The city that I have always called home, that was recently renamed Victory City, is primarily an industrial and manufacturing hub for the rest of the country. Churning out various consumer goods sure, but the corporations here are primarily focussed on providing the tools and resources required to rebuild the rest of the country after the war.

I'm not sure how things are going to look in the future, but in the here and now the federal government doesn't really have a whole lot of impact on the average citizens daily life. Our local government is run by a democratically elected council that then selects a governor from amongst their own ranks, the governor's of the various city states from across the country likewise select amongst themselves to determine who will be president. Being designated a 'Special Economic Zone' the corporations in Victory City are given increased rights to assist in economic growth, the categorisation intended to fast track the infrastructure repairs for the rest of the country. Long story short, the corporations pretty much do whatever the fuck they want and hold the real seat of power, at least here.

Brianna and I chatted as we walked through the lower levels of the city, picking up some breakfast from the street vendors before getting on the ram. Almost as soon as our asses hit the seats and the doors closed our plans for the day were thrown out the window.

:>> Go for Tac. 1.

:<< Sorry boss, on the ram.

I answered the call.

Bri and I exchanged glances and two or three heads in the crowded carriage rotated to spot who had responded. I briefly raised my hand above my head for recognition, they nodded in response and listened in on the currently one way chanel. It was a common enough occurrence. Tac. 1 was the only real command structure that ringers answered to, and we were on call 24/7 regardless of our current circumstances.

Oh, before you ask a 'ram' is the train we were on, long story short some shit happened during the war and that's what most ringers called 'em. Being unable to immediately exit a high speed train or plane was generally the only accepted excuse to not participate in an ongoing OP (operation). And I do mean generally, because parachutes and gravpacks are a thing. So, back to the explanation.

As I was saying, Tac. 1 is our command structure. Basically the way it works is that if you come into range of a hot zone your implant registered you on the network. Once you were registered on the network contact was first made to confirm force organisation and orders, and only the 'man on the ground' could respond. As you might have guessed this was the guy that would take command, they only called in teams of five unless the situation dictated or reinforcements were called for, additional ringers could be assigned as they were either called into, or otherwise entered the hot zone.

Once command of the operation was assigned like this it was never rescinded regardless of rank or experience unless the designated leader ended up KIA, or you were a commanding officer of the tiger cell in action and had entered the hot zone. Now here's where things deviate a little from the standard military ranking structure, because lets face it, none of us are walking around on civi street displaying our rank. Tac. 1. contacted retired special forces first, general military last. If you were a special forces grunt, such as myself, you could find yourself ordering around general entry officers on any given day of the week. What can I say, we know how to get shit done.

:>> Tac. 1. Acknowledged. State next destination.

That... I wasn't expecting. There was generally a hand off at this point and that was that.

I glanced at Bri and shared a look with the three men making their way though the carriage toward us. The train was either about to be forcefully stopped, or there was shit going down at a terminal along the way. We were in a carriage full of civilians. Given the next scheduled stop wasn't for another twenty kilometers or so I was hoping for the sake of the passengers it was the former.

I looked up at the information screen displayed in the window and called out the next stop.

:>> Confirmed. You are designated Zero Alpha.

The nameless voice responded. Being designated was pretty much par for the course if you weren't in a tiger cell. You needed at least three to form a cell, Bri and I had never met anyone that we were particularly interested in working with as of yet, and we had been together for around six years now.

I brought up my HUD and various ocular subsystems with a thought now that the other ringers would be 'sounding off'.

:>> One Alpha.

Bri's voice entered my head over the tactical network. Once all ringers had been assigned we would be moved off the command channel to a local grid. Her associated icon turned green on the tactical overlay of my left eye.

:>> Two Alpha.

A second icon lit up.

:>> Three Alpha. Strapped.

A third icon lit up and I tracked my head to visually locate the individual. Strapped was an indicator that someone was armed with something other than sidearms. Catching my eye he clapped his hands together and slowly drew them apart a comfortable distance indicating he was packing an assault rifle. Then he closed his fist and pointed his thumb at the roof. Fragmentation grenades.

