I hated her.

I hated scientists and data and all of that nonsense. I hated the way she had answered my question and took my invitation to sit in the front, in the seat I had kept briefly warm for her. She could have very easily slipped back into the crowd and ignored the entire process. Instead, she sat in the front, surrounded by my soldiers, those green eyes only highlighted with the mask she wore.

She intrigued me. All the more reason to know I wouldn't get along with her. I wanted to know what hurt her, what would break her, what could defeat her in a way that the weapons on my hip couldn't. She believed she could stabilize this universe. That was impossible with people like me who wanted nothing more than to destroy this place. Some random biological anthropologist or whatever the fuck she called herself wouldn't change anything about this universe. I could.

I'm the Saboteur.

My mission: assassinate targets in Colony Negative who threaten District Five's regime.

I was probably everything this doctor hated. She was everything I hated. And soon enough she would have to realize that data wouldn't be able to save her, people like me would. This place was dangerous, but luckily, I would be the most dangerous of them all. She was fortunate enough to have me.

My targets would change as the mission progressed, depending on intelligence reports from my soldiers but also that of our enemies. Getting started was the hardest. And it was impertinent to me we all got on a good start, despite our disagreements. My young men and women would be a challenge. They were young because that's how Milithreat liked it, they wouldn't question authority nor their mission. Yet, they needed someone like me to lead them, to lie to them. They may think this as a defense mission, and to them it would be. To me, I would be on the offense.

"Good morning, I'm Supervisory Agent Damien Rok. I work in counter-intelligence for Milithreat of District Five and am here now to brief on the situation of Colony Negative," I cleared my throat, using the presentation projector to show a display of how massive a territory we were looking at, "This is an overview of Negative's largest compound, or rather connected city. It stretches nearly thirty miles in all directions. Due to a lot of the structures mostly intact despite the horrible weather, this has become everyone's prime target. We are not alone here."

The Doctor tilted her head in wonder, knowing the burning question on her mind would eventually be answered: why were there so many guns here?

"Our intelligence has already gathered that District One made landfall forty-eight hours ago at the farthest north-west sector. District Three is to the West, seated below them. Districts Three, Four, and Seven are on their way and will more than likely take the eastern sector given hopefully we will gain the entirety of this Southern section here," my hand covered the greater section of the South, "our objective is to assist the scientists and the various teams as we push further into the center of this entire section. Mind you, this is all about quality over quantity.

"Under no circumstances do we move on to another sector without entirely checking the one we left, and leaving defenses along with it. This includes finding any data for the scientists to monitor and keep track of. When we leave a sector, we want to know everything about it before a chance an enemy team can claim it. Anything of importance or study will be brought here to ensure its secrets remain here," I explained, taking a deep breath, my eyes meeting hers, "our scientists are the top priority for safety. This week, I will conduct tests and training to form squads and groups, preferably four: Acid, Bomb, Death, and Excise."

They were my own versions of Alpha, Bravo, Delta, and Echo. Milithreat didn't mind my twisted artistic touch when it came to leading. They wouldn't care the things I said, what I did in my free time, or who I spoke to as long as my mission was successful. Leadership came with it's own burdens, but it allowed me the freedom to also do whatever the fuck I wanted. That itch to do so only grew more closer as time went on. I no longer cared about anything but my mission and the people helping me to achieve it. So playing with the phonetic alphabet was merely artistic expression.

"Acid Squad will be spearheaded by myself and shaped from the best of the best here. Acid will be directly responsible for detailing security on Doctor Deveraux whenever she is to be out in the field. Depending on the various needs, Acid will also assist other squadrons if needed should the good doctor stay in her lab where she belongs," I smirked. Her eyebrows narrowed, a strand of her black hair falling from her tucked ear over to her eye which only made her appear more menacing. She was all bark, and absolutely no bite. Especially with that muzzle across her face.

"Any questions?" I asked.

She had questions, but perhaps wasn't brave enough to ask them right now.

She was practically squirming in her seat. I could tell she was uncomfortable with the briefing and not just because I would have to accompany her. She didn't realize just how extensive this operation was, how many other Districts would be here fighting for the same chance. Whatever reasons they were here for: resources, fame, or fortune it wouldn't matter. I'd stop them all from getting what they wanted. Bad blood would bleed upon her good intentions, no matter how hard she might try to urge for peace.

Blood would enrich the soil of humanity, splattering like rain from the storm that was myself.

"What are the rules of engagement?" A soldier asked. ROEs were the foundation of a mission, constantly shaping decisions and motivations to keep focused on their tasks. And my answer would only enhance the danger of this situation and also their motivation.

"There are none. Anything that moves and is not with District Five is considered a threat," I spoke, seeing Doctor Deveraux swallow harshly beneath the mask, "But, that doesn't mean we shoot everything on sight. Taking prisoners for information can also prove useful. And the last thing I want is one of us fearfully shooting one of our own. You're the best Milithreat has to offer, so prove it. Anything else?"

