Location: Some European country

---------------------------------

"So, this is the place?" asked one of the six operators as they stepped out of the van that had dropped them off.

"Looks like it," another replied, glancing around. "This is the address they gave us, right?"

"Yeah, but... a hotel?" The skepticism in his voice was clear. "Kinda weird. Anyway, you guys brought your gear?"

"Of course," said the American with a confident grin. "Got some new toys before we came out here. Gotta love that separation pay and surplus budget."

"What's your name?" asked a shaven blonde man, his tone casual but curious.

"Kris Church," the American answered. "3rd Ranger Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment. You?"

"Glen Saxon," the blonde said, extending a hand. "But everyone calls me 'Sax'—like the instrument. I'm from Red Squadron, DEVGRU. The guy with the brown hair and blue eyes is Justin Graver." He gestured toward his companion. "If that name sounds familiar, it's because his cousin is Matt Graver, the CIA SOG officer. Justin's in DEVGRU too. We both were part of Operation Neptune's Spear."

"Not bad," Kris said, nodding with respect.

"I'm Robert Clay," another man chimed in. His tone was straightforward, almost no-nonsense. "Used to be with CAG. Same with my buddy here." He motioned to the man beside him.

"Miles," his friend added simply, giving a slight nod.

"Name's Tyrone Dollar," said another, his voice carrying a light edge of humor. "But everyone calls me 'Ching,' thanks to my last name. 1st Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment."

"'Ching,' huh?" Sax repeated, a small grin forming. "Solid nickname. You cool with us using that?"

"Go ahead," Tyrone replied with a shrug.

As the group exchanged introductions, Kris leaned toward Sax, subtly pointing to a figure standing slightly apart from the rest—a young boy, silver-haired and silent, with piercing eyes that seemed to stare through everything.

"Hey, uh... you guys know who this kid is?" Kris asked, his voice lowering. "He's got that battle-hardened look in his eyes."

Sax frowned, studying the boy. "No idea. I don't even remember him being in our van."

"Child soldier, maybe?" Justin suggested, his tone quiet but serious. "He's got that thousand-yard stare."

The group fell silent for a moment, uneasy. The boy stood motionless, his gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance, his presence an unsettling enigma amidst the seasoned operators.

(Age of the newly hired officers:

Tyrone 'Ching' Dollar: 27

Robert Clay: 32

Glen 'Sax' Saxon: 31

Justin Graver: 31

Leonard Miles: 32

Kris Church: 29)

The men stood in silence, occasionally glancing at each other's baggage as they waited. Then, a woman's voice broke the stillness.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting out here," she said, her tone sharp but playful. They all recognized her immediately—it was Koko, their employer and new boss. "Well? Are you just going to stand there, or are you coming inside? Hurry up—it might rain."

Without hesitation, the group grabbed their gear and followed Koko into the hotel. They crowded into a service elevator, just big enough to fit them all. The door closed, and a heavy silence settled over the group, the soft elevator music barely audible. Clay decided to break the tension.

"So, how does it feel? Killing Bin Laden?" he asked, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity.

Sax shook his head, gesturing toward Graver. "Don't ask me. Ask Graver—he's the guy who shot him."

Graver's expression darkened slightly, but he answered. "It wasn't just for us SEALs. That kill was for the single mom who jumped off the building, for the country. But afterward? I wasn't thinking straight. When I asked my team leader what was next, he told me to focus on SSE like we always do. That brought me back to reality. Then came the ride back to Afghanistan, dodging the Pakistani Air Force. Messy. Really messy." He paused, his tone quieter. "Anyway, not really the time to talk about it."

Clay nodded, sensing Graver's discomfort. "Sorry for bringing it up, man." He turned his attention to the elevator panel, watching the numbers climb.

"Quite the story, Mr. Graver," Koko commented, her voice cutting through the silence.

The elevator chimed as it reached their floor. The doors opened, revealing a sunlit hallway lined with windows. Koko stepped out first, turning back to the group.

"Step forward, Jonah," she said, grabbing the hand of the silver-haired boy. She guided him ahead with an almost playful skip, calling out a rhythmic "1-2, 1-2" as she marched him toward their room.

As the group followed, Koko spoke again. "Now that you're here, we have a full team—fifteen bodyguards, including you seven. They're an odd bunch, but I'm sure you'll fit right in. Normally, I'd give you time to settle in, but we don't have that luxury. We've got a problem, which is why we're stuck out here in the hinterlands of Eastern Europe."

She stopped at the door to their suite, where two men stood guard—one African-American, the other Southeast Asian. Koko turned to face the recruits, pulling a sidearm seemingly out of nowhere. "And you're going to help us solve this problem." She handed the pistol to Jonah. "Think of it as an initiation. It'll also give us a chance to assess your skills."

"Question, Chief," Ching piped up. "Are we getting vehicles? You know, for QRF and transport purposes?"

"Of course," Koko replied smoothly. "Two vehicles are already ready, but since you boys need something special, I'll see about adding a third."

She nodded toward the guards. "Mao, Wiley."

"Sup, boss," said Mao, the African-American man, eyeing the recruits. "And who's the kid?"

"Who? Him?" Koko said, grinning. She swung the door open with dramatic flair, the edge slamming against something—or someone—behind it. A muffled grunt sounded from the other side as the team inside turned to glare at her.

"Now, everyone, I'd like you to introduce yourselves," Koko announced cheerfully.

The recruits stepped forward one by one:

"Name's Robert Clay. Former CAG."
"Leonard Miles, ex-CAG."
"Glen Saxon, but they call me 'Sax.' I'm from Red Squadron of DEVGRU."
"Justin Graver, same unit as Sax."
"Kris Church, former Ranger, 3rd Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment."
"Tyrone Dollar, but they call me 'Ching.' Used to be in 1st Ranger Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment. Nice to meet you all."

Koko motioned to Jonah. "And this is Jonah."

The room fell silent as the existing team appraised the newcomers. Their collective thought was almost palpable: Former JSOC operators... and a child soldier? And they're already packing heat. Damn.

Koko clapped her hands, snapping everyone back to attention. "No need to freak out, guys. Now, Tojo, bring them up to speed, would you?"

