Guldrin’s Gluttony: Family Bound by Speed & Food

The room was a scene of carnage. Blood pooled in thick, viscous puddles, seeping into the cracks of the worn concrete floor. The acrid stench of gunpowder still clung to the air, mixing with the metallic tang of fresh blood and the faint, lingering scent of fear. The two bodies were strewn about in grotesque angles, Braga was still twitching, Bruce, not so much, their final moments stolen by the merciless efficiency of Guldrin and Revy.

Taking one last look around, Guldrin's sharp gaze scanned the wreckage. 

It was a slaughterhouse, and they were the executioners. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just cold, calculated efficiency. But there was one last thing that needed to be done.

He turned to Alisa, his voice calm, measured, but carrying an unspoken command. "Ensure there's nothing that links us to this. Fingerprints, blood, you name it, I want it gone."

Alisa's mechanical eyes glowed faintly as she assessed the room, running through every possibility at inhuman speed. Her calculations were precise, ruthless, and final.

"Little master, the most efficient way to accomplish this in a short time is to burn it all down," she stated matter-of-factly, her voice as smooth as ever. "Would you like me to initiate such a result?"

Her fingers twitched, already preparing to summon a controlled inferno that would devour everything in its path, evidence, bodies, mistakes, all reduced to ash. Consequences be damned.

Before Guldrin could respond, a sharp, almost manic laugh broke through the tension.

"Hell yeah, burn it to the ground!" Revy grinned, her eyes practically glowing with excitement. "Let's get this party started! This whole sneaking around thing ain't my style."

She twirled one of her pistols, the bloodstained barrel catching the dim light as she rolled her shoulders, ready for more action. Chaos suited her. It was in her bones, in her blood. 

A city in flames? 

A battlefield where the only rule was survival? 

That was where she thrived.

Guldrin exhaled, his own excitement tempered by discipline. "Yeah, yeah," he waved a hand, almost dismissively. "Do as you want, Alisa. If you think this is the best way to remove any suspicion, then do it." His gaze flicked to Revy, something knowing, something dark flashing in his eyes. "Big sis Revy, you no longer need to hold back. Eliminate all enemies. We already got everything we wanted."

Revy smirked at the words, a wolfish grin spreading across her face.

"But," Guldrin continued, his tone hardening, "don't harm the innocents. I'm sure as a merc you know how to identify the right targets."

Revy rolled her eyes but nodded, cracking her neck as she bounced on the balls of her feet like a predator about to pounce. "Yeah, yeah, kid, I know the drill. I ain't a total psychopath. Not completely,"

Alisa took a step forward, walking with smooth, purposeful movements. Without a hint of hesitation, she reached into her maid uniform and pulled out two white porcelain masks, handing one to Guldrin and the other to Revy.

"You made a well-placed reference to ashes earlier," she noted, tilting her head slightly. "I don't have one now, but I plan to make that a priority, to craft a set of masks, resembling the very concept of ash, for future concealment. For now, these will suffice."

Guldrin turned the mask over in his hands, his fingers tracing the cold, porcelain surface. It was smooth, featureless, an empty face, void of identity. 

It suited the moment perfectly. There was something poetic about it, something unnerving. 

A blank slate, just like the destruction they were about to leave behind. 

No witnesses. 

No evidence. 

No trace that they had ever been here. Only the ashes would remain, drifting through the night like whispers of a ghost story no one would believe.

Revy let out a low whistle, flipping her own mask over before pressing it to her face. "Creepy as hell," she muttered, though there was no mistaking the amusement in her voice. "I like it."

The decision had been made. No hesitation. No regrets. The fire would swallow everything, and by the time the city stirred awake, all that would be left was smoke and questions with no answers.

Guldrin placed the mask over his face, adjusting the straps until it sat perfectly. The weight of it wasn't much, but the significance of it settled deep in his chest.

The air around them thickened with anticipation, humming with the promise of violence. 

