The captain led from the front, rifle raised chest-high.
Twenty men followed in tight formation, boots crunching over the blackened gravel. The firelight from the courtyard flickered behind them, turning the cracked walls ahead into looming shapes.
Even before they crossed the threshold, the doubt had started to bleed through the ranks.
"Are we even equipped for this?" one muttered, voice low but not low enough.
"These guys were pros," another said, scanning the ruined mansion. "They really trashed this place."
The captain said nothing at first. His own jaw was locked, the light of his HUD reflecting across the lower half of his face. He frowned, eyes tracking the melted brass near the doorway, the black streaks on the walls that looked too wide for normal gunfire.
A few of the men tightened their grips on their rifles. Others kept glancing upward, toward the half-collapsed balcony above the entrance.
