The remains of the tank lay broken and smoking in the field. The drones were no more than scrap. Specialist scrap, but scrap nonetheless. We approached the machine from different directions, just in case Milley’s ride had any more tricks to offer.

“Some of them are still alive in there,” said Cris.

She knew I could see their damaged health bars below the greyed out armour value of the tank. It was a question more than a statement.

Milley was the least injured of the four and that pissed me off. I jumped onto the tank in one powerful bound, displaying the benefit of my increased dexterity. Grabbing the unlocked hatch and throwing it back, I found the general’s bloody form staring up at me. Blood dribbled from his mouth as he tried to speak. I reached in, grabbed him around the collar, and dragged him from the tank. Before he could croak out a work, I tossed him aside. He crashed into the dirt and something broke with a dull crack.

Cris didn’t make any move to help him and instead climbed up with me. “Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?”

“You mean kill them all in cold blood for what they just put us through?” I replied, climbing inside.

Cris conjured a health potion and wagged it in front of me by the cap. “Not exactly.”

Damnit! She had me bang to rights as I found the gunner crumpled in his tiny nook.

“Can you help the driver?” I asked, pulling out my own potion and tilting the soldier head back. “Drink or die, the choice is yours,” I said, which was as brutal as I was prepared to go with him. The man identified as the loader was in a worse condition. Shrapnel penetrated his body in several places, and the backfire had burned most of his chest and neck. I went straight for a lay on hands which began to eject the slivers of metal. Each slick shard clattered down into the body of the tank, while the char flaked off to reveal fresh, undamaged skin.

“He’s on the mend,” explained Cris, joining me at the hatch. “What now?”

I had the drop on the two men beneath me, even with their sidearms. They knew it too and raised their hands in surrender. On my side, I also had the leverage provided by the life I’d just returned to them. Every breath from that moment forward was down to me and me alone. “Now?” I asked, staring at them intently, “Now, I hope the crew plays nice and appreciates what we’ve just done for them. What do you think?”

Cris leaned over the hatch and looked down. “I think that’s the least we can expect after what these gentlemen put a lady through.” She reached inside, beginning to summon a magic missile in her palm.

“We appreciate it,” said the awed gunner.

The driver and loader didn’t need to reply to the threat. Their hostile red icons switched to the yellow of neutrality. Milley’s was still a scarlet stain on our minimap. I climbed out of the destroyed tank and jumped down. He was attempting to crawl away, leaving a bloody trail on the hard baked dirt.

“Oh, Millman!” I sang, marching over to his crippled form. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I had to give him credit. Even terribly injured and on the verge of death, he still refused to quit. In one way that actually worked in our favour. The protective shell of our ongoing encounter was the only thing holding the dinosaurs and soldiers back. Attack choppers were keeping a respectful distance after the destruction of the craft that came a little too close. The Pteranodons were swarming over the shell, pecking and raking at the impenetrable barrier. Around the perimeter, we had an audience of many hundreds, probably a thousand or more. If I struck the killing blow, our encounter’s shield would collapse and give them a free shot to attack us.

I turned him over with my foot and rested it on his chest. “I bet you didn’t imagine I’d be standing on you today, did you, General?”

“Up yours!” he croaked, spitting blood.

Cris stepped up beside me and glared down at the injured leader. “That’s rude. Your men are all fine, by the way.”

He winced and craned his neck to see them climbing down. They were all perfectly healthy, if not a little shocked at avoiding their appointment with the real Reaper. I saw the confusion written all over Milley’s battered face.

Cris jumped into my head and asked, How do you want to play this, Mark? I don’t think he cares about dying.

Milley was broken and bloodied, but he still managed to lay in the dirt with defiance. It was in the way he tried to hold himself, even with the agonising pain tearing through his body.

I don’t either.

Torture? she suggested.

As much as I act the tough guy and talk a good game, I don’t think I have it in me to pull fingernails or waterboard someone. A fair fight is a fair fight. Once we tie him to the gurney…

It’s ok. I don’t think I could do it either.

Even after all the death he’s caused? Don’t you think that makes me a bit… weak?

No, it makes you a kind soul. Which is the opposite of what that thing is lying in the dirt. Although…?

Although, what?

We do have a whole bunch of guys knocking on the door who don’t mind torture. We could see what they charge per fingernail. Use some of Ripper’s drug money. I’m sure we could negotiate a package deal. Buy ten fingernails and get the toenails for free.

Eight fingernails, I corrected and she grinned at me.

“Why are you just standing there like that?” croaked Milley. “Finish it.”

“Finish it?” I replied. “Why would I want to do that after all the death you’ve caused? Millions of lives lost, all because of you and that tech wanker. I’m just wondering which part of you I’m going to take off first.”

“Spare me,” he snapped. “If you’re going to do it, get started. I don’t have all day.”

I nodded respectfully at his brazen front. “As much as I might like that, General, I’ve got another idea. How about I heal your wounds like I did your men?”

He glanced at the gathered crew then back to me. “To what end?”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I need your help to put Lake down and end this thing. You’ll pay for what you’ve done, but that will be down to the people of Osterland to deliver.”