It was the kind of moment that only came before all hell broke loose, when time seemed to slow and every breath carried the weight of something inevitable.

Without a word, Guldrin unholstered his gun, the movement deliberate, controlled. His footfalls were silent as he moved through the dimly lit parking garage, his eyes scanning the area like a predator hunting in the dark. 

His fingers tightened around the grip.

A single shot rang out.

One.

The first body dropped, crumpling to the pavement without so much as a cry. A clean shot. Quick. Efficient.

Another breath. Another trigger pull.

Two.

A second man staggered backward, a look of confusion flashing across his face before he collapsed. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading like ink on concrete.

Three.

The last guard barely had time to react before a bullet found its home in his chest. 

He fell, clutching at the wound, his mouth moving like he wanted to say something, plead, maybe, but the words never came.

Alisa moved like a shadow, finishing her job with an almost surgical precision. Any loose ends, any possibility of evidence, were swiftly erased. Bodies were reduced to ash, weapons melted beyond recognition. The fire would take care of the rest.

Revy, on the other hand, was in her element. If Guldrin and Alisa were quiet storms, she was a full-blown hurricane.

A shot fired from her twin pistols, but not at a guard, at a random security light above. The shattering glass sent sparks raining down, illuminating the wild grin stretching across her face.

"Showtime, baby," she cackled.

The moment the gunfire echoed through the garage, panic erupted. 

Spectators who had come for the underground races and the thrill of the night scattered like roaches in the light. They were here to party, to watch modified cars scream down abandoned roads, not to get caught in a massacre. The moment the bullets started flying, they ran, shoving past each other in a desperate attempt to escape.

Cars abandoned, people left behind.

The guards, however, were a different story. They weren't here for fun. They were here to fight, and they were being paid well to do it.

It didn't help them.

One by one, Guldrin and Revy cut through them with ruthless precision. It was an art. A dance of death executed with unwavering confidence. Every bullet found its mark, every movement calculated to eliminate threats before they had a chance to retaliate.

Above them, tucked away in separate command centers, Shiro and Skye worked tirelessly, feeding them information through earpieces.

"Three guards coming up the east stairwell," Shiro's voice chimed in, calm and unwavering.

"Another two trying to flank from the back entrance," Skye added.

Guldrin didn't need to respond, he moved.

Revy was a whirlwind of destruction, weaving between gunfire with almost reckless abandon, her laughter echoing through the concrete structure. 

She thrived in chaos, reveled in it. Every kill was met with a wicked grin, every explosion only added fuel to her fire.

One of the guards, panicked and desperate, tried to take cover behind a car. Guldrin didn't hesitate. A single shot to the knee sent the man sprawling, his weapon clattering to the ground.

"No point hiding," Guldrin murmured, stepping closer.

The guard tried to crawl away, dragging himself across the pavement, but it was useless. Guldrin raised his gun, pressing the barrel against the man's temple.

The shot was quick, merciful.

More bodies fell. More blood painted the concrete. The garage was turning into a graveyard, and the scent of death clung to the air.

Alisa moved methodically, her efficiency almost eerie. While Revy relished in the chaos, Alisa remained detached, precise. Every move she made was calculated, every action serving a purpose. Anything that would link them was erased, she was the cleanup, "Oh how a maid's job is never done.

The last few guards made a final, desperate attempt to fight back. One charged at Guldrin, a knife glinting in his grip.

'A knife? Really? Knife to a gun fight… Stupid.'

Guldrin sidestepped, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting it sharply. A sickening crack echoed as the bone snapped, and before the man could scream, Guldrin silenced him with a clean shot between the eyes.

Revy whistled. "Damn, kid, that was brutal."

The garage was eerily silent now. The only sounds were the distant echoes of fleeing civilians and the crackling of fire as it began to spread.

Alisa turned to Guldrin, tilting her head slightly, her expression unreadable as always. "The area has been cleared. Shall I proceed with the final phase?"

Guldrin gave a single, firm nod. "Burn it down."

