At Tasia's urging, Annebél parked the Jeep by the fourth green on a narrow road alongside the golf course. Nearby, several manicured copses of trees and bushes lay spread out along the course parameter.

She intended to scurry through the semi-dense flora to get to the Javierra's mansion grounds as clandestine as possible.

The newly refocused Tasìa also had another goal in mind. To salvage the drone with no casualties inflicted on either side of the conflict. She was out of the gunslinging accumulative body count business.

Tasìa mentally affirmed that henceforth she would stick to the liberation of items that others acquired through unjustifiable means and to her spy work for Team Kutuzov.

She was an operative now, Tasìa decided. One with a professional standard for her rules of engagement, inspired by the mercs she knew and loved.

As they encroached within one hundred yards of the mansion, Tasìa tapped Annebél on the shoulder.

"I am starting to see signs of a home security system in operation."

Annebél crouched down on her knee. She gave the grounds around her a scrutinizing once over.

"How so? I don't see anything out of the ordinary."

Tasìa resisted the urge to shake her head. Annebél's own home security systems were impeccable. Perhaps she entrusted their care to a third party.

"Okay, we are within the last group of copses just before we hit the yard proper. Do you see how this copse is lined up with the other one over there? It forms a ninety-degree arc that will lead you to that point right there. And that point is where a guard house with a camera mounted on top of it sits."

Annebél nodded. Tasìa continued.

"That camera can spot you if you are taking a sniper shot from the tee-off way over there, three-quarters of a mile away, if you were aiming to pick someone off standing on one of those twin sets of balconies.

"If you notice all the activity that goes on here is hidden away on this side of the mansion. Away from the ridge line with the shanty town. By the way, I have no doubt the vantage point up there -," she stretched her arm out long, and pointed to the place they launched the Skydog, "- is under surveillance.

"But neither does it appear that the Javierras are home at the moment, either."

Annebél nodded towards a swarm of motion occurring on the grounds between the patio and the pool. The Night Brigade crew gathered around the Skydog with tire lever irons in hand, plying it apart.

Tasìa winced as she observed. Anarcho-Deconstructionist tended to be very good with tools and had them at the ready.

Annebél sneered.

"For those animals to be here ... No. they can't be. There is no way those Night Brigade assholes would be here if the Salvage didn't sanction it."

Tasìa's lips pussed up, tight and quizzical.

"I thought the Javierras were protected. Ria served time, but even still, she was treated as a member of a special class."

"They were protected," Annebél answered, her voice becoming snide. "For the better part of a century, those mafiasos pretty much defined what being in the protected class meant when the border quad was a smugglers paradise. Before the Salvage they were King Shits over all of it."

Tasìa still felt befuddled by this turn of events. She exclaimed her doubts, "I wonder what happened? And if it had anything to do with that bounty on me Ferenzi failed at securing.

"I mean, it wasn't his fault, he had my damn number, but there were very few people still living who can vouch for that."

"Yeah.. possibly. Let's put that to the side for now. Tasìa could you apply your marksman skills and clear those atrocious animals out for us, dear?"

"Would love to."

She took a count of the Night Brigade soldiers on the manse grounds. Eight.

Tasìa checked her .22 Magellani revolver. She switched out the white phosphorus rounds with CO2-tipped soft heads. It was the closest thing to a non-lethal weapon she had in her current possession. Of course, any projectile, even an acorn falling from a tree, had the potential to kill someone in the right circumstances, but Tasìa's plan made lethality a minimally probable outcome.

She carefully fed the revolver the CO2-tipped rounds from two moon clips. Tasìa stood up, and evoked the Modality with a clench of her gut.

The first round hit the tall guy bearing the EMP shock cannon in his right foot; the very foot he bore his weight upon. He slid with his leg jerking out from underneath him, and the blunderbuss spinning out of his hands.

The second bullet popped another soldier in the wrist. He held a Glock, held low and aimed at the ground, in his two hands. His gun dropped as he jerked his hand back. In Tasìa's estimation, the man carried himself like the most professional of the bunch.

