Tom Riley was the Nevadan senator. He had been in the position for two years, ever since he stopped being a volunteer firefighter.

Now here he was, facing jumpy guys toting automatic weapons, him and the twenty still surviving National Guardsmen. They had been ambushed going over a bridge, guns blazing.

Their leader was a man wearing a military uniform, and he had a camera pointed at where the National Guardsmen were forced to stand, at threat of gunfire. A white sheet was behind them, and they stood on white tile.

"Roll the film."

The camera started clicking, recording the next few minutes.

"Fire."

The roaring cacophony of firepower deafened Riley to his thoughts, and he saw the National Guardsmen cut down, bleeding and dead. He rushed forward, screaming something incomprehensible to all, before falling to his knees. He felt cold steel against his head, and exhaled.

The .45 bullet tore into his skull, splattering grey matter and skull all over him.

He slumps over, dead.

"Yes, this is Griffin Smith."

"Are you really? I'm sorry, but give me proof."

"...damnit. Fine, you got me. What do you want?"

"Let me get a notepad. Lt. Col. Thomas, with or without a H? With. Calloway. C-A-L-L-O-W-A-Y? Ok, got it. There's the matter of payment though."

"Really? Your contract is on, Mr. Director."

Griffin Smith put down the telephone, and stared. "The director of the CIA wants us to kill someone."

It sounded ridiculous, even to him. It then sounded ridiculous to his financial advisor and second in command, Wolfgang Kryuger. Wolf was a short man with a scarred face and a mop of messy brown hair, to contrast Griffin's tall gaunt face and black hair. They had met in a previous PMC they had worked for, Sentinel Security, and they hit it off, Wolf being Case Officer, Griffin being a good Triggerman. They had made a excellent team.

"Well Wolf?"

"Well Grif?"

"Get Team Orion together. Tell them it's something big."

"Last week a Agency Lt. Col. killed a US Senator, and uploaded the entire thing to every site imaginable: 4Chan, YouTube, Reddit, Twitter, fucking Instagram even got a snippet of it. Your mission is to go into Nevada, find him, and take down his entire operation. No exception. Calloway must be killed. I cannot stress this enough."

"Roger."

"Gotcha."

"'Kay."

"Alright."

"Good. From here on, I am Control. You are: Ares, Artemis, Juno, and Atlas. You'll get flown in by Baseplate. Good luck, Godspeed."

They infiltrated in the dark of night, in one of Nevada's few remaining airports. 'Baseplate' was a Israeli fighter pilot, whose grandfather served in the Six Day War. Ares was a Frenchman, Victor Roux, whose service in many theaters gave him a distinct edge, particularly with bazookas and hand grenades. Artemis was a American, former military. She liked being quiet. And she was good at it, with a crossbow, a silenced RO635, and everything. Juno was the tech-savvy one of the group, having inherited his father's gift for delicate touches. He used a M4A1, and could have hacked into the Pentagon, if he had wanted to. Atlas was the sniper of the group, using a long barreled AR-15 with sniper scope. He called his gun 'Blackout'. As a team, they all worked well with each other.

Operation: Jupiter is online.