Briggs raised his voice. “Soldiers, this is your chance to redeem yourselves. Fangs, let’s see if you’re as good in open combat as you are in drills. Move out!”

The horn blared. The battlefield came alive. The soldiers fanned out in disciplined squads, moving tree line to tree line. Boots pounded the dirt, rifles raised, comms crackling with clipped orders. Their plan was simple - box the girls in and overwhelm them with numbers.

The Fangs? They melted into the terrain like they’d been born there. Trella’s hand signal scattered the squad into cover before the soldiers even finished their first advance. Aya hefted her launcher with a wolfish grin. “They’re bunching up. Too easy.”

“Not yet. Wait for it…” Trella halted her.

Michelle leaned forward, clutching her binoculars. Her pen scratched across her notebook as she spoke into her headset. “They’re closing the noose too quickly. That formation works against a standard enemy, but with an opponent like the Fangs, it leaves them exposed at the flanks. Watch the treeline.”

Briggs raised an eyebrow. “Sharp eye, Williams. Keep going.”

Down by the monitor screens, Talia tapped her controls, zooming her drone camera to follow Aya. “Ha, watch this. They have no idea what’s about to hit them.”

Aya’s finger tapped Trella’s shoulder for permission. Trella gave the tiniest nod. FOOMP. A smoke round hissed into the soldier column. Panic, coughing, shouts. While they stumbled, Mei-Ling’s rope dart flashed, tagging two soldiers in bright paint before they could even see where she’d come from. From the trees opposite, Katya’s sim-rounds cracked with surgical precision, dropping targets before they got their bearings. A soldier was shouting “Where the hell are they?!”

Michelle muttered fast, almost breathless. “See? They exploited the gap exactly where the soldiers thought they were safe. Smoke cover for disruption, sniper for suppression, melee for panic. They’re running textbook asymmetric ops.”

Briggs’ lips tightened, but it wasn’t disapproval. It was respect. “Looks like my boys just stepped into a hornet’s nest.”

Talia smirked, tilting her controller. “Correction, sir. They stepped into our nest.”

The soldiers staggered through the smoke, voices barking over each other, rifles sweeping at shadows. A young corporal raised his hand to halt, but before the order left his lips — pop-pop! — two paint rounds splattered across his vest. Katya’s laugh, soft and cold, drifted from the treeline. A soldier panicked “Sniper, right side! Fan out, fan out!”

They split, but in doing so, they widened the very gap Trella wanted.

Michelle leaned so far forward that Briggs thought she might fall off her chair. “They’re playing by the book — and the Fangs know the book page by page. Watch Trella’s position… She’s not firing, she’s herding. She’ll push them right into Aya’s zone.”

Briggs shot her a glance. “You sound like you’ve been in the field yourself.”

Michelle blinked, realizing how intense she sounded, then muttered. “I… just study hard. I listen to them.”

On the monitor, Aya crouched low, launcher at the ready, her grin bright even in the drone’s feed.

Talia chuckled, her voice dry. “That’s her patient face. Give it another ten seconds and someone’s gonna wish they stayed in bed.”

Aya pulled the trigger. The smoke shell arced high, bursting just behind the soldier fireteam scrambling to reposition. Coughs. Confusion. Sim-rounds cracking from three directions at once. The soldiers ducked, shouting for cover, only to realize every log and ridge they lunged for was already compromised.

Trella’s hand shot up, her voice calm and low. “Phase two. Collapse them.”

The Fangs shifted like one body, tightening the circle.

Michelle’s pen scratched faster, her voice picking up with excitement. “Look at their cohesion. It’s not just skill, it’s instinct. They don’t hesitate. The soldiers still think they’re in control, but they’re not. They’re prey.”

Briggs clenched his teeth, though not from anger. His eyes never left the field. “Prey… to kids.”

Michelle flinched at the word, but didn’t argue. She knew better than anyone, the girls weren’t ordinary kids. Talia leaned back in her chair, hands behind her head, smirking. “Give it five more minutes. They’ll be begging for a reset.”

Three platoons fanned out, flanking from both sides, outnumbering the Fangs nearly three to one. Orders snapped over radios. The soldiers’ confidence surged again, sheer numbers had to break the girls.

Trella raised her hand. A silent signal. The Fangs didn’t retreat. They advanced. Aya and Amelie thundered forward first, fire and explosions forcing the soldiers to scatter. Aiko blurred along the edge of the smoke, her blade a streak of silver catching light from the flares. Behind them, Anya’s Uzis chattered, painting chaos across the lines.It wasn’t a retreat. It was a push.

Michelle’s voice dropped, hushed but fierce. “They’re cutting the head off the formation. Look. They are not attacking everywhere. Just here. Here. That’s Trella’s choice. If the soldiers lose the center, the flanks collapse.”

Briggs leaned closer to the monitor, brows furrowed. “But that means they’ll have to punch through triple numbers.”

“Not ‘punch.’ Break. Watch them.”

Talia whistled low as the drone feed showed the pincer motion unraveling under the Fang assault. “Oh, yeah. That’s not breaking — that’s demolition.”

The clash was brutal, short, surgical. Katya’s rifle barked from cover, each shot disorienting. Liza darted between positions, spraying bursts and tossing smokes with inhuman timing. Cherry’s explosives detonated with a roar, scattering a whole soldier squad.

The soldiers fought hard. No one doubted their grit, but they couldn’t match the rhythm. Every move was countered before it finished. Every attempt to regroup slammed into another ambush. By the seventh minute, their formation collapsed. By the tenth, the soldiers were surrounded. Trella raised her hand again. “End exercise.”

