Irenaeus

Paxton

"Two minutes out," the watch on my hand statics. "Over." 

 The eight wheel truck comes into view from my place on the roof, where my team is stationed. 

"Copy," I mutter.

It was Dawson's idea for us to use these communication watches we stole from the last hijack. They help with timing everything right, but if you ask me he takes all of this too seriously.

There are three of us, me Patrick and Jason, crouched down loading our guns by the edge of the roof, hidden from view. On the roof parallel to us are Dawson and his boys doing the same. Two teams are on the ground waiting for my signal. I watch the time.

"Almost," I say, crouched in position, twisting the silencer on and sliding the gun into the strap on my pants. Thirty more seconds until they're right where we need them. I check Pat, then J. Their guns are loaded and ready.

I haven't known either of them long. They're brothers, twins, who found us just a few months prior. They were younger than a lot of the group but I took them in and trained them myself.

"Just like we practiced," I say. "Don't mess this up." I begin to unravel the rope attached to the grappling hook that lays at my feet.

Our watches static, "Go!"

I launch my body of the edge of the roof at the same time J and Pat shoot the two royal soldiers hanging from the left side of the truck below. The truck driver continues on the route unknowingly. My feet hit the pavement and I run over to the bodies of the soldiers, checking their pulses. I look up at Dawson where he's crouched on the ground checking the soldiers who fell from the right side. His gas mask bobs, "Dead."

We begin our sprint after the truck. The dark sky is our cover so they shouldn't see us coming.

 "Delta team move," I yell into the watch. 

They'll take care of the bodies, take any uniforms or supplies we may need, and meet us at the village.

When I catch up to the rear of the truck I reach in my pocket and throw a steel propeller at the driver's rearview mirror. The truck slows enough for me to reach the front, jump onto the footboard, yank the door open and—

"You," the driver says.

I don't know him, but he must have heard of me. He can't see me smirk as I reach for my gun and press it against his temple.

"Surprise bitch," I clutch.

I grab his gun, throw his body out and slide in after him, taking control of the truck. Dawson shoves himself in next to me from his side of the truck. I hear one, two, four loud thumps from the top of the truck meaning our team has assumed their positions.

"Vehicle secure," I say into the coms, turning the truck onto the backroads that will lead us toward the village. Dawson is next to me brushing his hands of when I hear the sirens.

"Boss," Pat's voice comes through the coms. "We've got a problem."

I curse and pass Dawson the gun on my lap. I was sure the royal police would be held up with the annual blood tests today. Them showing up is a problem, but it's what we trained for. "Looks like they saved some fun for us, ladies," I say. I hit the gas.

I hear shots being fired from both sides of the truck. A bump from the rear rocks the vehicle.

Dawson is looking out his rearview when me mutters, "There's too many."