A man seated at a laptop glanced up, adjusting his glasses. "Nothing's changed. The bastards have our container impounded at the port. Customs wants a call, but my guess is they're demanding a higher price than what we originally agreed to."

"They never intended to let it through," Koko muttered. She bent slightly, meeting Jonah's gaze. "You see the problem? That container's ours, and we need it back. Got it?"

Jonah's response was cold, his expression unreadable. "I don't care about the bigger picture. Just tell me who to shoot and where they are."

Koko straightened, unfazed by his bluntness. Clapping her hands again, she called out, "Lehm, Valmet—prepare to move out. Hop to it!"

As the team moved into action, the new recruits picked their own corners of the room, ignoring the glares of the veterans as they unpacked their gear. Helmets, plate carriers, and tactical clothing came out first, followed by the sleek and lethal weapons that marked them as operators—ready for whatever lay ahead.

"Assuming we've got our own cell leader," Church said, inspecting his gear, "I'm voting for Clay to lead this independent cell."

"Clay. You up for that?" Miles asked, his gaze shifting to Clay.

Clay met his friend's eyes and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I can handle it."

He pulled out his HK416D, outfitted with an EoTech 551, a stubby foregrip, a suppressor, a Crane buttstock with a soft pad, and a chem light wrapped around its cheek rest, secured with a rubber band. The AN/PEQ-15 IR laser module was firmly mounted. Miles was almost identical, though his setup sported a Magpul CTR buttstock. The SEALs carried similar rifles, their AOR1 camo faded to a washed-out black and sand. Graver's rifle stood out with a Remington Arms RAHG handguard.

Meanwhile, Ching, the former Ranger, had his M240 Bravo fully assembled and ready for action. Delta and the SEALs had Bravo Company parts like charging handles and bolts in their rifles, and they all favored polymer magazines for the reduced weight.

These guys aren't playing around. They've got some serious firepower, someone thought, eyeing the arsenal.

"Hey, Church, hand me that EGLM-40, will you? And pass me those 40 Mike-Mikes." Clay called out.

Church nodded, passing him the 40mm grenade launcher along with a bandolier of 40mm grenades. "Thanks, man."

"Seems like you guys are packing some serious heat," a voice from across the room interrupted. They all turned to see a fair-skinned man in his 40s or 50s with white hair—the look of a middle-aged veteran.

"Yeah, well, you can never bring too much firepower, am I right?" Ching replied with a grin.

"Agreed, but you know, we're not staying here for much longer. We're always on the move, hopping from hotel to hotel until the boss gets the call to relocate. I'm Lehm, by the way," the man said, introducing himself.

"Nice to meet you," the others responded in their usual manner.

Miles pulled out his Crye Airframe helmet, decorated with numerous attachments, including a set of high-tech 4-tubed goggles. His JPC plate carrier was also loaded with gear. Lehm's eyes locked onto the night vision goggles.

"What are those?" Lehm asked, pointing at the L3Harris Ground Panoramic Night Vision Goggles that Miles wore.

"These?" Miles said with a slight grin. "L3Harris Ground Panoramic NVGs. Four tubes, 97-degree field of view. Perfect for night ops, but they're heavy and expensive. We've got an ANVIS battery pack mounted behind the helmet as a counterweight to help with the load. Only us Deltas and SEALs get these; the Rangers are stuck with the dual-tubed PVS-15s."

Miles continued preparing his gear, including a large special operations medical backpack—he was the designated combat medic for the team.

"A lot has changed since I left," Lehm remarked, shaking his head.

"Sure has, old man," Graver teased.

"You guys better make sure you've got the right shoes. I don't want to hear anyone complaining about their footwear when we're on the move," Clay said, checking his gear one last time. "Set your radios to the correct frequency. Ammo needs to be at least 210 rounds of your combat load. If you need more, bring it. I don't want anyone running dry in the middle of a firefight."

"Balaclavas, don't forget them," Sax added. "Last thing we need is to be ID'd by some spook from another country sneaking up behind us."

The operators, all wearing plate carriers, were already donning their balaclavas. The Rangers had their CIRAS vests loaded with essential equipment. They packed their backpacks with extra ammo and supplies, tightened their Mechanix gloves, adjusted their Oakley gloves, and clipped on their headsets and helmets.

They look absolutely badass in all their gear.

Clay and the others exchanged a final glance before pulling on their red-tinted Oakley M-Frame sunglasses. They looked even more intimidating now, their faces masked, their gear fully equipped. The morale patches on their uniforms told stories of the lives they had given up for this new mission—new identities.

Miles' helmet carried a particularly striking patch—a tribute to the FDNY in honor of 9/11. The patch stood out, a silent reminder of the sacrifice that had shaped them.

They were ready.

Once Koko's team finished prepping their gear, they began to leave the room and head for their vehicles.

"Here are the keys. Clay, you're riding shotgun with me and Jonah," Koko called out, tossing him the car keys.

"Uh... roger that," Clay replied, though he didn't sound too thrilled. He followed Koko out to the parking lot and climbed into her car, taking the front passenger seat.

"Where are we headed?" Clay asked as Koko started the engine.

"We're going to a port at Hewlett Harbour to recover a shipment of fighter aircraft upgrades," Koko replied as she shifted the car into gear.

"Solid copy," Clay said. He adjusted his carbine, propping the stock on the floor and letting the barrel rest upwards.

Location: Streets of an Eastern European country, 25 minutes after leaving the hotel

The sound of an angry voice erupted from Koko's phone.

"Miss Hekmatyar, I wonder if you understand just how deeply the contents of that container will affect our country. I'm afraid I cannot allow it to fall into your government's hands. If you insist on forcing the issue, I'll take whatever measures necessary! You don't want to cross me, bitch."

Koko's voice was calm but cutting as she responded, "Funny, I was going to say the same to you." Without another word, she hung up.

Jonah, who had been loading rounds into his FNC Paratrooper's magazine, glanced up. "Not much of a talker, huh?" Koko commented, trying to break the silence.

Jonah simply nodded as he finished loading and inserted the magazine into his rifle. "I'm not much of a talker," he said quietly.

"I noticed," Koko replied with a smile. "But that's not going to cut it with this crew. You'll need to open up a bit more if you want to keep up."