The klaxon blared. The monitors flickered red SIMULATION OVER — SOLDIERS ELIMINATED. Michelle set her pen down, chest heaving like she’d run the fight herself. She turned to Briggs, almost apologetic. “They never stood a chance. Sir… you saw it. Numbers don’t matter against them.”

Briggs didn’t answer right away. He rubbed his jaw, staring at the smoke drifting across the battlefield. For the first time all week, he looked… unsettled. “You call them girls. But I’ve never seen soldiers like that. Not even in combat.”

Michelle opened her mouth, then closed it. She had no defense, no argument. Just a lingering thought maybe that’s why they scare people so much.

The motor of the bus rumbled into the compound, a familiar relief after the grinding week. Williams stepped out, his easy smile was contrasting with the mood hanging over the camp. He spotted Briggs waiting near the watchtower, arms folded. “So, how did it go?”

Briggs’s face was unreadable. Somewhere between anger, frustration, and weary resignation. “Half of my men want to quit.”

Williams blinked. Before he could reply, movement drew his attention. The girls were already marching up, bags slung over their shoulders, casual as if they’d just returned from a school trip.

“It was fun.” Trella stated dryly.

“They got creamed!” Aya added with a wolfish grin.

“…I want those new multi-gizmo cameras! Why is Christmas so far away?!” Talia sighted dramatically.

“Any injuries?” Williams asked.

“None. Except for their pride.” Aiko answered calmly.

“…oh, and Maya has a hangnail.” Mei-Ling added.

“Shut up!”

A softer voice cut through. “Hi, Dad!”

She rushed to her dad and he opened his arms without hesitation. Father and daughter clung to each other, the week of distance and danger falling away in a quiet, unspoken relief. “I missed you, kiddo.”

“Don´t worry, I’m fine. Really.”

Briggs watched, silent for a long moment, then finally spoke. “You have a very talented daughter, agent Williams. You can be proud. And the other girls… They did great too.”

Trella stepped forward. Her eyes locked with Briggs’s, unreadable as ever. Then her voice cut sharp. “Fangs, line up!”

In an instant, all ten snapped into formation beside her. No smirks, no jokes, no swagger. Just a single, crisp salute. It wasn't a mockery this time. It was respect. And gratitude.Briggs returned it, slowly. The salute dropped. Bags were tossed aboard, laughter spilled out again, and the bus rolled away as the sun dipped behind the trees. Left behind in the settling dust, Briggs muttered under his breath, half to himself, half to the empty compound. “…and now I need a headshrink.”

***

The orphanage was unnaturally quiet that Sunday morning. Sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, the hallways still, almost like the building itself was asleep. Milena was the first one up, padding around the kitchen in slippers, hair tied back, flipping pancakes onto a plate. A pot of coffee gurgled away, filling the house with a comforting aroma. One by one, the girls emerged. Aya stumbled in first, hair sticking in every direction, eyes half-shut. “…smells like heaven.”

“That’s coffee. You’re too young for it.”

Aya grabbed a pancake off the stack with her bare hand. “…this works too.”

Aiko appeared next, curled up silently in a chair, holding a cup of tea Milena had wordlessly slid her way. By the time Trella came down, the living room looked like a pajama party aftermath — girls sprawled on couches, blankets, pancakes disappearing like magic. She leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching. “You all look like zombies.”

Katya muffled under a blanket “You lead us to war. You deal with the consequences.”

Michelle and Williams arrived around noon. Michelle ran in, chirpy compared to the others. “You guys are still half-dead? Dad, they were terrifying at camp, I swear—”

She cut herself off when she realized half the squad groaned in protest at the word camp.

“Watch out! A cheerful person at three o'clock!” Anya said deadpan and took cover.

Williams just smirked, taking the mug Milena offered him. “Told you, nothing wears down soldiers faster than downtime. Enjoy the peace while it lasts.”

The afternoon passed in lazy waves. Maya and Talia argued over a racing game on the console, Liza sat with a notebook sketching strange poison vials, and Mei-Ling braided Michelle’s hair while talking about movies. By dinner, the mood had lightened. The long table was full again, chatter bouncing back and forth, laughter loud enough to rattle the windows. Trella, at the head of the table, lifted her glass of water. “Enjoy it. Tomorrow, back to school.”

A collective groan rolled through the room, even from Williams. Milena just smiled faintly, watching them. For the first time in a long time, the house felt whole. The chatter around the table was still light, laughter spilling between bites of food, when Williams set down his fork and cleared his throat. “I see you all look very happy, so I’ll add something to better the mood.” He let the pause hang a second, making sure every sleepy pair of eyes was on him. “The idiot who ordered the attack on this place a few weeks ago is in our custody.”

For a beat, silence. Then the room exploded. Aya slammed her hand on the table, nearly spilling her juice. “I wanted to kill that bastard!”

“He’s more valuable alive.”

Trella leaned forward, her usual calm voice edged with steel. “At least some justice will be served.”

Michelle, grinning wide, grabbed her glass of soda and raised it high. “A toast! To my dad and to the Fangs!”

All around the table, glasses, mugs, and cups clinked together. The mood shifted, no longer just cozy but quietly victorious. The girls, for once, allowed themselves to relax fully, knowing someone out there would finally pay. Milena, watching the sparkle come back into their eyes, whispered under her breath. “…well deserved.”

The laughter picked up again, stronger this time. For tonight at least, they were safe, together, and hopeful.