Check on Thomas first.

Thomas was breathing steadily, but still ****. He'd have a hell of a concussion, and this would put him out of action as the previous day's wound had not. Mark checked the shorter woman's pulse, but felt nothing. He had known it would be so.

He jogged back to where he had split from Vane and Barkley, then followed their path carefully. Both men were lying prone, but breathing. Two women lay on the floor as well; Mark immediately straightened when he felt the second. Someone else had to be down here.

She wasted no time, either; as soon as he came to wariness, she charged at him. Mark braced his feet and tapped her pipe out of line with his baton, then slapped the flat of his machete on side of her head with all the **** he could muster. It rocked her and she swayed, giving him enough time to slip in and drop her in a heap with an elbow shot to the jaw. That was probably all of them. Any more and they'd have put more on his first path.

He tied up the surviving women and roused his comrades. They were all alive, though Thomas was having trouble walking straight. Mark sent him back to the command post with Vane to watch him, and then he and Barkley began to drag the women out of the basement after sweeping the rest of it. Light shone well on the tall brunette that had given him such a fight: she had magnificent curves, and Mark knew he had found his second prize. Any woman that could take down Thomas deserved a look, and this one didn't need a second. The three that had taken down Vane and Barkley were worth looking at too. Barkley said they had each taken down one, but his had clocked Vane while he was dropping her partner, and the third woman had gotten him unaware. They were two tough looking brunettes, close enough in appearance to be sisters, and the slender blonde, basement grit rubbed in her hair to hide it, that had been the last one dropped. Mark winced as they dragged up the body of the woman he'd killed. A painfully lovely young woman, her face in **** seemed so peaceful it was hard to see her as a former opponent. She hadn't been very experienced, either; he'd gotten her too easily. She couldn't have been eighteen years old. Blood dripped from her chest onto the stairs as they carried her up.

They brought their captives back to the command zone with the help of a unit posted near the entrance of the building, and then Mark and Barkley headed back in to help another unit clear the building. Vane stayed with Thomas. After a much less eventful remainder of the rotation, he returned to the stockade to claim his day's rewards.