through the highly sophisticated CIA channels. She’d been told to handle information analysis of the ground. One of her only two field agents was missing, the other was dead. He fell from a third story roof into a dumpster. His body was looted. Her instincts told her it was a chase gone wrong.

Gerad was an analyst, and a good one. He happened to be one of the only one’s who stayed, after the others were given the option of a helicopter extraction. Tracie didn’t blame them for leaving, this was a shit-show.

Jack was saying something she’d hoped to hear. The President was signing an executive order tomorrow morning. It was a new directive for special operations within the Big Apple. Tracie was to meet with what was left of a Delta Ranger squad in Hell’s Kitchen. They would be one of the first Division members. Tracie was ecstatic at the thought of getting out of the office, but she couldn’t see what was to come, she couldn’t have predicted how hard it would be. She couldn't have known that she'd loose them a day later.

Day 6, November 29th
42nd St and Lexington Ave
9:30 AM

Tracie strode, not too quickly, along the icy road, along parked cars and piled up trash. Her black scarf coiled around her masked face protected her from the biting cold. There was a brisk breeze going by which would do some serious damage to an unprotected body. And yet that memory stung her more than the cold ever could. She still heard the splattering gun shots and desperate pleas. For the first time in her career, she'd truly failed. And now she had to live with that.

Tracie's upper torso was like a turret, turning from one axis to the next, allowing her tunneled vision to constantly scan for movement, or signs of life. Luckily there was nothing to be found among the flittering, fluttering snowflakes.

Tracie walked between a parked car and an overturned one to get onto the sidewalk. She sidled up next to a gated grocery store and used a key to open the locked entrance to the basement. As she did she eyed the closed off entrance to the 7 line.

In the basement Tracie had to turn on her head-mounted flashlight. She walked through a narrow passage before coming onto a large empty room; the other end, which would normally be closed off, was blown open to reveal a passage into the subway. Edging past the crumbled rock and exposed rebar, Tracie peered into the dark subway platform. Her flashlight played on the decaying colors of the tiles and the structural beams. Some rats fled the light and ran down the steps into the tracks below. Tracie held her Beryl in front of her, it’s sights just at the edge of her vision. Her breathing was loud to her, but still calm. Quickly she made her way down the tracks and into the tunnels; she was already wearing her breather mask.

10:49 AM

Tracie had reached the halfway point of the rendezvous. She sat in an opened subway car, taking a sip of water from her canteen, when she heard the familiar ripping of a flare. She closed the canteen and stood up in the car, pulled the breather mask back over her mouth. Her rifle pointed ahead of her, Tracie glanced out of the window, saw shadows approaching against the ancient, vandalized tunnel walls. There were four, exactly what she’d been expecting.

Tracie carefully slid from the cart and stepped ahead slowly. She heard the voice of a team leader, then more walking. That’s all she needed to know to recognize that this was the group she was looking for. The thugs and brigands in the city didn’t know anything about tactics, not really.

She turned her flashlight on, to warn of her presence. She heard guns ready, rightfully. Tracie whistled a few familiar tunes, the core of the Marine Corps cadences. Only after a few short moments of silence did she then reveal herself to the group, left and right arms extended in front of her, above her hips; rifle slung on the right side under her shoulder. If this wasn’t the group she was looking for, and just some gangsters, she would still be able to reach her pistol before they could pull the triggers, of that she was sure.

But, alas, no violence was not necessary. The four soldiers stood there, slightly anxious, mostly resolute. Clean faced and fresh booted, she envied them. Tracie nodded to the soldiers as they approached, standing to the side, allowing them to pass and her to fall in line in the middle. She marched in step with them as if she’d been there all along.

“Howdy, yall” she said in a joking tone. “Anybody got some gum?”

[jumjummju]

Red rubbed her nose on the sleeves of her jacket, the cold making it run. She pulled the slide back on her handgun and confirmed that it was, indeed, still loaded - a process she had repeated at least 18 times while walking down the tunnel. If asked, she would have said it paid to be safe, but in reality it was just a mixture of boredom and minor anxiety that was making her nervous and a little on edge, and the familiarity of the routine calmed her down. Her rifle stayed slung around her back at the time; while it would have been perfectly serviceable in the subway tunnels, she simply preferred her handgun in areas like this, especially since her rifle didn't have a flashlight attached, as it would've weighted the end down and bothered Red to no end. Also, carrying her handgun was easier than the rifle.

Her ears started to feel the sting of a cold draft lazily breezing through the tunnels, even underneath her hat. Eventually, Javiar stopped the group and started to rebrief them on the situation. It wasn't anything she hadn't heard before; New York fell into the shitter and now they're going in alone to pull it back out of the shitter.

