Tim counted the rounds in his magazine once again. He was nervous, but mostly excited. The van hit something, a pothole probably. It made him jump. The team of men sitting on the hard metal bench-seats of the vehicle snapped their heads to him. He chuckled nervously. 

“Sorry. Nerves.” He motioned to his hands, noting their shake. The man next to him chuckled, shifting his body armor around. 

“I get it, first time. I would be too though, if I didn’t have this on.” He referred to his armor with a knock, producing a dull thud. Tim looked around at the team of operatives, all of which wore the same full-body gear, designed to protect them from nearly anything. Knives, bullets, blunt weapons, they had nothing on the Neilson 2500 series of body armor provided by the bureau. Tim wore a simple spandex suit with basic padding. His limbs, chest, and back were covered with lightweight body plates that would keep him agile. He knew bullets would have a hard time killing him due to his augmentations, but he still wished he had more gear. Then again, he wouldn’t be able to pursue the asset as well if he needed to. 

“Eh, don’t worry about it. You're bulletproof anyway.” the man said with a “forget-about-it” wave. Tim smiled and nodded, then went back to mentally pacing, nervous about his first field op. 

The van slowed, and as it did, the driver knocked on the metal wall that separated him from the kevlar-clad operatives. The team leapt up, ready to move. Their formation was already set inside the van: one heavily armored man in the front carrying a shield, then Tim, then the rest, all armed with combat shotguns. This guy they were after was the real deal. Tim had been briefed on their target, a man responsible for several killings, all calculated and all consistent. He was a serial killer, that much was certain, but the F.B.I. had reason to believe he might have a partner, so they sent in one of their enhanced operatives, a.k.a Tim Haskins. Tim was responsible for bringing this one in alive, otherwise they would have just sent a kill squad. Tim’s advantage was his superhuman ability; it was much easier for him than others to catch people on foot. 

“Heads up, going dark, goggles on guys,” the lead man said. The men gave affirmative grunts. Tim closed his eyes and put one hand on a strap on the man in front of him, letting him lead him for a moment while his eyes adjusted to the darkness of closed lids. He heard the other men fiddling with their gear, pulling down the military-grade night vision goggles attached to their helmets and making last second checks on their comms, guns, and bags. They exited the van, hopping off the rear bumper onto concrete. Tim took a brief sensory check with his keen smell and hearing. As they moved forward, he noted the wet pavement and the creak of metal. He could smell the rain on the ground. It might be hard to track this guy if he’s already escaped, he thought. The scent could have been washed out by rain. 

Tim felt the group slow and then halt themselves. The operative behind him gave him a tap, letting him know they were ready. Tim opened his eyes, which had adjusted to the transition of the bright light of the van to the near-pitch darkness of the warehouse they prepared to enter. His night-vision was just one of the many enhancements he received during his training to become an E.S.O. or ‘enhanced stealth operative’. Tim had undergone a radical genetic change that enabled him to do many things, including tear open metal doors, sniff out escaped assets, and of course, see perfectly in even the darkest conditions. Not even bullets could stop him from tracking down and apprehending highly dangerous criminals, which was his current mission. He had done plenty of mock-extractions during his time with the F.B.I., but the real world was dangerous, and he kept that in mind as the team prepared to breach. 

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With the heavy-shield wielding operative still in front of him, Tim approached the door. He tested the handle, expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t. He looked around at the men, pointing at the door. He gave the signal for them to rush in on his count. He counted down with his fingers, instilling a rhythm for them to follow. On zero, which was just Tim’s raised fist, they burst in, expecting someone to be waiting for them. The large metal doors swung hard on either side of him, clanging on the walls to which they were attached. Tim flew in behind the heavily shielded operative. 

Something stirred in Tim’s peripheral view. He heard the whoosh of something coming towards them. Tim leapt into the air to intercept the grenade that had been thrown. He spiked it hard across the warehouse like a volleyball. Half a second after it landed, it activated, spinning quickly and ejecting fumes as it did. Some sort of homemade tear gas, Tim thought, smelling the fumes. Tim yelled a command at the operatives, then took off, breaking formation. The team behind him immediately evacuated back through the door they came through and began setting up a perimeter. Tim sprinted, bounding across the empty warehouse after the assailant. He could see his figure out in front of him, desperately sprinting for a rear metal door. He heard the shield-bearer behind him giving commands into an earpiece, likely informing HQ of a pursuit in progress. Tim saw the target ahead of him about to exit through the metal door. As he did, Tim could hear the man lock it behind him and continue running outside. Tim prepared himself for a shock, lowering his shoulder. He continued running for another second, then he slammed into the metal door, denting it enough that the bolt was pulled from the wall. Tim was knocked back for a moment, then he leapt up through the open corner of the doorway, shimmying through it to get outside and continue the chase. 

The man continued to run, nearing a short metal fence. He would likely climb it, Tim thought, but Tim was much more agile. Tim continued his sprint, bounding for several yards, then leapt completely over the fence that the man had just gotten over. Gaining on him, Tim prepared himself for a final pounce, the energy collecting in his legs as he pursued his prey. The man chanced a look back, only to see something that wasn’t quite human about to bring him to the ground. 

Tim leapt forward, catching the man by the plaid shirt he wore. He pinned his head into the dirt with his knee as he pulled out handcuffs, giving the usual Miranda rights speech as he did. His pulse began to slow as he kept the man pinned under his knee. Tim pulled the wallet out of the man’s jeans pocket, confirming his identity. Satisfied, Tim tapped the device pinned to his uniform: a pager-like device that would request backup from immediate operatives. 

Tim had caught the asset, and with ease. He sighed, relieved. His first mission had been an easy one. It was good to know that he hadn’t gone through all of that training for nothing. It seemed like he would make a good ESO. He caught his breath, letting the man squirm under him while he waited for the other operatives to make it to his location.