Alisa's hand lifted, fingers poised to unleash the destruction that would turn this place into a smoldering graveyard. But before she could lower it, Revy's voice cut through the tense silence, sharp with amusement but edged with caution.

"Might wanna chill on that, kid. Got two cars coming down the ramp," she said, tilting her chin toward the approaching headlights. She clicked her tongue, squinting slightly. "Don't think they're just here to say hi."

Guldrin shifted his gaze and, sure enough, two large vans rumbled down the ramp, their engines growling like beasts scenting blood. 

Reinforced, maybe armored. Either way, they weren't here by coincidence.

"Great," Guldrin muttered, exhaling sharply. "Guess we get to test out the spontaneously exploding grenades. Let's see how well they work against idiots who don't know when to run."

Revy grinned, flipping a pistol in her hand like a magician about to pull off a sleight-of-hand trick. "Oh, this I gotta see."

Guldrin reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of small, unassuming grenades. They weren't standard-issue. These were something special, spontaneously exploding grenades, a little experiment he had been fine-tuning. 

They were designed with grooved casings to stabilize faster after being thrown. Once settled, they became unpredictable little bombs, detonating the moment someone disturbed them. Move them? Boom. Step too close? Boom. Even a strong vibration from a running engine could be enough to set them off.

"Simple plan," Guldrin said as he started tossing the grenades in a precise grid across the concrete floor. "We throw a few, wait for them to settle. Either they drive right over them, or they stop, like any reasonable people with survival instincts would. If they stop, we throw more, keep them pinned. Once they move, boom. Problem solves itself."

Revy let out a low chuckle, nodding approvingly. "I like the way you think."

The grenades clattered against the pavement, rolling slightly before coming to a halt. A moment of stillness followed, tense and electric, as they stabilized.

Then, everything happened at once.

The first van didn't hesitate, it plowed forward, the driver either unaware of the grenades or too confident in their reinforced vehicle to care. Big mistake.

The moment the front tire nudged one of the grenades, the explosion rocked the parking garage like a thunderclap. The force sent the van lurching to the side, the front axle snapping as the blast tore through the undercarriage. 

Fire and shrapnel erupted from beneath, sending the vehicle into a violent skid.

The second van swerved wildly, its driver finally realizing the danger but too late to avoid it completely. The front wheel clipped another grenade, triggering another explosion. The blast wasn't as direct, but it was enough to send the vehicle fishtailing.

Revy let out a whoop of laughter. "Holy shit, that's beautiful!"

The first van had come to a dead stop, its front end crumpled, smoke pouring from the wreckage. The second van struggled to regain control, tires screeching against the pavement. The driver inside was panicked now, slamming on the brakes as if that would somehow keep them safe.

It wouldn't.

Guldrin was already moving. He sprinted forward, smooth and efficient, pulling out another grenade as he closed the distance. He tossed it with casual precision, watching it bounce once before settling just under the second van's driver-side door.

The driver inside must have seen it. There was a beat of hesitation, a flicker of indecision, stay or run? 

Is it a grenade? 

Will he die anyways?

Fight or flee?

Would he wait?

Then instinct kicked in. The door flew open.

Boom.

The explosion tore through the vehicle, sending the driver hurtling across the pavement in a flaming mess of flesh and fabric. The force flipped the van onto its side, its metal frame groaning under the sudden shift.

Revy whistled, looking between the wreckage and Guldrin. "Damn, kid. You really got a knack for making things explode in all the right ways."

Guldrin simply rolled his shoulders. "It is just science."

The dust began to settle, the acrid smell of burning fuel thick in the air.

Alisa stood amidst the carnage, her expression as impassive as ever, eyes reflecting the flickering glow of the destruction around them. 

She had seen bloodshed before. Death, chaos, and the stench of burning bodies were nothing new to her. The scene before her, twisted wreckage, flames licking at concrete, the acrid bite of gunpowder still thick in the air, was just another mission completed, another job executed with cold precision. 

