The first goblins to set foot outside the portal were clad in silver armor. The soft glow of the streetlamps shining off their helms and chest plates. They had large rectangular shields strapped to their left arms. Their surfaces adorned with interlocking patterns of complex runes and sigils.

What little remained of the first wave was pushed back as the armored column advanced. Their magics scattering the ashes into the winds without any care for the sanctity of their comrades' remains.

'But then again, when had goblins found anything sacred?'

Six of the frontliners fell within five paces. Their beautifully crafted helms imploding as iron-tipped rounds found their marks. The air would vibrate every time it happened, as the bewitched silver tried to project a shield to save its wearer's life. It was never enough.

Pure iron could and would do away with all but the most potent rituals. Rounds tipped with the stuff packed a pretty punch on top of that.

Green streaks decorated the front lawn as the goblin vanguard crumpled down like puppets whose strings had been cut. Headless bodies adorning the uncut grass like broken toys on an abandoned playground.

The sight of such a spectacle would have been chilling for humans. It would have sent the remaining forces diving for cover, at the very least. Not so for the enemy.

Instead, a goblin at the center of the formation raised his hand and twisted his fingers while snarling into the chilly evening air. Two more magical barriers formed around the formation. One composed of hexagonal sheets of ice that floated some ways above and around them while the other was composed of swirling clouds of dust and debris that seemed to congeal into thin sheets of solid rock.

I clicked my tongue. My hands clenching into fists as a wave of rage and indignation burned through me.

'Calm yourself, fool. You haven't been a grunt for a while now. Keep a cool head. The others have their orders. Trust them. Focus on what you can do right now. The Granny needs you.'

I turned to look at Mrs. McGill. Noting the way she was still clutching at her pearls despite actively choking on the blackened bile she was coughing up.

'Something's off. The iron mesh should have kicked in by now. It should have dispelled the magic. That, and she won't stay int he recovery position.'

A tingle went up my spine as I tried to keep her still. My eyes wandered over to the pearls. To the slight glimmer that didn't quite match the way normal light was reflected.

I drew my knife. So quickly that the elderly retiree didn't have time to twitch before the blade cut through the strings keeping the necklace together. There was a loud pop afterwards. The pearls scattering in every direction as noxious fumes hissed out of them.

Mrs. McGill gasped. Finally freed from the malevolent influence. She began to spit out the remains of the tea while drawing heavy breaths every second or two.

One of her bony hands found my wrist.

"Don't let them take me!" She wailed. Naked terror apparent in her milky white eyes.

I took her hands in mine.

"Never." I assured her. "I've never failed before. I'm not about to start now."

She began to sob. Leaning her body against mine as she drew the iron mesh closer.

I helped her up. Moving with her to the screens. I sat her down on one of the chairs and started fiddling with my headset. Tunning it away from our larger company frequency so that my messages only reached the squads inside the house itself.

My team should have come bursting through the door the second they heard gunshots. The fact that they hadn't meant that there was either an ongoing attack that I somehow wasn't hearing or, more likely, that there was more magic afoot.

"This is Weasel going for Burrow. Come in Burrow."

"Copy that Weasel. Badger here. Standing by."

"Copy that Weasel. Mole here. Standing by."

"I want a sitrep on the situation downstairs. How many Greenies encountered so far?"

There was a momentary bout of silence, during which the speakers drowned out the static of the headset. Sounds of explosions were being relayed constantly now, as the goblin vanguard over at the park beat itself bloody against the minefield. It would seem that the sorcerer at the center couldn't defend from every angle and it was currently pre-occupied with the constant suppressing fire the turrets were sending his way.

He was forced to channel more and more juice into the overlapping shields as the iron-tipped rounds wore way at them. Replacing more and more icy crystals and floating stones with every passing second, lest his protections waver.

This left his lackwit minions to wander forward to their deaths, as the fragmentation charges took off legs and arms and faces off. It was a rather costly advance, but the Greens seemed willing to pay it. Each soldier that fell was quickly forgotten, as the legions marching behind would simply step on their still-warm bodies in order to keep marching towards their objective.

I frowned as I measured their progress.

'Too far, too quickly. We usually have two or three confirmed sorcerer kills by now. This one has a lot more in the tank than his buddies. More composure too. Not everyone can remain so calm when being shot at by turrets and targeted by snipers.'

A closer inspection at the feed revealed that his head was swivelling in random directions at random intervals. As if he was nervous bird, hoping against hope that a fox didn't wander into it.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

'He's trying to bait them out.' I reasoned.

It was a common enough reaction to sharpshooters ventilating goblin skulls. Performing an augury to find them would have taken time and energy. Both of which would be in short supply while the turrets did their thing. On the other hand, leaving them alone would be a rather foolish mistake to make. Since any lapse in concentration would result in a rather violent re-arrangement of their innards.

So, the goblin sorcerers were forced to wait and see where the attacks came from. With the idea that the area would be thoroughly hexed once my teams were found.

'Too bad. Booger brains. My people aren't so poorly trained that they'd leave you an opening.'

All three sniper squads were holding their fire, as they'd been instructed. Normal iron rounds would be wasted in this situation and turbo-penetrator rounds were a trump card that should be saved until a kill was all but guaranteed. The idea being that goblin sorcerers weren't as big a threat after their heads had been disintegrated.

"This is Weasel. I repeat. How many Greenies encountered so far?"

"Badger here. That's a negative on the Greens, Weasel. First and second floors are clear. No signals beyond the hot zone. Over."

"Mole here. Did another sweep just to be sure. Basement is clear. Greens are contained to the funnel and the park. Over."

"Weasel here. Do another sweep of the whole house. F-Class items found their way inside. One F-two and one F-three. Suspect there might be more since you didn't hear gunshots. Over."