Meanwhile, Clay kept an eye on the rearview mirror, scanning the road for any signs of pursuit. He wasn't taking any chances—he knew better than to be caught off guard.

"What about you, Clay?" Koko asked, breaking the silence. "What do you think of your new team?"

Clay looked over at her before answering, his tone more thoughtful than impressed. "If you mean the five guys you brought along, they're good at what they do. As for your crew, I'll reserve judgment for now. Haven't exactly trusted them yet."

"I see," Koko replied, not offended but understanding.

Meanwhile, in the other car with Miles, Lehm, and Valmet...

"So, what do you think about the new guys so far?" Lehm asked, his eyes on the road.

"What new kid? You mean Jonah and those other guys? Hard to say," Valmet replied with a skeptical frown. "They're all keeping quiet, and I'm not buying it. They're hiding something, I just don't know what yet."

Lehm exhaled slowly, glancing at Valmet. "Koko could be in danger, you know. She's too trusting with new recruits, always jumping in without thinking things through. I don't like it, not one bit."

Valmet's expression darkened. "If anything happens to her, I'll kill them all myself."

Lehm didn't argue. Instead, he lit a cigar, the thick smoke filling the car. Miles, who had been quietly observing, rolled down the window to let the smoke escape.

"Jeez, Lehm, can you wait until we're out of the car to fix your neck?" Valmet complained, coughing as he waved the smoke away.

"Yeah, fine," Lehm muttered, extinguishing the cigar and flicking the butt into the ashtray.

Just then, Clay's radio crackled to life.

"This is Church. We've got an unknown vehicle speeding past us. White BMW sedan, closing in fast, Cap," Sax's voice reported.

Miles immediately reacted, pulling out his rifle.

Clay looked at the rearview mirror and spotted the BMW. "Roger that, Sax. Out," he replied, grabbing his rifle and preparing for action. "Looks like we've got company."

Clay checked his magazine, ensuring it was properly loaded, before tapping it to the feed lip and locking it back into his rifle. He then rolled down his passenger-side window to get a better angle.

"Koko," Jonah spoke up.

"He speaks! What is it?" Koko asked, surprised.

"I assume you have an SOP for dealing with tails?" Jonah asked, his tone serious.

"If you spot them, shoot them. No mercy, hard and fast," Koko ordered, raising her fist. The rules of engagement were clear. Clay clipped himself into place using a D-ring cord attached to the car's handles above the window, preparing to engage any threats.

"Got an armored hostile," Lehm called out from the other car.

"We've been pointing that out for the last minute, Chief," Miles quipped, steadying his rifle on the dashboard. He aimed at the armored vehicle's windshield.

The BMW crashed after they blasted it. If the driver had been alive, he surely wasn't now. Clay looked up, spotting a new threat.

"Another car speeding up behind us. Closing in fast," Clay warned.

"Jonah, car at the rear, right lane!" he shouted, just as he and Jonah opened fire on the new vehicle. They took it out almost instantly.

"Hey! You hear me?!" Jonah looked at Koko, who was startled by the sudden gunfire. "Warn me before you open fire next time, you scared the crap out of me!"

"I'm pretty sure I did," Clay said with a grin. "Those were just scouts. The real fight's still coming."

For now, the highway was clear, and Clay went back to his seat, reloading his rifle and retrieving the magazines he had dropped.

The battle was far from over. The SUV and friendly van kept up the fight, trading shots with the enemy's heavily armored van. "That van's got some serious armor. We might be looking at a counterattack," Valmet observed.

"And it's blocking the whole damn road," Lehm added, frustration clear in his voice.

Valmet stopped shooting, her eyes narrowed. "We need to get to Koko. They'll have her pinned in if we don't move fast."

Lehm grimaced. "That's probably what they're after."

Suddenly, Jonah tapped the roof of Koko's car. "Coming up on the left!" he warned.

Out of nowhere, a Humvee slammed into their car, throwing Jonah off balance. Koko swerved, but she kept control. Jonah climbed up, grabbing his rifle and taking up position at the sunroof.

"We'll be happy to give you a ride to port, little girl!" the enemy shouted from the Humvee. Koko looked out her window, eyes narrowing as she spotted the enemy patch. "Voskhod 6? Damn it, that old bureaucrat!"

Clay sighed in annoyance and glanced behind his seat. "What are you looking for, Clay?" Koko asked, puzzled.

"Something special," Clay muttered, rummaging around before pulling out an Ares EGLM-40 grenade launcher along with a bandolier of grenades.

Koko's eyes widened in shock. "You didn't tell me you were bringing a grenade launcher!"

"Yeah, well, you didn't tell me we'd be facing guys in a Humvee, so I brought this. Lucky, princess," Clay replied, loading a 40mm grenade into the launcher. He then leaned out the window, preparing to take the fight to the enemy.

Meanwhile, back at the SUV...

"Take that opening on the right, Lehm!" Miles instructed as the SUV sped alongside the enemy van.

Lehm swerved the wheel, driving up on the open right side, positioning the vehicle for a perfect jump. Valmet immediately leaped from the SUV's roof, landing on the van and effortlessly cutting down everyone inside.

Back in Koko's car, they entered a more populated area.

"Shit!" Clay growled, tossing the grenade launcher back inside and pulling out his rifle. "What's wrong?" Koko asked, concerned.

"Can't shoot the grenade launcher here without risking civilian casualties," Clay explained, keeping his head out the window to scan the surroundings. "Best stick to the rifle for now."

Koko gave a short nod, turning her attention back to the road. "Looks like our guys in the rear took care of those trackers. We're probably still being followed, but they're not shooting at us anymore."

Clay and Jonah both eyed the pursuing Humvee, spotting its gunner peeking out of the hatch. "Don't think I didn't notice you calling me by name earlier," Jonah muttered, gripping a grenade. "That's twice now. I think we're making real progress!"

Jonah pulled the pin and squeezed the spoon on the grenade, banging the roof of the car to get Koko's attention. But before Koko could react, the gunner appeared again, this time catching Clay off guard.

"Shit! Javelin!" Clay yelled as the Humvee's gunner launched a Javelin anti-tank missile at them. In the split second that followed, Jonah hurled the grenade out of the window. The grenade exploded, intercepting the missile mid-flight and destroying it in a fiery blast. The shockwave, however, caused a car nearby to explode, sending debris everywhere.

