Page 39 of Hardline Torque
Victor considered it for all of a heartbeat.
“I ...like it,” he said.
Tane felt the corner of his mouth lift.Good.That mattered more than it should have.
They were two clicks inland from the coast, crouched along a ridgeline thick with scrub and twisted pohutukawa roots that clawed at the soil like fingers.Below them, the land sloped toward an abandoned industrial site—rusted fuel tanks half-swallowed by vines, cracked concrete pads, and the skeletal remains of buildings stripped long ago.It should have been dead.
It wasn’t.
Temporary structures had gone up overnight.Portable lighting rigs masked beneath tarps.Generator heat signatures pulsed in controlled intervals.Power where there shouldn’t be any.Too clean.Too deliberate.
Exactly where Victor had said they’d test.
“Positions confirmed,” Kael said.“Breaker, you’re overwatch.”
“Van’s hot,” Luca replied.“Line of sight on all approach vectors.Drones active and wide.”
“Torch, Reef—southern sweep.”
“On it,” Keanu replied.
“Wraith, you’re with me,” Kael added.
“Copy.Moving.”
“Specter, Mano,” Kael finished.“You’re forward recon.”
Tane glanced at Victor, lips barely moving.“Let’s dance.”
Victor inclined his head once.
They moved.
Not fast.Not slow.Just ...right.
They flowed down the ridgeline like shadows slipping between shadows, boots finding purchase without sound, spacing perfect.Victor covered high—rooflines, elevated ground, blind angles—while Tane watched the earth itself—trip points, disturbed soil, the subtle signs of recent movement.When Tane slowed, Victor slowed.When Victor stopped, Tane was already set, weapon steady, breathing synced.
Too smooth.
The thought flickered through Tane’s mind even as data scrolled across his HUD.They worked like they’d trained together for years, not days.Not weeks.Years.
“Surge,” Victor murmured into comms, voice barely above breath.“I count six operatives near the western structure.No insignia.Civilian dress, military posture.”
“Confirmed,” Luca said.“Thermals agree.Tight cluster.”
Tane edged them closer to a fallen concrete barrier, crumbling but solid enough for cover.“They’re staging, not settling,” he said.“This isn’t the real show.”
“No,” Victor agreed.“This is calibration.”
“Calibration for what?”Reef asked.
Victor didn’t answer immediately.He tilted his head, listening—not just to the comms, but to the pattern beneath the noise.To rhythm.Timing.Intent.“For response time,” he said finally.“They want to know how fast someone reacts to pressure in this zone.”
Tane felt his jaw tighten.“Meaning us.”
“Yes.”
They reached their mark and dropped into cover.Victor pulled out a compact sensor array, unfolding it with quick, precise movements.The device hummed softly as it came online, mapping signals invisible to the naked eye.Tane shifted instinctively, body angling between Victor and the open ground, rifle tracking the nearest structure.
