Fireteam Delta

one swift move, Summers’ hand shot out, wrapping around the thin man’s head.
“Wai—”
The thin man was cut off as his body immediately froze, then went limp. Summers let him fall to the ground before lifting his rifle and putting two shots into the back of the other man’s head.
“In fact, I’m kind of an asshole.”
Then, everything was silent.
Synel took a step back as blood began to pool around their shoes.
“That was violent.”
“Yeah . . .” Summers agreed. “Sorry.”
Asle stared down at the body, impassive.
“Don’t be.”
After a moment, Summers turned back to the group, giving a pointed glance to the missile a few feet away from him.
“So . . . we should probably get out of here sooner than later.”
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Boom!
Even from this distance, the explosion that came from the bunker shook them to their core.
Figuring out how to detonate the missiles was easier than Summers would have expected, having watched them set it up.
“No way in hell that Anchor survived, but we should double-check either way.” Summers shaded his eyes with a hand.
“So, what’s the plan?” Synel prompted. “I assume you have a plan.” She gave him a severe look.
“I didn’t plan for you to be here,” Summers retorted.
“As if you’d be rid of us that easily. Come now, you’re their commander.” Synel gestured to the four men beside him.
He turned to the others. Tired as they were, there was life in their eyes, even Asle’s.
They were fighters, each of them. He should have seen it sooner. Every fucked-up monster he’d faced was something these people lived with all their lives. Of course they wouldn’t balk at the idea of a bigger threat. It was just what needed to be done. It was life. Impossible as it may be.
“Just because we closed their way home doesn’t mean this thing will stop spreading. It’s only a matter of time until someone like Wendel shows up again, right?”
“Most likely,” Synel answered.
Summers sighed, still staring at the base.
“Then we get ready. We have a world to save.”