She tilted her head slightly, as if taking a moment to process the wreckage before finally turning to Guldrin.

"Shall I proceed with the final phase now?" she asked, her tone neutral, almost eerily calm.

Guldrin didn't answer immediately. 

He took a slow, measured breath, surveying the remains of the battlefield. Smoke curled lazily from the crushed vans, their reinforced frames now nothing more than blackened husks. The fires from the explosions crackled hungrily, casting grotesque shadows over the bullet-riddled concrete. The bodies, those who had foolishly tried to stand in their way, lay twisted and charred, their weapons now useless extensions of their lifeless hands.

For a brief moment, he just looked. Not out of regret, nor hesitation, but to commit the scene to memory. A reminder of what happened when people made the wrong choices, the losers.

He exhaled, the muffled air through his mask making the sound almost mechanical. Then, with the same cool certainty he always carried, he gave the final order.

"Yeah," he said, adjusting the mask slightly as if solidifying his resolve. "Burn it down."

Alisa didn't need further instruction. With a single, deliberate motion, she lowered her hand, and the world around them erupted into flames.

The fire spread with alarming speed, leaping from surface to surface like a living, ravenous thing. 

Gasoline-fed infernos swallowed the remains of the battle, devouring everything in their path. 

The once sterile, gray parking structure became a hellish, glowing inferno, the heat so intense that the air itself shimmered. 

Metal groaned and twisted under the pressure, glass windows shattered from the sheer force of the rising temperatures, and thick plumes of black smoke billowed toward the ceiling, creating an artificial night within the concrete tomb.

Revy let out a low whistle as she watched the destruction unfold, flicking the safety on her pistol as if she was just finishing up a casual day at work. "Damn, now that's what I call a proper send-off. Ain't gonna be much left for anyone to sift through after this."

"Exactly the point," Guldrin replied, already turning toward the exit. "Let's get to the Chevelle. No sense sticking around and choking on smoke."

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he glanced around at the abandoned vehicles scattered throughout the garage, some hastily deserted, their owners having fled the moment the gunfire started. 

Others belonged to the unfortunate few who never made it out.

An idea sparked in his mind.

"Oh," he muttered to himself, "I could store a few of these."

Revy, already making her way toward the exit, turned with an arched brow. "What was that?"

Guldrin ignored her for the moment, walking over to a particularly pristine 1969 Dodge Charger. Midnight black with a glossy finish, it had clearly been someone's pride and joy, someone who probably hadn't anticipated leaving it behind in such a hurry.

He reached out and placed a hand on the hood.

There was no dramatic flash of light, no loud noise, just a subtle pull, like a vacuum sealing a deal. In an instant, the Charger disappeared, vanishing as if it had never been there.

'Awesome'

Guldrin smirked, opening his inventory menu in his HUD. Sure enough, there it was, tucked neatly away like an item in a video game.

"Nice," he murmured, pleased. His eyes skimmed the small text at the bottom of the screen. "Oh, it says… only 1/2 cars can fit. So I've got space for one more." He glanced around, weighing his options. "Sweet. I'm going to take this off-road truck as well."

He moved toward a rugged steel, lifted off-road truck, something built for endurance, for tearing through rough terrain without a second thought.

It had heavy-duty tires, reinforced suspension, and the kind of raw power that made even muscle cars look tame if the engine was anything to go by. With a casual tap, it too vanished into his inventory.

Revy watched the whole thing, arms crossed, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Alright, I know I just saw you pull a disappearing act on two whole-ass cars. You wanna explain that?"

Guldrin shrugged. "Inventory space. Two slots for vehicles. Might as well use them."

She blinked. Then, with a slow shake of her head, she let out a dry laugh. "You know what? Not even gonna question it. I've seen weirder shit."

Alisa, seemingly unfazed as always, simply stated, "Efficiency is key." What she didn't say was she nearly panicked when she saw her little master wielding space laws like it was nothing.

