To say that news of the ongoing operations spread like wildfire through the local population would be an overstatement. However, slowly but surely, the dim glow of fires in windows and the sound of groggy, confused voices began to radiate outward. Alter’s grip on the wooden handle of the torch tightened on reflex as he felt unknown eyes falling upon him. As the seconds ticked painfully by the muffled voices shifted. Confusion and frustration turned to fear and anger as the news was passed from room to room. The guards were here, and they were breaking down doors.

  “This is Team Two, we’ve got a lot of sounds coming from the nearby buildings, and they don’t sound happy.” Riptide’s voice crackled over the radio.

  “Team Three reports the same.” Walross added a moment later.

  “Lovely.” Alter muttered to himself before raising his own radio. “Team One is hearing similar things as well. Keep half an eye upward, and don’t forget you can call for help.”

  A chorus of understandings met his instructions and the radio fell silent once more. Alter made a conscious effort to maintain his position in the dead centre of the alleyway, with his posture straight and his torch held high and with authority. He tried to close his ears to the hidden murmurs but his curiosity could not be fully quelled. So he listened, and was quick to learn that they were well hated in this place. They were the enemy, to be feared and driven away in equal measure. Glances towards Boozehound and Boats told him they were coming to the same realisation. He attempted to give them an encouraging smile but his thin-lipped attempt felt hollow. This was going to be an uncomfortable experience.

  Their attention was suddenly diverted by sound and motion nearby. A door flew open without warning, its momentum causing it to slam violently into the stonework of the building it was attached to. From within the shadowy space that had been exposed came a stout looking arm. Attached to the limb, slowly emerging into the torchlight, was an equally stout and muscle-bound young man. Wearing a hastily thrown together workers outfit, a round face peered intently at them from behind a thin but aspirational moustache. A look that reminded Alter of a dog who had just spotted a suspicious stranger on the other side of the garden fence, and was deciding whether they deserved a good barking at.

  “Who are you lot?” The man asked in a slow, deep, challenging growl.

  “City guard.” Boats answered flatly. “There’s no reason for you to be outside, return to your home.”

  The man did not immediately respond to the order, he glared at each of them in turn with a sneer forming on his face. As this happened, an arm slowly reached out and grabbed the still vibrating door, pushing it closed behind him.

  “You don’t look like them.” He spat loudly on the ground in front of them before turning away and beginning to walk in the opposite direction.

  “Can I ask you where you are going?” Alter called after him.

  “Work starts early.” Was the annoyed response as he continued without breaking pace.

  The men watched him disappear in uncomfortable silence. Semi-accusing glances were shared as a half dozen questions flew between them invisibly. Should they have tried to detain the man? Or at least prevented him from leaving? He hadn’t exactly done anything wrong by stepping out into the street, it could’ve just been a coincidence and they were letting the reputation of the area stain their judgement. A snotty attitude does not equal a criminal disposition. Besides, there were probably a couple of professions in the city that required such an early start, how were they supposed to tell? Any discussions were waylaid by a new distraction as raised voices could be faintly heard in the direction of Team Two. Alter’s arm reached for the radio for a status report but his lieutenant managed to beat him to the punch.

  “This is Team Two, the guards are leading the first of the captives out of the building now, no sign of any injuries.” There was a pause as the sounds continued to increase in intensity. “And there’s a random woman screaming nuclear hellfire at us from a top floor window.” Riptide added unhappily.

  “Acknowledged Two, endure it, shouting means they don’t have anything else to throw at you.” Alter tried to sound encouraging.

  “I’m not sure if that’s how it works, but okay.” Riptide responded dryly.

  Fortunately, there was no follow up to the report and the operation continued to run as smoothly as it could, at least from their limited perspective. The noise continued for a while longer, but eventually the locals began to realise that they had a very specific objective and they weren’t about to receive aggressive late-night visitors. The initial hubbub began to die down. Although there were still some who watched from within the safety of their walls, or who opened doors to ask worried questions before being shooed away. The guards began to emerge in a piecemeal fashion, often leading or dragging captives along with them. More than once the trio parted to allow pairs of allies to march away into the night with their black eyed and bloody nosed targets in tow.

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  “Anyone else kind of starting to feel like we’re the assholes here.” Boozehound asked quietly as they watched the latest capture disappear.

  “A little bit.” Alter admitted.

  “Hey, don’t you two start forgetting all these bastards have done, and all the shit they’re trying to do. They brought this upon themselves.” Boats answered incredulously.