"A Javelin anti-tank missile?!" Koko exclaimed in shock.

Amid the chaos, a plushie doll landed on Jonah's head. He caught it with a confused expression, then let out a brief, amused giggle. Koko glanced over, momentarily distracted by Jonah's reaction. Had she just seen him laugh?

"Hey, kid! Kid!" Clay called out, snapping Jonah back to focus. "Get your head back in the game."

Jonah nodded and refocused as Clay activated his IR laser, his GPNVG-18 night-vision goggles providing a clear sight. With precision, he lined up a shot and sniped the gunner of the Humvee in a split second. Then, grabbing the EGLM-40 grenade launcher, he fired a round, scoring a direct hit on the vehicle. After quickly reloading, he fired again, knocking out the rest of the crew.

"Hostile's history," Clay said, sliding back into the car. He bumped fists with Koko, then Jonah did the same.

"First day on the job and we're already thrown into the shit," Clay muttered, preparing his rifle for the next threat.

"You don't like it?" Koko asked, glancing at him.

"No, I like it," Clay replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's just... it's the first day and we're already in a full-on shootout."

Koko chuckled. "Right, I got you. Also, you don't need to keep the gun out the window. It's safe here, as far as I can tell."

Clay gave her a look, the tension still there. "Yeah, no, sorry boss. I'm not letting my guard down just because we're on a quiet stretch."

"Okay, suit yourself," Koko said, not pressing further.

The rest of the trip was quiet, and the silence began to wear on Clay. After a few minutes, he couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck this silence. Excuse my language, but can I play my music on the radio?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure. A little music might help," Koko replied with a shrug.

Clay connected his phone to the car's radio and hit play. The first song that came on was Fall Out Boy's "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race."

"Really funny," Clay said, glancing at Koko.

"What is it?" Koko asked.

"Nothing," Clay replied with a grin. "It's just... this song's called 'This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race' and honestly, the lyrics kinda fit your profile. You know, being an arms dealer and all. Just listen, you'll get it."

As the song played, Clay hummed along, "This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race..." He chuckled, clearly enjoying the irony.

"I... I didn't know music sounded like this," Koko admitted, her tone a mix of surprise and curiosity. "I've heard classical orchestra music, but that was only because of my father. Maybe I'll finally get to listen to something cool with your playlist."

Clay smiled, enjoying the moment. The song ended, and Koko seemed to ponder the words. "You know, I think it does fit me and my style."

"There's a lot of genres to explore through the internet," Clay said with a grin. But before they could continue the conversation, the next song started to play. It was "Right Here Waiting For You" by Richard Marx, a soft ballad.

"Ah, this song," Clay said, glancing at Koko. "I guess you want to listen to it, experience it?"

"Hell yes," Koko replied. "Better than the silence."

The convoy of three vehicles continued on its way. The tension from earlier faded slightly, but the mission was far from over.

At the Harbor...

As the vehicles reached the harbor gate, Koko's voice broke the silence with a thoughtful observation. "You hate weapons, and you hate their dealers. But how can you achieve what you want without them? Let's say you killed me, that's one name off your list. But what then? Your job wouldn't be done until you took out the rest of my team. They might not look like much, but trust me, they're very good at what they do."

Jonah glanced out the window as they passed the storage hangar. "You couldn't kill them with your bare hands. No. You'd need a gun."

Koko looked at him seriously. "You hate your weapon, but can you give it up? You know you can't. You'll spend the rest of your life with a gun in your hand. You may hate them more than anyone, but deep down, you know better than anyone how useful—how necessary—they can be."

She paused, turning to Jonah as they stopped in front of the storage doors. "Do yourself a favor and stick with me, okay? I deal in weapons, Jonah. I can show you how to live with your hate without giving up your gun."

Jonah looked away, unwilling to meet her gaze. "Why are you in the arms trade?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Koko smiled as the lights in the warehouse flickered on, one row after another. She walked in front of Jonah, showing him the containers. "For world peace, of course," she said with a wry grin.

Jonah didn't respond. The weight of her words lingered in the air as the doors opened wide, revealing the weapons that would drive their next mission.

After retrieving their lost cargo, Koko and her bodyguards returned to their hotel to get some much-needed rest. However, not everyone was asleep—night shifts and patrols had to continue. It was Clay, Graver, and Ching's turn to keep watch and patrol the hallway for any signs of intrusion, assassination attempts, or sabotage.

Clay was walking down the corridor when he ran into Lehm, who was leaning casually against the wall, enjoying a cigarette.

"Hey, pops," Clay greeted with a smirk.

"Morning, Clay," Lehm replied, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I was waiting for Jonah. It's his time for patrol."

"I see," Clay said, nodding. "Nice gun, by the way."

Lehm looked down at his MP5 SMG. "Thanks. Yours is nice too," he said, referring to Clay's 416D.

"I've been using it ever since I joined my squadron," Clay explained. "Everyone in the unit had one."

Lehm chuckled, taking another drag. "Back in my day, we had to rig things up ourselves—tape flashlights to our rifles, put Aimpoints on top of carry handles. Now, everything's easy with a rail system."

Clay smirked. "To be honest, Delta was ahead of its time, even back then. Aimpoints on carbines in the '90s? Most people had never even heard of that until they got into the unit."

Lehm scoffed. "You're not wrong. But it was all about adapting and making it work."

The two shared a brief moment of camaraderie before Clay elbowed Lehm as Jonah arrived.

"Good morning," Jonah greeted sleepily.

"Morning," Clay replied. "You up for some coffee?"

"Yeah, sure," Lehm said, stretching his arms before following Clay down the hallway toward the kitchen.

As they walked, Jonah couldn't help but ask, "Think this is the first time you've asked a question, Clay."

Clay raised an eyebrow. "You wanna know why a badass mercenary who's been through a hundred battles would take a job as a bodyguard for a chick arms dealer?"

Jonah looked confused. "I didn't say 'badass'."

Lehm grinned. "You've only been with us a few days, so I get it. You'll figure it out soon enough. As for why I took this gig? Because it's fun. Each of us has our own reason for being here, and you'll find yours in time. Stick around long enough, and you'll see what it means to be part of this crew. Koko, for all her quirks, is actually... well, she's very... special."