Revy snorted. "Yeah, sure. Efficiency. That's what we're calling it."

The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning fuel and scorched metal filling Guldrin's lungs even through the mask. 

The fire behind them had transformed into a living beast, roaring as it devoured everything in its path. Flames licked hungrily at the remaining support beams, weakening them further with every second that passed. The entire parking structure trembled under the strain, concrete groaning in protest as cracks spiderwebbed through its foundation. It wouldn't be long before the whole thing collapsed in on itself.

They had to move. Now.

Guldrin swung open the driver's side door of the Chevelle and dropped into the seat, the well-worn leather familiar beneath his fingertips. 

The scent of gasoline and aged upholstery wrapped around him like a second skin, grounding him in the present. 

No matter how many times he stepped into the chaos of life and death in the future, the Chevelle was a constant.

The moment he twisted the key in the ignition, the engine came to life with a deep, primal growl, vibrating through his entire body. 

It was a sound that demanded respect, a symphony of combustion and power that could silence lesser machines in its presence. 

The dashboard lights flickered on, casting a faint glow over his face as he tightened his grip on the wheel.

Before he could say anything, Alisa slipped into the back seat and Revy threw herself into the passenger seat, kicking her boots up onto the dashboard like she owned the damn thing. 

She tilted her head back against the seat, inhaling deeply, as if savoring the scent of destruction still clinging to the air.

"Man," she exhaled, shaking her head with a grin that practically radiated unhinged satisfaction. "I gotta say, tonight's been real fun. Explosions, gunfights, a little light arson, feels like a goddamn holiday."

Guldrin shot her a side glance as he reached for the gear shift, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Glad you're enjoying yourself," he said dryly, shifting into gear. The heavy clunk of the transmission locking into place sent a surge of anticipation through him. 

The Chevelle was ready to run.

His smirk faded slightly as his focus returned. "Now, we need to stake out the delivery point for Mom to arrive," he continued, voice steady despite the chaos unfolding behind them. "Once she does, we take out all of Braga's men and give my mother the scolding of a lifetime."

Revy let out a short bark of laughter. "Oh, this I gotta see."

Guldrin exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, well, most likely I'll be getting an unwarranted scolding of my own over saving her, killing, and blah, blah, blah," he added, rolling his eyes.

Revy shot him a smirk, shaking her head. "Oh yeah, definitely. That's just how moms work, man. You could take a bullet for her, and she'd still be pissed you got blood on your clothes. Be glad it isn't mama Unohana, she would kill you, or at least make you wish you were dead."

"Sounds about right," Guldrin muttered.

He didn't wait for the building behind them to finish collapsing. There was no time for a dramatic pause. He floored the gas pedal, and the Chevelle responded instantly, tires screeching against the pavement as they rocketed forward. 

The rear end fishtailed slightly before he corrected, gripping the wheel with expert control.

Just as they tore out of the parking garage, the upper levels finally gave way. The sound of concrete giving out under the immense heat and structural failure was deafening, a deep, thunderous BOOM that sent chunks of debris raining down behind them. 

Flames surged upward like a final, desperate grasp before the entire structure caved in on itself, sending up a choking cloud of dust and smoke.

The explosion illuminated the night sky, painting it in hues of orange and red. 

For a moment, the burning remnants of the garage reflected off the Chevelle's glossy black paint as they sped away, the vehicle cutting through the darkness like a shadow given form.

Revy glanced in the side mirror, watching the inferno shrink behind them. "Damn. Now that's a proper send-off," she remarked, clearly impressed.

Guldrin didn't respond immediately. His attention was laser-focused on the road ahead, his mind already cycling through the next steps. The delivery point wasn't far, and if his calculations were correct, they had just enough time to set up before Braga's men arrived.

Revy let out a satisfied sigh, stretching her arms over her head. "So, what's the plan when we get there? Sneak in all quiet-like, or do we go in guns blazing? Because, personally, I'm leaning toward the latter."

