The roof of the ziggurat is a large, two-story platform rimmed by the obsidian black walls. The massive flagpole in the center, and scaffolding for six helipads arranged in a hexagon around it. The helipads are raised, with space underneath providing room for repair equipment, fuel tanks, staircases, and several doors spread around the lower deck. There are three vtols on standby, parked with their rotating wings, engines, and propeller blades in the upright position. Half a dozen pilots, reacting to the attack, are currently running up the stairs to reach the platforms.

“Platform four-“ Avi says, quickly pulling the trigger. Tammy snaps his gaze to platform four just in time to see the bullet impact the pilot’s shoulder and separate his arm from his torso. The two have been together for so long that he knows platform four is counted clockwise, so from their position, it’s the helipad on the bottom left.

“Hit,” Tammy confirms as Avi pulls the bolt back. The other pilots can hear his screams and are turning their heads. “Platform two,” the helipad on the middle right. There’s a pilot who stopped to gawk at the death of his comrade, apparently too stunned to realize the danger he’s in.

Avi flicks her rifle over and pulls the trigger. The girl’s a creature of instinct and feeling. She has a knack for remembering data, such as bullet drop and wind speed, and realizing when bullets should hit her target based on where she’s aiming. The moment her crosshair reaches a point that will result in a hit, a signal goes off in her brain and she pulls the trigger. No hesitation, no doubt, no broader thought.

As such, Tammy watches the target, waits for the bullet moving so fast it might as well be invisible, then sees the man’s chest suddenly explode inward. “Hit.” Blood and organ chunks are blown out of his back, painting the hull of the helicopter behind him. “Fuel tank, bottom level.”

Avi adjusts, pulls the trigger, and the steel tipped bullet punches a hole into the first fuel tank, the gas spilling out and coating the floor beneath the six helipads. She moves left, pulling back the bolt on her sniper as she does, and shoots another tank, then a third. The fuel tanks she shoots are the ones under the occupied helipads.

“Reload,” Tammy says calmly.

Avi pulls her rifle back, taking the suppressor out of the hole in the glass, and lowers the front until it touches the ground. This keeps the back raised, allowing Avi to press a button on the stock, and pop out the nearly empty magazine. Tammy grabs the empty magazine and passes her a full one, letting her slot it into place behind the trigger. Because there’s still a bullet in the chamber, she doesn’t need to pull the bolt back and can slot the suppressor back into the hole.

“The operation should last no more than twenty minutes,” Tammy says, looking through his binoculars. “Ten minutes at most for evacuation helicopters to arrive from the nearby airbase outside the city.” He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a .750 caliber bullet, the kind Avi’s sniper uses, with an incendiary red tip. He lays it next to Avi’s elbow. “Squad Coccyx will deal with the targets inside, Squad Lumbar will move in and clear an escape route through the cops and soldiers. Our job is to prevent anyone from escaping via the roof. In all my calculations, there was no way Squad Coccyx could assassinate the military leadership before they evacuated to that airbase across the bay. So we just need to focus on preventing the evacuation.”

“…” Avi flicks a button on her scope to zoom out, watching the whole roof, and quickly notices a target. The pilot has climbed inside the cockpit but has yet to close the window. “Platform four,” she flicks the zoom back, turns her aim, and pulls the trigger. She frowns, “gonna miss,” she pulls back the bolt to chamber a new round.

Tammy looks at the cockpit through his binoculars and sees an explosion of fabric as her bullet rips through the leather seat just inches behind him. The man jolts and his eyes go wide, face twisted in shock and fear. He sits up to grab the handle on the canopy.

Avi fires again, “hmm…” The bullet flies for about two and a half seconds. Just as he’s bringing the bulletproof cockpit down, the bullet slips between the gap a heartbeat before he can close it. The steel tip impacts his lower chest and paints the inside of the glass a messy crimson.

“Hit. Dead instantly.”

“Hehheh.” She pulls the bolt back.

“Tch,” Tammy bites his bottom lip, “insane how simple you make it look.”

Avi smiles and snaps her fingers repeatedly. “I’m just on it, fast as lightning!” She taps Tammy’s back with her tail, “you could do it too if you weren’t so busy thinking. Just turn off your brain or you’re spend so long considering that you’ll miss your opportunity.”

“It’s not so simple as just having good reflexes. You hit more often than not, so there’s clearly skill involved.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m just a genius, aren’t I?”

“In this one particular instance and nothing else, yes.”

“I’m choosing to only acknowledge the last word,” she says with a smile and a rattle of her tail.

“Not being able to focus on many things at once is a sign of mental retar-“

“Helicopters incoming!” Avi cries, narrowing her brow as she watches the approach.

