Atlas continued his talk with the team at the tavern; they still had some things to discuss before going to bed.
“Tomorrow’s attack will be quick and fast.”
John still looked uncertain. “I don’t know, Atlas. Our town is still in chaos, and we’ll need a lot of the Portal Crushers to maintain security.”
“It’s not going to be a massive frontal assault, John. Don’t worry about any extra chaos in town. Alexander and Hank are going to lead a small team,” Atlas reassured him. “This strike will be rapid and precise. We’re going to hit them where it hurts and make sure they know not to mess with us again.”
Alexander looked excited, already imagining the glory he’d receive from the upcoming mission. John, however, couldn’t shake his concern. But as always, he trusted Atlas’s judgement, knowing that Atlas had gotten them this far with his plans.
“Let’s get some rest,” Atlas finally said, finishing his beer. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
---
After breakfast, Atlas pulled Alexander and Hank aside. "Alexander, who do you think would be a good member to join your team today?" Atlas asked.
Alexander, ever confident and a bit vain, responded, "Depends. What are we doing?"
"I need to put together a quick strike team," Atlas explained. "People who are good with tracking and hunting. Some regular good ol’ boys. Oh, and they have to be white."
Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Whoa, where'd that racism come from, Atlas?"
Atlas shook his head. "It's not racism. It’s all part of the plan. You’re going to be impersonating another settlement during the attack, and I’m betting most of them will be white."
‘That’s a mighty strange requirement,‘ thought Alexander.
Alexander smirked. "Well, we got three more guys who've been looking pretty good in training. Some of the newbies."
"Good," said Atlas. "Bring them with you. But I need you all out of your Portal Crusher uniforms. Get into your civilian clothes and put the standard armor on top of it. No bone armor, nothing that identifies you as Portal Crushers."
"All right," Alexander agreed, intrigued by the secrecy. "Then what?"
Atlas leaned in. "Then I'm going to have you teleport over to Cell Block 21."
Alexander’s grin stretched even wider. “You know we can’t take ’em with just five or six folks, no matter how tough I am. This ain’t no stroll through the field.”
He struck a cheesy bodybuilder pose at this point.
Atlas chuckled. "Oh, I know that, that’s why this is a tactical strike. When you get to the teleport area, stay far away from Cell Block 21's main settlement. Don't go in. I want you to keep an eye on them and follow them. If they have this many governance tokens, I bet they also have a dungeon. Follow them to the dungeon and leave tracks. Make sure it's nice and noticeable."
"Okay," Alexander nodded, already formulating a plan in his head.
"When you get to the dungeon," Atlas continued, "I want you to try to pretend to take it down and destroy it."
Hank, always the practical one, chimed in, "Won't they have guards?"
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"They will," Atlas acknowledged, "but probably not a lot. Most of their forces should be out hunting for mobs and raiding other settlements, based on what we saw yesterday."
Alexander nodded again, the wheels turning in his mind. He gathered his group after the meeting, which included Hank and three of the newer recruits—guys who’d shown promise during training. They changed into civilian clothes, making sure they looked nothing like Portal Crushers.
---
Once ready, they teleported into Cell Block 21’s secondary teleportation zone. As they arrived, some of the locals noticed them.
“Who the fuck are you guys?”
“Get down and put down your weapons!”
“Fuck you! And fuck that!” Alexander responded.
The Portal Crushers, with bandanas masking their faces, quickly scattered, disappearing into the shadows.
"Where'd those guys go?" one of the criminals muttered.
"I don't know, but they must be around here somewhere. Keep an eye out," another replied, his eyes scanning the area nervously.
Alexander, Hank, and the others hid in the underbrush, waiting for the right moment. They watched as a group of patrolling criminals passed by, their movements purposeful.
"Let's follow that group," Alexander whispered. "They don’t look like they’re just randomly patrolling or looking for us. They seem to be heading somewhere."
Hank nodded in agreement. "I agree. Those guys look like they’re checking on something."
With quiet precision, Alexander and Hank led the group as they stealthily trailed behind the criminals, determined to find out what was hidden within Cell Block 21’s territory.
“Looks like they’re slowing down,” Hank whispered, keeping his voice low as they crept through the underbrush.
“Yep,” Alexander replied, his eyes narrowed as he peered ahead. “You see what’s up ahead?”
“I sure do,” Hank muttered. “That’s a dungeon.”
Alexander scanned the area, noting the group of guards clustered near the dungeon entrance. “All right, how many of them are there?” he asked, his voice calm despite the tension in the air.
Hank squinted, counting the figures moving in and out of the shadows. “Looks like about ten, including the ones who just showed up on patrol.”
“Think we can take them?” Hank asked, glancing at Alexander.
Alexander shook his head. “Don’t think we can. We don’t have to take them, though. That’s not part of the plan. In fact, we don’t want to take them.”
“What?” Hank blinked in confusion.
“Don’t worry about it,” Alexander said with a smirk. “Atlas explained it to me.”
‘This really makes no sense,‘ thought Hank.
Turning to the rest of the group, Alexander faced the nervous newbies, who looked like a bunch of deer caught in headlights. “Alright, listen up, team. Here’s the plan. We’re gonna charge in, take on that group of guards, and see if we can bring down a couple of ’em. But if it starts feelin’ like we’re in over our heads, we hightail it outta there. And I mean RUN. We need to vanish quick. Even if we can’t disappear completely, you cannot lose sight of me and Hank. You hear?”
The newbies exchanged nervous glances but nodded. “Got it,” they murmured, their voices shaky.
“This is gonna be your first taste of enemy action,” Alexander said, his voice steady as a rock. “Stick close to me and Hank. We’ll be teleportin’ outta here, so don’t lose track of us. Otherwise, you’re lookin’ at a fifty-kilometer hike back to town, and trust me, that ain’t no picnic.”
One of the newbies gulped audibly. “This is going to be tough,” he muttered.
“All right, Hank, you ready?”
“Ready,” Hank said, tightening his grip on his weapon. He had changed his two punch shields for an inconspicuous sword and shield.
“Everybody, get your masks on,” Alexander ordered. The team quickly pulled out bandanas, slipping them over their noses and mouths. Alexander made sure his beloved John Deere hat was firmly on his head.
“Attack!” he yelled, charging out of the underbrush with his team in tow.
The guards were caught off guard, stunned by the sudden ambush. The first man went down quickly, but with a two-to-one advantage, the guards soon began to push back, their experience showing as they started to gain the upper hand. The three newbies, despite their best efforts, were no match for the seasoned fighters.
After taking a particularly vicious cut on his arm, Alexander shouted, “RUN BOYS!”
The group of five hightailed it out of there, sprinting back toward the cover of the trees. The patrol team chased after them, but like a clever little fox, Alexander led his team into the thick underbrush, where they activated their return tokens.
As they teleported out, Hank turned to Alexander, panting from the exertion. “What was the point of that?”
Alexander grinned, the adrenaline still running hot in his veins. “It wasn’t about takin’ the dungeon. It was about me losin’ my most cherished possession.”
Hank stared at him, bewildered. “Your what? Your most beloved possession?”
“That’s right,” Alexander said, pointing back toward the clearing. There, lying clearly in sight by the bushes, was his John Deere hat, left behind as a deliberate clue for the enemy.