"What? You want to attack their munitions depot? Are you insane?"
When Owen laid out his plan, both Sneydar and Shiloh stared at him like he was a madman. Only Herman's eyes sparkled with excitement—he now had near-blind faith in Omega.
"No, Father, let him speak. I think it's doable…"
Sneydar glanced at his son, still deeply skeptical.
"Do you know where the depot is located?"
"Yes."
"How many guards?"
"It's manned by his elite unit—about a battalion."
Owen nodded. A battalion meant around 500 troops. It was a significant force, but they weren't planning to take them head-on. Their goal was to destroy the depot, not engage in open combat. This mission would be all about infiltration.
He could tell what the others were thinking just by looking at their faces. In contrast, Omega's members were calm and relaxed. Fred was even cracking jokes until Bayev shut him up by clamping a hand over his mouth, muffling him with a "mmmph."
Owen briefly outlined his plan. Sneydar and Shiloh exchanged glances, their expressions filled with disbelief. But Owen's proposal was just too tempting. He wasn't just planning to sabotage a munitions depot—that was merely step one. What followed was a chain of operations so bold it seemed absurd. But if he could pull it off, it would drastically shift the entire balance in Bozmiya. Even though the two leaders found it hard to believe, they shut their mouths. Maybe… maybe these people really could do it.
…
Night fell. In winter, the moonlight was especially cold and clear. The snow on the ground glowed faintly under its shine.
In the shadows where moonlight didn't reach, soft rustling sounds emerged. Omega moved quickly along the forest's edge in a reconnaissance formation. A few dozen meters behind them, the guerrillas followed.
Once again, Herman served as their guide. Ever since learning of Owen's plan to raid the munitions depot, he'd been overly excited. Not far ahead lay their target—unmistakably visible even in the darkness.
The team halted. Herman turned and pointed at the lights ahead. He'd even gotten a bit flashy tonight, borrowing some camo paint from Omega and slathering his face like a circus clown.
"Tell your people to stay hidden. Don't move until I give the signal," Owen instructed Sneydar, who nodded. Though he was the guerrilla leader, he knew full well who the real boss was tonight. Owen's plan, while audacious, was all upside for them.
This raid would directly benefit the guerrillas. But what came after… that would impact all of Bozmiya. As for tonight, the guerrillas weren't here to fight—they were here to carry stuff. If the operation failed, their numbers wouldn't make any difference against 500 soldiers.
"Bullseye and Diviner, find good positions. The rest, follow me."
Owen spoke through the radio, then led the rest of the team toward the base. Swagg and Fred peeled off to find sniper nests.
The depot's guards weren't particularly vigilant, though there were quite a few sentries. By the time Owen's group reached the barbed-wire fence, Swagg's "in position" signal came through on the radio.
A searchlight swept past. Fred's voice buzzed in their ears: "You've got 15 seconds. 14… 13… 12…"
Bayev pulled out his wire cutters and snipped a clean gap in the fence. Ghost was the first through—fluid and practiced.
Inside, Ghost immediately took a defensive posture. One by one, the others followed. They quickly advanced to a low trench and lay flat. Fred's countdown reached zero. The searchlight swept past again, but the re-positioned fence looked untouched. No alarm. The beam passed just like before.
The depot layout was simple: two large parallel warehouses enclosed by a barbed-wire fence, each inner corner featuring a watchtower with a sweeping spotlight.
The guerrillas only knew the depot's location—not what was inside. That part was up to Omega.
Owen made a hand signal, splitting the squad in two. He and Bayev would check the left warehouse. Ghost and Heartbeat would check the right.
In the darkness, a patrolling soldier strolled by. He reached a corner and decided to sneak a smoke break. Striking a lighter, the flame briefly illuminated his face—then vanished. A red dot flickered.
He blew out a puff of smoke just as a hand clamped over his mouth and yanked him back. A sickening, wet shlick followed. The red dot vanished.
Owen hid the body, glancing at the cigarette butts littering the ground. He'd been careless—this corner was clearly a common smoke spot for the guards. He'd almost been spotted.
In the cold air, blood scent didn't spread far—it would be hard to notice unless someone was very close.
Nearing the warehouse, Owen and Bayev moved along the shadowed side wall. As they rounded a corner, two guards stood ahead. Moonlight illuminated them clearly. No one else was nearby.
The guards wore uniforms and wool balaclavas. The light angle made it impossible for Owen's team to sneak up—their shadows would give them away.
Owen signaled. Both raised their AK-12s and aimed at the back of the guards' heads—just in case they were wearing body armor.
"One… two… three…"
With each count, Owen folded down a finger. On three, they fired. Two muffled pfft sounds. Two bodies dropped.
Owen and Bayev slung their rifles, dragged the bodies away, and hid them in the shadows. Then they resumed the search, weapons up.
From the sniper nest, Fred watched both teams through night vision binoculars. Owen's side was progressing smoothly. So was Ghost's.
In the scope, Ghost had his gun trained on a sentry twenty meters away, back turned. Heartbeat, dagger in hand, crept up on another a few steps away.
It was clear—Ghost would keep things quiet. If Heartbeat made noise, Ghost would take the shot.
Ghost, moving silently with a matte black military knife, crept forward. Then he suddenly lunged and drove the blade into the man's lower back.
The sentry never saw it coming. The stab to his kidney caused instant unconsciousness. Heartbeat dragged him into the shadows, then delivered a second, clean strike to the chest. Typically, they didn't slit throats—too much blood, too strong a scent.
The sentry went down silently. Ghost's target never noticed.
But then, a door swung open. A soldier stepped out, breath steaming, muttering to himself. He froze—he'd seen Ghost and Heartbeat.
Just as he reacted, his body jerked and collapsed. Blood slowly spread across his chest.
"Don't thank me all at once!"
Swagg's smug voice crackled in their ears. Ghost rolled his eyes—this guy had clearly been corrupted by Diviner's ego.
It was an unexpected encounter—but thankfully, Swagg had come through.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
For every 50 Power Stones, one extra chapter will be released on Saturday.