Three vtols in a V formation speed in from across the bay, the engines rotating upwards to enter helicopter mode as the nose tips up and they slow. The first helicopter touches down, then the second, then third. The rear ramp opens and two guards, clad in heavy black armor, exit each one to stand guard. Based on procedure, Tammy knows each vtol also carries a small medical staff in case the VIPs are wounded as they escape. There’s no reason to waste time shooting the guards.

“Look at the bottom level of the roof…” Tammy says, leaning forward, grabbing the explosive bullet from the bed and holding it up.

“Watching…” Avi grabs the bullet, pulls back the bolt to expel the unspent bullet, then slots the explosive round into place.

“Guard, right side, leaving the doorway.”

“Waiting…” She pushes the bolt forward, priming the explosive round.

“He’s stepping out… gun drawn… just as planned.” Tammy cracks a smile, and, for reasons Avi can’t explain, starts narrating what the guard does. But she likes how he’s enjoying himself. “You notice something’s wrong. Do you see the bodies? We didn’t kill anyone down there, the corpses are up on the helipads and scaffolding. Checking your boot, trying to figure out what that large puddle is. What are you gonna do? Tell everyone to run to the vtols, or do you sense the trap and shove them back downstairs? Shaking your head… looking back to the doorway, haha! You’re waving your arm! Telling your friends to come up! You idiot!”

“Ready…”

He puts a hand on her back, “not yet,” he says with a wide grin. “Let them get further in.”

A dozen human officers rush out of the doorway, disregarding the thick liquid covering the bottom deck. They’re older, mostly men but there are a few women in the mix. Their uniforms are a dark olive green, with blood red highlights on the seams and fringes. Each human has a rich purple skin tone, white hair, and fleshy appendages on their face that mimic whiskers and beards, some have bald heads with appendages that swoop backwards to mimic hair. It’s a common strategy of the gurant to artificially boost one ethnic group above their peers so that they act as a lightning rod for discontent among the ‘lesser’ ethnic group, rather than everyone focusing their ire towards the gurant. Medals adorn their chests, far too many ribbons and achievements for them to have been earned legitimately. With the ongoing rebellion across the bay, if that many accolades were genuine then the war would have been won years ago, and wouldn’t have descended into a prolonged slugfest.

These officers are nothing more than administrators and pencil pushers; bureaucrats who might be skilled in their fields but are ultimately just the people behind the scenes who enact the will of the gurant. The gurant are, and will always be, the real thinkers and decision makers in the empire.

But killing them all will disrupt operations against the Barabba Tribe’s clients for at least a little while, and there are plenty of important gurant in that ziggurat.

“Ooh! Toadman!” Tammy bounces on the bed as one steps out of the doorway.

“Waiting..!” Avi smiles, her aim unhindered by her husband shaking the mattress.

The gurant, wearing armored boots, gloves, an exoskeleton to boost his speed, and a regal outfit full of lavish decorations and accessories, looks down. In less than a second, he realizes that the standing liquid on the bottom deck is fuel, and that this must be a trap. Without a moment of hesitation, he rushes back into the doorway and leaves the roof, probably trampling a human or two on his escape.

“Now!”

Avi pulls the trigger and sends the explosive bullet out.

It flies for about three seconds, hits the middle of the bottom deck’s floor, and the red tip explodes.

The high-temperature spark ignites the standing fuel, the fire roaring out from the impact point as a wave. Dozens of human officers are swiftly engulfed by the inferno before their brains can even register the explosion, the flames rising high to the helipads above. The burning officers flail their arms and try to in vain to pat out the fire consuming them, stumbling and eventually falling to the fuel-covered floor in their panicked spasms, crying out in the most agonizing pain imaginable. The flames melt their clothes, fuse the fabric to their skin, and soon the flesh beneath is burned away, leaving nothing but charred skeletons no different from the humans they betrayed by working for the toadmen. Considering how much pain they’ve helped the gurant bring to others, it’s a fitting way to go. It’s only a shame that the gurant escaped and will face a quick, efficient death at the hands of the Kill Team, but that too is fitting. The gurant abandoned his human puppets the moment he sensed danger, and didn’t lift a finger to try and save them.

Smoke rises quickly to the helipads, engulfing the vtols and soon the thick black smog even occludes the giant red flag before being carried off by the wind.

The flames heat the fuel tanks, and the remaining gas inside explodes in a vicious fireball. It causes a chain reaction, the unshot tanks bursting. The helipads up top are caught in flames. Some pilots try to take off, but the fire sets their engines ablaze. The helicopters begin roasting, and the smoke would cause anyone inside to pass out from lack of oxygen.