I couldn't help but nod approvingly. That's when I noticed a murmurer of conversation spreading through the train, wary eyes tracking the temporary members of my team. People were starting to notice the two word sentences, they knew exactly what that meant, and they were none to happy about the fact they were stuck on a ram while it was happening around them.

:<< Two, three, crowd control.

It wasn't the done thing to interrupt the setup of tactical teams and issue orders over Tac.1, but I could see I was about to have a riot on my hands. With weapons drawn the ringers immediately set to work getting people to hunker down and away from the exits. If I didn't know any better I'd say it looked like a heist.

:>> Four Alpha.

This was the last guy in the same carriage as the rest of us, I pointed to the other two and set him to work.

:>> Five Alpha. Strapped. MedTec. On site. Ingress secure.

It was a woman's voice, I'd have to confirm once finished with Tac. 1 exactly what she had at her disposal. A MedTec was nice, and a relatively rare and welcomed asset amongst ringer teams. Trained field medics were worth their weight in gold during impromptu operations. On site... really shouldn't need explanation. If it does, put the book down, get a lighter and maybe a little accelerant if you think you will need it and set it on fire, your privileges have been revoked. Ingress secure, also mostly self explanatory. Where ever the ram was going to stop, she was there and had the area (currently) secured.

:>> Tac. 1 confirmed. Additional units en route. Blue's currently engaged and under fire, you are to secure the immediate area. Good luck. Tac. 2 is go.

And just like that the hand shake was complete and the operation was mine. Our neural links automatically switched over to the assigned channel, in this case Tac.2.

Okay, reading between the lines reinforcements were on route and they weren't ringers, that meant something big. Terrorist tactics the world over were hit and run, for whatever reason these guys were sticking around. Blue's currently engaged meant Police officers. Now what was just as important as the orders, were the explicitly unstated requirements implied in 'secure the immediate area'. What did it mean? There were to be no prisoners taken and no survivors at the end of the operation. If they had wanted the hassle of managing prisoners the order would have been explicitly stated.

The ram started slowing down, and on cue the civies started panicking, but they were composed and mostly calm... that is to say no one was overtly loosing their shit. Since the introduction of ringers, the civilian population had learnt the hard way to stay (mostly) calm under fire. Ringers had the full authority of law to either detain or render unconscious, or even execute any that they considered an endangerment to themselves or others during an active operation. But it wasn't as bad as it sounded, executions were a very rare occurrence, thankfully I hadn't had to make that particular call myself yet.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

:<< This is Alpha. Five, Status.

It was one of those unspoken rules that individuals designated the zero alpha call sign either always used the full 'zero alpha' or just the 'alpha', never the single numerical designator (as the rank and file did) of zero. A 'zero' was also the designation for a hostile self contained machine. With the war over, hostile robots weren't common place, but they were out there. No point muddying your own waters if you could avoid it.

:>> This is Five. Big Stick. Nil contact.

Bri and I shared a glance. Big stick meant sniper. As in walk quietly, carry a big stick. Someone that was both a sniper and a medtec? There was a story there somewhere. But it complicated the shit out of my life. We were supposed to support the police, if they were under fire they likely had wounded. Five was gonna be pissed, 'cause at this point in time I could just about guarantee that as soon she got to the top of whatever structure she found I'd be calling her back down to patch someone up.

I checked the tactical overlay and confirmed our position in relation to the quickly approaching hot zone.

:<< This is Alpha. Roger. After debrief Four with five, get high. ETA in Ten...Nine.

I shut the comms to let each team member silently continue the count of their own accord and finish any final preparations.

As the ram slowed we disembarked, the four of us hit the ground running, without coming to a stop the rams doors were closing and it was quickly picking up speed to clear the civilians from the area. Those on the ground should have been evacuated to the shelters that every building had available while we were on route. Five was set up at the station entrance, she was laying prone in the grass with her heavy sniper rifle trained along the opposite street. I drew the 12mm Spitfire from the small of my back, the two Malorian Flechette's in shoulder holsters were my backups and would stay in place for now.

