“So, what is plan, one more time?” Arkie demanded, glancing around the van of the now fully assembled squad.

“We’ve already been through this, Arkie!” Erica groaned from beside Nell. She rubbed her eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

“I’m with Erica. We have this thing written front and back on our damn synapses,” Sickle added with a hiss.

“Oh, I know you do,” Arkie grumbled. “It’s Harrison I ask.”

All eyes shifted to stare at the final member of the gang.

To most, one look at him and you’d label him as a bum. He wore a baggy hoodie with some faded band and slack cargo pants which hid his spindly frame from view. His neck–and presumably below–were rows and rows of tattoos varying in shape, color and style covering any presence of plain skin. The only place that seemed to escape his tattooist’s wrath was his face instead replaced by a scraggly stubble. His hair was a mess of faded dyes and was pulled up into a short, lazy pony-tail that had sat for ages evidenced by the stray strands hanging over his sunglasses. To a past Nell, she would’ve kept as far as humanly possible from someone so unkept. But presently, she was forced to sit between him and Erica.

Despite the rows of glares set on him, his head was still dipped low and idly bobbing along to blaring heavy metal Nell could hear from right next to him. He didn’t wear any headphones or earbuds; instead, the inner section of his ears emitted a faint orange tint. If she looked closer, Nell saw his ear was not made out of cartilage. Instead, it had the dullness of silicon with many small holes covering what was exposed, similar to a speaker.

“Get his attention! Make him sit up straight,” Sickle barked. Erica reeled her arm back and gave him a sharp elbow to the rib.

He barely flinched. Harrison lifted a hand to give a tap on his temple, which blinked orange like his ears for a heartbeat. The music stopped.

“Yeah? What’s up?” His drawl of a voice had a low rasp to it not unlike a chronic chain-smoker, yet he smelled bizarrely clean. Nell knew what smokers smelt like and felt a little tinge of jealousy in her chest. Harrison knocked his head forward to kick his sunglasses to the tip of his nose to look over the top.

“What is plan, my boy?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Uhhh . . .” he scratched his chin for a few beats. “We gotta ambush some folks.”

“It’s more than that!” Arkie snapped.

Harrison merely shrugged.

Arkie, driving his frustration into the steely clench of his jaw, reached into the void of his coat and produced a small billiard-ball sized sphere. He tossed it into the air and like a magnet, fixated itself in the air at the center of the van. Not even the small rumbles of periodic cobblestone shook its tight cling. The top half popped out to expose a ring of red light. A second later, detailed dots generated into the air fizzled down to create an intricate map of a two-floored building.

“Talia sent a drone a few days ago to scout and made this for us to look at,” Arkie explained. His eyes took on the same shade of red as the hologram. Slowly, the map zoomed in on the entrance. “Listen closely.”

“We’re here to ambush some Matchsticks a friend of Rammie has noticed wandering around his, er, small business. They like to attack in packs so nobody calls the Drummerboys on them, so we prepare for heavy fire. Literally and figuratively.” The map shifted on the second floor to focus on a backroom. “This is local energy plant for the building. It is their MO to overload the system with some fancy-schmancy tech, create an implosion, yada yada yada. We have to carve a path to get here so they don’t get there first.”

The map zoomed back out to the second floor. “This is where our friend’s small business operates and he can’t afford to take those losses. It is also our top priority to stop anything bad up here. You also must keep eye out for any workers, as Matchsticks like fire to kill. Our job is to protect and kill. Remember that.”

Finally, the map returned to its original position. “Here is what will happen. Talia, Harrison and Sickle will go to power.”

“Hell yeah, dynamic duo,” Harrison crooned. He shot a lop-sided grin to Talia in the driver’s seat. If Sickle still had eyes, he’d be rolling them.

“Our new dynamic duo will take the top level and secure the goods.” Erica and Nell exchanged glances and small smiles. “Do we know now?”

The van gave a low “Yes!” in unison. The hologram dissipated and the sphere dropped to the ground.

“Wait, what’ll you be doing?” Nell asked, furrowing her brow.

“Coms and surveillance from van. What, you think I’ll get in the fight?” Arkie burst into laughter. “Like shit I will!”

