King nods. "Agreed. They were supposed to be waiting for us." He speaks into a little mouthpiece, "Got us covered?"
Quickshot's voice responds, "Clear view. Nothing comes in or out without us getting a bead on it." If Quickshot can't hit something, then nothing can, but adrenaline's got my senses on high alert.
Eagle-eye takes a step forwards, drops his hand onto the gun at his waist and yells in his booming voice, "Come the fuck out and meet us like men. None of this hiding around bullshit!"
There's a moment of silence, and then it’s broken by the sound of metal screaming as it grinds against metal. The huge garage door at the front of the factory slowly opens, the rusty machinery protesting with every turn. I don't know what the fuck is up with all the drama, but Kozlov should be working in a fucking theater.
The inside of the factory is a black hole in the wall. With the sun on the other side and no lights on inside, it's impossible to fucking tell what's going on.
"At least five people moving around, and some kind of vehicle," Quickshot reports. His sniper scope has dark vision. Maybe we should get some of that for the rest of us, too.
"We know you're in there," Eagle-eye yells. "Enough with the bullshit."
Five shapes materialize, walking towards us with slow, measured steps. The only thing missing is whistling music and tumbleweeds rolling by. Sounds of spurs, maybe. Four of them are carrying assault rifles, but the guy in the middle looks unarmed. He steps out in front of the others. No idea who he is, but it sure as hell isn't Kozlov.
"What the fuck is this? Where is he? We got you fuckers covered from all angles. Make one wrong move, and this factory turns into a fucking morgue."
"Mr. Kozlov's busy." The guy's voice is raspy and ragged, like he got his throat cut once, and it didn't quite do the trick. "He sent me to negotiate in his place. I'm Dimitry, his first."
I swear, Kozlov based his whole operation off a movie he watched once. Next I'm expecting vampire cowls and smoke effects. I glance over at Piston, who returns it with a shrug. Drama or not, machine guns are no fucking joke.
"I'm just gonna ignore the fucking disrespect of sending a stooge to do his negotiations here for a moment. What's his offer? Anything less than staying the fuck out of the Ditch is a no go. We don't have to own it, and we don't fucking need it, but we're not letting him set up camp just outside our border." Eagle-eyecrosses his big arms over his barrel chest. His thick mustache bristles.
"That's going to limit our expansion. We need at least half of Detch. The other half should be more than enough buffer for you. Who bothers the mighty Screaming Eagles anyway?" He shrugs. "No one dares."
King scowls at Dimitry, looking as skeptical as I feel. "Funny, this feels like someone daring. I don't fucking buy it."
"He's had time to calm down. To think. There's nothing to be gained by a war between our organizations. Why don't we just split the pot and we both profit?"
I squint into the darkness behind Dimitry, trying to see what's going on beyond the big garage door. Quickshot said some kinda vehicle. There's something looming in the shadows, and I don't think it's just someone's pickup truck. I know it’s a trick, but what? Two more guys with assault rifles come out the door and take up positions on either side.
"Ballsy," Eagle-eye rasps. "Considering that we hold all the cards. What’s in it for us? The Ditch is a buffer zone. We don’t own it or profit off it other than as a safety net. Here’s my counteroffer. You stay out of it, and we're not gonna hunt you down."
"That's unreasonable," Dimitry snarls. "That's no compromise. Just a threat."
Something moves on the roof.
Eagle-eye shrugs. "You didn't have to come piss on our doorstep. That was your?—"
"Down!" I throw myself at Eagle-eye, just as the crack of two gunshots fill the air, one right after the other. Something passes by with a high-pitched whine, but doesn't hit anyone. There's a scream, but it comes from the roof, as a man dressed in black is knocked back by the force of Quickshot's bullet. He bounces off the wall he used for support and falls over the edge.
The body hits the ground like a wet rag, his sniper rifle landing next to him with a loud rattle.
"What offer was he going to make?" Zero asks calmly, but his piece is in his hand pointed right at Dimitry's head. "Pretty sure there was no compromise there."
"Should've known Kozlov was too much of a fucking coward to even show up to his own ambush," Eagle-eye scoffs. "Or maybe he knew, and you're just a sacrifice."
I don't see this Dimitry guy volunteering as a sacrifice. Kozlov can't possibly have that kind of loyalty among his men. He'd need something way bigger than this.
Something mechanical roars to life inside the garage.
"The fuck?" Piston peers at the garage door.
Whatever it is, the engine sounds like it's running on nails and broken glass. Metal squeals and the thick scent of motor oil fills the air.
"Fuck, get outta there!" Quickshot's voice is loud enough through the receiver that we all hear it.
The vehicle that comes out of the factory is a monstrosity. Body of a pickup truck, tank treads, armor plates welded to it with narrow cracks to see and shoot through, sprouting barrels likea fucking hedgehog. And a mounted machine gun on top that swivels as the guy manning it points it in our direction.
