The world was passing him by. Not in some dramatic way, in a flare of light or darkness, but in small moments, when time stood still just for him. Maybe it was a crazy notion, but he missed the humble mundane slivers in life. Mornings before the sun rose into an awaiting sky, and after sunset, when the lights or the stars shone bright above a cloud blanketed horizon. Coffee shops and a cup of warm tea by a chilled window. Comfort and safety in a world of uncertainty. But those things stayed with those who let them. Mini couldn't yet. The job demanded good memories become just that—memories.

Mini sat crunched in the red truck, squished between Marcel and Brock. Tyler leaned against the passenger door, keeping his eyes open as they loitered on the street. They were in the Midwest somewhere, by the huge farm warehouses where picked crops were kept. The buildings towered over them, each chock full of potatoes or grain or beets.

Fresh air was appealing, and rather than to continue sit in a cramped space, he elected to step out. Brock and Marcel were likely thrilled. Marcel wasn't the biggest fan of small spaces as it was.

The sun beat down on them, and though winter was around the corner, today was one of those few weird days out of the calendar that decided to say 'fuck that' to their seasons.

"Hey." Tyler put an arm around Mini's shoulders, pulling him in tight. Wordless as the moment was, he wanted to talk. There had been something on his mind for a while now. "You mind if we talk?"

"What about?"

Mini turned, Tyler's arm dropping off his shoulder. "The future. Of us. Them. The gang. What happens next."

"That's a lot. You sure this is the right time?"

"When is there ever a 'right time'? We should talk while we still can." Both of them stayed quiet as that sunk in. While he hadn't intended it to come out so depressing, it wasn't far from the unfortunate truth.

"You're right." Tyler stood up straight, and guided him a few feet farther from the truck, jerking his head at the truck. "Don't like having private conversations in front of people."

"I don't think Marcel or Brock really care much about our conversation, Tyler."

"What's been on your mind?"

Straight and to the point. Mini smoothed his wrinkled shirt, and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. "I figure if we want to keep this going, we should make a plan or something. We can't continue to be a part of this. At least, I can't, not for the rest of my life. This group of people, what we stand for now versus back then, has changed. I've made lifelong friends, but how long is that life going to be? Evan's dead, Jon is in no condition to keep doing this, neither am I. We're going down a path and it's hard to see a favorable end. After this, I'm not sure I'll be sticking around." Mini shut his mouth; he hadn't meant to say that. It had been lingering in the backroads of his head, but until now he hadn't given when he'd leave much thought. "I didn't—"

"No," Tyler cut in. "You did." Mini looked at his feet, the weathered boots he wore shuffling the against the dirt of the ditch. "When were you going to tell me, or Calibre?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought it through yet. I just know I can't stay. Yes, this is my family, but sometimes family isn't good for you."

"And me?"

"I was hoping you'd come with." Awkward and cliche as the statement was, Mini meant it.

Tyler pulled him into a tight embrace. "You dumbass. Of course I'm coming with."

A breath of relief drained much of the tension from Mini's body. An irrational part of him he hadn't been able to quell lay dormant, silent. That worry washed away and was replaced with a new thought. What if one of them didn't make it that far? It wasn't far fetched to believe that he or Tyler might get killed before they were able to leave.

Sometimes Mini hated caring about people.

Under the crook of Tyler's arm, Mini spotted a cloud of rising red dust speeding toward them, framing the white truck Jaren'd taken off in.

"We got company," Mini said as he pushed himself away, straightening his shirt for what it was worth. "You ready?"

Tyler confirmed it with a nod. "The question is, is Brock?"

Jaren hopped out of the pickup as David slammed the door. "You boys are in for a treat." David leaned against the not-so-white truck. "We got about two dozen on site, five guards loaded with scoped ARs and three snipers on the roof. Minimize death counts here, shoot to maim, not kill."

Tyler wrinkled his nose, and Marcel frowned, asking, "Why?"

David answered before Jaren could. "This is political now. We can't go mad and kill everyone, though I know we all wouldn't mind making the bastards pay. Anything to further provoke Vach would entail more attention by not only him, but the FBI. They already vaguely know of us, we shouldn't risk becoming a higher priority."

"Not even a little death?"

David shook his head and Marcel deflated. They picked themselves up, piling back into their respective seats. Mini found himself in the back of Jaren's truck with a window seat view of the fast approaching warehouse complex. It rose out of the dry, flat land, dark smoke pouring of the tall smokestacks. Ten foot fences enclosed the complex, topped with barbed wire and the occasional spark from unstable electrical output.

