“No doubt,” he agreed. His jaw flexed. These men weren’t lazy. They were green. Raw. And raw got people killed.
“Stryker, what’s your assessment from the medical checkpoint?” His voice stayed steady, professional, but the frustration knotted tight beneath his ribs.
“They’re treating casualty evacuation like a fucking afterthought.” Stryker’s reply came from thesupposed secure triage point. Even through comms, Talon could hear the scrape of movement—Stryker pacing, restless. “No clearing procedures, no perimeter. If this were real, half these guys would be gone before I even popped my bag open to help.”
Through his scope, Talon tracked the SRF unit leader, Captain Oumarou. The man’s stance was solid, commands sharp as he tried to corral his men, but the soldiers were a patchwork of ex-military, undertrained police, and kids who’d signed on for steady pay. The skill gap was as deep as the Grand Canyon and probably twice as fucking wide.
“Wolf, eyes on the high ground,” Talon ordered, shifting to scan the terrain.
“Copy.” Wolf’s voice was low, clipped, the faintest rustle of movement as he repositioned from a manufactured observation point that mimicked the jagged rock ridges along the real convoy route. “I see multiple blind spots in formation. I count six where hostile forces could set an ambush without detection. They’re not reading the terrain, boss.”
Talon’s gut tightened. Six ambush points meant six ways to bury men before they even reached the airstrip.
“Hammer, rear guard status?”
“They’re a joke,” Hammer came back withouthesitation. He was shadowing the convoy’s tail, and Talon could almost see his unimpressed scowl. “No rear security, no alternating overwatch. If somebody wanted to cut off their retreat, it’d be easier than taking candy from a baby.”
The exercise limped to its miserable conclusion twenty minutes later, the SRF men clapping each other on the back as though they hadn’t just been turned into bullet-riddled confetti a dozen times over.
Talon pulled his headset off, rolling his shoulders to work out the knot that always formed when he watched people try very hard to fail in creative new ways. The air was heavy with dust, the metallic tang of overheated gear, and the faint, mocking scent of rain on the far-off horizon.
He strode into the loose knot of men, raising his voice over the sound of congratulatory backslaps.
“Good news. You’ve officially set the bar so low you can trip over it on the way to your next failure. Bravo. Really. If there were an Olympic sport for creative ways to die in under ten minutes, you’d all be wearing gold medals right now.”
“Ouch.” Dude laughed.
“Oh fuck.” Stryker also tried to stop laughing.
“Skipper is going to pull the rip cord,” Jug said.
A few nervous chuckles from the men in front of him vanished.
Talon growled, “That wasn’t a training exercise. That was a group suicide, and thank you for that. Group deaths mean more paperwork for me.” Talon took off his garrison cap and wiped the sweat off his forehead as he spat, “I’ve seen better coordination by a group of kindergarteners playing tag. For those of you who don’t know what kindergarteners are, think four- and five-year-old children. At least the kids don’t leave their teammates bleeding out in the sandbox. You did.”
He started pacing slowly, eyes moving over the group.
“Let’s recap the highlights, shall we? Comms discipline was nonexistent. I could hear every one of you narrating your heroic deaths in real time.
“Breach team, you did manage to get through the entry. Congratulations. Shame you forgot to check your flanks and walked into what we in the business callcertain death. Casualty extraction? Oh, right. You didn’t do any. But don’t worry, you’re going to die fast enough. You won’t have to be concerned.”
He stopped pacing, hands settling on his hips.
“You’re supposed to be ateam. Instead, I got a front-row seat to twelve different solo actors, and allof them die. Out there, lone wolves don’t survive to the end of the movie. They die so fast they don’t even get their names added to the credits. And right now? None of you would survive past the first scene.”
Talon’s expression flattened, the sarcasm taking on a harder edge.
“You want to strut around as a quick reaction force? Then stop reacting like a drunken bachelorette party trying to find their way out of an escape room. Move faster. Think smarter. Worktogether.”
He stepped back, letting his gaze sweep over them.
“Every single mistake you made today, you’re going to know it, own it, and have a fix ready before the next drill. Because next time? I expect better. Not for me. For you. Because when it’s real, there’s no headset, no safe word, and no reset button. My team isn’t going to die when you respond.You will. My job is to educate you to stay alive. You're going to be educated if I have to shove the lessons down your throat.”
He let the silence stretch a long, uncomfortable beat before delivering the final line with a wry grin.
“You want to live through a real fight? Start training.”
One of the men sneered at him, and Talon walked straight up to him. His voice was low, but everyone could hear him. “I don’t give a flying fuck if you hate me. Hate keeps you sharp. Hate keeps you focused.” He turned away from the man and addressed the rest of them. “People who stayalivecan hate me for a lifetime. Now, hydrate, rearm, and remember, complacency kills. And you boys aretoo fuckingcomfortable.”
