Geneve awoke to the feeling of something heavy pressing down on her chest. It wasn't painful, but it was uncomfortable. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and turned her head to see the culprit—Lyssa's arm draped across her.

  The support agent had her arms splayed out, taking up far more space than necessary. Geneve heaved a sigh, shaking her head in resignation. This wasn't the first time Lyssa had taken over the bed during the night, and it likely wouldn't be the last. She had given up trying to discipline the support agent; it was easier to just accept her fate.

  Geneve gently lifted Lyssa's arm off her chest and sat up. Despite the early hour, she was already fully awake.

  The pale light of dawn filtered into the room, illuminating the rows of bunks occupied by her squadmates. With a languid stretch, she sat up, a yawn escaping her lips as she surveyed the scene before her. Her other squadmates, each a fellow REDLINEs, were rousing from their slumber.

  A few beds down, she spotted Byron's bulky frame sitting on the edge of his bunk, the morning light dancing across his toned muscles as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. A small smile tugged at her lips—it was always amusing to watch the usually stoic and imposing man in his unguarded moments.

  Turning her attention to the bunk opposite hers, she saw Clare, the sniper of the group, yawning and stretching her lithe limbs. The sniper's silver hair caught the soft morning glow, shimmering like strands of moonlight. Clare was often the last to wake up, her love of sleep rivaled only by her deadly accuracy with a rifle. It always surprised Geneve to see her transformation from drowsy to deadly within moments of opening her eyes.

  Next to Clare's bunk sat Warren, the controller agent and self-proclaimed "brains of the outfit." His eyes were already fixed on a data slate as he read through their latest mission brief, the glow of the screen reflecting off his glasses, giving him an air of studiousness even in the early dawn. Geneve knew he took his role seriously, and his penchant for strategic planning had saved their skins more than once.

  Lyssa was supposed to be in the bunk above her, but the support agent seemed determined to make herself comfortable in Geneve's space every night. Lyssa was... a bit odd. A bit of an airhead. She didn't seem to care much about personal space or decorum and tended to say the wrong thing at the worst possible moment.

  But she was an excellent healer and never hesitated to throw herself into the thick of battle to keep everyone alive. She was a valuable part of the team, despite her quirks.

  Geneve rose from her bunk, her bare feet meeting the cold floor with a soft slap.

  "Up and at 'em, guys," she called out, her voice echoing in the stillness of the barracks. "We've got another busy day ahead."

  The other REDLINEs responded with a chorus of groans and grumbles.

  With everyone up and about, it was time to begin their morning routine. The Agents took turns freshening up in the shared washroom, performing their assigned morning chores with practiced efficiency. Beds were made, gear checked and rechecked, and equipment stowed away neatly.

  They slipped into their bodysuits—form-fitting garments made from a state-of-the-art fabric designed for flexibility, breathability, and protection. The fabric was sleek and stretchy, hugging their figures like a second skin, providing essential support and without restricting movement.

  Over the bodysuits, they donned their armor plating. The segments interlocked seamlessly, covering vital areas while leaving joints and critical muscles free for maximum mobility. Finally, each REDLINEs strapped on their utility belts and pouches, each tailored to their specific role in the team.

  The final touch was their weapon of choice. Each Agent selected their preferred firearm and checked it over before slinging it onto their backs or hips. Byron holstered his twin pistols, while Warren opted for a submachine gun, and Clare slipped her rifle into its protective case. Geneve inspected her twin daggers and sheathed them at her sides. Lyssa grabbed her medical kit and pistol.

  Once they were geared up and ready, they gathered around a table for their morning briefing. Warren took the lead as the designated mission leader, laying out the details of the day's assignment.

  "Looks like the CEO wants us to do four resource-gathering missions," Warren began, his eyes scanning the data slate. "Two dailies and two weeklies."

  Byron groaned. "Again?"

  "It's our job, what can I say?"

  Geneve let out an exaggerated sigh, her silver hair swishing as she shook her head. "Ugh, I hate those missions. They're so... tedious."

  Lyssa patted Clare's shoulder sympathetically. "At least you don't have to deal with bleeding wounds all the time! That's way more annoying."

  Warren cleared his throat, interrupting the banter. "Focus, guys. The kill missions are reserved for the newer squads to give them experience, so we'll have to settle for these for now."

  Geneve couldn't help but feel disappointed at the prospect of yet another monotonous resource-gathering assignment, but she pushed aside her complaints for the sake of the company. With a sigh, she shrugged and gave a noncommittal grunt.

  Clare leaned back in her seat, drumming her fingers on the table. "Speaking of the new squads, how're they holding up?" Her eyes flicked from Warren to the others. "Have you seen their performance?"

  "Actually—" Warren tapped a few buttons on his data slate and swiped left with two fingers, "—I've got the latest data right here."

  A series of holographic displays materialized above the table, each showing the performance metrics for the newest crop of recruits.

