Chapter 7 Debrief and Decisions

At base, the team regrouped in the briefing room, fatigue written on their faces. Colonel Harris stepped in, his face solemn.

"Good work out there. The intel you gathered is everything. We've established that this faction sees itself as heavily armed and well-organized. The thing is these aren't just rogue... they're planning something big."

Las Vegas was a city of illusions. But behind the glitz and glamour was a darker reality a city with a history as treacherous as the desert that enveloped it. Elias understood that the journey into the underworld would be more than even criminals. It meant confronting the ghosts that plagued him.

"You ready for this?" Marcus said as they drove toward the warehouse district. It was hours since sunset now, and the lights from the city made for an ominous halo on the horizon.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Elias said, inspecting the handgun Marcus had given him. Even though it had been a while since he last wielded a weapon, the grip of an air-blade in his hand felt welcome.

They had parked a few blocks away and walked toward the warehouse. The air was cool and dry and the only sound was the distant roar of traffic. Getting close to the building, Elias urged Marcus to stop.

"Let's scout it out first," Elias whispered. "No need to rush in blind."

Marcus nodded, and Dwyer crouched behind a stack of shipping crates. They could see two men with rifles guarding the entrance of the warehouse. Another man walked the perimeter with a flashlight.

"Looks like they're anticipating trouble," Marcus muttered.

"Or they're just paranoid," Elias said. "Either way, we need to be distracted.

Marcus reached into the bag and pulled out a pocket-sized device a homemade noise generator. He set it down on the ground and turned it on. A high-pitched whine echoed through the air moments later, diverting the guards' attention.

"What the hell is that?" one of them said as he approached the noise.

"So now's our chance," said Elias, ushering Marcus to a side entrance. They went in unnoticed, their feet on a dark hallway full of crates and barrels.

"Stay close," Elias whispered. "We have no idea what we're going into."

They walked slowly, their footsteps swallowed by the concrete floor. As they moved on, they heard voices through an adjoining room.

"shipment arrives tomorrow."  Ensure everything's in the door.'

Elias held a hand up for Marcus to stay back as he crept closer. Peeking through a crack in the door, he saw a group of men gathered around a table, looking at what seemed like a map.

"We have to get a closer look," Elias said quietly. "Stay here and cover me."

Before Marcus could protest, Elias stealthfully entered the room, staying low to avoid the prying eyes. He had gotten behind a stack of crates close enough to overhear the conversation.

"The buyer wants discretion," one of the men said. "No screw-ups this time."

"Relax," another replied. "We've got it all under control."

Elias took a photo of the map with his phone, then returned to Marcus.

"Got what we need," he whispered. "Let's get out of here."

They retraced the steps and returned to the side entrance without difficulty. When they were outside, they ran back to the car.

"What did you find?" Marcus queried as they pulled away.

"They're negotiating a big deal," Elias said, turning the photo toward him. "If we can establish where and when, we can intercept them.

Marcus scrutinized the image. "This might be our opportunity to do them in."

Elias nodded but his thoughts were already racing. It was more serious than he expected.

If the plan to help you fails, these consequences could be catastrophic.

Elias inquired, his heart racing, his brain processing their next move. "What's our next step, sir?" he asked.

Harris set down a file on the table. "There is going to have to be decisive action. This mission was only the start. I want you to take charge of the next stage."

Elias took a deep breath. It reminded him that, once again, the burden of responsibility was on his shoulders. But he didn't flinch. He was this far in, no turning back now.

"Understood, sir. We'll be ready."

Las Vegas neon lights twinkled, akin to the memories of ghosts; cast long shadows on chipped pavement. Elias Janovich took a deep breath, the smell of gasoline and stale air entering his lungs. Returning home after years in foreign lands felt surreal, a dream whose controls had been confused by time.

He walked a few blocks down, his battered boots crunching on gravel, and found the agreed-upon rendezvous, an old diner at the edge of town. Inside, an old friend was there to greet him. It had been an old squadmate, Marcus, calling him with an ominous message earlier: "We need to talk. It's important."

Elias opened the door, the bell above tinging. He smelled coffee and grease and saw Marcus waving him over from a booth near the back.

"Long time, no see," said Marcus, getting to his feet to hug him. His handshake was firm, reassuring.

"Yeah, too long," Elias said, sliding into the booth. "What's this about?"

Marcus leaned in, his face somber. "I need your help, man. Something has wreaked havoc something dangerous."

"Dangerous how?"

"Local gang. They're involved in something bigger than petty crime. I've been watching them, and what I found... is bad. Arms deals and shady connections to the military. I didn't know who else to call."

A familiar tension seized Elias's chest. The reference to illegal arms deals dredged up memories he had long tried to put to rest. "And you figured I'd want to get in on this due to instructions."..?"

"Because you know how to deal with this sort of thing. You have experience, you have instincts. I can't do this alone."

For a second, Elias thought about leaving. He wasn't doing that anymore, was he? But when he gazed into Marcus's eyes, he saw a man who bore the same burden he did that of duty.

"Okay," Elias said at last. "I'll help. But if we're going to do this, we do it the way I want."

Marcus nodded his relief evident on his face. "Thanks, man. You have no idea how much this means to me."

For the next hour they talked about what Marcus had found. The gang, called the Desert Vultures, had been based in a run-down warehouse on the city's outskirts. Marcus claimed they were getting military grade weapons from some rogue branch from the army

"If we can get evidence of this, we can shut them down once and for all," Marcus said.

"Proof is not going to cut it," Elias said. "We need a plan."

By the time they left the diner, a rough plan was starting to crystallize. They would scout the warehouse, collect intelligence and, if needed, engage against the gang in person.

As they went their separate ways, Elias couldn't shake the sense that he was stepping back into a world he had tried to leave behind. His past cast long shadows, but this time, he wouldn't go alone against him.