God Of Crafting

"Alpha team, moving to position," Eric whispered, perfectly certain that the high-quality microphone sewn into his collar would be able to pick his voice up.

In reality, however, he didn't need to call his actions at all, for it was merely a habit he developed back during his time in the actual military.

Right now, under the employment of the cultivation clan, there was no need for him to follow all or even any of the protocols he was so used to…

But he wasn't the only former military in the group. In fact, everyone in his unit was a veteran. A veteran of actual combat rather than one who earned his badges by peeling potatoes during canteen duty or by counting bolts in the warehouse.

No.

Everyone in Eric's team was a proper veteran, perfectly well-accustomed to the presence of danger, the dangers lurking in every shadow, and the risk of the whole operation going haywire at any given moment.

They were all veterans, after all. They were all people who learned the actual value of all those procedures that most fresh recruits or simple infantrymen only ever considered to be a drag both to learn and then to use.

"Bravo team, in position," the response rang in Eric's earpiece, giving him a tiny bit of confidence and sense of security.

"Okay, let's get this done and over with, boys."

Breaking military protocol, Eric spoke into the comms in a more casual way as he rose up from underneath several layers of messy clothes that made him look like just one of the many hoodlums occupying this abandoned part of town, revealing the full-on tactical gear he was actually wearing.

In the single moment it took him to move a mere five steps ahead, a total of six more similarly-dressed men joined him as they advanced through the shadows cast by the wall of one of the many abandoned factories of the secondary industrial park.

"Approaching the operating zone," Eric reported to the comms as soon as he took a peek over the corner of the fence and locked his eyes on the ordinary manhole cover located roughly fifty meters down the street.

"Left clear," one of his men reported as he dragged the point of his rifle over to the side they weren't at all interested in.

"Front clear," the second report came right in the very next moment, with the operating system of their comms artificially amplifying the whispers of his men.

The tactical gear they picked for the mission was quite limited compared to what they wore during their combat missions back in their time in the military. In exchange for several degrees of protection and loads of utility, however, the decreased weight and increased stiffness of the fit allowed Eric and his men to move around much easier… and most importantly, their current gear was nowhere near as recognizable as the standard-issue military outfit!

"Right clear, move!" Finishing up the sequence, Eric quickly scanned the area beyond the corner he was peeking before pushing the barrel of his rifle to the front as he stepped out from behind the wall's corner and advanced down the street.

The next few moments were the most nerve-wracking, as their small group continued along the side of the street, always trying to hide in the shadows and avoiding the few spots illuminated by the few city lights that still worked in the area.

"Take positions and check your sectors," Eric spat into his collar before finally detaching himself from the side of the street and quickly moving to his predetermined position, a mere three steps ahead of the manhole they were interested in.

"Rear clear."

"Left clear."

"Right clear."

"Front clear," Eric finished another sequence of reports after confirming there were no signs of movement or presence down the street from where they were. "George, move in."

While Eric was the commander of both the unit he commanded in person and their squad as a whole, he wasn't the one to shine the most today.

After all, if anyone wanted to stop them, taking the officers down was the most obvious course of action. And in no formation known to the military would an officer stand at the point, where the risk of taking fire was the greatest.

For anyone who knew anything about military procedures, rules, or traditions, Eric's choice of his position in the group would be something between idiocy, naive bravado, or… genius.

After all, rather than serving in the military and thus fighting with the militaries of other, most often much poorer countries, they were going in against another clan, one that was as rich if not richer than their own employer. That meant, rather than going against random crooks that some warlord decided to dress in uniforms and call his military…

If anyone were to interfere with their mission, it would be operatives on the same level of skill and tactical thinking as Eric's own group… if not people of even higher levels of skill, training, and experience.

In a fight against thugs renamed into military, standing on point would be the position of the greatest risk. In a potential fight against their equals, however, it was a position as good or bad as any other… if not the safest one, given how no veteran in their right mind would ever expect the officer to put himself in harm's way!

"Moving in," George reported as she approached from the back of the group, armed not with firearms or any of the toys their employer provided, claiming to be much more silent and effective than gunpowder-based weapons… but with a simple pair of heavy-duty cutters.

"Reggie, Bart, open it up."

With his eyes constantly shifting from one random point of focus down the street to another, Eric continued to provide his team with directions… even if by now, pretty much everyone knew perfectly well what they were supposed to do and when.

And so, before Eric could even speak up, two of his men already moved in, armed not with guns, not with bolters, or even cutters… but with weirdly-shaped metal sticks, which they then proceeded to insert into the holes of the manhole before pulling them up to lift the cover out of the way.

Normally, this kind of brass lid would serve to cover the sewers, serving not only as an entry point for those tasked with servicing them but also as an emergency outflow for the water to drain if the local rains were to ever exceed meteorologists' expectations.

But here, right in the middle of the mostly abandoned industrial park, rather than sewers, those lids hid the tunnels where one could find massive, live cables that connected every factory of the plant to the nearby power plant.

After all, connecting the industrial sewage to the rest of the city-wide system was one of the quickest ways to poison the entire city with chemicals the water treatment plants were never expected to deal with!

"It's open, George, get in!" Hurrying his compatriot up, Eric quickly turned his focus back to his task of keeping his sector clear.

"On it!" George reported to the comms as he sat down on the edge of the round opening in the road, dropping his legs first before lifting his body up on his arms alone before… dropping a few feet down.

'Just one more moment…' Eric thought, patiently waiting for the next report that would signify the cables were now cut, allowing them to clean the scene before retreating back to safety, where they could change back into civilian clothes and leave the whole area.

Yet, with seconds trickling by… the report just refused to come.

'Are the comms down?' Eric thought, gently tapping his collar. Yet, with the dull sound reflecting in his earpiece, this couldn't be it.

"George, report," Eric whispered into his collar.

Hearing no response, he had to fight the desire to turn around and check what was going on with his very own eyes.

"Reggie, check on him," Eric issued another order, leaving the task of investigating the situation to one of his subordinates while only raising his alertness to another level as his eyes moved from one point to another even faster than before, always in search of even the tiniest movement, tiniest reflection of light that would signify the presence of an opposing force.

"On it," Reggie reported back.

For a moment, Eric could hear the sound of his man moving over to the opened manhole.

"He is…"

Just like that, Reggie's comms went silent.

"Man down!"

With this single report, all semblance of silence, peace, and progress died in an instant, forcing all four of the men left to shift to their combat gear…

But with not a single sound of shots being fired… who could be attacking them?

'Think, man, think…' Eric hurried himself, now outright aiming his rifle at every point his eyes shifted to rather than just scanning it through his infrared scope. 'If they are not out here to pick us up one by one, then…'

Just as the realization struck the man, an ugly and horridly familiar, gargling sound reached Eric's ears.

"CONTACT…" Eric shouted, only to suddenly find himself stumped on how to pass on the message.

His procedure-conditioned mind only had five terms he could use to follow up on his most recent report: ahead, left, right, rear, and up.

This moment of confusion lasted only for a single second before Eric managed to wrestle his mind free from the constraints of the protocol, allowing him to report it in his very own words.

"Fuck! They are down in the tunnels!"