At this point, the smoke is so thick that Tammy and Avi can’t even see the roof of the ziggurat anymore, but it shouldn’t be long before the heat melts the scaffolding and collapses all six helipads into a single burning pile of scrap metal.

“Niiice!” Tammy yells, dropping his binoculars and affectionally jostling Avi’s shoulders. “You love a good barbeque, right? Should we head over and get you a bite to eat?”

His joy and excitement is infectious, and Avi giggles, creaking the bed from their bouncing. “Looks like they’d be a little burnt, but I bet those pilots have a nice smokey flavor!”

The two burst into a mad giggle. Tammy because his operation was a flawless success that he gets to share with his partner, and Avi because Tammy is happily sharing the moment with her. He wraps an arm around her back and pulls the girl close. She presses the side of her face against his, but it’s Tammy that’s so full of mirth that he plants a smooch on her cheek. Her tail fails wildly in response, and her face goes red. It takes every ounce of restraint not to pounce on him after that, but she manages to suppress the urge by biting her bottom lip.

The man wipes a tear from his eye, “aah,” he sighs, satisfied, “alright. Back to seriousness, the roof is cut off, dozens of officers are roasted, and Squad Coccyx has free reign of the place. Let’s get out of here.”

Avi sits up and pops out the magazine, then pulls the bolt several times to ensure the sniper is empty. It’s hard for Avi to think up a conversation topic after that kiss, but this isn’t the first time that the pure bliss of a successful assassination has caused Tammy to be a bit more affectionate than normal. “P-plus we killed six expensive helicopters… and lots of trained pilots. How, uh, how much money do you think was spent on all that fuel we ruined?” Her face is locked in a crimson shade, and her tail won’t stop.

Tammy grabs her rifle and starts disassembling it. “Pfft, quite a bit, but not that much compared to the GDP of gurant territories on this world. Maybe the equivalent of 10,000 citizens working for a year. The real prize is so many high-profile deaths.” Every time Tammy removes a piece of the gun, he tosses it to Avi, who quickly catches and stores it in the case.

“Will we get credit for this? The Barabba tribe, I mean.”

“Probably not,” Tammy says as he undoes the bolt. “The authorities don’t even want the common citizen knowing about so-called ‘true dissidents’ like us. They’ll blame this on some ‘terrorist group,’ which is conveniently run by other gurant in secret. So, any citizens that see this and think ‘wow, I should join and help fight the gurant! I hate those monsters!’ Will just end up working for an organization owned by a gurant anyway. It’s called the limited hangout strategy. But everyone ‘in-the-know,’ like the gurant, or our clients, or our future clients, will know it was us.”

The last piece of the rifle goes in the case and Tammy shuts the top and clicks the latches in place. Avi slips into her long coat while Tammy grabs her ankles to direct her feet into her shoes. When she hoists the case over her shoulder, Tammy opens her coat and stuffs the suppressed pistol in the holster. He takes off the metal tapdancing attachments he borrowed from Avi, puts his shoes on, and they’re ready to leave.

Avi stands by the door and looks back, her arm hooked. With a bright smile, she’s inviting Tammy to link their arms, which he promptly does, giving her a wink.

They leave the hotel room side by side, Avi leading him since the power is still out all over the city and her night vision is necessary to guide him down the hallways and stairs. Once they reach the ground floor, they make their way to the employee entrance. One security guard with a flashlight barks orders at them to stop and get back to their rooms, but Avi shoots him in the face and they continue.

Exiting into the alley, heading onto the street, then popping open a manhole cover to enter the sewers.

She needs to kill a further seven city guards who are patrolling the sewers during the crisis.

The two pop back onto the streets near the outskirts of the city, easily sneak past a few guards, then make their way home.

Squad Coccyx fights inside the ziggurat for a time, killing all the police officers and riot cops that are quickly mobilized to storm the building. The ziggurat is put under siege, which is when, just as Tammy planned, Squad Lumbar attacks the besieging forces from behind. With a surprise attack from the rear, and a dozen highly trained bone-tails assaulting from the front, the guards are overwhelmed, and the two squads link up, breaking the encirclement. The 21 bone-tails then split into three-man teams, each of which escape the city via a different route that Tammy had organized previously using a network of spies and mercenaries that were bought off months prior to Tammy ever being charged with planning the operation.

After three days, everyone arrives back at the Barabba tribe’s camp, taking obscure routes to ensure nobody was followed.

Of the 23 assassins that took part in the operation, all 23 returned alive. This is standard for Kill Team missions.

Multiple assassins received grievous injuries, but bone-tails have strong healing abilities. Even the most heavily wounded will be healthy after less than two weeks of bed rest, with their scars disappearing after a few months.

A stunning success for the Barabba tribe, and a crowning moment in Tammy’s career as an assassin.