0-87

Contempt. That was the only word to describe Julius's feeling at the moment. Sheet and utter contempt. Hatred even. It didn't show on his face. Of course not he was too well trained for that. 

He removed his foot from the corpse and put his helm back on. The retina Displays immediately began feeding him information again. Troop locations, Ammunition trackers, and the layout of the building amongst a hundred other things. He blinked away most of the displays.

The corpses head was nothing but a bloody crater. Smoke still emanated from entrance of the wound. He hated the man.

The man could have lived. He could have contributed to the greater good of humanity. Instead he threw his life away for some meaningless and corrupt cause. Worst of all he had taken many lives with him. Today alone he had caused the deaths of Five people. Three Soldiers and two unfortunate civilians. 

The built in headset sparked Alive as Someone began to speak.

"1-22 to 0-12 target is secure. Moving to exfil." Without commands the team began to move. There were ten of them in total. 

Their target was tied up with their Plasteel cords. One man carried him with another covering. 5 men took up the front by the door. with another three covering their rear. The warehouse doors slid open as 1-22 keyed a command into the computer pad attached to his wrist. 

In a well disciplined maneuver the first 2 men left the building and took up a defensive position by the left and right of the door. Followed by the other three. The pair assigned to the target took up position in the middle of the group. The rearguard left the building and took up positions toward the front. The team was now in a circle formation covering any potential angles of attacks.

The free man next to the target popped a flare and tossed it a few feet away. To any less professional force the level of caution they were taking seemed like overkill especially since all potential threats had already been taken account of. 

But they weren't a less professional force. No they were the most professional force in the known galaxy. Even if nobody knew it.

The air roared as their evac vehicle came into position. It was a medium sized twin engined Vtol. An expensive prototype aircraft complete with state of the art stealth capabilities and a fairly good sized armament. Where it really shines was its high performance in both atmospheric and space based operation zones. 

The Nightingale as it had been named. After some ancient species of earthen bird. Touched down in the middle of the group. Its rear ramp already lowered along with its left and right side doors. Two more soldiers that had been aboard the craft exited and took covering positions as the team filtered into the Vtol.

The ramps closed and the vtol took off. More expendable security forces would take care of collecting any intel left on in the warehouse and deleting any sign of the Blackops team.

The man situated at the seat closest to the door looked in his direction. The communications piece buzzed open into a private channel.

"0-87 why did you take off your helmet." His tone was accusatory and spite filled.

He would not be given the satisfaction of an answer.The only answer 0-87 truly had was that it was a lapse of judgment. And that was an unacceptable response.

"Your refusal to answer a superior will be noted 0-87."

"Understood" It was the only word 0-87 would speak to his team leader. The only words 0-8 deserved to hear. 

0-87 sat right across from their target who was currently squirming around in his seat. The man had his head bagged so he wouldn't be able to see anything. 87 knew from the briefing that his name was Howet and he was the something like the head itnellegiance officer from the group known as the Orion's Damned. He was instrumental in the groups escape from the assassination attempt early today. 

All that mattered to 87 was that he was important enough to HISB top brass to want him captured. And by a black ops team such as them no less. Any opportunity afforded to him was something he would savior. The more mission's he had the faster he could rise within the program.

The Nightingale began to shake violently. The sign that it was leaving atmosphere. He linked his displays to the ships sensors giving him visuals and information available to the ship. 

There were at least a dozen ships in system at the moment. All but two were civilian, most likely they were cargo transports belonging to one of the hundreds of interstellar trading companies. The two odd ones out were Hegemony Naval vessels. 

87 used his advanced suit systems to get information on the ships. He got what he could without having to send requests to their handlers on their operations base. He simply enjoyed reading the plans and blueprints to warships and space vessels in general. They helped in the battle room back at the school.

The vessels were two small Plato-Class corvettes. Not real great for proper fleet to fleet actions but perfect for anti-piracy and intra system patrols. Their reactor was classified but he knew it was either a M14 or the more advanced M14a types. He could tell from the armament they both housed. They both had a classified number and type of torpedos but he could tell besides that they field 4x CSWS anti fighter/torpedo rotary cannons and a single rail gun each. 

Not the fanciest of vessels they nonetheless did their jobs well. Something 87 could respect. Something 87 hated many of his own peers for being unable to achieve. A distain that caused him to constantly be looked over and belittled.

The suit display alerted him that the Vtol was beginning docking procedures. Their destination wasn't one of the corvettes or deep space outposts located in system. It was one of the ten civilian vessels this one was located on the far side of planet in-between the moon and the planet proper. The vessel was a medium sized Cargo hauler. Or at least that was the cover. In reality it was a vessels that showed up on any registry as not existing. For its name was ever changing. It's occupation never the same. It may look like a normal vessel to any one else but in reality it was just as experimental as both the Nightingale Stealth Gunship and the Black ops team themselves. 

The Vtol was finished docking within two of beginning the procedures. All Twelve soldiers stood up and checked all gear before leaving. The Target was forced to his feet. Howet would be the first one to leave. 

