Liam kicked the door of the abandoned building open.
"Let's go," he muttered. Asher trailed a few steps behind, his eyes scanning the shadows.
A split second later, Liam's instincts screamed. "Run!"
He tackled Asher just as a deafening roar of gunfire erupted from the darkness. Bullets shredded the air where they had been standing a moment before.
"Automated sentries," Liam panted, pressing his back against a crumbling wall. "Motion sensors. They've got the entrance rigged." He took a jagged breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. That was too close, he thought.
"We need another way in," Asher said, checking his gear.
Liam nodded, shaking off the adrenaline. "Where do we start?"
"The roof."
As Liam stood, he glanced back toward the house Ethan had entered.
There was no sign of movement from the other side.
"Let's move," Asher urged. With a final nod, Liam followed him toward the fire escape.
Meanwhile...
Inside the house, Ethan clicked on the tactical light attached to his suit. The beam cut through the gloom, illuminating thick layers of dust and cobwebs. He panned the light across the walls, stopping abruptly when the glare hit a picture frame.
He wiped away the grime and froze. It was The Painting of the Dawn.
What are these doing here? Ethan wondered. These should be in a museum, not a rotting shack.
He moved deeper into the room, finding more canvases—each one a masterpiece worth millions and billions. Finally, he reached the fireplace. Mounted above the mantel was a portrait larger than all the rest. It was caked in grey silt.
Ethan wiped the glass with his glove. As the image emerged, his brow furrowed. The bottom half showed two men—one seated in an ornate chair, the other standing at his side. But as he wiped upward, the clarity vanished. No matter how hard he scrubbed, the faces remained a blurred, charcoal smear.
Why won't the top half clear?
He turned his attention to the hearth. Scattered among the old logs were fine, black particles. He knelt, rubbing the soot between his fingers.
Something was burned here recently... but it's hard to tell exactly when.
He stood and surveyed the room. The house was a perfect time capsule of decay, showing no signs of life or struggle.
A decoy, he realized. Just like the spy cameras.
He wandered into the kitchen, his boots crunching on broken tile. He checked the cabinets and the pantry, finding nothing. As he turned to leave, his light flickered across the top of the refrigerator. He missed the thin red ribbon snagged on the corner of the appliance—a strip of fabric with foreign script embroidered at the edge.
Meanwhile,
Thirty stories up, Asher and Liam landed silently on a high-rise balcony. A faint hum vibrated through the air—a high-voltage security field. Liam pulled a small device from his belt, bypassed the circuit, and watched the blue sparks die out.
They stepped through the sliding glass door and stopped dead.
"What the...?" Liam breathed.
The interior was a jarring shift from the world below. While the building looked like a hollowed-out husk from the street, this floor was a masterpiece of corporate luxury. Polished marble floors, sleek glass partitions, and humming servers filled the space. The offices were pristine and active, yet the floor was eerily devoid of people.
Liam's eyes locked onto a heavy oak door at the end of the hall: CONFERENCE ROOM.
He pushed it open. A massive circular table dominated the room, surrounded by ergonomic chairs. On the far wall, a giant monitor glowed with a single line of text:
THE LOOP: FOURTH BRANCH
"So, it's Loop," Liam whispered. "One of the Three Pillars."
Suddenly, his comms chirped. "Liam, you find anything?" Asher's voice came through the device.
"I'm in the conference room. This is a regional hub for Loop."
"Copy that," Asher replied. "I'm at the end of the hall. The sign on the door says 'Chairman'."
"Go in," Liam commanded.
He heard the faint hiss of a pneumatic door over the comms. A moment later, Asher spoke again, his voice tight. "Liam, get over here. Now."
Liam bolted from the conference room and raced down the corridor, finding Asher standing by the Chairman's desk.
"Look," Asher said, pointing to the floor.
Fresh popcorn was scattered across the plush carpet next to an overturned bowl. A second, full basket sat on the desk, still warm enough to scent the air.
"Someone was here," Liam said, his hand dropping to his holster.
Asher picked up a remote resting on the Chairman's leather chair and handed it to Liam. Liam pressed a button at random. Behind the desk, a section of the wall slid away to reveal a large screen of surveillance screens.
The screens didn't just show the building. They showed live feeds of the American border, several military bases, and various city streets.
"He's watching everything," Liam said. "He saw us come in."
Asher pointed to a smaller cluster of feeds. "But why those three houses?"
"I don't think they're random," Liam replied. One of the screens caught his eye—it was the interior of the house Ethan was currently searching. Ethan was visible on screen, oblivious to the camera.
Liam tapped his comms. "Ethan, if that house is clear, move to the abandoned supermarket. Now."
"Copy," Ethan's voice crackled back. On the screen, they watched him exit the building.
"What's the play?" Liam asked.
Asher turned toward the exit. "I'll sweep the rest of the floor. You take the system. Hack the logs, find the camera archives, and see exactly who was sitting in that chair."
Liam nodded, his fingers already flying across the keyboard. "Consider it done."