Cris joined in. “Make your life count for something. Who knows, they might even just lock you up and throw away the key.”

He laughed. The eruption of mockery at our words triggered a coughing fit that sprayed blood.

“I guess that’s a no.”

Milley swallowed audibly and gathered himself. “I’m a warrior, son. My father was a warrior. His father was a warrior. All the way back, as far as I can trace, our lineage is war. I’m not bult for a cage.” A look of fear washed over his bloodied face at the final words. “You beat me, and that’s fine. Just finish it. Please.” The last, begged word rose in pitch.

I looked at Cris. I think we’ve found the crack in his armour.

Let’s see if we can use it.

Before I could press our advantage, Milley continued wheezing out his deathbed confession. “I always respected Devken. The world of cloak and dagger is tough for a man, much less a woman. She could always hold her own, though. We were more alike than I gave her credit for. And look at the pair of you. Two Norland agents, Devken trained, taking down Anton Milley, head of the CID, on his own turf no less. We’ll have some interesting conversations when we meet again in hell.”

I knelt and stared at the general. “Leaving aside how weird it is to speak of yourself in the third person, what’s in it for us to speed up your reunion?”

“What do… you want?” he asked, his breathing wet from the gathering blood.

“First, you need to drink this because you’re bleeding internally,” I replied, offering a health potion. “It tastes like arse.”

“I don’t want you to use your tricks on me, son. I just want a good death.”

“I’ll give you a good death, General, but you need to earn it. I need a lot of answers, and I don’t want you croaking before I get them.”

“What if I just lay here and expire? That doesn’t seem so bad.”

“I’ll force you to drink it,” I warned. “I’m being polite because I hoped you’d be reasonable. I’ve got too many lives relying on me to fuck around, General. Make a decision.”

“What are you, son?”

“I’m not a Norlander,” I admitted. “Drink and we can talk. I’ll explain about the beings you’ve pissed off and why I’m stood here and you’re laid out in the dirt.”

Milley opened his mouth and accepted the disgusting liquid. To his credit, he swallowed without gagging too much. It wasn’t unexpected when his expression shifted from discomfort to utter shock as bones reformed without medical intervention. The cuts and grazes closed up, and the bleeding debuff vanished when the internal organs knitted themselves back together.

“Your people are eager to get in here and help, General. The shield holding them back is part of our power. Can I trust you to call them off or do we need to fight them too?”

“The fight is over,” he replied. “At least from myself and the CID.”

And with that, Milley’s icon changed to yellow and the shield vanished. The unprepared Pteranodons fell with shocked squawks before managing to take flight. Instead of charging in, the soldiers remained stationary at the perimeter along with their reptilian cohort.

I helped the general to his feet. “I think they’ve got the message, but would you mind confirming it.”

“Stand down! We’re done with this war!”

O’Toole was the first to approach and looked at me fearfully before turning his attention to Milley. “Sir? What are your orders?”

“Get the creatures back in their pens. I’ve got a feeling I’ll have more for you once I’ve spoken to our mysterious guests here.”

“You can count on it,” I added. “Get us a ride out of the town. Back to where we had our chat.”

O’Toole understood the dynamic had completely shifted. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you have tea here?” I asked as he walked away.

“I’m sure I can find some, sir,” replied the soldier.

“And coffee!” Cris called.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Milley was standing with hands clasped behind his back. He looked at the tank, then the burning school, then back to us. “Hot damn, son. I thought this old war horse had seen it all. You pair have sure thrown me for a loop.”

“We’re not your average spies,” I admitted.

“You can say that again.”

“We didn’t have an army of dinosaurs at our disposal either.”

Milley scoffed. “They’re a tool. Don’t get me wrong, an interesting one, but a tool nonetheless. Meat and teeth. Fury in green. Even with Lake’s intelligence enhancements they’re still barely smarter than a house cat.”

“The fall of Osterland’s cities tell me they’re slightly cleverer than a common feline.”

“The element of surprise coupled with overwhelming force. They never stood a chance.”

Milley’s casual analysis of millions of deaths was almost enough to trigger my wrath. Cris was there at my shoulder in an instant, taking my hand. Not here. His knowledge is priceless. You can dick punch him to death once he’s spilled everything.

I snort laughed. Dick punch? That’s a bad way to go out for any man.

Perhaps, but in Milley’s case I’ll make an exception. It might not be the good death he was looking for, but it’ll give him time to think about his poor life choices while I throw uppercuts at his sack.

I burst out laughing. You’re so nasty.

“You’re talking, aren’t you?” asked Milley, looking between us speculatively.

“We were,” I replied.

“Do you have microphone implants?” He walked around us, looking for any other explanation. “Or one of those brain chips I keep hearing about.”

“Neither. We’ll talk over a cuppa.”

All around us, the dinosaurs plodded away with their herders. The attack choppers accompanied the Pteranodons in flying back to their pads or pens.

We waited in the dried out field for our ride, one small step closer to our goal.