Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer

It’s raining again. Mike looks up at the dirty brown sky and frowns at an errant childhood memory where rainclouds were grey.
His headware comms activate.
“Papa Ten, Papa Ten, you watchin’ the skies again?”
Mike grins at Samantha’s way of telling him she’s close. Without deploying traceable amounts of countermeasures, he’ll still not see her until she wants to be seen.
“Papa Ten’s been busy, Raven Four. How was your downtime?”
“Better than Panther Two. Lost his VB.”
Mike switches app and calls Eric.
“P10 to P2. How did they manage to pull your Veteran’s Benefit?”
“P2 to P10. R4 beat me there, eh? Neighbour reported me for dealing ammo on the side. Until the investigation finishes, I’m on savings.”
“One lying git due a visit soon. Got it. See you a minute. P10 out.”
He switches back.
“Raven Four, Raven Four, where’s Tiger Nine?”
“Two graves east, boss.”
Mike leans forward and sees the wide, armoured form of Roald striding between mausoleums.
“Evenin’, Tiger Nine. How’s life been treating you?”
“I’m getting rained on again. Must be doing something right.”
Mike puzzles over the philosophy behind that, but quickly gives up – again.
Seeing Eric walking towards them, Mike chooses tonight’s tactical channels on the spur of the moment. Nobody knows up front because he doesn’t either.
“Team Four we are on Tac Three and Tac Twenty-Eight. Go live in three, two, one, action.”
He hears three tones as everybody arrives on Tac Three.
“Okay, tonight we’re being ambushed.”
Eric sighs.
“Again? Which arse-for-a-brain thinks it’ll come out different this time?”
“Same old, same old: Chowda of Bulletin. Paid us to kill Phantom of Yakashime, but also paid a Ruksov strike team to kill Phantom, us, and all witnesses.”
Samantha snickers.
“Who told?”
Mike grins.
“Elliot got a gig guarding Chowda’s mistress. Overheard him crowing about it. Thought it was rude. Gave me a call.”
Roald mutters.
“How long we gotta put up with insults?”
Mike nods.
“No longer. Chowda’s having an accident tonight. Overdosed and drowned, apparently.”
Eric chuckles.
“Tragic. What about Phantom? She’s no easy mark.”
Mike nods.
“True. But she does pay a premium for safety tips. Like not going out for dinner tonight.”
Samantha drops from the roof of the mausoleum Mike’s leaning in the doorway of.
“So we’re here to end the Ruksov team?”
Mike points to the left.
“They’re parked up in two vans on the other side of that wall, and will be rolling out in about twenty, I’d say.”
Eric grins.
“Tiger Nine, did you bring your anti-armour?”
Roald chuckles.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” He looks back to Mike. “Don’t suppose someone marked mid-wheelbase on those trucks for me?”
Mike extends a middle finger to parallel his pointing index finger.
“No idea, but someone seems to have stuck a couple of glowlights to the wall we’re looking at.”
Roald steps to one side and peers through the increasing downpour.
“So they have.”
He checks behind.
“Eyes.”
Everybody looks down.
“It’ll be down to their reaction times. Ready ready.”
His minimissile launchers swing up, out, and fire. A pair shoot from each. They scream across the graveyard and punch through the wall just below each glowlight.
Double explosions are followed by an even louder one from the left-hand target. It briefly throws a fiery yellow glow onto the low clouds.
Samantha sighs.
“They didn’t even have scanners up. Amateurs.”
Mike claps his hands.
“And we’re clear in record time. Dinner’s on the Phantom. Only question is: where?”
They move off, arguing between Wong’s Fryery or Guido’s Ristorante Italiano.