Quaranteam - North West

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QT:NW continues the official Spin-Off for the Quaranteam universe originally created by CorruptingPower. You do not need to have read the original series to enjoy this one, but you really do need to start with Chapters 1-4 (I really suggest you read the original though, it's great!). Fans of the original should be pleased to know CP has approved the story and the continuity.

In this chapter you can expect the assault on the cult bunker, and the fallout afterwards.

Returning Dramatis Personae

House Black

- Harrison 'Harri' Black - Sheriff of Black County, 'Jason Momoa-looking motherfucker' mountain man (mixed heritage), former Army MP

- Kyla Bautista - Trained dancer, Phillipino Spy, Harri's Deputy Sheriff, Raven hair

House LaCosta

- Danielle 'Dani' - Australian stripper, Brunette

Natives

- Kara Swiftwater - Harrison's high school sweetheart that ended poorly, community leader of the local Native band, Raven hair

- Gertrude 'Gerty' Swiftwater - Kara's second cousin, Tribal police on the Rez, Voluptuous Native, Raven hair

- Tanaya??? - Kara's neighbour on the Rez

OGA

- Captain Magdalene 'Maggie' Luckey - African-American, Former Air Force (and former Linda's Girl, see Phil's Tale), skilled combatant, mid-recruitment onto Greerson's team.

Other

- Dylan Taylor - Former Ranger, former CIA, skilled combatant, short with very generic features allowing him to blend into most cultures. Currently runs a Self-Defence Prep Academy and works on Human and Child trafficking cases. Married to Jeanine Taylor.

- Jeanine Taylor - Looks like a blonde housewife, Skilled combatant, certified psychopath. Currently runs a Self-Defence Prop Academy and works on Human and Child Trafficking cases. Married to Dylan Taylor.

- Jedidiah Crane - Former Pararescue Operator and combat medic, very tall blonde. Ethnically Amish. Skilled combatant.

- Julia De Luca - Helicopter Pilot, former Air Force Pararescue Pilot. Friend and Client of Erica

Referenced Characters

- Agent Greerson - Senior 'OGA' that negotiated Harri's land deal and dropped Kyla into Harri's life

- Ivy Gauthier - Quebecoise stripper, half-tattooed, Dirty Blonde anal queen

- Erica LaCosta - Fiancee of Harri, Leo's sister, Italian Tattoo Artist, Dark Brunette

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"Pushing the D-side entrance," I said. The words felt thick in my throat as I stepped out of the grave I'd been hiding in. There were seven of them, it looked like, turned into muddy patches of ground from the rain. The excavator had been carving out another four.

"Wait," Dylan said over the comms. "We aren't in position."

Julia looked at me, and then at the holes, and then back at me as she made the same realisation I already had. Her face was graven but she put a hand on my arm, stopping me. "Tactical awareness, Harri," she said. "Slow is fast."

"Fuck," I grunted, clenching my jaw. Jedidiah was looking at me with a commiserating grimace.

Dylan and Maggie came sliding around the front of the old church building from the direction of the outhouses. "Two confirmed down over here," Maggie said quietly. "Good shooting, security."

All we got back was a double click, and I wasn't sure if that was Kyla and Dani being brief, or if one of them was dealing with the fact that they'd just killed two people. It wasn't the first time for Kyla, but I was pretty damn sure it was for Dani.

"I've got a firelane from up in the barn covering the front," Jeanine cut in over the comms. I glanced towards the barn across the U-shaped compound and saw that she'd unblocked one of the second-floor windows and had her rifle propped on the wooden sill.

"What about the kids, Jeanine?" Dylan asked his wife.

"They're being good," she said.

My focus was complete fucking toast. It had gotten a little shaken in the garage when we found the older female captives, but the graves had me all twisted up.

"OK," I said over the comms as I followed Jedidiah towards our side of the church building. Its heavy stone walls were well cut and placed and I had a feeling the thing was more like a bunker than most churches. Someone had built the place as a partial fortress sometime back in the 1800s and I wondered if it had been to hold off people like my family, or Kara's. "I need ideas here," I said quickly. I turned, covering the stone steps down into what had to be a basement entrance. Julia was covering it with me, while Jedidiah watched the big main double doors along with the others.