Gunslinger Tasìa would have taken him out first with a heavy slug backed by the force of a 158 grain exploding metal jacket right to his head. He was fortunate the renewed Tasìa was seeking the guidance from her better angels.

Two Night Brigade soldiers crouched low as they attempted to turn the Skydog over on its side. Tasìa shot each one in his dominant elbow to encourage the two to put the drone back upright.

With a second of time down in the one-sided fire fight, her next victim was a lass who reacted to the sudden mayhem by turning towards the wide-open patio door for her escape route. Tasìa aimed squarely into her bottommost vertebrae where belt suspenders joined and gave some measure of protection.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The Night Brigade soldier went sprawling to the ground.

The last three soldiers she shot once each in the side of the hip as they started to jolt. They somehow wound up entangled as a result of their mad scramble.

Tasìa ducked down and leaped three feet over while she fed the Magellani another moon clip. She rose back up.

The gentleman who had carried the handgun tried to make a run for it with a breakneck dash toward the patio. Before he could even reach the steps, Tasìa popped off three rounds aimed up the length of his vertebrae.

She discouraged another soldier from doing the same jolting maneuver with a warning shot applied to the meat of his shoulder. Tasìa winced when she saw the outflow of viscera. It penetrated the shallow muscle just beneath the clavicle.

It was an uglier shot than she had intended.

Tasìa ducked back down, rolled behind the tree, and she rose again, leaning against its solid, wide trunk..

"This will be the only warning you will be given. Leave these premises. All shots taken henceforth will be lethal in intent and delivery."

The Night Brigade began to scatter. The woman she put on the ground yelled to the others not to leave her.

They did anyway.

Tasìa gave the lass a very patient minute. In the meantime, the little thief bobbed and weaved her head to draw fire that never came, but she did get a better tactical assessment.

The young, female soldier finally started to crawl slowly away. Tasìa got a good look at the injury. It was nothing more than a cold burn from the dry-ice soft slug.

Tasìa shook her head.

The fool was affecting helplessness during a dire emergency to her life and limb.

"Run, you fucking idiot," Tasìa yelled at her.

The woman finally stood up and sprinted away.

That left two men for Tasìa to deal with.

The gunman who she drilled in the back thrice writhed on the grounds by the patio steps. Another man hid up on the second-story balcony as he waited for an opportunity to strike against her.

She could see the weapon he carried reflected in the door glass. She couldn't acquire the make of it. But it was bright, LED-enhanced, and quite flashy in its chrome design.

Without that flash, Tasìa may have never seen its reflection. The hand that bore it, she could tell was an unsteady one.

"Annebél, stay here and keep down. There is a gunman up on that balcony. I'm going to draw him out while I talk to that guy by the patio."

"Do you want me to sight him?"

Annebél had a carbine chambered for .38 ACP with a decent scope mounted to it. A bush rifle; it was almost ideal for a cover fire weapon.

Big Red understood her role in the match-up, beautifully.

"Good question. Keep in the grass, though. If he spots you, he won't poke his head out. I want him to poke his head out so we can nail him here and now, and not be forced to deal with him on a tactical run inside the house."

Tasìa paused the moment the words left her mouth. So, what was all that psyching ourselves up with talk of no body count and better angels?

It's Annebél who would be doing the killing, not me.

Does that make it cool?

They were warned to leave.

Tasìa dismissed the interior dialog. It was not the time to assess.

Annebél grinned, reassuringly, as she spoke.

"All right, yell if you need suppressive fire."

When Annebél lay on her stomach as she got into position, Tasìa kissed her on her forehead.

She stepped out into the course. Tasìa kept an eye on the mansion as she walked cautiously toward her wounded captive. She pretended to survey all the open vantage points ahead, but Tasìa already knew that she could dismiss all but one of them.

The others would only create exposure for anyone who had to open either the windows or double doors.

The gunman above was going to wait until she either shot or spoke to the wounded man on the ground.

Tasìa was happy to play along.