Just as he said that, a door opened in front of them, and Koko sleepily shuffled out of her room wearing only a shirt. She looked at them with glazed eyes before muttering something unintelligible and heading back to her and Valmet's room.

Clay's thoughts raced. Well, that's awkward.

Lehm casually pointed toward the bathroom. "Koko, the bathroom's back that way."

Koko groaned and sleepwalked down the hall, seemingly unaware of their presence. Jonah, uninterested, stared down the hallway.

Clay chuckled. "She's fun, kind of reminds me of a quirky college girl I used to room with back in high school."

Lehm raised an eyebrow. "Kind of a lucky guy, huh? Did you date her?"

Clay's expression darkened for a moment. "We were together until she died of health issues. Broke me for a couple of months, but I worked through it and pushed myself to become a Ranger."

Lehm's face softened. "Sorry about that."

Clay shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. I'm over it. I know she's watching over me from above."

"You're religious?" Lehm asked, clearly curious.

"Catholic," Clay said, his tone casual. "I don't go to church much, but I read the Bible when I need guidance."

Lehm looked thoughtful. "I see. You're a very interesting man, Clay."

The three of them continued their patrol, grabbing coffee to keep themselves awake, but the weight of the conversation lingered.

The Next Morning...

Koko called in everyone for a briefing. The urgency in her voice was evident as she addressed the team.

"We have an emergency!" she declared, slamming a picture of several cargo trucks on the screen. "Three hours ago, a transport team crossed the northern border. Intel says they're carrying 15 MI-24D attack helicopters—Hind Ds. The helos have been dismantled and hidden in spare parts for concealment."

Koko paused, frustration clear on her face. "Judging by the timing, it looks like someone got wind of our recent success and wants a piece of the action. Now they're trying their hand at it. This kind of thing happens all the time, but..." She groaned in distress, rolling back and forth on the conference table. "The info came directly from HQ. If we screw this up, it's going to cost us big."

Wiley, standing nearby, explained, "You see why she's rolling around like that? Means this is serious."

Koko collected herself, sitting up straight. "We need to deal with this fast. First, we intercept the convoy, but if they resist, we might have to eliminate some obstacles. Take a moment to prepare."

"Kaayy," the team responded nonchalantly, all except the new guys.

Koko sighed. "Right, you guys are pros, you know what to do." She looked at Jonah and Clay. "Tojo, Valmet—negotiate with National Defense. Lehm, Ugo, Lutz, Mao—get your gear, you'll be my backup. Wiley, R—stay here and handle comms with the brass. Clay, you're with me. Stick with Lehm's backup team and keep close to me and Jonah."

Clay blinked in confusion. Again? What does she want with me? But he nodded, not questioning further.

"Make sure to wear your civilian attire, okay?" Koko added before grabbing her phone. "Let's go!"

The team stood up, ready to grab their gear. Clay pulled out his phone, checking his playlist before making sure his carbine was in order.

"CQB weapons, guys. We're probably going to be fighting door to door," Graver said as he pulled out his carbine.

"I'll need something maneuverable," Sax commented, picking up an MP7A1 with a suppressor.

"If shots go off, we're gonna have a hard time telling anyone it was a gas leak," Ching said, adjusting his CIRAS body armor.

"We're going with the 'hammer and nails' strategy," Clay said with a determined look.

"And if we end up with unsuppressed automatic fire?" Ching added. "Who's gonna believe it was just some firecrackers?"

Miles, still suiting up, added, "We'll buzz off like ghosts if the mission gets compromised."

Lutz, the blonde German guy, chimed in with a grin, "Yeah, but we'll probably get chewed out and have our pay docked by the little lady."

Ugo nodded in agreement. "Gotta give it to Lutz there."

Graver racked the charging handle of his suppressed carbine. "When we go into CQB, we go hard and fast. No chances, no time to hesitate."

"Hooah," Church called out enthusiastically.

To assist with clearing rooms without exposing themselves, the team had brought a specialized tool: a camera gun.

"What's that thing?" Mao asked, eyeing the gadget in Miles' hands.

"This is an Optiwand," Miles said, showing it to them. "It's a camera gun, used for looking around corners or under doors. Law enforcement started using these, and now it's standard in our kit."

The team took turns trying out the Optiwand, getting a feel for how it could help them avoid unnecessary risks while clearing rooms.

"Okay, I've reviewed the area and the building, specifically the floor where the guy Ms. Hekmatyar will be meeting," Sax began, pointing to the map on the screen. "Based on the intel, the target's location is clear, and my best guess for the backup is that they'll be stationed on the last three floors. Now, the building we need to approach is directly across from the target building, here." He pointed to the map, a focused expression on his face. "However, since we only have one Optiwand at the moment, we'll have to stack our teams together and have the lead team take point. They'll use the Optiwand to scan each door as we move."

Sax paused, making sure everyone was following. "If we find any hostile contacts in a room, I want two or three guys to stack up and breach that door. The rest of us will continue clearing the other floors. We'll move with a go-code to execute everything at the same time, as fast as possible."

He looked over at Lehm and his team. "You good with this, Lehm?"

Lehm studied the plan for a moment before nodding. "I gotta say, this sounds solid. I like it. How about you guys?" He turned to his team, who all nodded in agreement.

"Alright, then," Sax said, clapping his hands together. "Remember: suppressed weapons only, no civilian casualties, and avoid drawing attention from the authorities. Let's keep it clean." He gave the final instructions before dismissing the team.

The sound of footsteps filled the room as everyone grabbed their gear and headed for the vehicles. There was no room for mistakes. The operation was critical, and every second counted.

With everyone now in their designated vehicles, the team sped toward their respective locations. The tension in the air was palpable, but everyone knew their role and how important it was to execute flawlessly. Time was ticking, and the plan was set in motion.

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The mission was unfolding with precision, and Clay was in his element, checking his gear and staying focused as they approached the next stage. The sleek interior of the car was filled with the quiet hum of the engine as Koko casually initiated a conversation.

"You know, I may sell weapons and know a lot about them, but why do Special Forces guys always like to customize their weapons? I asked Lehm and Lutz about that, but they didn't give me a clear answer." Koko's curiosity was evident as she glanced over at Clay.

