Do things my way.

“Alright… Half-Gob, take the deep left side with Softspot. Seven’s, you’re with me, and Fifth-Finger, if any of them are hit, take their spot. Until then, ensure we’re not outflanked or no one escapes.”

“Escapes?” He asks.

“Yeah, we’re killing everyone in there on my mark. Unless they’re Girl Scouts preparing door to door to sell goodies.”

“They can’t be that experience. No sentry out here,” Half-Gob observes, grabbing Softspot as she sheds off a canteen from her webbing. “Could just be idiots, too.”

Until it’s confirmed, there’s no reason to underestimate whoever your opponents are. And what you’re aware of is the stink of ambush lingering in their air. “This goes without saying, but everyone, keep yourselves frosty. My mark is the first shot. When I shoot, you shoot. Let's return to the circus as we came and not as saints," no one says anything, so you they must all agree.

Like snakes emerging from a hole, you slide down the sands of the desert and advance in silence. You’re in the lead, rapidly closing the distance as the area of interest flickers with an orange glow, looking like there’s a fire starting inside. The introduction to the fire starting inside doesn’t stir any new thoughts or concepts inside your head, but the grip on your weapon tightens slightly as your stomach shifts. You had taken a moment to retrofit your carrier to manage your MPL magazines and personal gear. All these factors sharpened your memory for some reason, and everything in your person lost weight.

“Half-Gob,” you slow as you hear chatter coming from within. “Cut that distance.”

“Softspot,” she whispers harshly. “Keep close.”

Half-Gob, joined by Softspot, breaks from you and Sevens, going fast to the left side of the cave’s mouth. Like a phantom with a physical form, Half-Gob sprints with Softspot following with much less grace behind her.

She’s settled in behind a rock formation with her M4-style carbine fixed forward. Softspot is slower, but you’re shouldering your stock and fixing your barrel down range, so you don’t split your attention. What’s downrange? Three dudes in regular clothes, looking only vaguely aware of the Reaper, have come in to visit.

Your mind renders that situation quickly; your finger slips down into the trigger and starts to squeeze before you even piece together that these are raider-types, probably uninvolved in any activities that could put the circus-goers and athletes any near danger.

The first shot comes from you, but it’s rapid and followed. Your burst is tight and contained to your targets chest, he slumps back and ceases to move. Half-Gob and Softspot execute the same procedure on your further left, but Softspot botches his kill. Half-Gob adjusts only slightly as she finishes the task.

You draw a breath and wait a few minutes, listening intently as you scan the lonesome fire in the cave's center. They probably weren’t a death team to come in; all their weapons were stacked along the wall. Sevens didn’t even fire a shot, so you send him forward to check the rest of the emplacement. Softspot shifts his weight with Half-Gob as silence reigns supreme. Aside from the distant crack and snap of the fire, not even the breeze cuts in the silence.

Sevens check the corners and turn around to face you. “That was it. Just these 3.”

“Fifth-Finger,” you’re on the walkie-talkie. “We’re doing a deeper sweep. Check-in every 2 minutes and watch your flanks. There’s no telling if our little kick-off gathered the attention of anyone else.”

“I read it,” Fifth-Finger replies.

“Scarlet, I’m pretty sure we smoked a detached group of raiders. Nothing amazing, you know?”

Scarlet is quick in her response. “Well, isn’t that swell? Bury them and mark the spots, return when you’re done, but be weary… could always be more.”

You regard the three dead and single Softspot to them. Without being told to, Half-Gob helps, and in less than 5 minutes, their bodies are stripped of anything useful, and the put-together team is making the trek back to the circus grounds. Of course, this is executed with routine glances behind your shoulders.

Once reunited with Scarlet, she takes you and disperses everyone else to double the routine searches. She’s about to leave but pauses with a hard stop. “Maybe I should have you talk to Jennifer… What do you think?”