  Both Alter and Boozehound opened their mouths to protest, however they were interrupted by a crackling noise as the radio leapt to life once more.

  “We’ve got a situation developing here. Some guy is climbing out of a second storey window and we don’t think he’ll have anywhere to go from there. Can we have Three over here in case he decides to drop?” Pavejack reported urgently.

  There was an involuntary sharp intake of breath as Alter’s brain decided that imaging how it would feel to fall that far onto solid stone was a good idea to help gain some perspective. Their junction could not be described as busy so he saw no reason not to give Boozehound to nod to move.

  “Putain, not sure how much use I’ll be if he does fall but I’ll do my best.” The medic winced before heading off in Team Three’s direction.

  “Desperation makes a fool of the smartest man.” Boats intoned.

  “Wise words.” Alter answered softly but Boats simply snorted.

  “My mate Brian said that five pints underwater in The Boar on a Tuesday afternoon. Dumbest bloke I ever met. Good singer though, provided you could get him to shut up once he’d started.” He spoke with a sad smile and a hint of wistfulness.

  “Oh, what’s this? That might be the first time since we arrived here that you’ve spoken about home with any degree of fondness.” Alter joked awkwardly.

  “Well, yeah.” Boats responded stonily before fixing his gaze in another direction.

  Alter cursed at himself silently for turning his usually closed-off friend’s reflection into a joke. He shamedly muttered an apology but it was probably too quiet for the other man to hear. The minutes continued to tick by, and a short while later Boozehound reappeared. He reported that upon realising that the streets were occupied by men that would apprehend him the moment he reached the ground, the dangling fugitive had scrambled back inside. A bit of a letdown action-wise, but better than having to deal with two broken legs. The team settled back into the rhythm of standing firm against the withering gazes of the locals while occasionally letting guard parties to and fro. Eventually, Winslow returned from overseeing the operation, pausing to lean heavily against a wall and blowing out a steady breath.

  “How have things been out here?” He asked a moment later.

  “Fairly quiet, all told.” Alter reported. “Noones tried to break through the perimeter, or enter it for that matter. The worst we’ve had is some colourful language. How about inside?”

  Winslow appeared to relax a little at the news. “About as well as I’d hoped. We’ve got one man injured, but it’s not life threatening. There’s less of the bastards in there than I’d hoped, but if that means less risk then I don’t mind the fact too much. We’ve secured both the ground and first floors, but the top floor and the basement are proving difficult. I’d like to think that the level of resistance they’re putting up means they’ve got nowhere to run, at least on the upstairs. Patience and timing will see them smoked out soon enough. I was just on my way to see how the Wolves were getting on.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to move in? We could certainly help you dislodge the holdouts on the top floor.” Alter offered but Winslow quickly waved the idea away.

  “No, no. You have your positions, no need to change the plan when it’s working.” He levered himself off the wall and took a couple of steps past them before turning again with an anxious expression. “You’re absolutely certain nothing suspicious happened?”

  “We had a man come out of that house there, asked us who we were, spat at us, then walked off. Said he was away to work early.” Boats responded with a point and a shrug.

  “And you didn’t stop him?” Winslow snapped, his eyes widening.

  The team shuffled awkwardly in place. “Well, no. He wasn’t trying to force his way past us. Should we have?” Alter answered

  With closed eyes, Winslow returned to his previous spot and slumped against the wall anew. One hand rubbed and kneaded the top of his head while the other tapped at his thigh as a subconscious tick.

  “That’s my fault, I should’ve instructed you to make sure no one leaves the area either. What did he look like?” He asked with a defeated groan. He listened intently as the man’s description was given, before his head rocked back and thumped into the stonework.

  “Four take my weary soul. Urgh, right, if we’re lucky then he was actually a worker on his way. I’d give that a ten percent chance, and that’s generous. Most likely he was a gang member, or at least affiliated with one. The Pebble Maze is under the thumb of a man who goes by the name of ‘Ruffle’, and the Free Feathers. He’ll see this as a challenge to his authority; one he won’t stand for.”

  “They’ll try to kick us out?” Boats queried.

  “That’s if they’re in a good mood. Which, given they’ll have just woken up to find their territory under invasion, won’t be the case.” He explained ruefully.

  “So, what do we do?” Alter asked slowly, his mind whirling.

  Winslow gave them a level look and a lop-sided shrug. “Our best.”