Once he had finished and started looking around, a sudden light appeared from within the subway car. Red, following protocol, levelled her handgun at the source of the light and flicked the safety off, but kept her finger off the trigger for now. A soldier appeared, one that looked as though she'd been here for a while already. She took a cue from everyone else lowering her guns and took her aim off the soldier as well, popping the magazine of her handgun out and making sure it was loaded for the 19th time.

The new soldier - whose name was Armond, if her uniform's nametag was to be believed - casually walked into the midst of the group as if she had always belonged, which confused Red. Were they supposed to meet a contact? She didn't quite remember from the original briefings; but then again, that might have been because she fell asleep while they were explaining the mission back at base camp.

"Howdy, y'all," the female soldier said in a noticeable accent, before proceeding to ask for some gum. Red, meanwhile, was still staring at the woman quizzically, confused by her presence, before eventually just shaking her head and heading up onto the subway platform, mostly ignoring the new arrival and expecting Javiar to brief her or something. Up until now, they had been upwind (well, updraft) of the platform, but upon getting closer to the tents she noticed an utterly rank smell emenating from within. Having known what a corpse smells like, she pulled her mask on quickly, breathing a deep breath of the stale but breathable recycled air, and opened the tent flaps; surely enough, inside this particular tent was a half-rotted corpse of a man, his clothes in tatters and his scraggly beard somehow managing to hang onto his partially decomposed face.

"We got a dead one. No wounds; looks like a plague victim," she said to no one in particular, her voice coming out ever-so-slightly garbled due to her mask. A cursory pat-down on the corpse showed he wasn't carrying anything on him, not even a wallet. Red mentally lamented the fact that the first thing she saw on the mission was a corpse - it certainly was an ominous omen she wasn't quite happy with.

[SirBeowulf]

"Gum? Yeah, hold on a second," Warren said as he eyed the figure standing before their squad. Command had told them they were going to meet someone on the inside, and unless they were getting the wrong end of a stick, this was their ma- woman. Digging a hand into one of his many pouches, of which already open MRE was pulled out. "It'll cost you though. I'll be taking your hot sauce next time we dig down for chow, ma'am." He threw her the small packet of 'Beechies Spearmint', grinning slightly.

Tracie caught the packet mid air, crunching the half used cardboard wrapping in her fist. She slid the candy into one of her utility pockets. "Thanks, Darling." Tracie breathed behind her, keeping up with the pointman. "If it were five years ago, I might make you call me 'sir'." she mumbled to herself.

Lowering his Benelli, Warren hefted it over his shoulder in a relaxed position as the robotic drone whirred to a halt several feet behind him. He tossed the rest of the MRE back into his pouch as he pulled out the bulky radio off of his back. "I'll go ahead and tell command that you've arrived ma'am. You're Sergeant Tracie Armond, correct? How is it in the city? Is it as bad as they said it was in briefing? Ah, hold on, gimme a moment," he said, triggering a few buttons on the device.

"Command, this is Delta India Victor India Sierra India Oscar November Dash Niner Niner Zero. Yes. Yes, we've established contact with Momma Bear. We're converging on the train platform to enter the city proper. Virgin out." He hung up the call, leaning back and sighing. "Can you believe they make me say out the whole thing? Can't I just say Division proper?" He looked up as Red called out a corpse. Warren felt a little eager to see the first sign of a dead man on the mission, at least to see what the infection did to someone.

Tracie watched as the boy radioed in to command, the march seemed to have stopped, or at least slowed. When he was done on the radio Tracie decided she could answer his questions. "I generally go by Special Agent Armond these days." She trailed off ahead a bit and leaned against the grimy wall. "The city's about as bad as it could get. The civies that weren't killed in the initial backlash either joined street gangs or live like mice. The disease is changing these people, and not just the ones infected with it. The streets ahead are mostly cleared, though. I've been keeping tabs on it for a couple of days. There's an exit up ahead even though the subway entrance is blocked." Tracie's attention turned on the others in the group, she was tired of thinking about the city, and any respite was valuable to her. Unfortuanely, all she found was more reminders of the horrors of the city.

Warren nodded as he pulled the mask on, breathing in the filtered air and walking over to Red once he was satisfied, staring down at the body through the tent. Howard closely followed, sensors on the lookout for anything that moved. "Damn. Poor bastard, you think he was a hobo? Judging by his rot, he probably died quick. Within' a day of it starting. Lucky bastard." Warren nudged the dead man with his boot. "You think we should take a skin sample or wait for someone a little less... oozing?"

