Martinez's POV
"Sir, we're losing contact with Team Delta," Lieutenant Henderson says, his voice tight through the radio static.
I stare at the screens in my mobile command center, watching red dots disappear one by one from the tactical display. Three weeks of planning, two months of intelligence gathering, and these f*****g dogs are making my trained soldiers look like amateurs.
"What do you mean losing contact?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"They're not responding to radio calls. Last transmission was seventeen minutes ago."
"Are they dead or just compromised?"
"Unknown, sir."
I light another cigarette, my fourth in the past hour. The nicotine isn't helping the headache anymore, but it's something to do with my hands while I watch twenty years of military experience g