Industrial evil, as the green environmentalists would say. Mini took it as a different kind of evil, the kind that festered at the heart of capitalism, but that debate would remain for another day. This wasn't the time to start a controversial conversation in his head or out loud, not that he was an expert in economics. Something about Locke or Hobbes? High school knowledge didn't stick to him.

'Ready' was not said out loud, but heard in David's glance at them as they gathered about a mile away. The dust trails made by the trucks would be a dead giveaway, leaving them to trek the last mile on foot. In an open plain such as these, they would need the cover of darkness. Under the pretense of 'fucking around in style', as Jaren had proudly called it, the team would mess around with fireworks and in general do things that were not wholly legal, but were accepted as normal.

Marcel had come up with the idea when David had pointed out the problem of open, flat land. After Calibre mulled it over, he begrudgingly agreed that it might work. Mini held no doubt that they would be noticed and marked off as 'hooligans' by the guards. Empty bottles of moonshine and vodka littered the back of David's truck, and the stereotypical red and white cooler sat by the back left tire.

While everyone mimed relaxation, they were anything but. Tyler's shoulders never dropped and Brock's eyes betrayed naught but worry and tension. Mini himself felt the line down his back pinch.

Three hours. The sun blazed in the sky, hot for a late October day. Hot for a autumn day in the midwest, Mini amended. Calibre had made rules for their little stunt. No one could go anywhere without another person, and always had to tell everyone where they were going and how long they'd be gone. Tension rippled through the group as the sound of a gunshot blasted from the east, where the compound sat.

Out here, anything went. A few stray shots echoing around the empty flatlands meant nothing to the farmers and country people. It could have been fireworks too, the difference between the two was negligible.

Tyler came up behind him, resting his head on Mini's. The weight, solid and warm, helped ease the stress riding his back. He leaned into him, letting the safety of the embrace filter past the worries simmering on the surface.

Marcel, David, and Jaren unpacked the fire wood as Brock carved a bowl into the parched dirt with the small shovel Scotty had supplied. The dull thud of wood hitting the earth cleared his thoughts. Everyone here was capable and strong in their own right. The politician would rue taking Brian.

Fucking politics. Always in the way of doing good and never doing the right things. That's what it felt like these days. For whatever matter congress tackled, they had yet to treat humans as humans. Whatever minority group you delved into, repression and dehumanization floated to the surface. And it wasn't always minority groups, woman, who make up a great number, were repressed still, in what they called 'modern' days.

A shiver raced down his body and Mini quelled the train of thought, anger would do him no good. Anger rarely did any good. Quiet hatred on the other hand...

Jaren wandered over once the fire burned bright. "Mini, can I talk to you for a second?"

He extracted himself from Tyler, jerking his head in the direction of Marcel and David. "Go talk to them for a bit. Catch up with David."

Jaren gave Tyler a tight lipped smile before pulling Mini away from the cluster of people. The brown haired boy tugged at the tangled mop, his face losing all signs Mini had come to associate with him, the crinkle in the corner of his left eye, the permanent smirk, the slight head tilt to the right.

"I've been talking with Kryoz." he paused, gathering his thoughts. "He wants me to come back soon, but I'm not sure I want too. You need someone else who's capable and my team is in a lull, between jobs."

"But," Mini prompted.

Jaren dropped his hands, shoving them in his ridiculously large pockets. "But I miss him and I miss Britain, the familiarity. But mostly John. He's the other side of my coin. That sounds super cliche and bullshit, but it's the first time we've been apart since I joined."

"Jaren?" Mini asked gently, "Do you like John?"

Caught off guard, Jaren's mask didn't slip over in time. "What—no, why do you ask?" Mini stared, raising his eyebrows. The boy managed to melt even farther, eyes downcast. "Yeah, I do."

Mini took a step forward, angling his body to block Jaren's view of the others. "How much?"

"Enough to never want to lose him."

Mini met Jaren's warm brown eyes, a stricken smile faltering on his face. "Don't lose him and don't hesitate to let him know how you feel. Don't wait. I'll get you a plane booked after this back to England. You're going back and you're going to have a long conversation with him."

Jaren hesitated, but nodded. "Okay.

"Was there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

"I got an update on Jon. He's doing a bit better. Luke is watching over him, making sure he eats and sleeps. He's sleeping better, doesn't wake up as much each night and he's managed to smilea bit more. They have him helping with horse chores and they got him a cat to take care of. A five weekragdoll kitten they adopted from a nearby shelter, he named her Rynx.

