2 My Jurisdiction

"2 minutes, 34 seconds."

"Copy."

3 seconds in, 6 seconds out. A breathing technique taught to me by the 'Black Ops'. It is used to steady the aim when aiming down the sights of a DSR heavy sniper rifle, or any sniper for that matter.

"3 guards moving from the east."

"Leave them."

It was dark outside, with no winds, and no clouds. A starry night had come to the rather quiet village known as Westridge. Although it was dark outside, most people had not yet gone to sleep, as is customary during early spring. In this part of the world, spring is a time of early dark, which makes it a highly active time of year for mercenaries such as myself. Our target was Bryan Weisser, the boss over a small organization which, according to our intel, is behind the human trafficking in this town as of late.

We are currently four people in our squad, split into two teams. Our ground unit, team A, is made up by a blonde swordsman, a youthful prospect, 'Wyvern', and a rather reputable infiltration agent, 'Terminator'. Their mission is to invade the facility, the basement of an abandoned gym near the coast, and rescue the children and woman that are victims of the trafficking business.

Team B is made up of me and my assistant hacker, who also has access to Team A's coms, 'Vision', apparently a man with years in the business. Nowadays he takes on more simple quests such as this one, for a very simple reason - being a father comes before all else, so although this job is slightly higher than normal in terms of difficulty, he is not keen to accept quests that involve any sort of great danger.

Perhaps he talks too much about his own life for his own safety. We have code names for a reason, after all.

"15 seconds. It's your only chance," Vision said with his deep, monotone voice. A different voice would be out of the ordinary for an anti-criminal hacker. The job requires precision, and concentration.

"On it."

'14...13...12...11'

I began planning my breathing. The job does indeed require precision, but for the main role, which in this case is me, there is no toleration for mistakes. I am simply not allowed to miss. Lives are at stake. Not only the lives of the victims, but the lives of my teammates. Our plan is heavily supported by the incoming panic that will ensue upon the death of Weisser. Without it, the death expectation will skyrocket.

'5...4...'

I exhaled slowly, aiming at the opening door of my target, as the silhouette of a rather chubby man appeared in the shadows, two goons around him.

'3...2...1...'

I stopped my exhale at roughly 50% oxygen.

'0.'

I fired, the silencer on my sniper rifle subduing the otherwise booming sound. My target dropped dead, my hollow-point shell having gone straight into his brain. The guards were rattled, frozen in shock and terror for a second before starting to panic, glancing in the direction from whence the shell came, only to see nothing, for I was already making my escape.

"Target is dead," I confirmed, employing an efficiency technique to quickly get myself down from the rooftop, using the ladder. Vision had connected our two separated coms.

"Commencing extraction! Everything is going as planned," Wyvern said. By the time I got the intel, I had already reached the black van, in which Vision was waiting for me, as we drove off to the second rendezvous point, in an alleyway on the opposite side of the old, medium-sized building. Hiding behind the front of the van with no registration plate, I put my DSR onto my back and equipped my thermal-Vision goggles as well as an M4A4 carbine, aiming at the entrance.

"Have you planted the C4?", Vision asked.

"All set," Terminator replied with his heavy, Spanish accent. It is due to just that fact that he is known for his work as an undercover agent in large, criminal organizations. I'd guess he just took this job for some easy cash.

"43 seconds until detonation. You will have to hurry. Guards are starting to pick up on your trail," Vision said hastily. A groan was sent through the joint coms by Wyvern.

"We have tortured victims! They can't go any faster!", she exclaimed. Terminator scoffed.

"Then leave them, stupid. We don't have time for irregularities," Terminator insulted. Perhaps he seems harsh, but he is absolutely right. Our hacker is very experienced, and so we have been given as much time as could be humanly predicted. It is thanks to the element of surprise and panic that Team A even had 43 seconds.

"He is right, Wyvern. Extraction as well as detonation is in 20 seconds. I won't hesitate to press the button, even if you're inside," Vision reminded, as was obviously necessary. Highly disturbing, blood gurgling screams continued to transmit through the coms, as well as crying, of terror and anguish. Most likely, a handful of our targeted 37 had been lost in the crossfire already.

"...". Even if her silence was alarming, our nerves were steeled for execution. As I said, there is no room for mistakes, especially with only a squadron of four. We may excel in skill and endurance, as well as strategy and cunning, but we are limited by our humanity, both physically and mentally. Numbers can easily overpower us, which is why the timing is important.

"8 seconds until extraction!", Vision exclaimed, his finger on the button. The door was immediately blown open, revealing a horde of loosely-clothed people running out. With my thermal vision, I was able to quickly open fire against the two guards following on their right, while Terminator was dealing with the guards to their left, also planting the last planned c4 by the entrance.

"3 seconds!". My heart sank. I could see the heat signature of Wyvern, slicing through the chest of a guard, and through the legs of another with her dual short-swords, protecting 4 other signatures, three adults and one kid, who appeared to be moving very slowly, some clutching their chests, some clutching other areas. Terminator quickly ran towards our van, shooting another guard on the way, also covered by my fire, killing two more before running out of bullets in the magazine.

"Dammit, Wyvern!", Terminator hissed through the coms. Guards had quickly surrounded Wyvern as well as the victims, most now aiming, preparing for the final shots of the night.

"0!". With that, I took off my goggles as Terminator had leaped to my side of the van, and watched for a millisecond as the building exploded, engulfing the area with fire. We quickly got into the van before Vision drove off, leaving behind nothing but pain and suffering, including a lost comrade.

I secured my firearms and put them down beside me, frowning. The team was silent, as is of course customary. The silence was unemotional. As I said, we had all steeled our nerves for execution. A side effect of such preparation is heartlessness.

We failed, no doubt about it. We failed to extract all of the targets. But such is the job as a mercenary. Not always is the job going to go well. Not always is it safe. But what would have happened here if we did nothing is common knowledge. The victims would be further tortured and used for personal and monetary gain. This was our chance to move before hope was lost for them, because you sure as hell can't count on the cops to do anything.

This was us acting outside of the law. Now you have the opportunity to decide.

What, and who...brings justice?