I. The Debriefing
Back to the present.
Dark Wolf had just finished listening to Ghost's account. Leaning his weight onto the table, he lowered his gaze toward the files spread across the surface.
« Let's summarize both of your reports. A covert organization has clearly replaced the Omega, and they are orchestrating a major operation code-named Cold War. But thanks to Ghost and Meta's infiltration, we now know they call themselves the Cold Warriors. And to top it all off, two individuals presumed dead are fighting in their ranks. Is that correct? »
« Exactly. That's a perfect summary », Ghost replied, crossing his arms.
« This doesn't bode well for what's coming next », Dark Wolf muttered. He raised his head before continuing: « I don't know why, but all of this feels too sudden. Too well-orchestrated. I think there's a hidden mechanism behind this entire story. »
Ghost furrowed his brows, not quite grasping his leader's train of thought:
« What makes you say that, boss? »
Meta instantly spoke up in place of the DHA leader:
« Lame crossed paths with a group tied to this organization, and at the exact same time, you and I stumbled upon the Cold Warriors. It's a bit too convenient; the coincidence is too perfect. And the most glaring detail is that they left us alive. Either it's pure incompetence mixed with madness, or the whole thing is premeditated. » He turned his eyes toward Dark Wolf. « Is that what you meant, boss? »
Dark Wolf shot him an annoyed glare, then pointed a finger right at him:
« First of all, don't ever do that again or I'll beat you to death. And second... yes, that's exactly it. »
Lame, who was casually spinning a dagger between his fingers, chimed in:
« I see the picture. A large-scale setup. But what are we doing about their drug crates? »
« I've already thought it over. Meta, you're going to continue investigating under the radar until Saturday. We'll launch the assault that day, but it is imperative that we know the layout of the land before we set foot in there. »
II. R&R and Tensions at HQ
In the breakroom, the other operators were going about their business. Thorson was locked in a fierce ping-pong match against Infinity. A little further away, Khalid and Horace were seated at a table, their eyes glued to their respective phones.
Horace cast a curious glance toward his neighbor's screen. Khalid was deeply engrossed in an intense Battle Royale.
« Hey, what are you playing there? »
Without taking his eyes off the action, Khalid replied at breakneck speed:
« Rival Stars. A classic FPS, gets the job done. »
« And how do you pl… »
Horace's question was cut dead by a sharp, resounding crack.
SMACK!
A monumental slap echoed through the hallway just outside the open door. Adriana had just disciplined Simon. Instantly, every head snapped toward the entrance.
Thorson dropped his paddle: « Wooh, ba bomi ye! »
Khalid exulted: « Oh my god, wow! What a top-tier quality slap! »
Mathias chuckled: « Slow-motion replay, please! »
On the threshold, Simon stood frozen, his hand massaging his reddened right cheek. Adriana pointed a vengeful finger at him, her gaze dark with rage:
« I won't repeat myself: don't speak to me, and don't come near me. Next time, I'll break both your arms, and you know perfectly well I'm not joking. »
She spun on her heel and stormed off, furious.
« Oh... but why did she hit him like that? » Horace asked, completely bewildered.
Mathias, while continuing his game on his phone, explained the situation with a laugh:
« Ah, let me fill you in, kiddo. A while back, Simon was the undisputed champion of street close-quarters combat among all Sigmas. The guy was unbeatable, untouchable, invincible. Until the day Cortana—Adriana, if you prefer—showed up. She left him at death's door. Hahaha! The brother was spitting blood like he'd been stabbed. He was so pathetic! »
Khalid pointed mockingly at Mathias to fuel the fire:
« You forgot the best scene! The one where she smashed his skull against a pillar at the Fight Club! »
« Oh right, true! How could I forget such a classic?! He was bleeding from everywhere, the fragile bastard! » Mathias laughed heartily before picking up: « Anyway, Master Simon here loved finding a woman stronger than him, so he tried to hit on her… »
The other three shouted in unison:
« NO WAY! »
« …Turns out the girl in question just wanted to test Simon to his absolute limits. Result: he gets insulted and slapped every single time he tries to approach her. »
« Legend says the real reason is simply that he's too ugly », Thorson threw in to drive the nail home.
