We took cover behind a stack of shipping containers. We had the drone team keep one overhead, showing the way towards warehouse 17, and keep another above the warehouse itself. We figured that this way, we could keep track of any potential movements on behalf of the Longhoreman's Union.

  We plotted a path through the forest of shipping containers and warehouses on our maps. It looked to be about 5 kilometers between us and warehouse 17. The first leg of this journey was going south through the container yard we were currently in. We then needed to head east, through a series of warehouses, before turning back north to our final destination, on the opposite side of the shipping port.

  With the plan settled, we split into two teams with James and I leading them. Our teams would post up on either side of the souther path that split the rows of containers in half. We would bound from container group to container group, checking down the lanes, while keeping our visibility minimal and maximizing fields of fire. Alex was with me, and we would be going first.

  I crept to the corner of the container with Alex in tow, and looked down the row of containers with my thermals. Luckily, there wasn't anyone. After checking both directions, I ran to the next container, before clearing both directions again. I turned back, and waved for Alex to follow, where he came up and stacked up behind me. A few seconds after Alex joined me, and I waved up the others. Max and James ran past us, checked down the lanes, and waved for us. The process was slow going, but careful.

  It was so quiet that night that world aplified the smallest noise. The lapping of water grew more quiet with every container row we passed. The sound of far off traffic slowly grew. Our boots scraped the concrete with every step, and our uniforms scraped on the armor plates affixed to us. In my head my heartbeat was pounding.

  Bah-bum. Bah-bum.

  We got into the groove, quickly bounding from row to row. We were ending our time in this forest of shipping containers and were close to a complex of warehouses. At the penultimate row of containers, I got eyes on a longshoreman on the nearest warehouse. He was walking on the roof, patrolling. In his hands, he had a rifle.

  “Team, eyes on a target, on the room of the warehouse first to the left”, I said, pointing toward the warehouse.

  “Shit. They'll see us if we try to cross right now. Let's just wait a second and observe”, Alex said.

  “Good idea, I'll get a better look on him with the drone footage. Maybe we'll get lucky and figure out if there's any pattern to his movements to slip on by.

  I contacted the drone team and asked them to get eyes on the target. The drone team flew the drone overhead of the patrolling longshoreman. I zoomed the camera on the drone to get a better look.

  The man on the roof was patrolling around the edges, stopping at each corner so he could scan the horizon. He had an old bolt action rifle with a high powered scope. We waited the man out, and when he was on the opposite side of the building, we ran underneath the roof of the building. Using the drone feed, we made sure to cross to the next warehouse as his eyes were elsewhere, and on we continued.

  We took a left after the second warehouse, and we were now eastbound. I had taken point, followed by Alex, Max, with James covering rear security. With any luck, we'd be at warehouse 17 in about 40 minutes of travel.

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  About fifteen minutes into our journey toward Warehouse 17, I spotted two figures turn a corner, glowing hot on the thermal vision.

  “Worker front, 300 meters.” I whispered to the team.

  “Cover, left”, Alex responded.

  I looked left where I spotted the loading dock Alex pointed out. It had a raised platform that coinciding with a ramp leading down, we could hide behind. We darted down into cover and waited. James and I pulled security, shouldering our rifles, while Alex and Max kept hidden. James seemed nervous, and kept fidgeting with the sling swivel. I had to reach with my shooting hand and put it on his arm to get him to stop.

  The footsteps grew in volume as the workers approached our position. They spoke with a casualness and volume that indicated we hadn't been caught yet. If we were lucky, they'd never know we were even here.

  “Dude, I'm telling you. That shit delivered before Wendell got hurt was a bad omen”, one of them, a man said.

  “You are fucking paranoid. It's fucking water. It's what's on the shipping manifest. Anyway, who cares? Nothing is moving in this yard! Not until Marie get's Wendell's insurance payout”, the second, a woman replied.

  “Dude, you're not listening. The weight is fucking wrong. Flat out, it is heavier than it should be. Someone lied on the manifests, and beyond shipping manifests, who the fuck is O.A. Labs? Don't you think it's suspicious? OCP must be working with some weird chemicals through some shell company or some shit.”

  “Connor, people smuggle shit every day, so shut the fuck up. Let's just get Joey, before he starts singing to himself again.”

  “Yeah, whatever, man. Just you fuckin wait and see.”

  The two workers kept speaking as they passed, and slowly their voices faded as they left towards the dock we came from.

  After a few moments to make sure they were gone, James spoke up, “Shit, maybe smoking that guy was a bad choice.”

  “Yeah, I think you're right”, Max replied.

  While they were talking, a new notification popped up on my HUD.

  Find the shipping manifest? Great, a search through a 10 square kilometer fucking port for a shipping manifest. OCP loves to make it easy.

  “Dispatch, quick question. How are we supposed to find this shipping manifest exactly?”, I heard Alex angrily whisper. “Port Authority office? Daniels we're half way to the fucking warehouse Vernan's at, and you want us to fucking go find some shit we don't know anything about?”

  Alex was getting angrier as him and Daniels spoke. They went back and forth for a bit, but as far as I could tell Daniels said something to calm Alex down, as he quickly calmed down.

  “Alright team, change of plans. We gotta get closer to entrance than we wanted. OCP wants us to steal the shipping manifest, and those are held over at the port authority. So we'll be grabbing hard drives before going after Vernan. The bad news is they report there's always been dock workers near the building, so this job may be much hotter than expected. Anyway, I'll get the drone team to help us plan our route.”

  The port authority office added about a kilometer to our journey. We had to get a couple of buildings away from the wall dividing the port from the rest of the city, then hang left until we got the office. The danger being we would be close to the entrance where a sizable amount of dock workers were stood, guarding the entrance from any security officers and regular police that OCP might try to send in.

  We all griped about this, but steeled ourselves. Whether we wanted to avoid the building or not, the suits would be pissed if we didn't try to get the manifest. Who the fuck cares what the fuck this O.A. Labs was importing anyway? I guess it didn't matter since there was no avoiding grabbing those damned hard drives.

  Frankly, looking back I wish we hadn't gotten those manifests.