I’ve got an intruder on the north gate. They parked a van against the fence to jump it. No visible weapons, but they’ve got a large camera. ETA 5 minutes out.

Shelley paused at Sophie’s words over the speaker in the guest house’s dining room. She had been eating her breakfast, toast still stuck in her mouth. Glancing over to the other two ladies at the table, she held up her hand in the agreed-upon signal. Trish and Ava likewise held up their fists. Shelley brought her hand down with the others in unison three times then threw up a scissors sign. The other two brought down clenched fists for rock.

Shelley gave an annoyed look but ripped off a chunk of her toast and began chewing rapidly, draining the rest of her coffee as she did so.

“Thanks, Sophie. I got it,” Shelley said.

Shelley dashed to the coat rack and slipped into a generic-looking black windbreaker that declared SECURITY in large reflective yellow letters. She grabbed a matching ball cap and strapped on a utility belt that was loaded down with various equipment a guard might carry for walking a perimeter. She adjusted her blonde ponytail quickly and pushed her earpiece into place before dashing out the door. Once outside, Shelley slipped on her augmented reality enhanced aviator sunglasses.

“Usual play?” Shelley asked as she jogged into the woods that surrounded the house, tracking toward the waypoint Sophie had dropped into her HUD.

Yep. You play a bored security guard. I make sure they don’t get a signal to send any photos. You confiscate or wipe the memory cards and wait for the Sheriff’s department to pick them up. The car is a rental, so this probably isn’t a local.

Once she was within a few hundred yards, Shelley didn’t even need Sophie’s indicator in her sunglasses to zoom in on the unwelcome guest. He was making more than enough racket that he’d have been hard to miss as he pushed and shoved his way through a briar patch. Seeing the man’s hands full of thorny vines, she slowed and approached from his side on a vector not full of pokey underbrush.

The intruder was a heavy-set man in his mid-thirties, and wore a khaki-colored vest fitted with spare lenses and had a large camera with a zoom lens dangling from his neck.

Shelley blew out a loud disgruntled sigh. “Sir, this is private property. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The man cursed under his breath, then paused as he began working up a lie. “I, uh, must have gotten lost. I was looking for my cat.”

“Uh-huh. That’s the third time I heard that one this week. Come along, a deputy is already on the way,” Shelley said in a bored voice.

She forced her stance into an undisciplined slouch but rested the palm of her hand casually on the butt of an extendable baton. Through trial and error, she’d developed the look into something that encouraged de-escalation and compliance.

The slouch and her appearance would get passed off as this being routine, and her uninterested mannerisms would be perceived as non-threatening. If it went to plan, he’d see it as nothing more than a “move along, nothing to see here” as if she were simply directing traffic in a parking lot. Her hand, however, drew the eye to the baton and stun gun on her belt in a way that suggested she was prepared to use force if they pushed.

The man’s eyes nervously dropped to her belt but then drifted back up to her casual demeanor. He looked confused for a moment before fear started creeping up. For a moment, she wondered if he’d try to bolt. That never worked, but it occasionally happened if they felt they could either steamroll her or if they were too afraid. Sophie had attack drones nearby just in case, but such a show of force would be retold, and probably make the news. It was far better for him to be left with an uninteresting story of a banal encounter. It wasn’t like they could bury every trespasser; there wasn’t enough time in the day for something like that.

She adjusted her look slightly with a bemused eye roll. He noticed, and Shelley saw the exact moment he decided to try weaseling rather than running.

The man sucked in a breath through his teeth, making a hissing sound. “Can’t we come to an agreement here? I just needed a couple pictures.”

Shelley made a mildly annoyed grunt and rubbed her thumb and two fingers together in the near-universal sign of those seeking a bribe. “Hundred bucks, and I’ll take exactly one photo for you. If I take it, I can honestly tell the owners you didn’t take any photos.”

The man’s face lit up as he whipped out his wallet. After a bit of digging, he handed over five wrinkled 20’s. Shelley could practically hear the cash register ringing in the man’s head as he broke into a wide grin. He was probably going to make a few grand or more if he got the right kind of photo.

Shelley blew out an exasperated breath, pocketed the cash, and held out her hand. “Fine. Give it here.”