Tracie watched the body from behind the young man's frame. "I doubt you'll be able to get anything out of a sample that command doesn't already know. Might as well leave it, kid." She walked ahead, rifle held confidently in her grasp. "Let's get out of these fucking tunnels. Exit's up ahead." she said to the group as she approached the platform edge.

"Good idea. Couldn't have said anything wiser, ma'am," Warren said, in a rather sarcastic tone.

[Rare]

Javier then decided to sit down on the ground next to the written words on the wall. He had been walking for almost an hour or more, shouldn't he deserve a break. Looking around, he could see the other members of the team spreading out. Christina was walking towards the flare, that he threw earlier, and Red was just being herself as always. Even known they haven't met before all of this, he knew that Red and anyone else weren't getting along right away; but once they get to know each other—or get used to being with them—, they (being Javier and the others) might become good friends.

Suddenly, a light appeared on the subway train and Javier quickly stool up from the ground. He grabbed his MP9 pistol and quickly aim it at the train. Until, a soldier—another female—appeared for the train and walked into the group. Javier raised one eyebrow at the woman as she said 'howdy' and then asked for some gum. Red was confused at the sight of the soldier for the train and then just walked away from the train to the tents. Awkward silence followed after the introduction, Javier walked up to her and said with a confused tone, "Hello.".

Suddenly, Javier was cut off by Warren as he gave her some gum, which she accepted and put it inside one of the pockets on her. Javier sighed resignedly at the present of Warren, such he was a great fighter and technician; but, he seems to enjoy humor more than work (based off on the hour spent getting to know him and the others). Warren called out her name and said that the girl was going to join the team. Javier must of forgot to mention the new girl on the team; thankfully, Warren just told them anyways. But then, he does something that grinds Javier's teeth. He just calls in the command and tells him that we had her—without his approval. You don't do things without the leader's approval and that was a big issue for Javier.

Javier started to sigh again as he was getting even more worried (and still upset because of Warren) since they are standing in a dark tunnel with barely any light source. All of this tension was just getting to him, he needs to see the light again and just rest; but, they have to go to the police station and make a stop at the UN building for equipment pickup from the new girl. She can make any excuse up, they are going no matter what. Tracie didn't have the standard gear—even if she was from Ghost Recon. They didn't have access to the current equipment that the Division has. Plus, they have to check into the HQ because of standard protocol of The Division. Every agent has to check into the HQ database by signing in at the HQ—not by radio them that they are in the city.

He was going to say something to the new girl; however, she mentioned about the current state of the city. People have either joined gangs or live like rats, streets cleared of life form. Javier became even more worried about being the leader and scared of the gangs, because he just didn't want to kill people trying to survive—unless they fire back first. After she was answering Warren's question, they go to the dead body and check it out. Now, it was finally time for Javier to take for the first time.

"Alright, listen up." he said loudly enough that his voice should of got the group's awareness towards him, "Now that we got our the new girl, we need to go to the police station. Then, we will check in at the United Nations building and we will debrief after signing into HQ. We can't do it over the radio because of standard protocol that The Division has." He then looked towards Warren and said loudly as if they were talking, "Plus, we were supposed to be in radio silence. Don't use it, unless it's an emergency. Got it?".

Jaiver didn't hate Warren, he just dislikes for what he did and hope that he never does it again. Now that was over, he began to walk towards the new girl and said to her with a serious tone, "Welcome to the team, Armond. When we are at the UN building, we will get you the right equipment and make such that it's updated and usable. The CIA didn't even know about The Division and the updates to the equipment until the President signed it and The Division was already established. You don't get to have a say about it, because we are going with or without your word.".

He realized that his outburst was harsh and said to her, "Sorry about that outburst, just being in this dark tunnel for about an hour is driving me a bit crazy. Once we get back to the surface, I should get back to normal.".

[jumjummju]

In the midst of Javier lecturing Warren or whatever, Red decided to walk off towards the exit and actually do her job as a scout by scouting up ahead with a quick salute to the others, letting them know she was leaving. The hallway that led to the exit stairs was blocked by a waist-high security gate; the kind you put the ticket in to open. Seeing as Red was lacking a ticket and had full function of her limbs, she easily vaulted the gates, feeling a twinge rebellious.

There was a whir of a motor as H.O.W.A.R.D. quickly sped up, coming into sight behind Red. It beeped suddenly as it ran into the waist-high security gate, all of that high grade technology a waste when it came to something easily traversible. A sad toned note came from the bot as it displayed a message on its side. "Warren sends his greetings. HELP PLEASE. ERROR."

Red grinned and made a "tsk" sound, picking up the robot. Being made of metal, it was about as heavy as a full-sized bicycle, but she brought it over to her side of the gate with ease.

"THANK YOU." It beeped once more.

