The night was thick and quiet. The kind of quiet that held its breath right before chaos broke loose.
At the hideout, Ewan and Athena crouched low on a ridge of coarse ground, ters away from the sprawling house that lood like a beast in the dark. Beside them were Aiden, Susan, Sandro, and a small team of trained agents—ten in total—each assigned to the mission with silent precision.
Their black tactical gear blended into the night. Every one of them was dressed in full armor—matte helts with reflective visors, combat vests strapped tight across their chests, weapons slung low and ready. Black gloves, black boots, black everything—not a streak of skin exposed.
Even their breaths ca out muffled through the filters attached to their masks, faint puffs against the moonlight.
Athena adjusted her ear mic, her gloved fingers brushing the side of her helt. She could hear Spider’s voice crackling through the static, sharp and clipped with urgency.
"You have less than one hour to get in and out," he said. "Coordinates uploaded. The house has a couple of heat signatures—ten upstairs, probably asleep. Two below ground. The twins. I can’t see them clearly, but they’re in the lab, still moving. Working. Likely finishing sothing."
His words humd low in everyone’s ears, a pulse of digital calm before the storm.
Ewan tapped the small tablet strapped to his wrist, bringing up the digital grid Spider had sent. His eyes moved quickly, absorbing, morizing. He looked every inch the commander—his face unreadable behind the visor, but his presence steady, grounding.
"Alright," he began, voice low but carrying through their comms. "You all know your roles. Aiden—flank right with two agents. Sandro—take the back with Susan. The rest of you cover entry points and hold position. Clear rooms fast and quiet where possible. We move in sync, no lone heroics."
He paused, glancing briefly at Athena beside him, then back at his n. "Let’s move in."
As the others rose and disappeared into the dark, crouching low and slipping through the trees toward the periter wall, Ewan held Athena back. His gloved hand caught her arm gently.
She turned, her brows pulling together beneath her helt. "What are you doing?"
For a mont, neither of them moved. Then he leaned closer, their helts almost touching. "I love you," he said quietly, the comm line carrying his voice into her ear like a whisper. "Stay safe. I already promised the kids you would."
A faint smile touched her lips under the visor. She nodded once, slow, steady, then bumped her helt lightly against his. "Then you better keep that promise," she murmured.
He chuckled under his breath—a soft, fleeting sound—before gripping his gun tighter.
She waited for him to get to his feet, and together, they began moving—low, silent, two shadows gliding through the blackness toward the house.
The building itself was larger up close—an old structure with chipped walls and narrow windows, the paint peeling like dead skin. A single porch light flickered faintly near the front, casting ghostlike streaks across the cracked walls. The air slled of oil, tal, and stale smoke. Sowhere far off, a dog barked once, then fell silent.
Spider’s voice returned in their ears. "Thirty ters out. No movent on caras. Proceed."
Sandro was the first to reach the back door. His slightly large fra moved with practiced ease, every step asured. He looked back once, raised his hand in a silent signal. Everyone froze.
Three seconds of silence. Then, he kicked the door down.
The crash echoed through the night, splintering the silence wide open.
The sound was loud, intentional.
Athena flinched slightly at the blast, the recoil of sound rolling across the compound. Ewan didn’t move, didn’t correct Sandro. He knew why. Sandro never liked killing people in their sleep.
To him, there was sothing dishonorable in it—shooting soone defenseless. If he was going to kill, he wanted them to be awake to face it.
The shout ca almost imdiately.
"What was that?!"
Then—chaos.
Gunfire exploded, loud and wild. Bullets ripped through the air, pinging off tal, splintering furniture. The flash of muzzle fire cut through the dark like lightning.
Ewan and Athena moved fast—synchronized, efficient. They flowed through the corridor like water, their boots soundless against the cracked tile.
Ewan covered her left; she covered his right. Every ti he ducked, she rose. Every ti she aid, he adjusted to her rhythm. It was a dance—violent, deadly, flawless.
Screams filled the air as gang mbers stumbled out of rooms, half-dressed and panicked, grabbing for weapons.
Athena fires were clean and precise—one shot to the shoulder, another to the leg. Non-lethal when possible. Ewan wasn’t as forgiving. His bullets struck center mass, efficient and final.
There were more of them than he’d expected. Fiona had said this was the last gathering of the remaining gang mbers, but Ewan had assud the governnt had already cleared most of them out. Clearly, he’d underestimated.
Spider hadn’t given them a number—just "a couple" Ewan cursed himself for not pressing the detail.
"Left corridor clear," Aiden’s voice ca through the comms, gunfire crackling faintly behind his words.
"Right clear," Susan added breathlessly.
Athena ducked behind an overturned table as bullets slamd into the wall above her. Dust fell from the ceiling, choking the air. Ewan crouched beside her, firing a sharp burst toward the doorway. The man there dropped, clutching his chest.
"You alright?" he asked, glancing at her briefly.
She nodded, wiping the dust from her visor. "Better than him."
Ewan huffed a short laugh. "Move."
They pushed forward, stepping over sprawled bodies, the air thick with gunpowder and smoke. Athena’s pulse raced, but her focus never wavered. Her mind tracked the map Spider had given them—the coordinates to the underground lab. The twins were there.
"Stairs ahead," Spider’s voice cut in again. "Three guards waiting up..."
"Copy that," Ewan said, signaling the others.
They rounded the last corner in formation — Sandro first, then Aiden, then Ewan and Athena at the rear.
The three guards Spider ntioned were indeed there, rifles raised, eyes wide at the sight of the advancing team. They fired.
Athena and Ewan dropped low, bullets whizzing overhead, sparking against the concrete. Sandro let out a grunt, rolled forward, and returned fire—his heavy weapon roaring as he took two of them down.
The last tried to run. Athena shot him clean through the knee.
He went down screaming.
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