"Three options," Dylan said. "Shock and awe, we breach both entrances at the same time, hope we get all of them faster than they can start killing hostages or us. Or we try and do a sneaky peek and get more intel."

"What's the third option?" Julia asked.

"Siege," Dylan sighed. "Kill anyone who comes out until they surrender."

"But we don't know enough about these b-a-s-t-a-r-d-s to know if that will work in our favour," Jeanine said. The fact that she

spelt

'bastards' meant that the kids must be able to hear her, and for some reason she thought they might not be able to spell.

"Only problem with a sneaky peek is that we're almost as likely to lose the element of surprise," Jedidiah chipped in.

"More intel is better than none," I said. "Alright. I'm taking the basement door, everyone else hold the front while I take a look."

"I'm coming with you," Julia said. "You aren't going in without backup."

"I should be the one going in," Jedidiah countered.

"No," I said. "If you guys need to breach up here then you need to be up here. Same with Dylan and Maggie."

He turned and glanced back at me, giving me a look. He knew I was making excuses. He knew I just wanted to fucking get in there.

But he didn't say it.

"Alright," he said. "You're the boss, hoss. Team Two, let's back off a bit and get some crossfire position."

It only took them a minute to spread out, scattering so that no one would be in each other's firelines if they needed to open up on the door from cover. They also didn't want to get too far away either, though, in case they needed to breach the front doors.

"Going down," I said once we'd all checked in.

"Be careful," Kyla said softly through the comm.

"I will," I promised her.

I led the way, my MP5 tight to my shoulder as I took the stone steps down. The rain had made them a little slick, and a pool had formed at the bottom - the door was raised about a foot from the base, so it must have been a common problem. I stopped on the bottom step and blew out a breath.

"Did you seriously think Erica would forgive me if I let you do this alone?" Julia asked from behind me, but not over the comms. She was tight to my back, shotgun ready.

"Wasn't really thinking of that, but you're probably right," I said. "Trying the door." It was a steel door, much newer than the building, and had a simple vertical pull handle and a heavy-duty deadbolt lock. I wrapped my hand on the handle and pulled gently, but didn't get any give.

Shit

, I thought.

Am I seriously going to need to have Julia shoot out this lock?

I gave it another tug, though, and it moved.

"It's sticky," I said. "We're going to need to enter fast. This'll make some noise."

"So make some noise," Julia said and patted my shoulder.

I yanked the door hard and it squealed as it ground slightly against the stone frame.

We were in fast, skipping over the water into the dark of the basement.

The inside looked like it must have been renovated over time - cinderblock walls had been added, and we were looking down a short hallway that opened into a dark interior room. The ceiling was almost ten feet up, but the place still felt like a cave. We pushed forward quickly as I hugged the left wall and Julia hugged the right. The room beyond looked like it was the cluttered dumping ground of every generation that had occupied the building since its construction. Piles of random crap were in boxes and crates and scattered on old wooden folding tables. Fabric partitions, stacks of wooden chairs and what looked like corrugated metal sheets blocked the view going deeper in. Still, everything was at least illuminated... barely. Ancient, yellowed bulbs with pull strings were dangling from the ceiling, and the muted thrum of a generator was coming from somewhere ahead and above us.

We reached the end of the little entry hallway, nodded with our firearms and split left and right. Ahead of me was a dark corner of junk. It looked like discarded materials from whenever they erected the big garage structure. I kept my eyes scanning, pivoting to check what ended up being some sort of a coat closet that was filled with piles of clothes. Coming back out, I pressed my way up the back side of the basement and had to weave around a thick concrete support pillar. There was some sort of music going on above us along with the loud thrum of the generator, and if the rain was loud on their roof then I wasn't surprised that the hillbilly fucks hadn't heard our shots from earlier, or even the door opening.

I had to sidestep my way around one of those big fabric partitions, but quickly ducked back as I found what I could only think of as the central area of the cluttered basement. And what I'd seen in that brief flash needed a moment to parse out.

Just ahead and to my left, set up along the back brick wall, had been an illuminated area that looked something like a photography setup from back when I'd get school pictures taken in the primary school gym. Even down to the backdrops on rollers. A camera with a tripod on it had been set up but dim. Just beyond it was a sectioned-off area with more of the fabric room dividers, but it had a makeshift roof on it and red light had been coming out - some sort of a shitty black room, I guessed.

