“This is where March’s group has been hanging out, they’re after her?” Disjoint asked.

Love Lost nodded.

“We’re surprising the surprise attackers,” Disjoint said.

Love Lost shook her head.

There was a pause, then she typed out the words. Colt reached for her phone before it even rang, still looking through binoculars.

Love Lost:
SURVEILLANCE. NOT SURPRISE ATTACK.
THEY ARE SUPPORT TEAM FOR SOLO ASSASSIN.
IMP.

“Makes sense,” Nailbiter said. “We don’t know the power level of the three without masks.”

Love Lost:
THE GROUP IS SCARED OF THE YOUNGEST GIRL.
UNPREDICTABLE AND POWERFUL.
FORMATION HAS BLOND BOY AT CENTER. PROTECTED.
BLACK HAIRED BOY IN VANGUARD.

Black-haired boy. Colt looked again. He walked with Damsel, not saying much. Damsel was vanguard too, it seemed. Made sense, based on what she knew.

“Can we take them?”

It took a second before Colt realized she’d asked the question.

Love Lost nodded.

She reached to one wrist, and adjusted the settings on the claw at the arm where there was only one configuration. Colt watched warily.

Claw-tips glowed. Where they moved, they cut lines into the air.

A circle was drawn around Hookline. A line was drawn from it, as claws tapped at air. Hookline’s phone lit up, and he held up the screen for others to see.

Love Lost:
SMALLEST GIRL. INCAPACITATE.

More circles were drawn out. Orders given by text to specific phones. Each person dutifully held up their phones with the targets and orders, shifting position to be ready to take the courses given. Some would attack the rear, others the front.

Disjoint to Lookout.

Kitchen Sink to the black-haired and blond boys, whoever provided themselves as a target.

Nailbiter to the same pairing, dissuading Damsel where possible.

Love Lost to Imp and Damsel.

Then Colt. A circle drawn around her and two other hired guns from the Lyme center.

The text appeared.

Love Lost:
SUPPORT ATTACK FROM REAR
PERMISSION TO KILL
EXCEPTION FOR TWO GIRLS. LOOKOUT & YOUNGER.

Colt nodded. Her heart continued its racing beat, not slowing, not speeding up. It made the entire thing feel less real. Easier.

Love Lost started forward. She pointed, then the hand moved, fingers extending down. She ‘walked’ the fingers through the air.

“Walk, don’t run?” Kitchen Sink asked.

“Until they notice us. Save our strength and stamina until then,” Nailbiter said.

Love Lost nodded.

Their path was downhill. Their target a city street with closed businesses all shuttered. Some looked like they were permanently closed. Ice made some footing treacherous, but different members of the group compensated. Love Lost had her claw-feet. Nailbiter had pointed tips to her fingers and toes. Hookline dragged his hook against the pavement. Disjoint was segmented, most of his body floating.

Kitchen Sink wasn’t so able. The other mercenaries too. Still.

“Gun tag,” Disjoint said.

“What?” Colt asked, startled.