I knelt beside five as I glanced around quickly to confirm the rest of the team had fanned out, Brianna threw me a smirk and wink, of course we had both noticed five's tight ass. Not like it was an achievement, she was wearing a pair of skin hugging jeans that looked as though they had been painted on after all. With one leg hiked up to hip level beside her on the ground it was a ver...anyway back to business.

"Hey boss. Looks like an attempted transport hijacking. Blues managed to disable the transport, four total, two kicking, harassing from the left. Based on what I could see from here looks like chipped gangers. Weird thing is, they ain't leaving."

"Safety free, targets of opportunity." I tapped her on the ass with a cupped palm and at her backwards glance pointed out four. She got up and they both headed to a nearby building to setup on over watch.

Chipped ganger's was a term used to describe anyone that had enhanced capabilities, it was fairly common ground for ringer operations as pretty much every man and his dog had some sort of enhancement these days. Organised crime is big business these days as well. The fact they weren't leaving until they got what they were after however was cause for concern. For example, if there were big ass guns in the truck I wanted to know about it before rounds started heading my way.

Opening the comms I checked up on the status of the reinforcements.

:<< This is Alpha. Bravo. Sitrep.

:>> This is Bravo Actual, three mikes, south bound, eight souls, rhino. Over.

I exchanged 'oh fuck' looks with Brianna and three.

:<< Alpha acknowledged. Out.

It was only polite to use correct radio syntax, at least when communicating with those units.

:<< This is Alpha. Five keep 'em off the blues.

:>> Wilco.

:>> Thanks Alpha. Blues sitting tight.

Whilst the police technically only had the legal authority to listen in, a few had hacked rigs courtesy of some enterprising ringers, for the sake of all concerned they self regulated and only ever hacked the rigs of those they trusted to keep cool heads. (Rigs were actual hardware, not implants, and could be confiscated.) We were military operators after all, they were civilian. Armed civilians sure, but still distinctly not military. It was a very rare thing for charges to be laid on those involved which was as good a testimony as any to show how well our two groups worked together.

Shots immediately began raining down in the general area of the disabled transport around 500 meters away, five was clearly in position.

:<< Three on point, get us in the back door.

He nodded and took off at a light crouched jog down the road, assault rifle leading the way. When issuing orders it was only natural to always use the tactical network, even if the ringer was standing right next to me. In that way everyone knew what was going on.

But why the hurry you might ask. What the fuck is going on? Well... to be perfectly honest with you, that's exactly what I would like to know.

In case you couldn't figure it out from the more formal tone of the comm chatter, the reinforcements were regular army. They may pay me lip service over comms as I was technically in charge of the operation, but no fucking way would they do what I said unless it suited them. They had their orders, and so far as they were concerned I didn't need to know what they were. Being ex special forces I could understand the attitude and didn't hold it against them, it did make my job of keeping everyone alive just that little bit more difficult though. Left hand not knowing exactly what the right was up to and all.

Three mikes, three minutes out. That was annoying. It meant they had been sitting on station just waiting for shit to happen, they expected this. South bound, they were travelling north to south and would enter the hot zone from the opposite side of our approach. Eight souls, eight combat troops, vehicle crew or anyone else they didn't want me to know about weren't included in that count. Rhino, that's the big one and the dead give away. An amalgamation between armored personnel carrier and cargo transport. They weren't fucking around and were going to get whatever the gangers were after out of the area as soon as they possibly could.

I'd instructed three to get us as close as he could to the hunkered down blues without drawing fire. From that position I would re assess and we could go from there. Unfortunately, the bad guys had other ideas. Luckily, three had a powered shield built into his cybernetic left arm and as soon as the bullets started flying it self activated. Years on the job showed as he immediately ducked down behind the temporary cover even as it hummed to life. He threw a grenade giving Bri and I time to duck into a nearby doorway and provide covering fire.