The hallway itself was rather empty, save for a newspaper lying on the floor and a vending machine that was smashed into and looted. A shame, as Red could've went for a bag of pretzels.

The stairs managed to be more easily tackled by the robot, due to it's legged design. While gates and fences were a challenge, it was probably good that Warren managed to design it to take on something as ubiquitous as stairs. As the scouting duo headed up the stairs and into the crisp air that Red couldn't smell through the stuffy respirator she was wearing, she finally got to take in the ruins that New York had become.

It was a hauntingly beautiful sight.

While every building still stood, every tower standing high into the sky, there was definitely something wrong. The streets were empty of people. No one. Cars were piled up with no passengers to drive them. Trash was building up. The silence was deafening until a nearby gunshot, followed by the barking of dogs interupted the duo standing at the exit.

"Shit!" Red cursed, almost throwing herself back down several steps to take cover, just barely peeking over the top step with her rifle. Another shot came. One of the dogs let out a whimper as it died, the other's barking even louder. Suddenly, around the intersection they came. A rabid pack of them, ten in total. They ran, oblivious to Red and the robot, only interested in getting away.

"Did you hit one?" Called a voice. "Yeah! I think. Got it right in the chest. I wonder how it's gonna taste. You think it'll taste like chicken?" came the other voice, a hint of amusement along with the raspy tone. "They don't all taste like chicken. Why does everyone think it tastes like chicken?"

Red pulled up her binoculars to try and get a look at the two people as they came around the corner, being able to get a nice, clear view even from this distance due to her steady hand and the very expensive viewfinder.

They waded around the pileup of cars, coming into view. Two men, one held a rifle and the other a pistol. Even through the binos, they appeared dirty and tattered. The only clean on them was the white masks they wore, covering their mouths and noses. They stopped at the corpse of the dog, one of them bending over and poking it with his rifle. "We should hurry, someone must've heard that shot. They'll want our dog."

"Wait, what's that thing?" one of them said, noticing Howard sitting in plain view obediently.

"You are a terrible stealth companion!" Red whispered angrily towards Howie.

"SORRY."

One of them slowly started walking over to the robot, not really sure what it was. "Some kinda robbit thing. Aren't they supposed to fly or something? Drone thingies."

Red stood up from the staircase, coming into view with her rifle raised at the man. "No, he doesn't fly, and stay away from him; he's military property."

The man gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing as he caught the sight of Red's shiny DMR and outfit. "Military?" He suddenly looked a bit angry. "Why're you here!? Government bloody abandoned us. I don't care if you got fancy training. Things are different in here. 'at gun'a yours is worth more than you are."

"I'll keep that in mind when I decide to buy a car while I'm here, thanks," Red replied. "Now take your pet dog and crawl back into your hidey hole to enjoy lunch, we'll not bother you if you do."

The other man with the pistol looked at Rifle. Then back at Red. "Why should we trust you? Government bloody abandoned us, and now you're here for some reason. You ain't gonna help us."

"Because I haven't blown your heads off yet. If we planned on killing civilians, we would have just carpet bombed the place. I may not be here for relief efforts, but it's important business. You've seen Top Gun, right? 'I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you?' It's like that, so go home already."

"Give us your gun. We outnumber you."

Howard beeped aggressively. "Howie, leg," was all Miranda commanded.

The lower caliber gun mounted on Howard fired as his sensors locked onto the man. Its reactions were faster than any person could be as two rounds were shot. Both of the men went down, stumbling as they took bullets to the kneecaps. "SORRY," the message flashed on Howard's side.

"Since you couldn't leave and tried to threaten a military officer, have fun crawling back to your hidey-hole," Red coldly replied, still not dropping her gun from them, in case they tried something. Her eyes were briefly drawn to the blood pooling on the knees of their pants, the red being both a beautiful and terrifying color.

"You fuckin' bitch! You cunt! You fucking shot me! Jesus Christ you fucking shot me!" Rifle whined, holding onto his leg in pain. "I hope you get infected, cunt! God, that fucking hurt!"

"SORRY," Howard flashed again, before running over the man on his way forwards, with Red following behind, keeping an eye on them in case they decided to pull their guns on her. A hatch on Howard's back opened, a small medical kit falling out onto the ground for the men.

After Red passed around a corner, she turned her radio on to talk to the rest of the team. While Javier had said something about radio silence, she assumed this only meant outgoing radio signals, since in-squad radio silence would hamstring their ability to do any actual military business beyond playing a game of Poker around a table, unless they wanted to just shout orders across the city at each other.

"Red here, the way forward should be clear. Two civilians were getting violent so I had to disable them, but Howard left them a medikit and they should be fine, over."

"TELL WARREN I SAID HELLO."