At Angela’s gesture, Drew tossed over her phone. She pressed a few buttons and JJ’s face jumped from the tiny phone screen to cover the stark white wall.

  “Can you hear me okay, Agent Johnson?”

  “I can, Midnight. We’ve got a major situation. Is Mr. Morgan available?”

  Widget leaned in, as if to adjust the projection. Off camera, she jerked her head in a quick negation.

  “No, he’s not.” After a moment’s nervous hesitation, Midnight continued. “I guess I’ll do as a company rep though. What did you need?”

  “There’s a situation in New York City. It’s bad, and it’s getting worse.”

  “One moment, JJ,” Drew leaned over and touched Walker on the arm. “Captain? Could you go get Jack for me? I have a feeling this is an all-hands-on-deck kind of situation.”

  On the screen, Johnson shook his head, frowning. “That’s an understatement. Someone, and I suspect it’s the same someone who suborned that soldier down there at Dix, managed to get a bunch of idiots calling themselves the ‘Sovereign Citizen’s Militia’ into a couple National Guard Armories. They’re moving into New York City to ‘restore domestic tranquility’.”

  Drew blinked, her mouth dropping open just a touch. “Uh, isn’t this the kind of thing you’d get the National Guard to deal with? Or have they all thrown in with the militia?”

  “No. Thank God. For what it’s worth, the National Guard units have retaken the armories, mostly with personal weapons. Thing is, for all the idiocy of their politics, the militias have someone smart making the tactical calls. By the time they lost the Armories, they were mostly empty buildings anyhow. Just a few guys at each putting up a big show.”

  “Uh, so they’re not chasing them down because?”

  “Because they’re outnumbered and outgunned. If they follow now, they’re going to get taken apart.”

  “What about the Army? Or the Marines?”

  Johnson’s face closed down. “For the most part, they’re unavailable. The ready units will be there and able to deploy in just under twenty-four hours, but by then the city will either be fortified, ruined, or both.” He shook his head again, this time ruefully. “Y’know, I almost wish I could see what happens when the militia runs into the local gangbangers the police have been dealing with.”

  Midnight scrambled, trying to think of anything which might mitigate the news she was hearing. “What about… uh… the Air Force? Or the Navy?”

  “Oh, either one could bomb the city flat if we had to, but right now most of the country still sees New York City as, well… New York City. There’s been a big natural disaster, but that’s about it.”

  “Have they been paying attention?”

  “Not really. You guys may not realize, being stuck in the middle of it, but every city in the world got hit by the Rain of Fire. The suburbs actually fared better than most; the more tall buildings in a city, and the taller they were, the harder it got hit.” Jack walked into the room, and JJ nodded to him. “You grew up near Philly, Jack. You’ll be glad to hear it’s currently one of the most functional cities in the world right now.”

  “So why doesn’t anyone but us realize how hard New York got hit?”

  “Because right now you Blue Bloods are the first group outside of myself, the President, and some folks at the NSA who did the math to know about the concentration. As far as anyone else in the world knows, New York City got hit just about as hard as anywhere else. In reality, with the exception of a few places like Hong Kong, it got hit harder than anywhere else in the world.”

  “Why are we now among the chosen few, Agent?” Midnight hadn’t even noticed Grace slip into the room, but she’d asked the question Midnight hadn’t dared give voice to.

  “Because the President of the United States has asked Blue Bloods, Incorporated to aid in the arrest of the persons inciting civil unrest in the city of New York.”

  ***

  Jack stared at the back of Midnight’s head. He hadn’t taken this job to go back into combat. He’d known there would be fighting, but he’d expected it to be breaking up fights, maybe catching bad guys resisting arrest, not dropping into a full-on war zone. Now he found himself strapped into an Osprey barreling toward the worst kind of warfare, an urban insurrection. He still had nightmares about the last time.

  “ETA, Midnight?”

  “We’ll be on the ground in five, Widget.”

