Back on Earth-749,

To a vantage point overlooking a massive, abandoned warehouse in Zaun. The warehouse looms in the distance, a rusted and hulking structure, a remnant of the industrial activity that once thrived in this desolate area. Caitlyn crouches at the edge of the vantage point, her sharp eyes scanning the scene through the scope of her rifle. Flanking her are two Piltover soldiers, their weapons at the ready, waiting for her command.

Brimstone, positioned beside Caitlyn, is focused on coordinating the operation. His gaze is intense as he speaks quietly into his comms, checking in with the rest of the team.

"It's a big place... plenty of room for an ambush," Caitlyn says, her voice calm but focused. "Are we in position?"

Brimstone nods, switching his comms channel. "Foundation, are you ready?"

The Foundation's voice crackles through the comms, calm and full of resolve. "We're in position. Awaiting your signal."

Brimstone then switches over to Sova's channel. "Sova, you got eyes, send it."

With his typical precision, Sova deploys his drone, the soft whir cutting through the quiet as the device takes to the air. The drone flits silently toward the warehouse, its camera feed relaying information back to Sova's HUD.

"Deploying drone now," Sova reports, his voice steady. "Scanning the area."

The drone's sensors detect heat signatures and movement within the warehouse. Sova watches carefully, noting the positions of the guards stationed at various entrances and along the perimeter. He quickly relays the data back to Brimstone.

"I've got a few guards posted around the entrances... positions marked. Sending the data now," Sova says, his tone precise.

Brimstone acknowledges with a calm but commanding, "Neon, you know what to do."

Neon receives the data and immediately springs into action, her form blurring as she dashes toward the warehouse. Her movements are near invisible as she zips across the ground, swiftly taking out each guard with silent, lethal efficiency. One by one, she drags the unconscious guards out of sight, ensuring that the path is clear for the team to move in.

"Guards neutralized. Area's clear for now," Neon reports, satisfaction evident in her voice.

With the guards down, Brimstone turns to Caitlyn, urgency creeping into his otherwise calm demeanor. "Caitlyn, you should move in as well. The warehouse is massive, and we'll need every angle covered."

Caitlyn nods in agreement, signaling for the Piltover soldiers to follow her. They begin their careful approach toward the warehouse entrance, their movements precise and deliberate.

On the opposite side of the warehouse, the Foundation prepares his team for the next phase of the operation. He grips his MK-Seven Assault Rifle tightly, the weapon's barrel gleaming faintly in the dim light. His voice comes through the comms, calm and authoritative.

"Mason, Woods, Chief—move in. Clear your angles and watch each other's backs."

With a nod of acknowledgement, Mason, Woods, and Master Chief move out, their weapons at the ready as they advance toward their respective positions. The atmosphere around them is tense, the air thick with anticipation as they prepare to breach the warehouse.

The operation is in full swing now. Inside the warehouse, something ominous awaits, but the team is ready, each member knowing their role and moving with precision toward their shared goal. The night is still, but within the shadows of Zaun, the silent warriors are closing in, their resolve unshakable as they prepare to confront whatever lies within the rusted, abandoned structure.

Woods grinned slightly, his tone hardened as he whispered to Mason. "Mason, remember—slice the pie, clear the corners. We don't need another goddamn ambush like what happened at Nicaragua."

Mason smirked, gripping his weapon tightly. "Copy that, Woods. Stay tight, let's get this done clean."

As Mason and Woods exchanged their usual military banter, Master Chief moved forward with calculated precision. His visor gleamed slightly in the dim light of the warehouse as Cortana appeared as a hologram on his HUD. Her voice, calm but sharp, guided him through the layout of the building.

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"Chief, I'm reading at least twelve hostiles inside," Cortana reported. "They're spread out—mostly clustered near the central area, with a few patrolling the perimeter. Be careful, Chief—these guys aren't amateurs."

Chief nodded ever so slightly, his focus sharpening. "We'll handle it," he responded in a low, steady tone.

Mason, ever the seasoned operative, did a quick check of his M16 Assault Rifle, his senses heightened. His eyes scanned every shadow and corner as the team moved. Woods gripped his M27 Assault Rifle, his body coiled with readiness, while Master Chief, the imposing figure leading the way, held his MA5D Assault Rifle steady.

The group advanced into the warehouse, their movements fluid and synchronized as they cleared the angles, checking each corner with precise hand signals and whispers. The tension mounted as they approached their targets, working in tandem with the five Piltover soldiers who moved cautiously behind them.

"Left clear. Moving to next angle," Mason whispered to Woods with a nod, his voice barely audible.