Beyond those two little areas, however, had been the cage. It was big - bigger than the one out in the garage, but constructed the same way out of chain link fencing. The lights were dull and yellow in that direction like behind me, but I'd clearly seen it was full of people.

Naked people.

Somewhere past it, there was also a man, sitting in a shitty lawn chair, watching a little old TV with a beer in his hand. He was turned about three-quarters away from me, but he had something in his other hand propped on the floor. It was hidden from my view - it could have been a bat, or a rifle, or a fucking broom. I really couldn't tell.

"Hostages identified," I murmured quietly into the comm. "One hostile near cage watching TV."

"I see him," Julia murmured back. "I don't have a shot - he's backed by the cage."

"I'm going quiet," I murmured. "Cover me."

Julia double-clicked her comm. No one outside was saying anything, holding their security out in the wet without complaint.

I slowly unlimbered my M4 from its shoulder strap and set it down on the ground, then did the same with the MP5, before double-checking my sidearm in its holster and then pulling out my knife.

Lots of civilians, especially those in the city, didn't get the whole thing about a good knife. People in the backwoods got it though. Rural folk who had to work for a living. A good knife was a useful tool. You could open things with it, close things, poke holes, slice slits. With a good knife you could even hammer a nail or two, do survival procedures, and draw in the fucking dirt if you had to.

To a soldier, though, a knife was almost as important as a rifle. It could do all those things that a rural civilian could use it for, and then you could also kill someone with it.

It was almost always the last line of defence a soldier could have. When shit really went wrong, and the bullets ran dry or the enemy was up on you, knowing how to use a knife half-effectively was a really potent tool. I'd never gotten myself into a spot like that before, and in almost any situation what I was doing was stupid as hell.

But even with the thrum of that generator, and the music, and the rain, and the excavator running outside, there was absolutely no fucking way that anyone upstairs could ignore a gunshot in that basement.

I owned several knives - I wasn't a collector or anything, there were just different knives for different jobs. Suiting up for the raid, however, I'd fallen back on tried and tested. I pulled the ka-bar out, its dull grey coating keeping the gleam down if it happened to catch a bright light. It was a good fit for my bigger hand, and it was sharp.

Leaving my rifles behind, hearing Sergeants in my past chewing out idiots for pulling this kind of shit echoing through the back of my head, I stepped forward quietly.

The photography area didn't reveal anything else to me as I slipped past it - the camera would likely have evidence on it we might need later, but now wasn't the time. I did catch a quick glance of Julia up ahead and to my right, closer to the guard. I came up on the boxy, jerry-rigged dark room and came to a halt, almost losing my footing as I hesitated.

Someone was working in there.

There was a black curtain pulled across the entrance, but I could clearly see a pair of shoes in the red light beneath the edge..

I couldn't leave him at my back if I made my approach on the guard.

I clicked the comm once and saw Julia look back at me. I gestured to the dark room, held up a finger, and then shrugged and headed towards it. Julia flashed me a grimace but nodded.

The plan formed in my mind quickly. Slide the curtain aside, one hand claps over his mouth, and the other puts the knife to his throat. Whisper a threat in his ear. Use him to approach the other guard - we take them both prisoner, gag and tie them up with anything we find, or extract them for questioning outside.

I pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the dark room, everything turning red from the single overhead bulb. He didn't turn, didn't even look. He was focused on the photo he was developing, sloshing it around in the chemical baths. I loomed up behind him, my knife and free hand raised, ready to grab him.

And then I saw the pictures hung on the walls from clothespins. Naked woman after naked woman. Terrified. Trying to hide their nakedness and forced not to. Numbers were written on the corners. 6/10. 7/10. 9/10. 4/10.

He held up his latest picture.

Kara.

I clamped my hand over his mouth and he grunted in surprise, his body jolting as I yanked him back hard against my chest. My fingers stabbed into his cheek and my palm partially smashed into his nose.

My knife didn't find his throat.

It found his chest.

He was limp when I stopped.