  Widget spun her seat around to face the rest of the gathered Blue Bloods. “Okay. I know I said this before when we stopped at headquarters, but this really is the last time any of you can back out. Is everyone sure they’re ready for this?”

  “Ready and willing to go kick some militia ass.”

  “Good to know, Axeman, but we’re not going there to ‘kick ass’. We’re going to disarm or disable any ‘rioters’, protect the civilians who are trying to evacuate, and see if we can find whoever started this thing and put them behind bars.”

  Steve just shook his head and grinned at her. “And you think they’re coming quietly?”

  “They will if I ask them to.” Katarina Wells’ voice echoed oddly through the interior of the plane. The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood up, and he felt the rest of him trying to rise from the five-point restraint.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “That’s what I was hoping for, actually. Have you decided on a new code name yet?”

  “The voice thing is pretty distinctive, and from what I’ve seen of the news coverage, I’m not the one who needs a new identity. I thought I’d stick with Siren.”

  Widget nodded. “Okay. Siren it is. Damien?”

  “Angel.”

  She tapped at her phone once more, taking notes. “And are you both ready to do this?”

  The pair nodded. Damien slipped on his mask, one of the simple ones Midnight had sewn for prospective team members.

  “Flex?”

  Jesse’s head snapped forward from where she’d stretched her neck to look out through one of the windows near the rear of the plane. “Yeah, boss?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Jesse went back to her sightseeing.

  “Frostfire?”

  The tiny Asian woman cocked her head, staring past Widget. Before the doctor could ask again, she held up a hand, asking for patience. After a minute of silence, she asked a simple question.

  “Are there people in trouble?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe I might be able to help them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can anyone else do so?”

  Widget shrugged. “I’m sure someone else can, but I’m not sure anyone else will.”

  Grace shook her head. “To simplify; will my presence mean fewer people will be harmed?”

  Now it was Widget’s turn to look thoughtful, but only for a second. “I believe so.”

  Frostfire sighed, and steam filled the cabin for a fraction of a second. “Then I have no choice. All that is required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. I do not know what I can do, but if all I do is hold one bandage, it may save a life. Again.”

  Widget nodded, and then turned to face Jack. “You in, Jack?”

  He’d been dreading this moment. Worse than the thought of saying ‘yes’ was the thought he might not be able to force the word out. The sound of his own voice shocked him; it ought to be as uncertain as Grace’s, but instead it came out strong and sure. “Yes, ma’am. Someone’s got to keep you all safe if we’re really going into a war zone.”

  Widget smiled. “Thank you, Jack. Captain Walker?”

  The astronaut looked over at her. He’d tagged along since the bunker, but as far as Jack knew, he hadn’t been officially added to the Blue Bloods roster. Now he cocked his head as if listening for something. A moment later he responded.

  “I took an oath to defend the United States. I never thought I’d be doing so on the ground, but if that’s where I’m needed, that’s where I’ll go.”

  “Excellent. Do you have a code name?”

  The astronaut smiled. “I think I’ll just go with Walker. Jack seems to be fine using his real name.”

  “Okay then. I don’t think we’ll need you on the ground per se, though. We’ll need recon, and you’re our only reliable aerial resource.”

  “I find them, Siren convinces them to surrender, and we all apply zip ties and handcuffs until the local police can take them off our hands?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Speaking of plans,” Midnight interrupted, “we’re making our final approach. Be ready to deploy when the wheels touch down.” She flicked a control, and the muted sounds of ‘Smoke on the Water’ vibrated the deck of the plane.

  “You sure that’s wise, Midnight?”

  She turned around, grinning at him. “We’re a bright blue Osprey with upgraded, and therefore noisier, engines. Ain’t nobody don’t know we’re coming, Jack.”

  With her head turned toward him, Jack saw the warning light milliseconds before she did. Klaxons screamed through the plane. Midnight slammed the control yoke to one side, rolling the plane nearly on its side as she slapped at a button on the panel. A hideous metallic scream sounded from the port wing, and the world started spinning.