"Hey, you! The dumb ass laying on the ground there. You got anything for me, to tell me, before I tap you out?"

The wounded soldier jerked his head towards her. His eyes glistened wet off the surface of a near all-white orb with the narrowest dot of a pupil exposed.

"Geez, ah.. geez."

Man, was I wrong. No pro, this one. He's just a stupid kid way over his head who happened to be taught good form.

Tasìa grimaced. She didn't like it, but she was going to have to taunt him to the upmost cruelty to get what she needed.

What choice did she have?

The Masters of Reality who recruited for terrorist groups like the Night Brigade were inhuman garbage for getting these naïve kids involved.

She cocked the trigger. It wasn't necessary to do so with her single-action revolver, but it did add to the tension.

He squinched his eyes tight.

"I bet you're wondering why you got yourself into this chicken shit street vandalism game in the first place, aren't you? I have to say, I really and truly hate your nihilistic breed. This is going to give me a lot of satisfaction when I put the next bullet coming out of this chamber into your ass-clown skull."

"What do you want from me," he squealed, desperately.

She laughed.

"What do I want from you? Why, motherfucker, I am feeding off of what I am getting out of this right now."

She stayed silent for several seconds while his cheeks were covered in a torrent of tears.

Poor, dumb kid.

Tasìa reflected on her own mores and sense of propriety. She showed more mercy to cannibals she shot and killed in her recent gun-slinging ventures than this guy who she intended to keep alive.

Don't beat yourself up, Tasìa.

The fear she instilled in him now would serve as a lesson to him until the end of his days. He is young enough to correct himself. Taken to heart, in the long run, she was doing him a favor.

"All right, sweetheart. Stop your crying, already. My infrared scans tell me there is one more of you left on these premises."

She bluffed for she was only certain of that for the balconies.

The gambit worked.

He looked at her, befuddled. Tasìa bent low as she shook her gun. Out of the corner of her right eye with a view of the pool, she focused on its oily reflective surface while ignoring the chunks and strands of a decaying beast floating on top.

From that view, she kept tabs on the balcony on the other side of her.

"Did I miss someone? Are there others?"

"No. No. Only one of us is inside. Martine. But there is also one other person. We have tied up, upstairs. Martine.. was, uh... keeping guard."

The hesitancy he displayed in the words he spoke made Tasìa deeply suspicious.

What was really going on here? That name? Is there something I am missing?

"Tell Martine to come on out. I've -"

She saw the flash of light shimmer across the pool for which she had been waiting. Tasìa spun around. Martine was a wiry, skinny guy wearing only a tank top and red shorts.

He bore a nice smile, toothy and telegenic.

His gun was not shouldered correctly for a properly mounted and efficiently timed aim.

She put two rounds into those teeth. Another shot coming from the golf course copse put another in the man's right arm and it forced him to drop the gun.

He dropped and wailed away at the pain the shots inflicted.

"Damn. That's going to be an expensive haul to the dentist, mi hombre!"

Tasìa crouched once again over the wounded gunman and she removed his wallet.

"Hey, kid, thanks for playing along. I could not have got that bitch out of cover without your help."

She scanned his identification and bank cards through Val's device. It wasn't as good as the neoPalm, but Tasìa managed to get it set up and running to her minimum standards.

She studied the output and nearly peed herself. It had been a good, long while since she had a payday this substantial.

"Hey everybody, we have ourselves a trust fund adventurer! You're not even from the Quadra, Prine. Look at this sweet, juicy bank account. Two hundred and fifty grand!"

Annebél joined her.

"Take what you want," the gunman pleaded.

"Thank you for your permission, Mr. Prine," Tasìa answered as she bawled out laughing.

Annebél used banding straps to hog-tie the man.

She then reached down and spoke to him in a sensual, breathless tone.

"Hey, guess what? It's sleepy time, now, big boy."

Annebél pulled the man out further into the grass and punched him in the jaw.

Down he slumped.

Annebél raised her head, her brows arched high.

"Goodnight. Sleep tight."