The warehouse was deserted.

Desmond had known the exact location because of how long he had spent with Gray; he'd overheard it enough times that he committed it to memory. Team Bravo had circled around back for a perimeter check, just to be safe, but it hadn't mattered in the end, because aside from some random technology and crates, it was empty.

"Kind of disappointed," Catatonic drawled as he racked his gun. Everyone had dispersed once they'd entered the building. "This isn't what I was expecting when you said we'd be going to a warehouse, Risky."

"Don't worry, Cat, it's not what we were expecting either," I muttered, moving about the space slowly.

The technology in the large space was largely in-field gadgets. Bugs, trackers, smoke bombs, miniature EMPs ... My eyes wandered as I moved through a row of large-slated empty crates, surveying everything.

"No weapons," Gunner called from elsewhere in the building.

"There's a screen on this wall, though," Desmond called soon after, from the same general direction. "Along with, um, a weird map ... with yarn ... or string? It might be string."

"Doesn't matter if it's yarn or string, Freckles," I heard Sergeant say as I navigated the maze, "just matters what it's pointing to."

Everyone was standing in the largest open space in the warehouse. Low had already perched upon an empty table, and every once in a while she'd snap her gum. Desmond was leaned back against the table beside her, his brows furrowed, his laptop held close to his chest. Gunner was on her other side, his eyes distant but directed toward the aforementioned map. Catatonic was seated on the table right next to Gunner, but rather than toy with his weapon, his finger rested just above the trigger, ready for action.

They were looking at a map of the world, and Team Bravo and my partner were standing smack in front of it.

Before I could ask any questions, my gaze was drawn above the map, to a large screen. My attention shifted for good reason: the screen went from being blank, to black and white fuzz.

A noise of quickly followed, and as I came to a stop in front of Low and Desmond, everyone else's attention shifted up, too.

Just in time for two very familiar faces to make an appearance on it.

A tall, dark haired Asian with slate-gray eyes smirked condescendingly down at us, his thick hair long around his ears and across his forehead, the strap of a sniper rifle visible over his button-up shirt. Beside him stood a tall albino, whose height came just an inch from matching his, her white hair curled in a deceptively innocent style, her pale blue eyes eyes brimming with devilish glee.

It was the former Team Charlie; Aim and Gambler.

Traitors of LASAR.

"If you're seeing this," Aim said, his smirk still in place, "then it means you're dumber than we gave you credit for."

My attention snapped from the screen to Team Bravo. "Perimeter check. Now," I commanded, a dark resolve in my tone.

"On it," Sergeant and Legion said simultaneously as they bolted for the door.

The recording kept playing. "Honestly, it doesn't matter who you have with you," Aim continued. "It doesn't matter what forces you gather. It doesn't even matter if Team Alpha are still alive."

In my periphery I saw what I thought was a flashing red light coming from one of the crates of gadgets. I methodically scanned the area, and as I did so, I thought I saw another red light flicker. "Cat, check the boxes to the right," I instructed; "Low, left."

"Because soon," Gambler said with a high-pitched laugh, "you won't be."

It was her laughter that drew my focus back to the screen, and I happened to look right as she leaned forward, her pale eyes alight in a way I recognized a little too well. Rebel and I had come face to face with them wearing these exact expressions many a time before — right before we duked it out.

Right before Gambler would sneak a knife into a fist-fight.

Right before Aim would try to tag whichever one of us was distracted.

Aim and Gambler had never been the type to play fair, though then again, neither had we. But they took things to a new level, and I knew by now that when it came to the two of them, all bets were off.

"We've got problems," Low said, her voice flat.

Cat nodded with wide eyes as he took several steps away from the boxes I'd direct him to. "Oh yeah. Big problems. Explosive problems."

"Because this isn't war," Aim continued, "it's a good old fashioned obliteration. Just like they taught us as kids. Facts are, none of you stand a chance, and neither does the planet. But why should you worry about that?"

