King backhands him, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot. "Numbers. Now."
Tommy works his jaw, glaring up at King with naked hatred.
"Thirty, maybe forty by now. More coming. Vulture’s been waiting a long time to meet you again, old man. Five years planning exactly how he's going to make you suffer before you die."
King's expression doesn't change, but I know him well enough to see the subtle tightening around his eyes. The only indication that Tommy's words have registered at all.
The intercom crackles to life. Luna's voice, tense but controlled: "King. Vulture confirmed on premises. East entrance, moving toward the chapel with four Eagles. They're coming for Tommy."
I move to a defensive position near the door while Tank takes up station at the window, peering through a gap in the blinds.
"They're coming up the east corridor," he confirms. "Five of them, moving in formation. Vulture in the lead."
Beast finishes wrapping his arm and checks his shotgun. "How do you want to play this?"
King considers for a moment. "Let them come. We've got the position, the numbers. When they breach, we take them all. End this tonight."
The radio on King's belt crackles. Shadow's voice comes through: "King, Eagles retreating from west and south entrances. Looks like they're consolidating, moving toward your position."
"Copy that," King responds. "Hold your positions. Don't pursue. Let them come to us."
Tommy laughs from his chair, the sound edged with hysteria. "You hear that? They're not retreating. They're repositioning. Surrounding you. Vulture's going to burn this place to the ground with all of you in it."
I ignore him, focusing on the approaching threat. Through the gap in the blinds, I can see movement at the end of the corridor. Shadows advancing cautiously, weapons at the ready.
"Incoming," Tank warns. "Thirty seconds."
King moves to a position behind the large oak table that dominates the chapel, providing good cover while maintaining line of sight to the door. "Remember," he says, "Shoot on sight."
The seconds stretch like hours as we wait, weapons trained on the door, each of us locked in position. Even Tommy has fallen silent.
A voice calls from the corridor, deep and commanding: "King! I know you're in there. Send him out, and maybe, just maybe, I let one or two of you live."
Vulture. His voice sends a chill down my spine. Not from fear, but from the cold, clinical hatred it contains. This is a man who's nurtured his vengeance like a precious plant, watering it with rage, pruning it with fantasies of retribution.
King doesn't respond, just shifts his position slightly, getting a better angle on the door.
"No answer?" Vulture calls. "That's fine. We'll do this the hard way."
Gunfire erupts against the door, bullets splintering wood but not penetrating the reinforced core. They're trying to weaken the hinges, create a breach point.
"On my mark," King says quietly. "Three... two... one..."
The doors burst inward, blown off their hinges by what must be a small explosive charge. Smoke billows into the room, and through it come the Eagles, weapons blazing.
Everything slows down, the way it always does in combat. I see each figure as they enter. First two foot soldiers, then a taller man who can only be Vulture, followed by two more Eagles covering their rear.
Our response is immediate and coordinated. Beast's shotgun roars, catching the first Eagle in the chest and throwing him backward into his companions. Tank and I open fire simultaneously, dropping the second Eagle before he can get off more than a single wild shot.
Vulture dives behind an overturned table, returning fire with precise, controlled bursts that force King to duck for cover. The two remaining Eagles fan out, trying to flank us.
I focus on the one moving toward my position, tracking him through the smoke. He fires, the bullet whizzing past my ear close enough that I feel its heat. My return shot catches him in the shoulder, spinning him but not dropping him. He staggers, brings his weapon back up. I fire again. This time he falls and doesn't move.
Beast has engaged the other Eagle, the two of them locked in close-quarters combat. Beast's size gives him the advantage, and within seconds, he has the Eagle pinned, delivering a knockout blow that leaves the man limp on the floor.
Through it all, Tommy remains tied to his chair, unable to move but twisting his head to follow the action, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement.
"Vulture!" he shouts. "Here! I'm here!"
