The convoy rolled to a stop under the cover of darkness, its engines falling silent one by one. In the distance, the Midlands Confederacy depot loomed against the horizon, its floodlights slicing through the night like searchlights in a prison camp. The perimeter was lined with high fences topped with razor wire, and sentries moved in regular patterns along the walkways.
World-Shaman stepped out of the vehicle, shivering as the cold bit through his jacket. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a lazy flick of his fingers. The tiny flame danced unnaturally for a moment before settling into a steady glow.
"You're going to get us spotted," Dark Ant growled, yanking the cigarette from his hand and crushing it underfoot.
World-Shaman smirked. "Relax. They won't see me."
"Maybe not," Ant muttered, checking the charge on one of his EMP devices, "but they'll hear you."
Swift Angel emerged from the lead vehicle, his wings unfurling slightly as he surveyed the depot. He motioned for the team to gather, his voice low and steady. "Shadowleaf, what's the status?"
The archer appeared from the darkness like a ghost, her movements silent and deliberate. "Perimeter's tight," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Two dozen guards outside and maybe more inside. Drones patrolling every two minutes. Entry's going to be messy unless someone shuts those down."
"All yours," Swift Angel said, nodding to Dark Ant.
"Piece of cake," Ant replied, already moving toward the tree line.
"Fantasia," Swift Angel continued, "you're with me. We'll take out the sentries on the south side and create a distraction. Shadowleaf, find a sniper perch and cover us. Shaman—"
"I know, I know," World-Shaman interrupted, raising his hands. "Damage control. Try not to kill anyone. Got it."
Swift Angel frowned but let it go. "Let's move."
Dark Ant slipped through the shadows, his armour blending seamlessly with the night. He moved with the precision of a machine, his eyes scanning for threats and his mind calculating every step. The first drone appeared overhead, its spotlight sweeping the ground like a predator's gaze.
He crouched behind a rusted generator, pulling an EMP grenade from his belt. With a practised motion, he armed the device and lobbed it into the air. The drone's hum turned into a sputtering whine as it plummeted to the ground, its circuits fried.
"One down," he muttered into his comms.
"Make it quick," Shadowleaf whispered. "I've got eyes on a sentry heading your way."
Dark Ant didn't reply. He was already moving, disabling another drone and planting devices near the depot's power grid. The area around him crackled faintly as the EMP field expanded, turning the floodlights into nothing but faint flickers.
On the south side, Swift Angel and Fantasia moved in tandem, their approach swift and deliberate. A guard turned the corner, his rifle raised, but Fantasia was faster. Her hand glowed with alien energy as she unleashed a pulse that sent him sprawling to the ground, unconscious.
"You're getting sloppy," she said, glancing at Swift Angel.
"I'm conserving energy," he replied, his voice clipped.
"Call it what you want." Fantasia smirked, but her tone lacked its usual edge.
From her perch atop a ruined tower, Shadowleaf watched the chaos unfold through the scope of her bow. She drew an arrow, its tip shimmering faintly with shadow magic, and released it with a quiet thwip. The arrow struck its target—a sentry on the upper walkway—sending him crumpling silently to the ground.
"North side clear," she reported, nocking another arrow.
"Good work," Swift Angel replied. "Shaman, you're up."
World-Shaman stood in the open air, cigarette smoke curling around him as he stretched his arms. "All right," he muttered to himself. "Time to be useful."
He focused on the razor wire fence ahead, the world around it shimmering like heat waves on a summer road. With a flick of his wrist, the fence folded inward, the metal melting into itself like liquid.
"Neat trick," Fantasia remarked as she stepped through the gap.
"Don't get used to it," Shaman replied. His voice was light, but his hands trembled. Bending reality always came at a cost.
Inside, the depot was a maze of shipping containers and makeshift barricades. The team moved quickly, taking down guards and avoiding detection where possible.
But then, the alarm sounded.
The depot erupted into chaos as guards flooded the area, their shouts mixing with the blare of the alarm. Swift Angel launched into the air, his wings slicing through the dark as he engaged the first wave of reinforcements. Fantasia followed, her energy blasts lighting up the night.
Shadowleaf moved like a shadow, her arrows finding targets with deadly precision. Dark Ant joined her, his batons crackling with electricity as he disabled a group of guards in seconds.
World-Shaman staggered as the ground beneath him shifted. His head throbbed, the effort of bending reality taking its toll. He clenched his fists, forcing the world to comply as he created barriers to protect the team.
"Focus, Shaman!" Swift Angel shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos.
"I'm trying!" Shaman snapped, sweat dripping down his face.
As the battle raged, the team fought their way to the main storage facility. Inside, rows of crates marked with the Confederacy's emblem lined the walls.
"This is it," Swift Angel said, his voice grim.
Fantasia scanned the room. "So where's the water?"
Before anyone could answer, the doors slammed shut, and a new figure emerged—a hulking man clad in riot armour, his presence radiating authority.
"You've got guts," the man growled, his voice echoing through the chamber. "But this is where it ends."