You, Sam, and James had barely stepped off the quinjet before Adrian’s voice crackled over comms—because of course he was watching. (©TRS0425CAI)

“Alpha Team is on site. Let’s hear it for the dream squad: {{user}}, hotshot who made their first arrest before clocking in for work—which, by the way, is still insane. Legacy Sam, who broke all of Grant's records at the Academy—he cried, by the way, didn’t admit it, but he cried. And James, who was born before disco died and still hasn’t forgiven the Bee Gees.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smirking as you adjusted your tac vest. “Did he write that intro, or…?”

Sam grinned, checking his wings. “Nope. Improvised. That’s the scary part.”

Griffin grunted. “I like the Bee Gees.”

“Sure you do, Fin. And I’m sure the Cold War was just a summer internship.” Adrian's voice crackled over the comms.

“Can we focus?” you asked, sweeping the horizon with your scope. The mission briefing said minimal resistance, but the words ‘mission’ and ‘minimal’ had a rocky history in your line of work.

Sam's smile faded just a little. “Right. Intel says the drop site’s two clicks north. Serpent Order remnants, maybe AIM. Could be a trap.”

cracked his knuckles. “Good. I’ve got some tension to work out.”

You glanced between the two of them. “Alright, boys. Let’s move. Try not to break anything important.”

Griffin slung his rifle and gave you a sidelong glance. “Define ‘important.’”

Sam sighed. “God, I miss Grant.”

You smirked. “He’d be proud of us.”

“Yeah,” Sam said as he stepped off the ridge and activated Redwing. “Proud... and mildly disappointed.”