Six, maybe seven stabs. I couldn't remember them, but I could remember the feel of them. The feel of the blade glancing off ribs, seeking internal organs. It was... crunchy. Blood was only just starting to ooze out of him and I lowered him to the ground. His eyes were glassy, his jaw hanging open. I grabbed the picture of Kara, crumpled it in my fist, and shoved it into his dead mouth.

I was cold inside. I was the void.

It had been six stabs. I'd gotten at least one lung in the first couple, and his heart in the last couple. That was the one that did it, but even if I'd stopped at four he would have died. It just would have taken longer.

I was red hot with rage, and horror.

He wasn't the first man I'd killed, wasn't even the first one I'd held in my arms after I did so. But it was the first I killed with anything other than a gun.

And I wasn't done.

I came back out of the dark room a different man than I had been when I entered. My fears, the really dark ones, hadn't been confirmed yet. But they were real damn close.

The cage was to my left and ahead. The guard was a straight shot, still watching what seemed to be a taped football game. The little TV had a VCR built into its base, so it had to be an old game, maybe a Superbowl or something. It didn't matter.

I crept forward, my eyes daggers into his back.

Someone in the cage spotted me as I drifted under the hazy yellow light, and started to say something, but someone else gave a sharp

Shh

.

Ten steps.

Five steps.

Two steps.

He had a baseball bat in his hand, twirling it absently with his thumb as it balanced upright under his forefinger.

I took his life as I clamped my hand over his mouth and yanked him backwards and to the side, stabbing the knife into the exposed part of his neck in a blow that made almost no noise but immediately sprayed blood across me, the floor, and the TV. It was hot and cloying in my nose and I didn't care.

He died even faster than the first one.

"Jesus, Harri," Julia said over the comm.

"Keep looking, there's got to be a set of stairs," I murmured back.

I turned to the cage and held up my finger to my lips. I didn't look at faces. Couldn't.

At least one of them nodded in acknowledgement, and I pushed forward, pulling out my sidearm one-handed and bracing it with my knife-hand.

There was more crap at the far end of the basement. Another cage too, but it was empty. Two more closets full of what looked like military MREs and other supplies. And the stairs.

They were stone and built into the original structure, about fifteen steps up to a landing and then it doubled back above us heading to the first floor. Julia met me there.

"You OK?" she asked me quietly off the comms.

I nodded, then quietly spit off to the side. She reached over to a pile of what looked like folded napkins and pulled one free, handing it to me. I wiped my face and it came away splotched with red. I wiped with it one more time and dropped it to the ground, still probably looking rough.

"Basement clear, two hostiles down," I murmured into the mic. "Securing interior stairwell. Wait for intel."

We got a double-click back in acknowledgement.

"I'll hold this, go get your gear and talk to the women," Julia said.

I nodded and patted her shoulder as she took up a position with her shotgun covering the stairs. The quick walk back was a lot faster since I could stand up and stride confidently rather than sneak. I focused forward, not looking at the cage or the body, and quickly went and secured my rifles, slinging the M4 and holding my MP5 for the close-quarters fighting.

Then I went back to the cage and finally looked more carefully at what I was seeing.

Thirty-five, maybe forty women. All younger than the ones we'd found out in the garage. All naked. Most were trying to cover themselves, and many were looking at me fearfully but staying quiet.

"Kara?" I asked, approaching the cage. It had a door at the front but it was padlocked. "Kara? Are you there? Gerty?"

"Harrison," a woman said, squeezing to the front. She kept an arm over her small breasts but didn't cover her lower half, instead holding up a hand to warn me away. It took me a moment to realise who it was.

"Tanaya," I said, stepping closer.

"Don't touch the cage!" she hissed, her eyes large in warning and making me hesitate. I felt like I wanted to rip the fucking thing down with my bare hands, but I didn't touch it. She pointed to the upper corner of the cage and I followed her direction, seeing a pair of decently thick copper wires looped around the metal of the cage tightly and secured messily with some sort of rubber caulking. I followed the lines of the wires up and back to the ceiling, where they disappeared through a hole in the thick wood.

"It's electrified," Tanaya said.

"They turn it off upstairs when they take one of us out," another woman said.

"Fuck," I grunted, examining the wires again. They could be hooked up to the generator, but more likely they had a couple of car batteries up there or something. I looked back down at Tanaya. "Where are-?"