  “Shit! Surface to air missile just took out the port engines. I’ve still got the rear, I think I can set it down safe, but you guys need to get out!”

  Everything slowed down as a scene from Jack’s nightmares played itself out moment by moment. Air rushed from the cabin as the main cargo door slid open. His seat spun itself one hundred eighty degrees, and then he fell through the hatch, his chute opening automatically a moment after he hit clear air. For a second, he thought he might be dead; there wasn’t a way for the chute to deploy fast enough.

  Strong, glowing hands grabbed him, pulled him into a cluster gathered around Angel. A moment later, the whole group settled into an upraised palm; Jesse spun to interpose herself between them and the crashing aircraft, setting them safely on the ground.

  “Where’s Midnight?” called Widget.

  Axeman shouted back. “She didn’t get clear!”

  Jack’s gaze snapped back around to the plane, clawing its way sideways toward the center of the park. Just as its ravaged port wingtip scraped against the ground, two more missiles hammered into it from close range. Long buried reflexes threw him to the ground, dragging Frostfire and Widget with him, ignoring the burn of instant frostbite on his arm as much as the tiny instants of burning heat as shrapnel rained down from the sudden fireball.

  “Sonofabitch!” screamed Axeman, unlimbering his fire axe and charging at the small group of men pinpointed by the vapor trails of the rockets. By the time Jack regained his feet, the young idiot got in among them, flipping his axe at the last second to smash the side against the shoulder of one of the two guys holding rocket launchers.

  “Put down your weapons and surrender!” Even at the edges of Siren’s power, Jack wanted to do just that. The gang members on the street, on the other hand, ignored her completely. Instead, they turned small arms toward the group and opened fire.

  The idiots also opened fire on the axe wielding psychopath in their midst, doing more damage to each other than Steve. His coat jerked and flapped as bullets hammered home, but whether through adrenaline, healing, or just plain rage he tore through the ones with the heavy weapons, beating them down with the flat of his axe.

  A second later a wall of blue flesh slid up behind the last row of attackers. Jesse’s face slid into view, and then a pair of arms twisted out to hammer into six different knees at once. They fell, enveloped immediately into a pile of Jesse.

  Angel stood between the rest of the group and the enemy, his glowing hands slapping down bullets as fast as they came in. Siren stood back-to-back with him, mouthing the word ‘plugs’ and pointing at her ears.

  “Jack, could you distract them for a moment? And let me up?”

  The tension in her spine told him how much it cost her to keep herself from slipping into what Steve called ‘Mega-Moppet’. He lifted himself into a crouch, spotted what he needed, and charged over to a tree knocked over by the Osprey’s explosion. With one smooth motion he wrenched it free of the ground and sent it flying through the air. It hit the gangbangers like a blunt scythe, knocking them over and, in most cases, disarming them. He shook his head at the poor weapons discipline, and then dropped back to the ground at the sound of more projectiles flying through the air.

  “You’re sure this won’t injure them?” Grace stood, hefting one of Widget’s gun shaped medical devices.

  “Bruises and nicks only, Frostfire.” The doc took aim, fired, and one of the remaining gangbangers slumped bonelessly to the ground. “After what they did to Midnight, I can live with that.”

  Her comment reminded him of the young policewoman’s sacrifice, so similar to the one from his memories. Eyes tearing up, he looked to the crash site just in time to see a final explosion send the passenger door of the plane flying off into the night.

  “Goddammit!”

  The explosion combined with the scream to shock everyone on the battlefield into sudden silence. An angel of fire and wrath stalked from the burning wreckage, making a bee line for the biggest of the gang members, who had a glowing blue syringe held ready to plunge into his own thigh.

  She stopped with her face inches from his, the flames in her hair licking smoke from his jacket. Inexorably, she reached out, gripped his hand, and pulled the injector from him as he stared in an unmistakable mix of lust and horror.

  “Give. Me. Your. Goddamned. Clothes. Now.”