The man hesitated for a moment but gingerly handed over the expensive camera. Shelley looped it over her neck and pushed the man ahead of her in the direction of the road. Once he was in front and couldn’t see her, she thumbed through the playback to confirm what was on the memory card. If it was empty, she decided she’d give the guy a pass and just hand him over.

With a couple clicks, Shelley’s jaw tightened.

As she flipped through the shots, the man had hundreds of pictures of the property taken from a boat in the bay, including a zoomed-in shot of Aubrey as she carried in groceries. At the edge of the doorway, Alex’s hand reached for the bag, but his details behind the glass door were overexposed.

Since all the photographer managed to get was his right hand, the photo would be impossible to sell to the streams or blogs claiming it was Alex and publicly confirming his address, but it’d been a close thing. Some rumors had correctly guessed where he was on Port Susan, but Sophie’s disinformation campaigns kept it in doubt. Shelley could only assume her job would get much harder if it became public information where they were.

Shelley looked down at the white glare on the windows that smeared out any details. Sophie had again saved the day with her defensive systems. Despite the large windows around the house, between her using electrochromic frosting systems on the windows and the infrared scrambler lights, trying to see inside the estate with surveillance gear was practically impossible. To the average phone or camera, it was like shooting directly into the sun, even if it wasn’t visible to the naked eye.

The mercenary in the guise of a common security guard tapped on the screen and hit the confirmation button to format the camera’s memory. With Sophie’s help, any cloud files would be mysteriously missing as well, as though his device hadn’t synced up properly. Shelley verified the camera was set for silent operation and held down the shutter. In rapid succession, the camera began filling its storage with fresh burst images of the lens cap.

It was an easy fix that prevented any recovery of the deleted files from the removable storage drive. Critical task secured, she happily trod along with the shutter depressed until the memory card was full. As the pair exited the woods where it met the driveway, the man paused, uncertain which way to go.

Shelley did a quick check to verify she was upwind, and in a smooth motion, she uncapped the spray canister she kept on her belt. “Ok, here’s good.”

As soon as the photographer turned to face her, she depressed the trigger, jetting a short burst of stinging liquid into his face. The photographer recoiled, screaming and thrashing in pain.

Shelley stepped back as he fell to his knees. He continued cursing and desperately tried to paw at his inflamed eyes while he devolved into a snot-covered mess as the seconds ticked by. Shelley held her place, not saying a word. There was an art to her craft, after all. One that she’d gotten exceedingly good at.

After two minutes of listening to his shrieks and curses, she decided he was ready. With one boot, she nudged him flat to the grass.

“Arms behind your back,” she said flatly.

Still whimpering, the man complied.

Avoiding a large smear of mucus on his sleeve, she dropped a crowd control zip tie into place. Once secured, she rolled him over onto his back with her foot. The man’s screaming lessened, but it was obvious from the puffed-up tissue around his eyes and his labored breathing that he was still in extreme pain.

The mercenary deleted a single picture off the camera to make room, then snapped a close-up photo of the man’s inflamed face covered in tears and snot. Reviewing the playback, she decided that it was worthy of getting her point across.

Fishing into her utility belt, she grabbed a clear bottle of liquid and waggled it in front of him. “Ok, here’s the deal. You’re going to promise never to have anything to do with anyone living here ever again. And I do mean anything. Even commenting on blogs about ‘em. You do that, and I’ll pour the neutralizing agent over your face. Otherwise, I’ll just drop you off with the deputy, and they can scrub it off when they get you booked. That typically takes an hour or so, and it’ll burn the whole time. Either way, I see you again, we go straight to the stun darts, and after you shit yourself for the third time, you’ll wish I’d only maced you. Your call.”

The man pleaded, “Ah, please, yes. Do it. I swear!”

True to her word, Shelley slowly poured the bottle over his eyes, nose, and mouth. The man sputtered and shook his head side to side like a dog shaking water free after a bath. After a few moments, his breathing began to slow as the burn lessened.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah. Thanks. That stuff sucks,” the photographer said, regaining bits of his composure. It was plain to see he was still hurting, but it was significantly less than it’d been. Shelley bought the good stuff, not some generic pepper spray. It was easily ten times the price, but the neutralizing compound that came with it sped up the obedience training needed when she encountered strays on the property.

Shelley gave a smirk, then added, “Alright, as soon as you can stand, we start walking to the gate. Don’t comply and I empty the can on you. Understand?”