Nell couldn’t help but feel a bit of irk at that. He’ll just live it up in the van, eating chips and watching SS? Leader, my ass, she thought ruefully.

“By the way, Nell,” Erica called. Nell glanced over. Any thoughts of disdain quickly disappeared. “Here’s an earpiece. Since you, y’know, ain’t got steel, you aren’t connected to our comms. Until then, use this.”

Nell picked up the small translucent piece and lightly pushed it into her ear. Its malleable shape conformed and stuck cleanly inside her ear. A soft ding later and she was officially connected.

“Hear me? One, two, one, two?” Nell could still hear everything else around her, but now Erica sounded like she was talking inside her head.

“Loud and clear.”

Erica gave a thumbs up and disconnected.

“By the way . . . How’re you feeling?” she murmured. “First actual job that might end up messy.” Nell ducked her head and fiddled with the zipper to her jacket. Not out of anxiety, though; a chill calm overcame her. Her heart quit thumping, her vision zoned in, and her breath evened out to a steady one-two. The closest feeling she could compare it to was popping some ADDitall. It felt almost euphoric, like the climb before the fall of the coaster.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“ . . . Fine,” Nell simply concluded. “I’m fine.”

Erica arched an unbelieving brow. “C’mon, you ain’t gummed. You’re about to delve into a room full of guys with guns for the second time in your life, and you feel fine?”

Nell paused. Then, gave a resolute nod.

Erica leaned back. “Well, if you look at that! You’re finally startin’ to sound like a Fire Fighter. About time, too.”

That wasn’t to say Nell’s mind still wasn’t a flurry. However, it sounded like your upstairs neighbor instead of someone in your living room now.

“Well, we’ve got work to do.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Look alive!” Arkie interrupted. The two snapped to attention.

Nell leaned forward to glance through the windshield and saw they were pulling up into a narrow alleyway between a row of townhouses and an industrial factory survivor of gentrification. No streetlights reached the road, allowing the night to encase them.

Erica reached forward and shoved the van’s backdoors open. One by one, the Fire Fighters slinked out leaving Arkie as the last one inside. Now fully exposed, Nell could take a closer look at Harrison.

He brandished a longarm rifle Nell didn’t recognize at all. It looked very up to date, that’s for sure, but with a certain je ne sais quois she couldn’t put her finger on. Its systems appeared convoluted, yet made for modern efficiency. Erica might struggle to lift it, but Harrison was twirling it around like a feather. Despite first impressions it became clear he knew what he was doing. Arkie interrupted her retrospection.

“Okay, this side door here will lead you into a stairwell. You know the plan from there. Got it?” All five nodded. “Great! Now go get it!”

They approached the door and saw its large X-frame lock had already been scored through by saws. The steel door was busted in with a giant dent. Gingerly and as softly as they could, they crept inside one by one. Sickle, Talia, and Harrison slipped around the corner and headed for the door to the first floor. Erica and Nell, side by side, marched up the steps. Before they even touched the handle, they could hear gunshots ringing out downstairs.

“Well, cover’s blown,” Erica huffed. “Time to head in loud.”

“Wait, hold up–”

Erica shouldered the door open and charged inside. Multiple voices shouted and snarled at the intrusion. Nell’s heart spiked. The fight has now begun. Nell turned into the doorway and dove behind a concrete table. She peered around the edge to get a lay of the land.

It looked like this was some kind of lab and farm; now it became evident what that small business was. Rows and rows of vines clung onto lattices neatly organized into aisles in the room. Soft lights and rigged up water stations automated the process to create a pure and high-quality product. Multiple tables and lab set-ups were littered around to maintain the product’s growth to then synthesize into Kaliope, package, and sell for use on the market. In between the rows of vines she could catch glimpses of Matchsticks drawing guns or duking it out with Erica. Soon enough, bullets started to fly.

It became evident the Matchsticks came in droves. With every gangoon getting knocked in by Erica or crippled by Nell, two more seemed to sprout up to take their place. Nevertheless, she kept firing, reloading, firing, and reloading to thin down the horde. With the bodies littering the floor and staining the vines red, Nell got closer and closer looks of what they looked like.

