“God bless you too,” he said.
“Heads-up, gentlemen,” Spectre said in their comms. “Here comes their reinforcements.”
During the flight, Intel had prepped them for The Brotherhood’s response to the attack. The incoming surge was estimated at twenty-five to thirty men, heavily armed but untrained.
“Orders stand.” Corvo’s voice was cold and void of compassion. “Total elimination.”
Gage listened to the loud trucks barreling toward them, less than a quarter mile out.
“Let’s show these motherfuckers what true brotherhood looks like,” Scar said in their comms.
Gage never thought he’d smile in the midst of a war zone…but he did.
White Ravens
Scar
They reset and took up their secondary point positions near the center of the small village.
Scar could see Gage now, and it gave him a rush of steadiness, as he hovered protectively in front of the hostages.
Men leapt from the vehicles before they even came to a full stop.
They had their rifles raised, fingers twitching near the triggers.
They didn’t do a perimeter sweep, and no one was coordinating spacing. Their strategy was just uncertainty and adrenaline.
Fuckin’ amateurs.
Scar stayed on post, ten yards from the hostages’ as their second line of defense. Gage was their last.
He also kept an eye on his brothers, though he knew they wouldn’t need his help.
Valor cleared the tree line, appearing as if the ground itself rose up to fight. Zorion’s arrows hissed through humid air, dropping two men who’d taken aim at his partner.
Another arrow burrowed into the ground and released a flash bang that blinded the remaining shooter long enough forValor to cross and drop him with one vicious slash across his throat with his three-inch attached claws.
Several guards turned in Valor’s direction and began raining down suppression fire, making his dive for cover.
An arrow shot into the side of the jeep detonated a magnetic surge strong enough to rip the rifles from the guard’s hands and slam them against the metal shell.
Stunned and unarmed, the cowards tried to run, but they didn’t get far.
The Browns, camouflaged by the church’s wooden structure, emerged when the guards tried to use it for cover.
Mirage’s blades flew in pairs and groups of four, while Grace fired his Desert Eagles in the opposite direction.
Men barked ineffective orders, cursed, and scattered, but none would escape.
The church’s doors were pushed open, and Ex and Meridian walked out, the fog bleeding backward as they crossed the unpaved road.
The men saw them, panicked, and stumbled. Two of them drew their handguns and fired wildly.
Meridian dropped to a knee and threw up one side of his coat in a veil of black armor. Ex spun at the same time and crowded into Meridian’s chest, aligning their bodies like interlocking puzzle pieces.
Their faces were inches apart, eye to eye. Without looking away from his partner, Ex drew his .45, raised his arm along the seam of Meridian’s coat, and fired six shots.
The three guards each took two hits center mass.