The man nodded in defeat. His hair was still dripping the water-like solution to the dead pine needles that he lay upon.

“Good dog, gonna call you Ryker and make you a footstool,” Shelley muttered too softly for anyone but Sophie to hear.

In response, there was a soft cackle of laughter over Shelley’s headset.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

After a minute or so, he slowly began struggling to get up with his hands still bound. Once upright, he unsteadily worked himself up to his feet where he remained standing on wobbly knees. The merc grabbed his vest and slowly steered him up the paved driveway.

By the time they arrived, a black SUV with the local Sheriff’s markings was parked in place, the rear door already open. Shelley could see the gray-haired deputy behind the wheel, sipping from his coffee cup, unconcerned.

“Morning, Henry,” Shelley called out with a friendly wave with her hand not gripping the man’s shoulder.

“Hey there. Got another one?” Henry asked out from the driver’s seat.

Shelley nodded to the man as the gate automatically opened when she neared. “Yep. Want me to slide him on in for you?”

“Much obliged if ya would,” the older man answered.

Shelley wormed the man into place in the back seat, making sure he didn’t hit his head, then shut the door. She then passed the camera through the driver’s side window to Henry.

The deputy looked back at the prisoner’s wet and swollen face, then back to the harmless-looking woman in the security outfit and laughed. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me how in tarnation you do that.”

Shelley gave an easy smile. “Nothing special to it, Henry. Just doing my job, same as you.”

Henry gave a short nod and after a sip of his coffee said, “Bummer some locals posted that they’d seen your guy being driven to the island regularly. It’s been quiet here for years, but once that was out, people started trying to track ya’ll down. They really seem to have a hard-on for your boss.”

Shelley shrugged to the older man. “Yeah, but he’s a nice kid. Doesn’t deserve the shit people give him.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. Although, it was damned nice of Mr. Sage to donate those prosthetics. The Sheriff’s niece got a leg through that charity of his. She’s taking ballet lessons now. That kid is like a daughter to Tom. It was a classy touch helping children, ya know?” Henry drawled.

“I’ll pass it along, Henry. He’ll appreciate it. He doesn’t get much good news out here,” Shelley replied.

Henry gave a bit of a frown. “Yeah, I guess. Trouble just seems to keep finding you. You let me know if you start getting more of the violent ones or anything sketchy, and we’ll bump up patrols again. Those guys from a month ago were no joke. Turns out, they were wanted for several homicides in Texas. No idea how you had ‘em all trussed up and compliant the same as this one.”

“Got lucky, just like the report said,” Shelley offered. Not liking the direction that the conversation was going, she added, “Hey, I gotta check back in. I can email my statement along with the video feed for him jumping the fence a bit later today. You all can send a tow truck for his car anytime. It’s not blocking the road or anything. That work for you?”

Henry nodded, understanding a dismissal when he saw it.

Once Henry had driven off, Shelley verified the gate was secured then began the trek back to the house.

“Hey Sophie, I’m getting a bit of an itch on the back of my neck on this one. I figure he’s an out of town for hire type of guy and I want to know who hired him. It could be a journalist or something, but he seemed too unprepared. It’s like someone nabbed him off the net cold. Probably gave him a short deadline and a big payday without many details,” Shelley said.

I take it you are thinking it might have been our AI opponent making another move? It does have a similar enough ring to it, especially when you think about how it procured multiple teams for the hit on Alex. The AI either didn’t know how to prepare them for success or didn’t mind if the teams were caught in the process.

“Like you said, we probably slid down its priority list, but it’s not like we’re off it. It might be circling around to us again.”

Understood. I’ll dig into it. On a different topic, about the upcoming furlough issue. Have you given it any thought?

Shelley scrunched her nose in distaste. “Yeah, I fished a few ideas out there. About half of us are fine with taking deferred pay with interest. The problem is most of us got into this line of work because we had a pressing need for money and in an amount that can’t be made with a legitimate gig. Normal, well-adjusted folks with good opportunities don’t get into the private military business. Especially not the unlicensed kind.”

If you don’t mind me saying, your team seems relatively stable.