"He's warming up to my team, but John said that he's still super distant in conversation. He's started drinking a lot of tea. Oh and he also mentioned to tell you that Luke is falling head over heels for Ohm."

"I'm not surprised," Mini said drily. "And I'm glad he's doing a bit better. The cat was a good touch too. She'll be good for him."

"I can't wait to meet her. I'm a dog person really, but who doesn't watch cat videos until four am?"

Mini rolled his eyes. "You young people stay up wayto late. "

"You're one to talk. And I'm not that much younger than you."

"You're still a kiddo to me, kiddo." Jaren took a deep breath while Mini grinned at him. "Come on, let's get back to the others."

They slipped into the circle that had formed around the fire, the smoke licking at his face no matter where he sat, it followed like a lost puppy. Two bouts of coughing and a chant of 'chug chug chug' later, Mini choose to give up on sitting by the fire.

The smell of wood smoke reminded him of his days on the road with Scotty and Friday nights with the group, both labeled as good memories, although not always easy. Teasing voices and wrestling matches flitted through, the random jump shots unorganized.

The day poured on, moving through molasses. An hour ticked by quick enough, but as they reached the halfway point, time dipped and Mini found himself checking his watch every couple minutes.

People came over and talked with him, but Mini didn't try to keep conversation. His mouth felt glued shut, his jaw heavy, words scattered and useless. Brock settled by him and they sat in their own quiet together.

The bags under Brock's eyes were bruises, the blue and purple splotches on his arms and neck distractions. And Mini knew the feeling, the deep worry that couldn't be shaken, the sleepless nights and broken thoughts.

No comfort could change it. No words he could say, nothing but a safe and well Brian. Mini didn't try to console Brock, he didn't have the energy.

Twilight struck, cold and brazen on the horizon. The fireworks boomed in the sky, hundreds of feet high, but never able to touch the stars. The mood grew serious, talk growing thin and haggard.

As darkness descended, Mini found himself growing calmer, the tension easing from his shoulders. Tyler sought him out, giving him a meaningful look, telling him he wasn't allowed to die, or get injured. He raised an eyebrow as if to sayme? get injured? nah.

They put out the fire and threw all evidence of their time spent in the back of the pick up truck. No flashlights allowed until it had been deemed safe. Mini's eyes acclimated to the dark. The half moon lit up the earth in ethereal light, faint and spectral. Faces remained obscured, smudgy details and his innate understanding of his friends giving away who was who.

No words were left as they stalked toward the warehouses. The temperature dropped quickly, leaving a chill wherever Mini's skin lay exposed. His breath fogged the air, dissipating into the sky.

Broken, dead crops littered the fields, the earth dry and crumbling. Each step left a deep hole, dirt tumbling over his black and grey combat boots. The compound appeared quiet and empty, not a single soul moved inside the fencing.

Mini and Jaren shared a look before him and David sprinted off in opposite directions to cut through the fence first and get a height advantage. The team split behind them, moving slower to give the two time. Mini and Tyler followed Jaren, while Brock and Marcel went after David.

Calibre had questioned Mini and Tyler staying together, but in the end, he let them after a few short, intensive questions. The muffled sound of a body gasping for air reached his ears before it was cut off. The fences gapped at them, the chainlink clips busted open. The faint hum of electricity faded as they passed through and hid behind one of the smaller warehouses.

The suppressed rifles made quick work of any sentries. Mini spotted two dropping in succession, another farther east, by the biggest building. He and Tyler waited as the compound came alive. Jaren dropped down beside them once the lights burst on, flooding the ground and roofs with white light.

Boots pounded on the hard packed earth, shouts echoing around the flimsy metal walls. A ghostly grin greeted Mini as he looked back at Jaren. The rifle had been shouldered and the knife he had was out.

He pointed at Mini. "You drink a shot for every man I get and I'll drink a shot for every one of yours. Deal?"

"You realize you're not allowed to drink in this country, kiddo." Mini grinned back.

Jaren frowned. "You mean to tell me that, while on a secret mission to rescue one of your boys, who is considered a murderer by the FBI and CIA, from a political group, who is trying to kill us, that I can't drink?"

"When you put it like that..." Mini nodded slowly. "Yes."