  "Let's see... they seem to be hitting their marks so far," Warren observed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Their kill rates are decent, and their injuries have been relatively minor." He glanced up at the rest of the team, offering a reassuring nod. "I'd say they're doing better than expected."

  Geneve leaned in, squinting at the holograms. "No fatalities yet? I'm surprised."

  Squad 3, the other REDLINEs squad, had a similar composition as them—a tank, an assassin, a support, and a controller. The only difference was having an artillery specialist rather than a sniper.

  "We should check up on them, make sure they're settling in," Byron suggested. He leaned back, his broad frame creaking the chair beneath him.

  Geneve shrugged, but there was a hint of agreement on her face as she looked at Clare. "Maybe we could give them some tips," she added. "You know, share our wisdom and whatnot."

  Clare chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure they'd love to hear from us."

  Lyssa beamed at the idea. "That sounds fun!"

  Warren nodded. "I'll schedule a time for us to meet up with Squad 3. It'll have to be during our rest period, though. We've got too much on our plate right now."

  Byron let out a hearty laugh. "Heh, you can say that again. The CEO's been runnin' us ragged."

  With their morning briefing concluded and the day's missions laid out before them, the REDLINEs left the table and headed for the nexus room.

  Clare wiped her brow, panting heavily as she dropped her pickaxe with a dull thud. Her silver hair was plastered to her face in sweat-soaked clumps, a far cry from the meticulous style she usually maintained.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  She cast an exasperated look at Byron, who continued swinging his own pickaxe, striking the stone wall where a small batch of Siltstone Cores were embedded. Each strike sent sparks flying and chips of rock skittering across the floor.

  "This," Clare huffed, gesturing at the half-excavated wall, "is ridiculous." Her voice dripped with frustration, and she couldn't suppress a groan as she slumped against the wall.

  The others weren't faring much better. Byron heaved a weary sigh, leaning on his pickaxe. Geneve had taken a break, sitting on a nearby crate with her head in her hands. Warren was doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. Only Lyssa seemed to have any energy left, though even her normally upbeat demeanor had dimmed under the relentless labor.

  Geneve mumbled from behind her palms. "I'm an assassin. An assassin! This isn't my job."

  "Look at it this way," Byron grunted, swinging his pickaxe into the wall again. "At least we're all suffering together."

  The Gloomsink Hollows, a sprawling underground mine teeming with Siltstone deposits, was their current work site. As the name implied, the place was a dreary, suffocating pit, and its low ceilings and narrow passageways only added to the stifling atmosphere. The musty air clung to them, seeping into their lungs with every breath.

  Worse than the environment were the constant threats. The caverns were crawling with swarms of hostile Gloomsink Crawlers — small, spider-like creatures that lurked in the shadows, waiting to ambush unsuspecting miners.

  The team's only light source was a single, dim lantern dangling from the ceiling, its feeble glow casting eerie shadows that danced across the rough-hewn walls. The persistent, maddening chitter of the crawlers echoed through the tunnels, a constant reminder of the danger that lurked just out of sight.

  Well, their presence was dangerous the first few times Squad One entered this area. After a while, the crawlers had become a minor nuisance. The squad's levels were high enough for them to be able to take down any number of those pests without suffering much damage.

  Yet, the CEO made them go back to this forsaken place because it produced the most Siltstone. They had already mapped out the whole area and knew how to avoid most of the creature nests. However, it didn't change the fact that they still had to do a lot of manual labor.

  Byron swung his pickaxe again, dislodging another chunk of rock and sending it clattering to the floor. He paused, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before resuming his rhythmic assault on the wall.

  "Argh! Why are we stuck using pickaxes?! Can't we use some other tool?" Geneve complained as she picked up her tool again.

  Warren paused his own digging to glance over. "You mean explosives? We don't want to damage the cores."

  "I meant proper mining equipment," Geneve clarified. "Like drills and jackhammers and whatever else miners usually use."

  Clare took a swig from her canteen, the water lukewarm but refreshing all the same. "We can ask the CEO for those items next time. Might even make our work here more tolerable."

  "Uhm..." Lyssa piped up, her voice unusually hesitant.

  Everyone turned to her. She had a finger pointed at something in the darkness beyond the lantern's reach.

  With dread rising in her gut, Clare followed the direction Lyssa was pointing. At first, she didn't see anything, but as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw movement.

  Lots of movement.

  The chittering from the darkness increased in volume and frequency. A mass of shadowy forms crawled across the walls, their spindly limbs skittering audibly over stone. The darkness seemed to boil with them, a living tide of arachnid bodies surging toward the group.

  "Clare, wanna take care of most of them, please?" Byron spoke up. "I'll handle the leftovers."

  "On it!" Clare unslung her rifle and took aim. After adjusting for distance, she pulled the trigger.

  Kaboom.

  Her weapon roared, and the muzzle flash illuminated the tunnel briefly, casting monstrous shadows on the walls. The explosive round flew down the corridor and hit its mark, exploding among the gathered crawlers.