So... soldiers have a morbid sense of humor, particularly those that face death on a daily basis. So keep that in mind and try not to think too badly of us when I tell you that all three of us pointed and laughed at the armless, legless, screaming man as he flew through the air spraying blood like some sort of demonic lawn sprinkler. Three turned around with a grin, nodding and giving me the thumbs up almost dropping his rifle in hysterics.

:<< This is Alpha, five go incendiary. Three, get out of there. Two shoot and scoot.

At that Bri and I began laying down rapid fire at the disabled transport giving three a chance to find alternate cover, and hopefully a better field of fire. At best we were only keeping their heads down from our current position in relation to the rolled transport. As soon as three had moved to safety Two broke off at a sprint down a side alley, looking for an alternate route through side doors to get to the blues. Primarily it was to ascertain if they needed medical assistance, but it was also to make sure that those in our impromptu team wouldn't suffer any friendly fire incidents if we ended up moving forward past their position. The police didn't have the combat HUD's and readouts of ringers.

:>> Wilco.

If the giggle in her voice was anything to go by she had also seen what was currently passing for entertainment.

Five had only managed to get two shots down range, the impacts looking like mini nuclear detonations as they sucked the air from the immediate area to fuel the incendiary nature of the munitions. People had a natural aversion to fire, so you can bet your ass they kept their heads down.

:>> This is Bravo Actual. Check fire. Live in five. Out.

With three safely taking shelter in a nearby repair shop of some description, I leaned heavily against the filthy wall behind me and reloaded.

:>> This is Two. Secure.

"What the actual fuck?" Bri voiced my own opinion as she likewise reloaded.

I did all I could do, knit my eyebrows in a pissed off growl and shrugged. I checked the time on my HUD, we had been engaged for barely a minute. So either the GPS system in the Rhino transport was completely fucked or we were being deliberately lied to for reasons unknown.

:>> Alpha, this is Cypher, taking post on... McCarthy.

Fucking fantastic, now military intelligence, or worse, one of the corporations were involved. Which one? Who the fuck knows. Who cares? Not me. Some days you just kinda wished you never got out of bed, know what I mean? A cypher was the (typically) privatised old world equivalent of the CIA or other secretive but sanctioned organisation.

I made no attempt to hide my distaste over comms.

:<< This is Alpha, acknowledged. Holding.

:>> This is Bravo Actual. Wilco. Out.

Well, well, who said miracles didn't happen? Appears the regulars were more than happy to follow my orders, at least in this instance. 'Wilco' being military speak for will comply. Just goes to show, no one fucked with a company man if they didn't have to. By stating that we were 'holding' I let the cypher know we wouldn't be giving chase to anything that headed that direction, regardless of the threat it might pose to a single cypher. I checked my overlay, McCarthy street was due west of the hot zone, it would now be the only route of retreat for the bad guys. We might not be able to take prisoners, but you could bet your bottom dollar the company was sure as shit baiting some sort of trap down there.

The roar of heavy weapons fire became almost deafening as the rhino arrived on scene, literally hosing the bad guys out of any hidey-hole they may have managed to find. Eight heavy armoured infantry disembarked and swept through the immediate surrounds of the disabled transport in short order.

:>> This is Bravo Actual. Clear. Over.

:<< This is Alpha, be advised you have friendlies in the building to your East. Blues, Alphas to me. Bravo, Cypher, good hunting. Tac. 2 Out.

I didn't actually expect the police officers to show, I was more getting it on record that they were still alive, if the army had any trigger happy ass hats there would be hell to pay.

:>> This is Tac. 1. End engagement confirmed. Until next time alphas. Tac. 1 out.

And just like that our work for the day was done. Well... our official work at any rate. Brianna and I still had time to figure out when the next train would be making a stop at an apparently unmarked industrial transfer station so we could get on with the job of closing out an active contract.

Confused [https://www.royalroadcdn.com/public/smilies/confused.png]><# Holy fuck balls! That's what you do for a living?

Sumiko all but screamed into my head.