Guldrin's grip on the wheel tightened slightly, but his expression remained unreadable. "It depends," he admitted. "If we get there before them, we'll set up an ambush. Catch them off guard, take them out before they even know what's happening."

"And if we're late?"

A smirk returned to his face. "Then we improvise."

Revy grinned. "Now that's the kinda answer I like to hear."

The deep, guttural roar of the Chevelle's engine echoed through the deserted streets,

 as Guldrin pushed the car harder, faster, his hands steady on the wheel. The machine responded like a living beast, every shift of the gears met with an eager growl, every turn taken with precision that only came from a driver who truly knew his vehicle. This was control, about knowing the exact moment to accelerate, when to let the tires grip the asphalt, when to let the weight shift and carry them through a turn at breakneck velocity.

The city blurred past them, neon lights streaking across the polished black hood, the reflections painting momentary splashes of color against the dark metal before vanishing into the night. 

The sensation was intoxicating, the rush of wind against the windows, the low hum of power vibrating through the chassis, the seamless way the car became an extension of him. 

It was moments like this, in the dead of night with the streets empty and the engine singing beneath him, that Guldrin felt most at home.

Typical Toretto.

Even with everything that had happened tonight, the explosions, the gunfights, the near-constant threat of death lingering in the background, he felt oddly at peace behind the wheel. The road stretched ahead, endless and welcoming, and for now, it was just him, the machine, and the chase.

But he wasn't alone.

Revy lounged in the passenger seat, one leg kicked up against the dashboard in blatant disregard for safety, her usual smirk plastered across her face. One hand rested on her pistol, fingers idly tapping against the handle like she was itching for someone to try something.

"You know," she drawled, glancing at him, "I gotta say, you drive like you own the goddamn road."

Guldrin didn't take his eyes off the street ahead. "I do own the road. I am a Toretto."

Revy snorted. "Cocky little bastard."

"Confident," he corrected, tapping the gear shift. The Chevelle surged forward, the engine letting out another deep-throated growl, as if it agreed with him.

His earpiece crackled to life, and Shiro's voice came through, calm but focused.

"Letty's bugs are back online," she reported. "Looks like Campos wasn't lying, she's already across the border, moving fast. Straight shot through the desert, heading for the delivery point."

Guldrin processed that information quickly. That meant they were still ahead of the curve, still had time to set up. 

The plan was simple: get there first, find a good sniping position, and take Braga's men out before they even knew what hit them.

"How many?" he asked, keeping his voice even, though he already had a feeling about the answer.

Skye's voice chimed in this time, carrying a slight edge of tension. "More than expected. Convoy's rolling in, heavier than what was originally planned. We're looking at, at least two dozen, and that's just what we can confirm. Could be more waiting at the meet-up point."

Revy let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's a lot of bodies."

Guldrin didn't even flinch. "Not if we do this right."

Revy grinned. "Oh, I like that confidence. You thinking headshots all around?"

"Like shooting fish in a barrel," he replied.

Revy stretched with a satisfied groan, cracking her knuckles one by one, a lazy smirk playing on her lips. 

She tilted her head toward Guldrin, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You know," she drawled, her tone thick with satisfaction, "I really enjoy spending time with you. Explosions, high-speed chases, mass murder, this is exactly my kinda night."

Guldrin smirked but didn't bother with a response. Words weren't necessary; the roaring Chevelle was answer enough. 

He pressed the accelerator, feeling the machine lurch forward with raw power, responding instantly to his command. 

The tires gripped the asphalt, growling as they tore down the open road, the entire car feeling like an extension of his own body.

Before Revy could continue her one-woman commentary on how tonight was the best date night she'd ever had, a voice, flat, cool, and laced with irritation, cut through their moment.

"I feel like both of you have forgotten me," Alisa said, her voice as composed as ever, yet edged with something unmistakably sharp.

Guldrin's smirk widened. Ah, there it was. He could practically feel the mild but very real disapproval radiating off her. 