Simon glared at them from the corner of his eye before stepping into the room.
« That's not true, Thor. And you know it very well. »
Thorson paused, feigning to recall a crucial detail.
« Oh yeah, right! That's not why she rejected him… Actually, it's because he has a tiny sword. »
That was the breaking point for Simon. Losing his temper, he lunged at Thorson, tackling him heavily to the ground and unleashing a barrage of punches. Thorson raised his guard, shielding his face as best he could with his forearms.
« That's a lie! You're crossing the line now, I don't play like that! »
In a voice strained by the effort, Thorson laughed:
« Maza, only the truth hurts! »
Simon gritted his teeth, roaring with rage:
« You, I'm going to kill you! »
Instead of stepping in to break it up, Khalid, Mathias, and Infinity moved closer, pulling out their phones to film the scene. Horace, incredulous, burst out laughing. He had thought the DHA veterans would separate the two fighters; seeing them encourage the chaos felt completely surreal.
Amidst the commotion, his own phone vibrated. He unlocked it. It was an anonymous message, with no sender number or profile picture. The text was brief:
{ Hello Mr. TR, it's the woman from the other day. I have new, crucial information to deliver to you. Meet me at the East Station at 7:00 PM. }
He stared at the screen in silence. A second later, Dark Wolf and his group entered the breakroom. The racket ceased instantly. Ivan stopped in the center of the room, swept a neutral glance over his troops, and then ordered:
« You three, go gear up. We have an apprehension. »
Mathias, pocketing his phone, asked:
« When you say "apprehension," who exactly are we talking about? »
« We're picking up Douglas in two hours, directly at the Fight Club », the boss cut in, heading toward the exit.
Horace leaped to his feet and followed his lead:
« Uh, Dark… I mean Ivan… sir! »
Dark Wolf stopped dead in his tracks, looking at him sideways:
« Yeah? What is it? »
Horace held out his screen, showing him the coded message.
« She just contacted me. Do you think I should go? »
The DHA leader scanned the text, then resumed walking.
« Go. But you disclose absolutely nothing about our operations. Nothing about our true identities, and most importantly, nothing about the location of our HQ. Is that perfectly clear, operator? »
Horace nodded firmly:
« Roger that. I'll be as silent as a grave. »
Dark Wolf paused one last time before adding:
« If it ever turns into an ambush, snap your fingers seven times in a row, with your left or right hand. We will deploy instantly. » With that, he vanished down the hallway.
Behind him, Khalid approached Lame and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder:
« Lame, on my end, I'm going to go see Mom. I'll be back in three days. »
Lame nodded without breaking eye contact with his blade:
« Sounds good. Tell her I said hello. »
« Will do », Khalid said as he left the room in turn.
Horace, witnessing the exchange, opened his eyes wide:
« Wait... are they actually from the same family? »
III. The Anonymous Rendezvous
A few hours later
Time: 19:00
Zone: East Station
The subway station was plunged into the frantic rush of the end of the day. Crowds swirled across the platforms, split between those waiting for their train and those heading home.
Amidst this bustling commotion, a familiar silhouette cut through the crowd. Horace advanced cautiously. He had swapped his usual attire for a black turtleneck, a sleeveless puffer jacket, and dark sunglasses. Loose grey jeans and black sneakers completed his low-profile look.
He checked his watch. Exactly on time. He navigated toward a secluded bench to wait, checking his phone to see if the stranger had left any further instructions.
As he scrolled through his messages, a figure dressed in jeans and a grey hoodie approached. The pulled-down fabric masked her features, but her slender build and fluid stride immediately betrayed her female identity. Without a word, she took a seat at the opposite end of the bench.