Jaren huffed a split second before an explosion shattered the night. They hit the dirt, the fire blooming upward from one of the warehouses. Through the chaos and noise, Mini heard a distinct yell of 'shit' coming from his left. The flames licked high, lighting up the yard better than the puny search lights could.

While a distraction had been planned, David hadn't told anyone what it would be. If that wasn't it...

"Go."

In the following moments, Mini found himself face to face with two soldiers, who at first tried to order him around. That was before their kneecaps shattered as Tyler shot one and Mini rolled with his knife in hand, slicing the achilles tendons of the other.

Maim, not kill. He pulled the guns away from the men and threw them toward the blaze eating up the stars and belching out smoke. One of the smaller buildings loomed up ahead. Mini motioned to Tyler, jerking his head. The big man nodded and sprayed fire with his AR as Mini made a run for the yawning door. Heat poured out from the inferno not two hundred feet from where he stood, sweat dripping down his face. Cool air wafted out from the edifice in front of him and his ducked inside.

The floor was concrete, uneven and worn smooth in places. He would have taken the chance to point out the evidence to Tyler about how predictable humans were, but there was a bigger goal. Brock stepped in behind him, eyes searching. His demeanor remained too calm, while the frantic motions as he swept over the room revealed the hidden panic.

Gun out, Mini grabbed the single door leading out of the room, deeper inside. Slowly, he inched it down. Brock waited with his AR and a frightening stillness that told Mini everything he needed to know if someone stood behind that door.

A dark corridor gaped at them, the concrete floors and thin walls making a drastic change to plush carpet and a pinewood veneer. Five years ago Mini would have called it homey, but it reminded him now of lecherous eyes and rampart corruption.

They stepped into the hallway, Brock leading, his one pistol aimed at the door. Mini had his AR pointed at the ground, the safety off. He didn't want to accidentally hit Brock.

Eyes trained, Brock slid the door open, crouched low. A bullet buried itself in the soft pine a foot above Brock's head. Mini ducked down, aiming high, sliding to the other side of the skinny hallway.

Shots wizzed back and forth. One of the men grunted as a bullet busted through his shoulder, his arm hanging useless. The lights flickered on, revealing the dark masses as three men. Brock stood and without thinking, shot one of the men in the head. Mini tossed him a dark look, ruminating over what Nogla had said before. But he didn't say anything. He thought these men better off dead too.

Knocking out the remaining two with a hard pistol whip, they cleared the next two rooms together before coming across the biggest one. The ceiling arched high, the walls and roof made of thin wavy steel. A ladder leaned against the wall to Mini's right, leading up to the loft. The layout was an open plan, reminiscent of a flat he'd stayed years ago while on the run with Scotty.

Funny how it came back to him while he shot a man in the arm.

They took the weapons from the men, disabling them, without trying to kill. Mini didn't want to try and by the looks of it, Brock didn't either. But Nogla's warning echoed in his head.

They didn't find Brian. Jaren did.

Mini backed away and Brock ran forward. The paradoxical sight made him want to hurl and yet settled his nerves. Brian was alive.

But that was where the relief ended. Bound with rope, hand and foot, with a noose around his neck, the frayed end dangling over his chest, and bruises littering his body, missing two fingers, Mini found his body heaving out scraps until his stomach had nothing left to give. Then he kept heaving.

He slumped against a crate, his arm shaking too much to support any weight. He landed with a thud. Tyler sat next to him.

"He's alive." Mini took a ragged breath. "He's alive."

Brock had discarded his gun and started tending to Brian. No one else was seriously hurt, David had a shallow cut on his forearm, and Jaren had had a close call with a bullet that left a trail on his cheek, but they were okay. They were alive.

David and Marcel collected at the men left, keeping their weapons trained on the tight group. Many were distracted by the hole in their limbs or a well placed knife on tendons. The collection of dead piled as Jaren carried in new bodies.

Tyler brushed his thumb over Mini's palm. He closed his eyes, focusing on the touch, slowing his breathing. His chest felt tight, his head spinning. There wasn't enough air and his lungs wanted more. But he took deep, deliberate breaths. Tyler talked about something, Mini couldn't understand over the noise in his head. But the sound helped ground him. His body shivered and his throat burned. Minutes passed like seconds and hours.

When he opened his eyes again, Brian limped, guided by Brock, out the shed's huge door. Tyler rambled on, unimpeded by what happened around him. Mini forced himself to stand. The world swayed and righted itself, Tyler's arm around his waist.

His body trembled. They were alive.

Alive, he repeated. But it wouldn't stop the nightmares.