“You bring the chaos.” Fuse winks. “But we like chaos. Keeps things interesting.”
“Speaking of chaos.” Brass walks over. “Torque’s briefed. The bird is prepped. We’re looking at an early departure.”
“You want to tell me about the target?” I ask.
“Standard black site.” Brass leans against the table. Without taking a breath, he looks to Cassie, “Five floors on a tactical line?”
“With people shooting at us, yes.”
“And you held on the whole way down?”
“I didn’t have much choice.”
“You had a choice. You could have panicked and let go. Most civilians would have.” He sets down his fork, studying her with new respect. “Brass is right. You’ve got spine.”
“I had good motivation.” Cassie glances at me. “Someone kept telling me to stay alive.”
“That someone has historically bad luck keeping people alive.” Fuse’s voice is light, but his words carry weight. “No offense, Halo, but your survival rate was shit before this run.”
“My survival rate is fine.”
“Your personal survival rate is fine. The people you protect tend to end up in witness protection or body bags.” He raises his hands at my expression. “I’m not criticizing. The missions youtake are the hard ones. The ones nobody else wants. But Cassie here beat the odds, and I’m trying to figure out why.”
“Maybe I’m lucky.” Cassie shrugs.
“Maybe.” Fuse doesn’t look convinced. “Or maybe you’re tougher than you look. I’ve seen trained operators crack under less pressure than you’ve handled in the past ten days.” He picks up his fork again, dismissing the topic with a shrug. “Either way, I’m glad you’re here. Halo needs someone to keep him human.”
“I’m human.”
“You’re a weapon that learned to walk and talk. There’s a difference.” Fuse grins to soften the words. “Brass and I have been trying to socialize you for years. Apparently, it just took the right woman.”
“Speaking of socialization,” Brass interjects, “Cassie needs range time before wheels up. You available to run her through the basics while we prep?”
“For the woman who pepper-sprayed Halo? Absolutely.” Fuse stands, gathering his plate. “Give me twenty to finish breakfast. We’ll have you hitting paper in no time.”
He heads for the kitchen, whistling something off-key.
Cassie watches him go. “He’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Darker. More serious.” She shakes her head. “He makes jokes about setting people on fire.”
“That’s how he copes.” I push eggs around my plate.
“We’ll see,” Brass says. He looks at Cassie. “If you’re staying behind, you won’t need full tactical clearance. But knowing how to handle a sidearm isn’t optional, given who we’re up against. I can run you through some drills before we lift off.”
“Fuse is already taking her.”
“Detailed work,” Brass corrects. “Fuse is good, but he rushes. I’ll make sure she knows how to clear a jam.”
“I can clear a jam,” Fuse protests.
“You clear a jam by throwing the gun and pulling a knife.” Brass’s tone is dry.
Everyone laughs. It’s easy. Familiar.
“All right.” Brass stands, collecting dishes. “I’m going to check on Ghost. You two finish eating, then head to the range. We’ve got a lot to cover.”
