He goes limp.
Banshee's wrestling another—knife fight, fast and vicious. The CK gets Banshee's arm, slices deep.
Banshee doesn't even flinch. Just gets his knife into the guy's throat. Blood sprays, hot and thick.
The third CK tries to run. Shiver shoots him in the back. He tumbles down the next flight of stairs, lands in a heap at the bottom.
Dead or dying. Don't care which.
"Second floor," I say into the radio. "Moving to target."
Phantom's voice crackles back: "Copy. We're pushing up from the first floor. Heavy resistance."
"Keep pushing. We're almost there."
When we get there, the second floor is chaos.
Phantom's group has breached from the front—gunfire echoing, glass shattering, brothers shouting.
Damon's group is fighting through from the back.
Copperhead Kings are scattered, disorganized, but fighting hard. Defending their territory. Their Prez.
A Copperhead King comes at me with a baseball bat—amateur hour.
I shoot him in the knee.
He drops, screaming.
Second shot to the chest and silence.
Another tries to ambush Shiver from a doorway.
Shiver sees him coming, spins, fires.
The Copperhead King’s head snaps back, brain matter painting the wall behind him.
We're pushing toward the end of the hallway where intel said Venom's office is.
Thunder appears from a side room, covered in blood that's definitely not his. "Phantom's clearing the main room. Venom's holed up in the office at the end. Four guards with him."
"How many Copperheads are left?"
"Maybe five still fighting. Rest are dead or ran."
Good. Fuck ‘em.
"Let's finish this."
We converge at the office door—me, Phantom, Shiver, Banshee, Thunder, Damon, Dixon. Seven against five.
The door's reinforced. Steel core, deadbolt.
Phantom tries the handle. Locked.
A voice from inside—Venom. "You want me? Come and get me, assholes!"
Phantom's expression shifts into something I’ve never seen before. "Breach it."