Low and Cat hurried back toward Rebel and I with wide eyes.

"IED's," Gunner breathed, paling slightly.

Improvised explosive devices.

Rebel and I exchanged a look. "Kinda wishing we'd gotten Delta before we came here," Rebel admitted to me in an intentionally low tone.

Gambler said, "You've only got thirty seconds left to live," and her cackling laughter chased her words.

The recording cut out, and Bravo came rushing back into the space in the same instance. They were quick to take in everyone's expressions, and their brows furrowed in response.

"What happened?" Sergeant asked.

"We've got IED's and no Outlaw to disarm them," Rebel said with practiced calm.

Legion gave a low whistle. "How long—"

"Eight," Low said, her dark eyes fixed on me.

"Eight?" Desmond sounded like he may have been having an anxiety attack. "Eight what?"

"Seven," Cat said with a sigh.

"Oh, seconds," Sergeant said, his voice a touch higher than normal. He glanced over at Legion and nodded with a semi-crazed look on his face. "Excellent."

"Five," Low continued, snapping her gum afterwards.

"What are we going to do?!" Desmond demanded, nearly shouting now. "Why aren't we running?"

"No good," Gunner said dully. "Whole place is probably rigged. Why didn't we think to look for that?"

"Because traps in buildings aren't usually timed explosive devices?" Catatonic volunteered. "Usually building traps—"

"Four," Low said.

"—are ambushes."

"So we're just going to die?!" Desmond was shaking now.

Now everyone turned to look at me. I knew why. I turned to Rebel right as Low said "Three ..." but became distracted when a loud and persistent beeping resounded through the warehouse.

"Not quite," Rebel answered Desmond.

"This is gonna suck," was all I had time to say before I clenched my teeth and did something I'd only done once before.

Low didn't even get to say one.

Everything exploded.

Telekinetic barriers aren't forcefields, not really. Which is why I usually did walls instead of trying to cover an entire area.

The explosion was deafening, especially given the fact that we were all standing in the middle of it.

I couldn't block out the sound, but I threw all of my focus and energy into blocking out everything else.

Several booms sounded in sequence after the initial explosion; different parts of devices going off either again or late, no doubt due to how they were rigged.

Smoke, fire, and splintering wood were all that was left of the warehouse when I let the barrier drop. No more map. No more gadgets. Nothing.

"Is everyone okay?" It was Rebel asked, though it was an empty question that received murmured and passive responses.

Everyone either looked relieved or stunned, but they were all alive and breathing. Desmond more erratically than the rest.

My breathing was heavier than normal, and as soon as I'd dropped the barrier I felt a wave of fatigue strike me. As soon as I was confident that everyone was alive and unharmed, I bent over, trying to catch my breath and calm my heart. The explosions may have stopped, but my blood was pounding in my ears.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, but I didn't respond to it right away. Instead I stared unseeingly at the dirt beneath me until the careful touch turned into a steady hold.

Rebel was slow to pull me into an upright position, and once he had, he didn't let go of my arm. "You good?" His words were a whisper.

When I finally looked up at him I half nodded. I began to nod with more certainty as I remembered the reason behind the events that had just taken place.

Aim and Gambler had just tried to kill us. Again.

Anger was building in my chest, the likes of which surpassed my exhaustion. And all it took was one look shared between us for Rebel to know it.

His dry laugh broke the stunned silence. "They want obliteration?" He grinned and looked around at our team. "Let's give it to them."

Catatonic's laughter followed, and he slapped a hand on Legion's shoulder. "About time!" He shook his head, his own eyes dark with anger. "I hate those guys."

"We all do," Low said, Gunner and Desmond both nodding beside her.

"Yeah, join the club," Sergeant grumbled. He turned back to Rebel. "We need to find the rest of our own."

Rebel nodded, a dangerous smile on his lips. "Then let's get to work."