Clay was adjusting his Glock 19, checking the surefire flashlight and the red dot scope attached to it before securely holstering it in a concealed-carry holster hidden under the fabric of his suit. He also glanced at his Rolex Submariner, checking the time, always keeping track of the mission's progress.

"Well, it's all user preference, really," Clay started, his voice calm but confident. "The reason I built my Glock like this is because it lets me shoot faster and more accurately. I can acquire a clearer sight picture with a red dot than with iron sights, especially in a fast-moving scenario. And as for SOF guys customizing their weapons, it's all about adaptability. The picatinny rail system makes our rifles—like the M4A1 or AR-15—extremely versatile. You can configure them for CQB, recon, even designated marksman roles. You see those M4s the Rangers use? They can turn those into DMRs if they want. They put on a suppressor, tweak the optics, and it becomes a much more effective long-range tool, even with a 5.56 caliber rifle. That's why the US military still uses them. Even this HK416? It's basically an AR-15 with a different gas system."

Koko nodded, clearly impressed. "You know a lot about this, don't you?"

Clay chuckled. "Well, as a Delta, you have to. You might end up on clandestine ops in foreign countries, and those missions often involve using weapons you're not familiar with. Knowing the ins and outs of the most common systems is essential."

Koko smiled, shifting the conversation as she pulled out another weapon from the glovebox and handed it to Jonah. "Here, Jonah. Take this."

Jonah inspected the weapon. "I have my own," he replied, but took the spare anyway.

"I know," Koko said, her tone taking on a more serious note. "But I've heard rumors, and I got more details from HQ. This guy we're meeting, he's no prince. Not that many people in this business are."

Before anyone could respond, their convoy came to a stop, and the vehicles pulled alongside each other, preparing to make their move. Miles, always the professional, turned on his AN/PRC-152 tactical radio.

"All callsigns check in. Demon team first."

"Demon 2, I'm ready," Sax responded.

"Demon 3, ready," Graver checked in.

"Demon 4, Church, ready," came the reply.

"Demon 5, checked in," said Ching.

"Understood. Lehm, check in."

"Lehm here, comms are green."

"Lutz, all good here," Lutz confirmed.

"Ugo, I'm good," Ugo added.

"Mao, I'm all set," Mao finished.

Koko signaled Ugo, who acknowledged and began moving the car. The team had coordinated their actions smoothly, like a well-oiled machine.

As the convoy moved forward, Ugo couldn't hide his excitement. "Heh, hell yeah."

"What's that?" Lutz asked, curious.

"She said 'good hunting,'" Ugo chuckled.

"It's been far too long," Lutz murmured, his voice filled with anticipation.

"Hunting time," Ugo added, the mood shifting into something darker, more intense.

"Boss can be extreme sometimes, and I like it," another observed.

"Yeah, but they're the good kind of crazy," Miles added with a grin, still focused on the task at hand.

Koko, now preparing for the next part of their mission, turned to Clay and Jonah. "For the purposes of this meeting, you're not a soldier," she said, looking thoughtfully at Jonah. "Let me see here..." She paused, a light chuckle escaping her lips. "You'll be my little brother. No matter what happens to me, keep up the act until I give the signal. And Clay," she turned to him with a playful smirk, "you'll be my fiancée."

Clay raised an eyebrow, a little surprised. "You're gonna tell me why you keep picking Jonah as your personal bodyguard in the first place?"

Koko chuckled softly, keeping the reason to herself. "I'll keep it a secret."

"Alright, I mean, you're in charge after all," Clay said with a grin, leaning back in his seat, ready for whatever came next.

As the car sped towards their destination, the tension was palpable. Every second mattered now. They were heading into dangerous territory, and the stakes were high.

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Meanwhile, on Koko's bodyguards' side, the two vehicles had successfully located their target building.

"Alright, Ugo, let's park underground and take the service elevator. It's not busy today, so it should be safe to use," Miles instructed, as the convoy maneuvered into the underground parking garage, keeping a safe distance from the building.

"Let's rock 'n roll," Miles added, as Demon Team donned their balaclavas, signature red-tinted Oakley glasses, and clipped on their helmets. They exited the vehicles, quickly forming up with Lehm's team before heading toward the service elevator. Miles pressed the button for the 9th floor.

"What's the plan once we're up?" Lutz asked, adjusting his gear.

"We'll clear the floor and leave a team behind on the 9th floor," Church responded, scanning their surroundings.

The elevator ascended, but as it reached the 5th floor, the doors opened to reveal a couple about to enter. They froze, startled by the heavily armed team inside.

"Erm, please don't panic," Sax said smoothly in their native language, stepping forward with a reassuring tone. "We're part of an airsoft event, but we left something in our room. It's no big deal, just in a rush."

The couple hesitated for a moment but relaxed as Sax's calm demeanor put them at ease. They awkwardly backed away, not realizing the team was armed with live ammunition instead of airsoft gear. The elevator doors closed, and the team continued their ascent.

"Works like a charm," Sax said with a grin.

Mao raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What did you say to them?"

"Just told them we're part of an airsoft event, but had to rush to grab something we left behind. They bought it without a second thought," Sax explained.

Lutz chuckled. "You guys never cease to impress."

The elevator dinged as it reached the 9th floor. Miles and Graver were the first to step out, tactically checking the hallway for threats. They signaled the all-clear and formed a T-formation, ensuring full coverage of the hallway as they proceeded, checking each door they encountered. The pace was deliberate but efficient, knowing they didn't have all the equipment they needed but making do with what they had.

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Meanwhile, on Koko's side, the man they were meeting, Kloshkin, opened the door and greeted her with a courteous nod.

"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Kloshkin. I'm Koko Hekmatyar," Koko introduced herself, offering a confident smile.

"Yes, Ms. Koko Hekmatyar of HCLI," Kloshkin replied, his tone respectful. "I've heard much about you. Please, forgive the mess—I've just moved in. I'm afraid I don't even have a business card to offer." He gestured toward the room. "Please, take a seat. I'll bring us some coffee."

As they made their way to the sofa, Jonah and Clay exchanged a curious glance and asked Koko about the identity of the two men.

"Ah, these are your little brother and your fiancée," Kloshkin replied casually, settling into a chair across from them. "I assume I have a fairly good idea of why you're here. Let's talk."