Silence. And smiles. Everyone was eager to get to work and so was I.

"Perfect. As soon as we have teams, we will get together and plan our first steps in mapping out the perimeter. Tomorrow my selection process will begin. Today, revel in the quiet. If you're afraid of needles, though, probably won't be much to enjoy. You're dismissed."

She was gone in a blink, standing from her seat and blending into the sea of black. She had escaped before I could properly make amends, apologizing that perhaps we had gotten off on the wrong foot. While I knew I could be antagonizing, I also liked to be the first to admit we had to work as a team. I had to ensure she wouldn't be reckless, that her desire for data wouldn't put my men and women at risk, or even herself.

If she was as good as believed, it meant the other Districts would see her as a threat. I wouldn't be the only assassin on the playing field, same as she wouldn't be the head scientist. The Colonies, Districts...the entire universe was derived from slaughtering one another, and an even purer future to arise from the ashes. If it was just other people to contend with, enemies of similar flesh, then that made me happy.

Perfectly happy.

—-------------------------------------------------------

The mess hall was perfect. One thing I liked about missions like this was how simple the process was and how delicious the food could be. I hated my moments on Colony 500 where the choices were endless, streets always filled with obnoxious men and women in suits arguing pointlessly. Food to them was just a mere source of energy to survive. I missed the days where food was about enjoyment, not exactly just nourishment. However, the chefs at Station Evolution certainly wanted to keep the crew happy and satiated.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"No...no absolutely not, she's at the bottom of the list," Agent Grimes spoke as I approached the table, plopping my tray down.

"Okay, what about Ruenova? She's..." Agent Owen whistled, clearly impressed and red faced at the idea.

"Top. Easily. Although she seemed a bit fascinated with our supervisor," Grimes smirked, nudging me as I already began cutting into my steak.

"Ranking the women already? Isn't that my job to form ranks?" I teased, almost wanting to roll my eyes. It wasn't uncommon to immediately take any fresh moment to think about the women (or men, if that was their taste). We'd be spending months here together. While some might find friends or battle buddies for life, some people really enjoyed keeping their beds warm at night.

Not to say I don't like women. I love women. But in terms of romantics, their intimacy could be proven as a distraction. The mission always came first. I wouldn't hesitate however, if what they said about Ruenova was correct and we stumbled across free time. Unlike some of the men here, I liked to get to know a woman first. Women statistically were more likely to kill or assassinate after sleeping with their targets. I couldn't be too careful.

"Yeah well, no offense boss, but I think I could snag Ruenova first," Owen shrugged cockily. He was handsome no doubt. But he had this kind of attitude that even I could admit that women would find bothersome. Hell, even I found it bothersome. Ego was fine and acceptable. But inflate it too much, and it tended to implode. Soldiers couldn't be overly selfish. It narrowed their vision and thinking. I fought for the better of something. If all Owen fought for was a nice uniform and a strong enough trigger finger for a woman to clench around...that didn't make him a good soldier.

Bomb Squad for him, most likely.

The steak was slightly overcooked but the good seasoning and sear made up for it. I couldn't help but keep scanning the room, though. The entire mess hall was buzzing with life. Already, cliques were forming which was expected. Medical staff typically sat together. Very rarely did it seem a few soldiers ate with other members of the crew or security. Scientists typically ate alone with a datapad shoved in their face. Still, there was no sight of her.

"She wasn't here at lunch either," Grimes observed, glancing at me.

"Who?" I asked, feigning dumb at his statement.

"Jack."

"Jack?"

"She said we could call her Jack," Grimes corrected, "Jacqueline Deveraux, you know, the anthropologist."

"Right. I was late and didn't catch her first name," I hummed. Jacqueline. That was a pretty nice name. Oddly fitting in terms of looks. Yet Jack seemed to fit her personality so much better.

"What do you think is with the mask?" Owen asked, butting into the conversation.

"I suppose it's none of our business," I shrugged. Of course I wanted to know. Who didn't? It wasn't every day you saw someone wear one permanently. Labs could make sense, same with certain medical staff. Soldiers specialized in weaponized gas would make sense too. A biological anthropologist? No clue, to me it seemed to have a visually aesthetic appeal to it, perhaps to cover scars or defuncts. My curiosity couldn't get the better of me for that. It was something personal and I knew we'd never get on terms with that level of comfort. No doubt she was used to everyone probing for an answer indirectly.

I prayed for any stupid soul dumb enough to ask her in person.

"Well, it's gotta be something foul. Makes sense why she wouldn't eat here, the princess probably gets her food delivered to her so she can eat in peace," Owen sighed, "someone's gotta know something though. I'd pay a good hundred credits for anyone that knows."

An odd waste of money. I could probably think of several scenarios that might be possible and lie to the bastard. Not like I needed any extra credits. My virtual wallet was stuffed from the fact I hardly bought anything. A duffel bag of clothes, my equipment and guns, and a good flask of whiskey was all I needed.