Shelley shrugged to herself. “When we broke off, I only wanted a small crew. Seven is the minimum to run 24x7 with breaks and days off. That let me cull out the sorts that had drug debts or other unsavory habits. I’m a lot more selective. Our old crew wouldn’t have cared, but I don’t want to sleep with a knife under my pillow just to feel safe around them. Or worry about someone raping a captive.” Shelley involuntarily shivered, then continued, “Still, we’ve all got something. For most of us, it’s the usual spread of family, debt, and what-not. That type of commitment doesn’t drop off if we have a slow month. The bonuses and long-term work might have made it worse because most of us dropped serious cash on stuff once we started banking on it.”

I’m sorry, Shelley. This is my fault. It is down to a half-million for you or using that money to remove Alex from some legal crosshairs. I thought I’d have at least another 10 months to get the liquid assets together, but Apollo’s legal team is already preparing to cause issues. As soon as I stopped pulling in my dirty finances, it left us in a lurch. I had already made commitments I couldn’t easily back out of.

“Yeah, I get it. So do the girls, but we’re mercenaries. We’re kinda known for being cash-driven. I’m securing an operation to put Jamie, Carla, and Trish on. I’ll probably have to run it in person. One-time gigs have a higher risk profile, and things are relatively stable here. Those three all had things they couldn’t delay a paycheck on. You can’t say no to scary motherfuckers that break limbs off the family tree and consider it a notice of interest accrued.”

Understood. I’ll not pry, but Alex did ask that I offer up assistance for the mission. Even if he hadn’t, I would like to help make amends for the inconvenience. He sees you as more than employees and would like to ensure everyone makes it back safe. It may also let you take a more complex or higher-paying mission. I do have a rather impressive array of resources at my disposal.

“Hmm… yeah, that could…” Shelley’s pace slowed to a stop as she worked through her thoughts.

“We do have one gig that we couldn’t put together with just the three of them. But with you, I think we could do it. I haven’t turned it down yet. How would you like me to send you the info? Do I email it to Alex or what? Not like you ever gave me your direct info,” Shelley asked.

Uhm, this is awkward. You realize I know every single bit of information coming and going into the compound, right? Just tell me which one you had in mind.

“Ah. Right. Scary fucking AI. Keep forgetting,” Shelley groused. “I was thinking about the thing with the guys in Brussels. The corporate espionage thing that smells like insider trading.”

Got it, one moment…

Shelley, I have a question, and you should feel free to tell me if this is a terrible idea. I’m trying my hand at replicating an idea that Alex might come up with.

“This ought to be good. Alex’s last crazy fucking idea got his arm blown off,” Shelley pinched at the bridge of her nose. After a three count, she said, “Ok, spit it out.”

How would you feel about including Alex in this operation as an open cover? We have legitimate business interests that overlap with the target. While Alex is not trained in your line of work, we could easily use his name to get meetings in place. That would let you get your team into position without any suspicion. I might even be able to use it as an opportunity to fix our funding issues a little sooner.

Shelley paused, giving the question some thought. “I want to say no, that it’s a terrible idea to put him anywhere other than in a bunker, but shit… that could work. The target speaks German. I don’t think mine is good enough to pull off a face to face, but Alex is fluent. He’s also so famous that no one who isn’t Humanity First would turn down a meeting with him.”

Shelley sighed, debating if she really was willing to let him tag along. After a moment, her resistance tapered off as she chewed on her lip. “Sophie, he’s obviously going stir crazy. He just hasn’t been bringing it up anymore, and it’s kinda sad to see. It seems like he’s redirecting it. I mean, I barely see Jamie anymore if she’s not glued to his hip and I see the way he and some of the others are acting.”

I know we’ve talked about it, but you haven’t changed your mind, have you? I mean, they are all adults.

“No, you’re right. It’s not affecting anyone’s job, and no one seems to have an issue with it, but I didn’t figure the Ava thing in a million years. Jennifer, sure. Hell, Trish and Aubrey aren’t any better. I guess that’s just compound living at its finest. Most of us rarely leave anymore, and I guess a bit of bunk swapping is inevitable. I’ve seen this play out enough times, we’ll be a friggin cult in another six months if we aren’t careful.”

