The squads moved out as one, hardly making a sound. The occasional crunch of gravel and the mechanical clink of shifting gear were the only sounds they made. The target loomed above them, two blocks away. As Alpha and Beta positioned themselves to storm the four entry points on the bottom floor, Delta was going in through the sewer.

Charlie, however, went up through the neighboring hotel. The roof of the hotel was three stories higher than the roof of DuraCore.

"Fucking hells…" Therin somehow whispered and squeaked simultaneously, attempting to gulp down building nerves, "we're all sparking mad." he stood shrouded in shadow. One foot was propped against the small ledge of the building with his back against a heating unit. Shakily leaning forward, he checked the perimeter and looked down the 57 stories to the paved road. "Absolutely sparking mad."

"Afraid of heights?" Saedah asked, cocking an eyebrow at the youngest member of the team. A red stain bloomed across Therin's cheeks and ears, into his hairline and down his neck.

"N-no." he stammered and swallowed as another lump formed in his throat. "No, sir," he stated in a firmer tone, his hold on the grip of his pistol tightening. The leather of his gloves creaked. His breathing was far too regulated and deep to be anything but a fear of heights. His brows furrowed and his eyes focused far too intently on the roof on the other side of the gaping pit of death. Saedah had to commend the young greenhorn. He did well at battling his fear.

Saedah knew what was coming. He had been briefed. He'd seen the schematics. But there was a massive difference between knowing the details, seeing it all on a screen, and realizing just how long you would actually have to think about the messy landing if you fell.

In person, standing at the lip of the roof, it was easy to remember just how small and fragile the mortal body was. But Saedah was rather used to having one foot in the grave.

Therin was not.

Therin's sense of self-preservation was kicking in, causing him to overthink. Saedah could smell the building fear and hear the racing of his heart. He could hear Berga and Maryse's hearts racing too, but those two were mental enough to be excited. Even he felt a small amount of excitement at what they were about to do.

The only difference between Therin and the other three, was that they were looking forward to it.

Maryse was decompressing a complex metallic web-like anchor to spread across the doorway behind them. When she was done, she tossed a bulky case to Saedah, who opened it. As Berga let out a low whistle of appreciation, Therin looked over his shoulder and did a double-take.

"See, THAT is a sweet toy." Therin breathed, virtually drooling over the thing. Saedah winked at him before turning back to the case.

He shouldered the nasty rpg and took a knee. Berga immediately grabbed the rolled line from one of his packs and fastened one end to the projectile, the other to the support in the doorway. Saedah flipped out the screen and spent moments targeting the best anchor position. The helipad on the furthest side was built on a steel frame. He calculated the distance through the scope.

Perfect.

The rocket took off at an astounding speed, sucking the rope from the spooled nest. Saedah had a moment, as the spool grew dangerously small, to ponder if he had miscalculated. But the grapple struck, adhering to the structure, and held fast. Therin, surprisingly, jumped to the task of ratcheting the line taut.

Then they rocketed down the line, 57 stories above the distant ground, on a line less than an inch thick. Only tight grips on their carbon belts kept them from falling to certain death.

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Saedah, as the lead, dropped into a roll. He came up with his pistol, ready to cover the others as they landed. When they were up and alert, he pulled a tailored business suit from his pack and threw it on over the armored shipper's uniform.

The suit was hot. And most definitely not in a good way, though Maryse did shoot him an appreciative side-long look. The layers pinched him in some rather uncomfortable places and the cut restricted his range of movement. But this was why he had been commanded to not wear his Skin. Conclave wanted their stuff back, but they didn't want to openly declare war on DuraCore. Sending Dirge to DuraCore, in full gear, along with three squads would have done just that.

Maryse and Berga, grinning like fools, took their places along the edge of the building and anchored their repelling gear. Therin, a bit more pale with a slight trembling in his fingers and a twitch in his right eye, checked the gear and stood guard. They turned and gave Saedah a thumbs up.

He opened the door to the roof and strolled in as though he owned one of the penthouse ballroom suites. His ID badge, straight off the printer, swung from the clip on his lapel. He took the stairwell rather than taking the risk of passing through the ballrooms to the elevators. The stairwell was blessedly empty. He prayed that the cameras had been successfully hijacked, but they were working on a time-frame that did not allow for second guessing. There was nothing to be done, even if there was a room of security guards watching his every move.

The atrium and water gardens, a floor below the ballrooms, divided the four massive rooms. They were of no concern. Neither were the enormous meeting rooms that made up the level directly below it. Of the 54 stories of the luxurious building, only the 51st floor was mission critical. This was the floor composed of the offices belonging to the CEO, CIO, COO, CXO, and CFO of DuraCore.

He entered the stairwell and signaled Citram through the HUD.

"I'm here." She whispered. "The others are in position waiting for my signal."

He blinked the confirmation light.

"Two more floors." She updated. "Allies are keeping the skies clear. The riots have started downtown."

He blinked the light again.

It was all going according to plan. She was talking simply for the sake of talking and Saedah knew it. There was no need to update him on events outside of his team.

"This floor." She whispered, watching though his eyes. Saedah cracked the stairwell door onto a floor of mirrored marble and opulence. The stairwell opened into the rear of the reception area. Of course, no one was there. Not with the charity ball in the downstairs Banquet Hall in full swing. The only individual on duty at this time would be the elderly workaholic COO, and he primarily stayed in his office. "It's the office to the right."

He checked the locations of the surveillance devices. There were three cameras between him and the office in question.

"Interrupt the feed." He whispered to Citram.

"Beta has the feed on loop." She confirmed.

He switched the lens settings over to detect the infrared of the motion sensors. The security of the building was pitiful. The business was floundering and spending less in certain areas, as the competition with Conclave had already begun impacting sales. Downgrading the physical security measures had been a bad idea, but was helpful for Conclave's mission.

He checked for higher-level security, just in case. The only motion sensors he could detect were the infrared. Even though they were of low quality and outdated by quite a few generations, there was no good way to avoid them. There was one on the doorway that he was dangerously close to tripping. The stairwell door opened onto the stairs, however, instead of outward into the reception area. This created a blind spot for security, a mark of poor planning. More motion detectors waited in each doorway of the offices.

"Movement." Citram warned.

A woman in a red dress was speaking with a big, bald, tank of a man in an almost-too-small suit. Luckily, they were facing away. The pair went into the COO's office. She giggled as he groaned and closed the door behind them.

Saedah stepped lightly over the sensors and to the door of the CIO's office. With another brief check, he confirmed that the same security measures were in place for this door, as well. With continuous glances in the pair's direction, he entered the office. Citram sent the signal to the three on the roof. He closed the door slowly and silently, satisfied when the latch issued a soft snick under his hand. He breathed a sigh of relief, and practically leapt across the room to the desk.

He had just finished sweeping the furniture for nasty surprises when he realized he hadn't heard his team rappelling. Berga was his ride out.

Where the hells… He thought, interrupted by the sound of the door latch.

Then a peculiar little ball rolled under the desk to come to a stop beside his foot.