Too bad she didn't have time to sightsee. She was here to meet exotic people, and, like the old bumper sticker said, kill them.

In fact, Captain Mitchell and the rest of Alpha Team were already heading to the gate, and they needed those entrance guards taken out, so every second counted. Every last one. But she hadn't found her next firing position yet.

She sighed loudly in frustration and gritted her teeth. The balaclava, with a small hole cut out for her Cross-Com earpiece, was soaking wet and beginning to itch. She cursed and reached up, removed the earpiece/monocle, then grabbed the balaclava, tore it off, and kept running.

"Come on, come on, come on," she whispered.

Within a minute Diaz finally settled into her next spot, the balaclava now tucked behind her belt, the Cross-Com back on her ear.

The cold, wet rifle felt perfect against her cheek. She homed in on the second sniper.

Time for him to check out.

But damn it, he was already moving, the red diamond IDing him sliding across her HUD.

She breathed another curse, dragged herself back up, and got moving again.

Mitchell, Ramirez, Smith, and Nolan worked their way across the field, the mud rising to their ankles.

With the rain and their black uniforms, they should be near impossible to spot. Still, sharp veins of lightning printed the sky negative, and the ground rumbled with racing cracks of thunder. During any one of those flashes, a keen-eyed guard could turn his head in the right direction, make his radio call, and open fire. Surprise party over.

A long, earthen wall about four feet tall extended from both sides of the wrought-iron gates, and Ramirez was first to reach it, followed by Mitchell, Smith, and Nolan.

Crouching in the shallow mud puddles, Mitchell activated his MR-C's gun cam, then he rose and slid the rifle over the wall top while peering into the camera's display, which flipped open like a portable video camera's. The screen allowed him to shoot around corners and over the tops of walls, but for now he exploited its recon possibilities. He panned right, then left, and despite the grainy image, he saw enough to elicit a huff of frustration. The two guards posted outside the rectangular building were still at their posts, so Mitchell and the others would have to risk moving in closer to ensure single-shot, clean kills. And the question lingered: what had happened to Diaz?

He slid back down and shook his head at the others, then he checked his HUD, switching to an image coming in from Diaz's camera: she was on the run.

"Diaz, SITREP."

"I lost the second sniper for a minute. Got him now in my HUD. I'm moving position. Can you wait for me?"

"Negative, I need my guards down now."

"Roger that. Stand by."