  The concussion threw the frontmost crawlers back, their carapaces cracking against the stone. The explosion ripped several of the creatures apart, filling the air with chunks of chitin and ichor. The blast echoed through the cavern before being drowned out by a cacophony of shrieks and hisses from the injured beasts.

  She reloaded her rifle quickly and lined up another shot at the next densest group of crawlers.

  Five seconds until the cooldown of her upgraded ability...

  Now!

  Kaboom.

  Her second round flew off her muzzle in a flash. It sailed down the corridor, hit its mark, and detonated. More crawlers shrieked in agony as they were blasted into pieces and blown against the wall. Ichor splattered across the stone.

  After she fired her two shots, the horde's advance had slowed down, but it was still pushing toward the squad.

  With a roar, Byron stepped up to meet them. He activated his Taunt ability and immediately drew the attention of the remaining crawlers.

  As the crawlers converged on Byron, he swung his sword in wide arcs, each strike cleaving through multiple foes in one go. Severed limbs and shattered carapaces littered the floor at his feet.

  Despite the onslaught, Byron stood firm, his heavy armor deflecting or absorbing most of the blows. The crawlers' sharp legs skittered across the metal surface, occasionally finding gaps to pierce through.

  Geneve joined the fray, her daggers flashing in the dim light. She wove between Byron and the creatures, her movements a blur as she slashed at vulnerable spots. Warren hung back, his submachine gun barking out bursts of fire that cut down any crawlers that slipped past the frontline. Lyssa kept pace with them all, her medical kit at the ready.

  Eventually, the tide of crawlers ebbed. Byron delivered a final crushing blow, his sword splitting the last crawler nearly in half. Its body collapsed to the floor with a wet thud.

  The air, thick with dust and the acrid stench of ichor, slowly began to clear.

  "Great, now we gotta deal with the stink on top of everything," Geneve complained. "Ugh, it's getting into my hair."

  Byron shook his head, dislodging a piece of crawler leg that had been wedged in a joint of his armor. "Well, at least they didn't bring out anything stronger."

  Lyssa let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, lucky us."

  Clare rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, the tension of the fight starting to ease. "Still, I could do without having to fight while mining. Just our luck to be assigned to this place. It should be Squad 2's turn tomorrow, right?"

  "Yeah, I believe so," Warren said, double-checking his data slate. "They'll probably be just as thrilled as we are."

  "At least we're done with the weeklies," Byron rumbled. "The dailies can't compare to this hellhole."

  Clare chuckled dryly, wiping her rifle down. "Amen to that."

  Geneve stretched, her joints popping audibly. "Well, shall we get back to it then? I'd rather not spend any longer down here than we have to."

  Squad 1 returned to their barracks after a grueling day of mining and trekking through the marshlands in search of Aetherroots. Their gear clattered heavily as they dropped it onto the racks.

  "Finally! Sweet, sweet relief!" Lyssa flopped onto her bunk, her face half-buried in her pillow. "That was brutal."

  "Lyssa! Your suit! That's my bed!!" Clare screeched at her. "Off!"

  "Ughhhh." With a grunt, Lyssa pushed herself off the bunk. "Fine..."

  Clare heaved a sigh as she watched Lyssa strip out of her gear and toss it haphazardly onto the nearby rack. "Honestly, have some manners."

  "Sorry mom..." Lyssa's reply was muffled by her shirt as she pulled it over her head. "Urk... tight..."

  Geneve rolled her eyes and shook her head at Lyssa's antics before turning to Warren. "So, I assume you've already reported today's mission results to the CEO? We're clear for the evening?"

  Warren nodded. "Yep. We're all set. Unless there's an emergency, we should have a quiet night ahead."

  Clare sighed in relief. "Finally, a chance to rest and get this... gunk out of my hair."

  Geneve laughed, nudging Clare teasingly. "You mean that delightful blend of marsh mud and crawler ichor? It's a unique style."

  They all took their turn in the barracks' communal bathroom, washing off the grime and sweat of the day's labor. As the hot water washed over her skin, Clare couldn't help but let out a contented sigh. It felt good to be clean again, even if just for a little while.

  Once they were all clean and dressed in comfortable loungewear, they made their way back to the commons area. They gathered around the table, relaxing into the familiar banter.

  "So, any plans for tonight?" Warren asked the group. "Or are we just going to chill here?"

  "I could go for some video games," Lyssa chimed in, her usual cheer returning now that the day's work was behind them. "Who wants to play?"

  Geneve shrugged, her eyes flicking towards the rec room. "I wouldn't mind a bit of mindless button mashing. It's been a while since we've had the chance for some R&R."

  Byron chuckled and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "Sounds good to me. Beats sitting around talking strategy all evening."

  Warren grinned. "Alright, video games it is then!"

  The squad made their way over to the rec room where multiple game consoles were set up along with various multiplayer games that allowed them to team up against each other or cooperate against the CPU.

  As they settled in for an evening of gaming, the stresses of the day slowly melted away. For a few precious hours, they could just be friends hanging out, laughing, and enjoying each other's company without the looming responsibilities of their roles.