"Yeah and she'd probably pay you two thousand to leave her alone," Grimes snickered, "her whole family is loaded."

"You know her family?" I asked, a bit curious actually.

"Well, more so the family name. Deveraux Industries created the prototype for that sword attached to your hip. They specialized in laser technology," Grimes replied, which made sense. He was the weapons expert. He could glance at any firearm or tool and know its exact serial number, company, and blueprint design for it. I've done a few missions with Grimes before. He was respectable, and also knowledgeable. I liked to keep the smarter ones closer to me.

"Specialized? No longer in business?"

"Don't know about that. They haven't created anything within maybe a few years. Might've rerouted business, could've shut down for good. Either way, if she stems from that family, she has money. Besides, if she really is that good at her job, the Bureau must pay her well. I could ask Intel, if they have the time, to do some digging if you'd like, sir."

"Sure," I agreed, figuring it wouldn't hurt to get to know who would be around my leash as I walked her around Colony Negative.

"Hold on," Owen stood from his seat almost rapidly, surprising myself and Grimes. Owen was an instigator. It was one thing to want answers, but they always had to stem from impertinent questions. Why an anthropologist had to wear a mask was none of our concern. Owen immediately approached a man, one who gave a slight sense of familiarity before I recognized him. It was the one scientist in the back who had notated the entire briefing of her work.

And Owen was dragging his uncomfortable ass to the table.

"Sit sit, you're among friends," Owen lied, "so, what is it you do?"

"Oh, um...organic chemistry. I specialize in atomic structure, particularly in substances not common within the scientific community," he answered, seeing three confused faces glancing at him, "so, if Doctor Revenaux found something in the field, some sort of substance unknown to us, I can study it and see its genetic makeup. It could vary from anything from fuel to use or gas to avoid."

"Huh," Owen nodded, "have you worked with the Doctor before?"

"Me? Oh heavens no," he shook his head, but smiled, almost as if proud to be under her leadership, "Just to be around her is an honor. She's well known within the SBH. She just has this perseverance to her work that is remarkable, especially everything that has happened."

Perseverance was something I could relate to and also admire. I always succeeded at my mission, always got my target as cleanly as possible. Even against odds, I always had found a way to make it work. It sounds like Jack could do that too. Her line of work was probably filled with egregious amounts of stress, after all, weren't peoples lives on the line? It was the kind of importance that made most doctors absolute dickheads. While she had been brash this morning, it was spoken out of confidence, not cockiness.

"What happened?" Grimes asked, actually looking interested.

I feigned interest, focusing on my steak but still listened intently.

"I well...nobody really knows. It happened a few years ago, given her university and alumni photos show a normal...well, as normal as you can get woman scientist," he hushed, as if afraid that talking about this felt taboo, or a strike against his new supervisor, "look, all I know is that it happened right after she published her work on Colony 599. She took at least a year off before returning to the field. From what I heard, people were surprised she returned at all."

Owen and Grimes both looked at me, as if figuring it had to be something serious if nobody knew. And if nobody at least in the science circle knew, it was classified. Good thing I had a team of people that could get that for me, if needed. I'd be surprised if we didn't learn something new about her by the end of the week.

"Surely there's a recent medical report on her. And you'd have access to that, working in the same sector..."

"You're out of your mind. That's patient confidentiality," the chemist replied, a bit offended, "we're here to do important work, I can't say the same for you three. Now if you excuse me, I'm going to enjoy my dinner."

He grabbed his tray and walked away, a disgruntled sigh leaving Owen's lips.

"Nice going, Owen," Grimes nudged him, "better hope he isn't a snitch and informs her of our prying."

"Yeah well, he seems like a royal ass kisser to her. That's the thing about scientists and doctors, they all put each other up on these pedestals. So what if she found something to help with cancer? If she hadn't, someone else would have stumbled upon it as well."

The same could be said for my line of work. If I failed, it would merely go on to the next person maybe just at a lower price. My work was expensive, and so was Doctor Deveraux's. And neither of us felt like we could fail, maybe we never had. Failure wasn't an option, and in both of our lines of employment, it was endless. Our work wouldn't stop until our hearts stopped beating. Maybe we did have some similarities, almost just a different side of a credit chip.

I returned to my room to retire soon after, seeing my monitor light up with a notification. It seems like I wasn't going to bed any time soon, at least with this brand new piece of information. I pulled up the generated report, scanning the various documents of information, canvassing databases for my target.

Crowe. Recon Specialist Crowe of District Two. He was tasked just today in scouting out our prospective area. More than likely to monitor our progress to higher ups, and if we stepped too close, they'd send a strong enough force to contest. Only five years of experience made him an amateur. Finding him, and killing him, was my ultimate objective. Glancing at the young man's repertoire, I could do this in my sleep. My only issue was I had more than just military eyes on my back.

Science always seemed to find its ways to haunt me. I could tell just from our brief moment this morning...Jacqueline Deveraux wasn't frightened easily.