He stole a quick glance at the rearview mirror, catching sight of Alisa seated in the back, arms crossed, expression unreadable but unmistakably unimpressed.

Who would've guessed? The highly-trained combat maid didn't enjoy being left out.

Revy let out a snort. "Oh, please," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "I didn't forget about you, Killjoy. I just figured you were too busy sitting back there, looking mysterious and judging us."

Alisa remained silent, but the slight narrowing of her eyes said more than words ever could.

The drive stretched on, the city lights eventually giving way to the vast openness of the desert. The road turned rougher, the terrain growing uneven, but the Chevelle ate up the miles with ease. 

The hum of the engine, the occasional chatter from their comms, and the low rustling of weapons being checked and re-checked filled the otherwise silent car.

By the time they reached the designated delivery point, the landscape had shifted into something almost eerily still. It was open, a little too open. 

The area was marked by a few abandoned structures, scattered boulders, and the kind of emptiness that made your instincts scream that something was off.

And yet, not a soul was in sight.

Guldrin brought the Chevelle to a controlled stop, his eyes scanning their surroundings with the kind of cold calculation that only came from years of knowing that an ambush could be lurking around any corner.

"That's weird," Revy muttered, already palming her pistol. "Shouldn't we be knee-deep in assholes with guns by now?"

"Patience," Alisa murmured. "It is not always immediate."

"Yeah, yeah, you act like this is my first time."

Not wasting any time, Guldrin and Revy slipped out of the car, moving in sync as they scouted the area. 

The sand beneath their boots shifted quietly as they moved, eyes sharp, breaths steady. Despite Revy's earlier words, the absence of anyone at the drop was unsettling. Either they were early, or something was seriously wrong.

After a thorough sweep, they finally settled on a vantage point, a small hill that overlooked the entire meeting area. 

The elevation gave them the perfect angle, and from here, they could turn what was meant to be an exchange into a full-blown execution if needed.

It was needed.

Guldrin signaled Alisa to move in, and within minutes, the team was fully set up.

Revy, ever the weapons enthusiast, had already picked her tool of destruction, a modified AR-15 with an ACOG scope. She handled it with the kind of familiarity that only came from an almost romantic attachment to firearms.

Guldrin, on the other hand, had his M24 sniper rifle, the same one with the blue and black digital camo job, much to his personal displeasure. 

It wasn't that the rifle itself was bad, far from it, but the paint job? That was another matter entirely.

He had taken the liberty of wrapping the entire thing in a burlap sack, not only for camouflage but also to spare himself the humiliation of wielding something that looked like it belonged in an airsoft tournament rather than a battlefield.

Revy, however, had taken serious offense to this decision.

"How dare you?" she questioned, staring at his wrapped rifle with unmasked horror. "Do you know how much effort I put into that paint job? The artistry? The vision?"

Guldrin didn't look away from his scope. "Your vision made my rifle look like a child's Nerf gun."

Revy clutched her chest as if physically wounded. "That's slander! It's tactical as hell! It's badass! It makes a statement!"

"Yeah," Guldrin muttered dryly, adjusting his position. "The statement is: 'Shoot me first, I'm an idiot with a bright-ass gun.'"

Revy huffed but, seeing he wasn't going to budge, begrudgingly let it go, though not before dramatically whispering something about artistic betrayal under her breath.

They were positioned perfectly. The small hill gave them an unrestricted view of the area, and at seventy meters out, every potential enemy would be nothing more than a clean pull of the trigger away from being erased.

As a final precaution, Guldrin deployed the drones, sending them high into the air, their tiny forms barely visible against the night sky.

Shiro and Skye, stationed separately at their respective command centers, took control immediately, guiding the drones with precision, scanning every inch of the surrounding area.

"Airspace is clear," Shiro reported, her voice steady through the comms.

"Still nothing on ground movement," Skye added.

Now, they wait.

(Give me your POWER, Please, and Thank You! Leave reviews and comments, they motivate me to continue.)