Well… there are parallels. We do have a stockpile of weapons, and we are looking at a potential doomsday scenario that others are unenlightened to. Alex isn’t comfortable with it, but he’s publicly become the de facto leader of the Cybernetic Revolution, and privately, our group is trying to quell an AI uprising at the same time. Cultish trendings or not, he needs all of the support he can get. You’re his family, friends, compatriots, defenders, and soldiers.

Shelley kicked at a rock, sending it skipping along the pavement. “Sophie, as much as I hate to admit it, we’re not good people. The things we’ve done should make him distance himself, but he just treats our stealing, kidnapping, and killing as though it’s as normal as mowing the lawn. You’ve said before you’re trying to fix his brain, but if you ever want him to blend in with anyone other than criminals, it’s not healthy for us to be the only ones that he’s interacting with. A normal client wouldn’t let us keep him locked down like this, even if it is easier on us.”

How about we offer it up and see what he thinks? I know he’s been feeling trapped. A bit of a getaway might be just the thing, even if it is a working vacation.

“Fine, I’ll bring it up. I feel a little shitty micromanaging Alex though, it’s not what I’m good at. I mean it when I say he doesn’t deserve this crap. It’s a bad thing that my team stays so busy. He’s only 21 and can’t go anywhere in public without being recognized, and usually not in a good way. He couldn’t even get a milkshake with Aubrey without… Never mind, you know how that played out. It took all of us to get him out of there in one piece. I’m pretty sure that Jamie snuck back to fuck up the punk that started it. Right now, there’s no one arguing for anything other than lockdown.”

I don’t disagree. What would you propose?

“I think he needs a personal assistant or something. You don’t always understand human needs, and Aubrey shouldn’t have to play that role. That’d poison their relationship the moment she had to nag him about corporate shit. That way, I can focus on security, the PA can focus on normal stuff, and we negotiate behind the scenes. Also, even I know to never to hire anyone you can’t fire. If they don’t work out, you need to be able to send them packing. This would need to be someone new,” Shelley admitted.

That… makes a lot of sense. I already saw the need for an additional support structure for normal business operations, and here at the compound. This seems a natural progression. The only reason I hadn’t done so already was that I’d have to out myself to someone in such a role. Avoiding doing that is one of Alex’s directives.

Oh, and expect a boom in a moment, there is an unregistered drone vectoring toward the no-fly zone.

A second later, a volley of rapid gunshots from numerous locations shattered the air. Even with the advanced warning, it still made Shelley jump.

Since electronic countermeasures would be obvious and quite illegal, it meant they had to resort to other means. For starters, Sophie had a small fake airstrip built on an unused part of the property to get an FAA-approved no-fly zone registered. Once that was done, anything in their airspace was fair game to be taken down.

Initially, Sophie would chase them down with her flying drones and knock them out of the air. However, after several of her rather expensive drones had been damaged in aerial dogfights, she’d come up with a cheaper solution.

To a casual observer, her specialized anti-drone solution looked like a drum fed semi-automatic shotgun on a robotic aiming platform. What made it particularly effective was the ammunition Sophie had put together. She’d taken to using rapidly biodegradable plastic flechette rounds that trailed lengths of thin biodegradable filament that resembled incredibly fine fishing line.

Each shot formed hundreds of streamers in the air that slowly descended, taking several minutes before they dropped to the ground. Since most airborne drones moved massive amounts of air around, the string would be sucked into the props or turbines. Once wrapped up, the props would lock up or slow down, causing the drones to slowly lose control and fall back to earth, all without the risk of falling projectiles.

At that point, the drones would be collected, inspected for data, or any identifying marks. It had become a regular task to drop off boxes of them with the Sheriff’s department.

Only someone brazen enough to run custom firmware that ignored FAA-flagged regions could even get a drone close to their airspace aside from the one approved landing zone on the edge of the property. While there were certainly enough curious people willing to hack their own drones, it cut down the number. It also meant that anyone who wanted to push the issue would have to admit to disabling FAA-required software and face the fines.

Given Alex’s friendly terms with the Sheriff’s office, any complaints were dismissed with prejudice.

Altogether, it made for a simple solution. Especially since Sophie could build the custom loads in her shop using largely off-the-shelf parts, a shotgun shell reloader, and a 3D printer. All it took was having someone from the security detail reload the ammo drums once a day.

Not hearing a follow-up volley, Shelley asked, “We good?”

And… another one bites the dust. It’s in the bay, no need to take any action.