Back with the supporting team, they were nearly finished clearing the last set of doors on the second-to-last floor. They identified the last one as being occupied by civilians, so they moved on and made their way to the stairs. Every inch of the space was carefully checked as they ascended.

Lehm observed from behind, letting the younger professionals take the lead. He was impressed with their skill and coordination so far, but there was one final test left: how they would handle room clearing and how well they worked together.

The five-man entry team—Miles, Ching, Graver, Lehm, and Lutz—stacked up on the last door. Miles checked the lock and found it was unlocked. With a quick nod, he opened the door, and the first three members of the stack moved in swiftly and efficiently, securing the entrance.

"Demon 1, now on the last floor. Proceeding to clear the rooms. Out," Miles announced over the comms, signaling their move. The five continued to sweep through the floor, moving methodically as they cleared each room, their precision and teamwork becoming evident with every step.

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Koko sat back in her chair, her demeanor unshaken despite the bleeding wound on her head. She didn't flinch, maintaining that signature calm confidence. As Kloshkin ranted and smoked his cigar, Koko let him think he had the upper hand, allowing him to believe his intimidation was working.

"Play the 'anti-aircraft missile' card next," Koko had told Tojo, confident that the plan was working just as intended. Her tactic, while not conventional, was all about control. She knew exactly how to push Kloshkin's buttons, making him think he was in charge.

Kloshkin had called someone on his phone and was too preoccupied to notice Koko's calm reaction to his outburst. He was intent on using her vulnerability against her, but Koko's mind was already calculating her next move. Clay's hand hovered near his Glock, ready to act at a moment's notice, but Koko's sharp voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Better listen to her, kid. Nothing good comes from shooting me," Kloshkin taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. He grabbed Jonah's gun and unloaded it, throwing it back onto the table.

Koko's eyes flicked to Jonah and Clay, and for a brief moment, they locked onto each other in understanding. The tension in the room was thick, but Koko remained composed, her smile widening just slightly in a way that told them she was still in control. Kloshkin might have thought he had the upper hand, but Koko was setting the stage for her next move.

Kloshkin continued with his threats, his attention drawn toward the window as he blew out a puff of smoke, unaware of the slight shift in Koko's posture. She looked directly at Jonah and Clay, signaling them with nothing more than a look, a signal that was both subtle and sharp. The two bodyguards exchanged glances, unsure of exactly what Koko's game was, but trusting her judgment.

What Kloshkin didn't realize was that Koko wasn't just thinking one step ahead—she was already five steps ahead, playing the game on her terms. As he continued to rant, she prepared to turn the tables, knowing full well that her guards were loyal and that Kloshkin had underestimated them.

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Meanwhile...

Lutz quickly snapped back to focus as Miles' voice broke through his distracted thoughts. The high-speed room clearance and deadly precision of the new team had left him in awe, but now wasn't the time for distractions. His hands moved instinctively as he picked up the sniper rifle, checking the weapon and adjusting his position with practiced efficiency. The heavy weight of the rifle felt comfortable in his hands, and the familiar sight of the scope aligned with his gaze.

He crouched low, planting his legs firmly beneath him, and settled into a cross-legged position. His eyes scanned the area around the building where Koko and the target were. The weight of the mission pressed on him, but his focus sharpened as he adjusted the scope for the distance and angle.

The world outside the window seemed distant, as Lutz tuned out everything except the target. His years with GSG-9 had trained him well for situations like this, but watching the ex-JSOC team move with such speed and coordination had pushed his boundaries. They were relentless, almost as if they operated on instinct rather than calculation.

With steady hands, Lutz carefully aligned the crosshairs. His finger hovered just above the trigger, knowing that every breath counted, every movement had to be precise. His mind was clear, his body calm—this was where he excelled.

"I'm on it, Miles," Lutz muttered under his breath, the radio crackling as he relayed his position and readiness. He steadied his aim, awaiting the signal from Miles to take the shot. It was a tense moment, but Lutz had trained for this.

From his position, he could see the building across the way, the windows offering just enough visibility to spot any movement. The slow, deliberate rise of his chest was the only indication that he was still breathing. He'd trained for years to block out everything else, and now, in this moment of calm, he was more than ready to provide the support needed.

He squeezed the trigger, sending a suppressed shot downrange, a perfect clean hit that rang out silently as the bullet found its target. Lutz remained steady, continuing to cover their position while the team on the ground executed their assault with unrelenting precision. His job wasn't over, and he wouldn't let his teammates down.

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Kloshkin's face twisted into a grimace, his eyes narrowing as he watched Koko with an icy glare. The air between them grew thick with tension, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of the radio Koko had just picked up. The weight of the moment was heavy, and Kloshkin felt the uncomfortable realization creeping up his spine.

"Don't play games with me, Hekmatyar," Kloshkin snapped, his fingers twitching toward his phone as his snipers' voices crackled through his earpiece. He was ready to call for a quick end to the conversation, to assert control over the situation. But Koko's demeanor, calm yet piercing, made him hesitate.

"You think I don't know what you're up to? I know who you're working for," Koko shot back, her tone unwavering. She didn't flinch under Kloshkin's glare. "I know the strings you're pulling, and I know just how easy it is for you to think you can control everything from a distance. But you're wrong."

Her fingers danced over the radio, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, something calculating and cold behind her eyes. She was in full control of the moment, and Kloshkin could feel it.

Kloshkin stared back at her, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "You're threatening me now, huh? You know what happens when people cross me, don't you? You're in deep, and I don't think you realize just how deep that is."

Koko's smile remained, her eyes locked onto his. "You should listen carefully. Your snipers? They won't last long. In fact, I think they might be just as expendable as you are. You've made a lot of enemies, Mr. Kloshkin, and I've always known how to make the right people disappear when I need them to."

Kloshkin's grip tightened on his phone. His eyes flickered nervously towards the window as if expecting to see the reflection of the man he had become, one who had underestimated the woman before him. The phone call with his snipers went silent for a moment, then static crackled again, followed by a confused and uneasy voice in the background of the line.

"You think your snipers are still on the job? Think again," Koko said with a cool confidence. "You don't control this situation anymore. I do."