"Copy that," Woods responded quietly, his eyes darting to the surrounding area. "Watch your six."

Above them, Sova's drone hovered silently, scanning the area with expert precision. His calm, composed voice came through the coms. "More guards ahead. Foundation, you and Chief are closest."

Foundation and Master Chief exchanged a brief, knowing glance. Both understood what needed to be done. Without a word, they approached silently. Chief, moving with the agility of a Spartan, grabbed the first guard, silencing him with a swift chokehold before lowering him gently to the ground. The Foundation mirrored his actions, disarming another guard with a fluid twist of the arm and knocking him unconscious with a precise blow to the head.

They continued their methodical approach. Chief took down guards one by one with brute strength, while the Foundation followed suit with a combination of tactical precision and raw power. One guard attempted to raise an alarm, but Chief was faster—gripping the guard's wrist, he twisted it before delivering a sharp elbow to the face, knocking him out cold. Foundation swiftly incapacitated another guard with a strike to the throat and a knee to the midsection, dropping him instantly.

Suddenly, two guards positioned above spotted them from a catwalk. As the guards raised their weapons, Mason and Woods sprang into action with reflexes honed by years of combat experience. Mason raised his M16 in a heartbeat, squeezing off a controlled burst that hit the first guard with a precise headshot. Woods, moving with deadly accuracy, raised his M27 and fired a single, well-placed shot, taking down the second guard with precision.

The sharp echo of gunfire reverberated throughout the warehouse, cutting through the silence like a knife. The once-quiet tension exploded into a cacophony of sound as the shots bounced off the metal walls, alerting everyone within range.

Deeper within the warehouse, in a dimly lit room converted into a makeshift command center, Sevika sat surrounded by her loyalists. Since Silco's fall, they had remained steadfast at her side, ready for anything. Her eyes narrowed slightly at the sound of the gunshots echoing through the building. One of her loyalists, a grizzled veteran with a long scar running down his cheek, stepped forward, his expression grim as he relayed the obvious.

"They're here," he said urgently, his voice tense. "Looks like they've brought some firepower."

Sevika's cold smile widened as she stood, her mechanical arm flexing with a soft whirr. The last vial of Shimmer, glowing faintly on her belt, was her ace in the hole—a final trump card to be played if things turned dire.

"Just how I like it," Sevika said with a smirk, her voice filled with anticipation. "We've got something special waiting for them."

Her loyalists sprang into action, preparing the battlefield with precision. Weapons were readied, traps set, and the entire area was transformed into a death trap for those foolish enough to enter. Sevika's confidence was absolute—she had faced worse odds before, and this time, she was ready to make sure her enemies didn't leave the warehouse alive.

Meanwhile, in another part of the warehouse, Foundation paused briefly, turning back to Mason and Woods. He nodded, quietly acknowledging their swift and effective assistance.

"Good work," Foundation said, his voice low but filled with quiet approval.

Mason and Woods exchanged a quick glance, their years of experience making these situations second nature. The team pressed forward, the silence of the warehouse broken only by the shuffle of boots on concrete and the occasional distant hum of machinery. They moved with caution, their senses sharp as they prepared for whatever lay ahead.

Suddenly, movement from behind caught their attention. More guards, alerted by the earlier gunfire, flanked the group, hoping to catch them off guard.

"Shit! On our six!" Mason cursed sharply over the coms.

Before anyone could react, Neon blurred into action. With her lightning-fast reflexes and speed, she was a blur of blue energy, her Frenzy pistol in hand. The compact, high-rate-of-fire weapon spat rapid shots as she darted between the guards, her speed making her a near-impossible target. Each guard fell with precision, barely able to react before they were incapacitated.

"Too slow, guys. Gotta keep up!" Neon called out with a confident smirk, her voice brimming with energy.

One of the Piltover officers, clearly impressed by Neon's speed and efficiency, turned to her with a look of gratitude, though his hesitation revealed his unfamiliarity with her.

"Thanks... uh, what's your name?" the Piltover officer asked, his voice grateful but uncertain.

Neon grinned, her confidence unwavering. "The name's Neon. You're welcome."

Woods, ever the grizzled veteran, scoffed at the display, his voice a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. "Kids," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Neon caught Woods' remark but simply grinned wider, giving him a playful salute before falling back into formation, unfazed by his comment.

The team regrouped, their movements more deliberate now. The earlier encounter had reminded them that the warehouse was not just a simple hideout—it was a heavily fortified stronghold. They'd need to stay sharp and coordinated if they were to push forward and confront Sevika.