There was another pregnant pause, during which more explosions could be heard from the monitoring systems.

Tiger squad had deployed a second Suggestion on top of the sorcerer. Disrupting his focus for the first time during the fight. He managed to pull off a short-distance teleport at the last second. Sparing him from the Intra as it devoured the rest of his forces. However, those efforts did not save him from my snipers. His head exploded as a kill shot found its target. Fired from Falcon squad's position, if I had to guess.

Those few unfortunate individuals that survived both the shrapnel and the Intra broke and ran at that point. Dropping their shields and spears before sprinting in different directions.

Perhaps the shock of losing their leader made them forget about the turrets or the mines. Perhaps they were so desperate that those factors didn't even register.

Regardless, they didn't get very far.

"Badger here. No signs of tampering. Found bullet holes. Retuning instruments before trying again. Over."

"Mole here. No signs of.... wait, what's that?"

I sucked in a breath. Beads of sweat forming on my brow even as another wave of shield-bearers made their way out of the portal in the park.

"Mole? Come in Mole. What do you see?"

"Its the grandson. The unemployed one. There are F-class items among his belongings. Five instances of F-one items. One F-two."

I cursed. Gnashing my teeth against each other while trying and failing to supress the blinding white-hot fury burning its way through my veins.

My eyes fell on the frail old woman. Noting how vulnerable she was. The fear etched on her wrinkled face. The way soft sobs were still escaping from her pale, trembling lips. The tears streaming down her face.

'A Quisling. In this house. While we were setting up for the operation. Right under our noses.'

My hands caressed the hilt of the iron blade.

The young man had almost certainly been charmed. Of that, there could be no doubt. Yet, that wouldn't have explained the depth of tis betrayal. Mind-altering magics couldn't completely dominate people without rendering them as stupid as dolls. The goblins needed to give their victims a bit of leeway, if they wanted their infiltrators to be of any use. Meaning the charm was only part of it. A nudge in the right direction instead of an irresistible compulsion.

People had broken free of such bindings before and gone to the authorities. But there had also been examples of imbeciles giving into temptation. Trading grandmothers for gold or gems or magical items.

'He sold her out. They offered him some trinket or some pixie dust and that was enough. He sold out his own grandmother.'

I found myself thanking my lucky stars for the old lady's poor hearing. We were close enough that she might have managed to overhear some snippets of information if her senses were any sharper. I didn't know how that particular confrontation would have gone and I certainly didn't need the added hassle of having to restrain her once she found out what we'd do to her treacherous little snot.

"Weasel. This is Mole. Protocol 5 completed. Contraband secured. Requesting permission to initiate transfer. Over."

"Negative Mole. We don't know how many Greens are involved with this mission. We need every single member of every single squad present. Over."

"Copy that Weasel."

No sooner had he finished, than the comms buzzed again.

"Weasel. This is Badger. Requesting permission to send couriers out to Bullfrog. Chances are good that there might be other surprises hidden inside the other houses, even if this one is clean. Over."

That was a good call. If the grandson was tainted, there was no telling how many neighbours had been in on it too. What they'd managed to squirrel away in their basements or attics before the evacuation had started in preparation for the ambush.

Heck, for all we knew the whole street was lined with tiny amulets. Not potent enough to be detected by preliminary surveys, while still coming together to form rudimentary arrays.

"Weasel here. You are cleared to send two units Badger. Get the same number from Mole's squad and have them assist in covering the entrances. Over."

There was more noise coming from the monitors then and I turned my gaze over to the scene currently playing out.

Another wave had come. Two more sorcerers on foot. Surrounded on all sides by armored columns. One tried to bring up a shield, only to be sniped before he had the chance. The other ran afoul of a mortar shell impacting a few yards away from him. The shockwave blasting him back so that he landed on the tip of a spear currently being wielded by one of his erstwhile allies.

The new soldiers hollered and broke as soon as this happened. Making themselves easy pickings for the turrets.

Then, something changed.

The funnel, which had been working overtime to limit the goblins' teleportation magic, started to emit smoke. Its antennae vibrating in place before twisting this way and that. Arcs of yellow lighting ran up and down the metal rods. Melting the metal so that it pooled down onto the grass below.

A new portal appeared, as the machine imploded. Revealing the fanciest looking goblin I had ever seen in my entire life. He still bore the ugly, angular face marred by scars and pustules that was common among his kind.

Yet, his eyes were different. Where his peers had been cursed with yellow, goat-like eyes, his were a deep carmine. Red as blood with pupils that were as black as a moonless night.

He wore long, flowing robes that looked like silk, yet slithered up his body as if the very threads were alive. The fabric was adorned with portraits of human faces. Their expressions frozen in moments of exquisite agony. Making him look like some green wraith that went about collecting lives in the cruelest ways imaginable.

He rode a great white beast. One that resembled an alligator with the talons of a raptor and the wings of a bat. Its tail ending in a separate head with serpentine features.

More soldiers appeared behind him. Following along like retainers instead of troops marching into battle. Heads lowered in deference.

He opened his mouth to speak, revealing rows upon rows of rotting, needle-like fangs.

To my shock, the words he used were human, instead of the usual strangled wheezes that goblins favored.

"You have made yourselves into a nuisance. Monkeys." He declared, with the air of a monarch addressing defeated foes. "You have delayed by conquest and kept my prize from me. For these grave offences, you shall pay. I Gokoran. Heir to the Cleaving Conglomerate, will be your end."

He paused. Coughing into the sleeves of his robes, before inhaling deeply.

"Oh, and I'll have that grandmother too. My gameday feast will not be complete without one. So, die!"