The Back ramp dropped and they made their exit. Three of them broke off with the target. Dragon leader and 0-12 were part of that group. 87 knew he wasn't need so he headed with the rest of the group to the armory. There they would unarm and prepare to debrief with their handlers. 

They filtered through the large double doors that lead out of the hanger bay and took a left at an intersection. They entered into the large cargo lifter that Brought them into the belly of the vessel and right to the armory. 

They lined up by the dress pads as they called it. They were circler platforms with 6 servo arms and a number of monitors. There were three such pads. 

Because of their armor it was impossible to be taken off without the use of the pads or something similar. 

One by one the team was unarmored and armed until it was 87's turn. He was always the last it was how he preferred it to go. The process was always something 87 disliked as it felt like part of him being stripped away every time.

First the robotic arms took off the power pack, then they moved to the helmet, then chest piece, arms, and so on. The fingers on the arms unbolted certain bits and pieces or inserted a key into so hole in other places. After all that is said and done comes the worst part. The Body glove that covered him from feet to top of the neck. It was comfortable and warm a true extension of his body. A hand full of the fingers went to various spots around his back and neck and turned some keys. He couldn't see it but he could feel it. The keys retracted but with them slowly came out the long cybernetic wires that went straight into 87's body through the body glove. With the wires that lead internally to various organs and parts of his body such as the brain, heart, blood stream amongst others. These cybernetics fed information straight to the power armor they wore and make them all the more deadly. The armor knew your mind and actions just as well as you knew yourself.

After all the arms finished their work and the light above and in front of him flashed green he stepped off. He was thankful for the lack of any sort of breeze but still is naked body was unmistakably cold. 

His Genetically modified body would already by raising its own temperature until his body was at the perfect temperature. It would happen over the course of a single minute. Surely the scientists that created him and his cohorts would be proud of their great work. 

87 walked to the showers were everyone else would already be. It was standard protocol after any missions and something many of them enjoyed.

The room was filled with steam from the hot showers. The poor ventilation in the room meant that it was more like a sauna than a shower. Almost half of the twenty shower heads were occupied. He picked one that was furthest away from the closest occupied one.

He turn the shower head the furthers right it would go. As cold as it would go.

He could hear the others talking amongst themselves as they always did.

"Yo Bernard. Did you see the way that big man dropped. HAHAH these new MAG rifles are amazing. Hope we keep using them for a while."

"Yeah. I hope they let us get a crack at the other two cells on the nearby systems. Im not ready to go back to Heaven Base."

Some spoke in a whisper. They knew everyone here was fully capable of picking up the quietest of voices. A perk of their Modifications.

"pst Lucius did you see 87 take off his helmet. He's for sure going to get in trouble for that."

Lucius turned towards 87. He was too prideful to lower his voice.

"Ha its what he deserves. Always thinking he's better than us. He can't even keep his helmet of for a whole mission. Basic fucking protocol." Lucius wasn't done yet.

"Still think you're better than us don't you Julius." 

87. no Julius. Stayed quite. It was a calculated move to make Lucius angry. Make him act out and make a mistake.

"Huh. What's that. Cat got your tongue or something Julius."

Still Julius would say nothing.

Lucius Don't speak this time. He threw a bar of soap that hit Julius in the shoulder. It was painful. 

He could hear footsteps approaching. It would be Lucius and his lackeys. Bernard, Muljorn, and Emily. 

Julius Stepped right underneath the shower head underneath the arc of the water so he wasn't still getting wet. The soap he had put over his body would keep him slick and hard to grab.

He turned to face the group. It would be a tough fight. One versus four.

"Still got nothing to say. 87"

"..."

That silence was what broke the camels back. Bernard to his left was the first to move. He threw a jab at his body. Julius ducked under it and charged forward. Bernard fell to the ground attempting to bring Julius with him. Julius body was still slick with soap so he failed in his attempt and fell hard. Not wanting to give Bernard a chance to get up He Brough his heel right into his nose. Knocking him out. Or if it turned out that way killing him.

A kick to His ribs sent 87 sliding across the floor. He could feel a crack in his ribs. It was Emily one of the few females in the team. She flew at him with another kick. He grabbed the leg mid kick and brought down his elbow right into the knee cap. The force of his elbow made the leg buckle. Emily Screamed. She wouldn't walk again for a long time.

Muljorn and Lucius came at him together. It was their best bet.

Muljorn threw the first punch. Julius took it right in the chest in order to throw a punch right at his face. The Strike was a little to light to knock him out but it still staggered him.

Julius Brought his arms up to block the Blows from Lucius. He through them fast and precise but he was only able to land a handful.

Muljorn regathered himself and came at Julius while he was busy with Lucius.

87 jumped back fast enough to get out of Lucius's range and barley missed the strike from Muljorn. 

Julius Grabbed Muljorns out stretched wrist and threw him into Lucius sending them both tumbling down.

Julius immediately jumped onto Lucius and began to pummel his face, Left first, right fist, left, right, left, right. He was on him for no more than a minute before Lucius face started to cave and buckle in the worst spots.

He heard the shower doors open. It was the handlers undoubtedly. They wouldn't be get to them in time to stop Him from making Lucius no longer a threat.