Level Cleared

“Alpha team is clear! Bravo team, what’s your status?”

“… Clear.”

“Charlie team-“

“Clear.”

“Delta team.”

“Clear.”

“Echo -“

“Contact! Contact!”

“Move, move! You know the drill: one fireteam per squad stays vigilant in place, everyone else converge. Move!“

Rapid fire covers the sounds of footpatter, brass clattering to the ground.

“Sitrep!”

“Delta team leader took a hit.”

“Delta?”

“Fast to respond, slow to check the corner.”

“Delta team, get your leader to a medic; Charlie team, cover us. Echo team, what else?”

Sweat drips from their helmets as the Echo leader pulls his head up to look at her. “Else?”

She literally bites her tongue to prevent lashing out. “How many? What armament? Are we looking at well-trained guerillas or are we trading fire with our own soldiers who got lost on the way to the rendezvous?” He blinks hard, eyes falling as he grips his rifle more firmly. “Think and talk, Scolnar! Time is of the essence!”

He stutters audibly, wiping his face as he wriggles where he stands. “Uhhh…”

She grits her teeth, glancing at her watch. “Charlie team – clear the room!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Use cans! We know someone’s in there.”

Three of Charlie team yank tear gas cans from their belts; the last one slumps slightly and puts it back with a soft whine as the others send their cans flying. Condensed air sprays out as the canisters sail into the adjacent room, clunking on the floor as all the soldiers hold up against the outside walls.

“Bravo team, lead us in!”

“Yes, ma’am! On me!”

“Alpha team, back ’em up!”

“Roger!”

Clearing the door, they take the room. A youth stands near the far wall, ankles and wrists crossed; he yawns.

“Time!”

The lights flicker on.

He smirks. “I told you this level wouldn’t acquiesce so quickly, chica.”

She sighs. “Depends on your definition, gringo,” she scowls, “but according to the language of the task, we did win.”

“Balderdash.”

“‘Isolate and neutralize the threat.’ We had you down to the room, gassed the room, and all but had you in cuffs. You were dead to rights, sitting on your laurels at the window; doubly so given in a real life scenario a sniper would’ve taken you out.”

“You know the rules, chica.”

“Stop calling me that. And yes, I do know the rules, and unless you were hiding a suicide bomb, we won.”

“But you don’t know that I wasn’t, do you?”

“Actually,” she raises her eyebrows, “we do, because we did a scan before breaching the house; no dice. Also, no vest and no apparent trigger, so, yeah. Thanks for playin’, but either up your game or accept defeat.”

“Let’s let the judges decide.”

“Always. They have the script.”

Stripping off their gear, they remove the magazines, clear the blanks out of the chambers, and set the rifles down in the recently-reappeared container, meandering away to make room for others.

The speaker system blares on. “Sorry,” the older female voice echoes in the chamber, “we believe the foe intended to have a bomb challenge at the end, but it isn’t explicit in the script, and the terms for victory were technically met. Therefore, we render our decision thusly: the clearing company won the bout. Now,” she chirps more sternly, “off to dinner, all of you. You’ve been running simulations all day; at least pause for some nourishment, and preferably for some sleep as well.”

Gritting his teeth, he shakes his head to loosen his tension. Then he looks up, offering her his hand. “Well done.”

She grins weakly back. “Thanks,” she shakes his hand, “we have a great team.”

“Mmm,” he nods. Releasing their grips, they walk toward the exit together. “My team is still better.”

“Hah!” She laughs aloud, shaking her head. “Compare the datasets from our respective runs. We did better across the board.”

“Yes, while I was away.”

“Oh, balderdash. You’re good, but not spectacular. Your team was better without you,” she smiles playfully.

“We’ll show you up tomorrow, don’t you worry.”

“I’m not worried.”