"We've come close, before," Roman muses. "I mean, the number of times we hit those supply trucks and killed their men—" his voice is flat but Noa, who knows him best of this group, can notice the strain in it when he mentions that reminder. "We could grab one instead. We've gotten to know their faces, a bit. Sometimes they're around the hospital not on business. If one vanishes on their own when they're not on duty, it'll be more of a missing persons report for the APD, less of a big ole firefight."
Which they've had a bit too much of recently, anyway.
The unpredictability of the medical recon is a problem. But no matter how they swing this, they're going to have to juggle a half-dozen different balls in the air at once. Rome's already resigning himself to that fact.