Kloshkin's pulse quickened as he realized something had gone horribly wrong. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in the middle of a war he thought he could manipulate, but now, it was clear who held the upper hand. His grip on the phone slackened as the weight of Koko's words settled in.

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Miles gave a small nod, his fingers lightly tapping his rifle as he surveyed the surroundings. The tension still hung in the air, but the job was getting done efficiently. "Good work, Mao. Keep the comms clear in case anything else comes up."

Lehm, finishing up his report to command, glanced over at Miles. "Everything's under control here, but we'll need to stay sharp. This isn't over yet." He turned his focus back to the team, eyes narrowing with precision. "Stay in position, don't let your guard down just yet."

Lutz adjusted his rifle one more time, scanning the area with a calm, practiced eye. He lowered his weapon, letting out a breath. "I'm good for now. Just waiting on the next move."

Ching, grinning, turned to the group. "Alright, let's see how we did. We'll review the footage later, maybe even grab a drink. Could be a nice little learning session."

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As the team made their way out of the building, the atmosphere was tense but relieved. Koko, who had been calm and collected throughout the operation, glanced at Jonah with a grin before jumping up and hugging him from behind.

Clay, ever watchful, made sure to keep an eye on their surroundings as he walked next to Koko. He gave her a quick check to make sure she was alright after the hit to her head. "You good?" he asked, concern edging his voice.

"I'm fine," Koko replied, brushing it off as she stood up, wiping the blood from her forehead with the towel Clay handed her. Her tough demeanor never faltered.

Clay checked her pupils, watching them dilate and contract. "Pupils seem fine," he said, tucking the flashlight away. "You're a tough one. Took that hit like a champ."

"Thanks," Koko said, though her focus was already moving on to the next step. "We're all done here, let's go home."

The team quickly filed out of the building and back into their vehicles, moving with purpose. The sound of their engines started up as they left the area, knowing they needed to get out of there before any security forces or authorities got wise to their presence.

"Alright, let's make sure we're not spotted," Clay said, keeping a sharp eye on the rearview mirror. "Get us out of here, Ugo."

The convoy smoothly made its way back to their rendezvous point, the weight of the mission still hanging in the air, but with the comfort of a job well done. As they got closer to the hotel, Koko looked over at Jonah with a mischievous grin.

"Okay, time to go back to our 'normal' lives. But not before I give my little brother a hug," she giggled, squeezing Jonah from behind.

Jonah, though still processing the chaos of the day, gave her a small, confused smile. "Yeah, let's get out of here before security starts asking questions."

The convoy sped through the streets, their destination clear as they moved to leave the scene behind. The support team, already finishing their part of the operation, followed behind them, ready to call it a night.

As they reached the hotel, Ching stretched his arms and cracked a joke. "Man, those new guys cleared the room faster than I've ever seen. Seriously, I didn't even have time to get into position."

Graver grinned. "They don't mess around. Koko's always got the best of the best."

Lutz, still in his head, nodded. "I need to keep up with these guys. I thought I was fast once upon a time, but these new recruits are on another level."

Miles gave a quiet chuckle. "You were solid, Lutz. Don't sell yourself short."

Koko, still quietly calculating the next move, leaned back in her seat, her eyes scanning the dark streets outside. "Well, that was fun. But let's not get too comfortable just yet," she said, her tone turning serious. "We've got work to do."

And with that, the convoy rolled back to their base, the team ready for whatever came next.

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"We'll meet up with Tojo and Valmet at the next town over, we leave at 9," Koko stated, her voice calm but authoritative as the crew began to settle into the base for the night.

Back at the base in the evening, the team gathered around the table, with everyone except Demon Team sitting, waiting for Jonah to finish cooking. To pass the time, Ching, ever the entertainer, flicked on the TV and began showing a compilation of their helmet cams. The footage was a mix of their intense training and unclassified missions—elite-level stuff that left everyone in awe. Some of Koko's bodyguards even tried to mimic the movements of the Demon Team members on the screen, laughing at their own attempts but respecting the precision of what they saw.

Soon enough, Jonah appeared with the meal, the smell of food wafting through the room. His presence was a subtle reminder of the level of importance this moment held for him, a new addition to a family built on loyalty and trust.

"Hungry bellies... hungry," Koko's bodyguards joked collectively as they prepared to dig in.

"This is a very significant moment for you, Jonah," Koko said, her tone somewhat ceremonial as she ground her knife and fork together. "With this meal, we mark your official initiation into the crew. From now on, you're part of the family. It's time you get used to having a team you can rely on."

Jonah gave a nod, taking in the gravity of the situation. He had come a long way from his past, and though he hadn't fully acclimated to the wild world of Koko's operations, he felt the weight of the unspoken bond that had formed between them.

"You guys aren't eating?" R, the real leader of Demon Team, asked with a raised eyebrow, looking around at the empty plates.

Clay, always calm and collected, shrugged. "Well, we already went ahead and ate at Fridays down the road about 35 minutes ago. So yeah, enjoy your meal."

"You already ate? Man, you guys are impatient," Wiley remarked, though it was clear he wasn't really offended.

"Hey, we've been through a lot this week," Clay replied with a light chuckle. "It's exhausting."

The crew dug into their food, and before long, the team was visibly satisfied, eating in silence for a moment. But then, things took an unexpected turn. The food Jonah had prepared knocked out the entire team almost instantly, as if they had been poisoned. Their heads slumped onto the table as their stomachs groaned in protest.

"Jesus, Jonah, you just knocked out the entire team all by yourself," Church joked, though his voice was still filled with surprise.

"Guess you can kill an entire team without using a gun," Clay added, his voice laced with a mixture of humor and disbelief. The rest of Demon Team burst out laughing at the spectacle of their teammates now out cold, thoroughly outmatched by Jonah's cooking.

"Next time, we'll have Leo cook for everyone," Clay said, still chuckling as he finished prepping.

The team settled into a more relaxed atmosphere after that, knowing that the next day's mission was just around the corner. They continued preparing for departure, ensuring everything was in order, but there was no denying the quiet camaraderie that had formed. This night marked not just a meal, but an initiation, and in their world, that meant everything.

(Author: 9390 words... Holy shit that was long and it took me two friggin nights to finish this shit, I don't think I can even check it if it's good or not. Oh well, I can just rewrite it either way.)