They all were clad in overalls or coveralls crudely dyed red or spay-painted yellow with designs. Oftentimes, they had their bodies exposed to the grotesque curls and folds of burn scars littering their flesh. Some had good chunks on their flank or face, while others had whole real estate dedicated to the scars. A good amount had tattoos written over the scars with numbers framed like dates. One had five burns all within the same week. Many boasted impressive yet crudely implemented cybernetics. All had hairless faces, including eyebrows. Nell was taken aback by the disturbing nature of their cult-like fashion and looks. She felt the scars on her face tingle at the sight.

Her gawking earned a bullet just barely missing her torso. Nell swiftly ducked down into her post, reloaded, and fired back a response. She managed to blast clean through the chest of her assailant. He collapsed onto her back, crying out in pain. He desperately tried to push the blood back into the gaping hole spurting in front of him. It was fruitless.

He refused his death to be in vain.

With whatever strength left in his body, he lifted his pistol and took a potshot. Lucky for him, it landed.

Unlike the bottle, Nell felt the pain immediately. It was like a waxing strip torn off, yet at the deepest subdermal layers of her skin. She pulled her jacket back and saw blood blooming on her shirt. She sharply gasped for air that stung cold pinpricks inside her lungs.

“Erica . . !” She tried to yell. It came out as a whisper. She was fortunate to have the earpiece.

“Nell! Nell, are you alright?”

“Hit . . .” She wheezed.

“Oh fuck, fuck! I’m comin’! Keep shooting! I’ll be ther– ARGHHH!”

Nell’s eyes widened. She pushed herself to look around her cover and saw Erica a few rows down. It was a rapid ringing of bullets, then Erica forced her to crumple on the ground. Her attacker slammed his boot on her spine, earning a sharp scream of pain. Erica tried to wriggle away to no avail. He lifted his SMG to land the blow to the back of her head.

Nell didn’t think– only move. The pain fell into the background. It was only adrenaline.

She fired the last bullets left in the chamber in almost immediate succession. Each rang out in a fearsome bellow. Each one hit him in his torso. He fell backwards onto the ground with his gun clattering to the side. Erica didn’t waste time to dawdle. She finished her crawl to Erica’s position and fell back against the table.

“Erica–”

“Don’t waste your breath Nell, okay? I’m fine, I’m wired. You’re not.” She reached over and pressed a heavy hand on the wound. Nell howled.

“Erica, there’s so many of them . . !”

“I know, I know, these fucks don’t quit! Help’ll come, keep breathing.”

The wave of gunshots and gangoons crept closer. Nell saw spots enter her vision.

She didn’t let it stop her.

She tried to load in another round, despite her fumbling. The only thing she heard was the rush of blood and need for survival.

That is, until a loud CRACK! Interrupted the buzz of gunfire. It was starkly different from the rest of the noise, as if Zeus himself sent a bolt down in a move of mighty intervention. When Nell glanced around, she saw a Matchstick fall to the ground with a clean bullet hole between the brows. Three more shots rang out, and all three downed in a similar manner.

The two whipped around and saw Harrison standing in the doorway, rifle lifted to his eye.

He was a crackshot. Each blow was the kill in the exact same manner in the exact same moment. Right before he might get some reciprocity from his victims, they’d get blasted away just like their comrades. Even with his supposed laziness, he moved like a blur. He never allowed a break in between bullets, reloading and re-cocking his gun. It was all methodical and all under the music playing again in his ears.

Finally, the Matchsticks were dead. Bodies were strewn haphazardly. The ground ran red. An eerie silence fell upon the factory. Despite that, Nell stared at Harrison. He was an angel disguised in tattoos and shades. The two locked eyes.

“I–”

“Relax, man. It was no problem.”

Even after such a vicious Fire Fight, the next few moments really were a blur. The Fire Fighters crowded around Nell and Erica, patched them up as well as temporary healing could before hauling them back inside the van. Arkie was congratulating the group and singing their high praises, but Nell was the worst injured and most tired. Each rock of the car jolted her wound causing her to woefully moan.

“Surprised you didn’t die,” Sickle observed. “Skinner like you.”

“Me too.”

“You know what that means.”

“Do I . . ?”

“He’s sayin’ you need to get some steel in ya,” Erica chuckled.

Nell didn’t dwell on the subject. She merely bobbed her head. A couple beats later, she was leaning against Erica and falling fast asleep. Lord knows she needs it.