Several days later, I sit on the bed in my college dorm, contemplating my next move. Working for the government has given me access to the credentials and status I need; there's no reason to stay at university any longer. I've already begun arranging to move out, ready to dive deeper into my new reality.
Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Lucy steps in, her expression tense. She looks different than usual—her hair is tied back neatly, a departure from her usual loose style, and she's wearing a crisp, office-ready outfit. There's a dullness in her eyes, a hint of something unsettled. She isn't angry, but she's far from her usual cheerful self.
"Hey, V!" she says, with a tone that's edged with irritation.
"What's up?" I ask, forcing a smile.
She crosses her arms, sighing. "I got a promotion under Anderson. I'm now his personal assistant."
"That's great," I reply automatically. But I watch her face carefully and add, "But… you don't look thrilled. Is everything alright?"
She hesitates, looking down before meeting my eyes again. "It's just… I don't know if working under Anderson is really what I thought it would be."
I figured this was inevitable, though I didn't expect it to happen so soon. "Why's that?" I ask, already anticipating her answer.
"Anderson isn't the type of guy you want as a boss," she says, a slight tremor in her voice. "His methods are… uncanny. Unusual, if I'm being honest."
"Yeah, I get what you mean," I murmur, letting a note of agreement slip into my tone.
She perks up slightly, smiling for the first time since she came in. "But it has its upsides—the money, the hours… and the fact that I'll get to see you more often."
"Yeah, I guess we'll be running into each other a lot more now," I reply, shrugging.
She moves over to sit on the couch near the door, relaxing a bit. I take the opportunity to sit forward, preparing for what I'm about to say. "Hey… I've been thinking about leaving university."
Her eyes widen, and she looks genuinely surprised. "What? Why?"
"There's no reason for me to stay here," I say flatly. "I'm getting all the credits I need from my work with the government, and I'm hardly on campus as it is."
Lucy looks crestfallen, though she tries to hide it. "I mean, yeah, that makes sense, I guess."
I continue, almost casually, "I've already picked out a house."
She snaps out of her daze, suddenly alert. "Wait, where?"
I pause for a moment. "It's in a quiet spot, away from campus and not too close to the government base, but close enough."
Her expression shifts from surprise to something softer, an odd mix of acceptance and resignation. "Oh… okay," she says quietly, before standing up to leave. She hesitates, as if she wants to say something more, but then just nods and steps out.
---
Later, at the government facility, I find myself in a sleek, silent conference room, facing both Monroe and Miller. They stand on opposite sides of the long table, an air of formality between them, as if they've been rehearsing what they're about to say.
Monroe clears his throat and looks at me with his usual detached intensity. "V, we have a high-profile assignment for you and Scarlett. This project is… extremely delicate."
Miller cuts in, his voice more direct. "There's been a major breach within our ranks. Information has been leaking, and it's connected to a dangerous individual hiding on a remote island."
Monroe continues, eyes narrowing. "Your mission will be to locate and neutralize this criminal. No one outside of this room knows the details, not even other vice directors. You and Scarlett are the only two equipped for this operation."
I nod, hiding my curiosity behind a calm expression. This isn't just a mission—it's an opportunity. They're trusting me with something that could easily backfire on them. And in the right hands, it could be used to shift the balance of power.
Monroe hands me a folder, thick with files. "This contains all the intel we've gathered so far. But be cautious. This individual has managed to evade us for years. We don't know the full extent of his reach or resources."
Miller adds, "And remember, this assignment is a test of loyalty as much as it is a mission. We're trusting you to keep this under wraps—no one else can know."
I accept the folder, giving each of them a subtle nod. "Understood."
As I leave the room, I feel the weight of their expectations pressing on me, but I also feel something else—a dark thrill at the possibilities. An isolated island, a high-stakes target, and a mission hidden from everyone but us.
By the time I reach my office, Scarlett is already there, flipping through her own file. She looks up, a spark of excitement and trepidation in her eyes. "So… we're going after someone big."
"Big and dangerous," I reply, dropping my file on the desk. "But we're the only ones who can do it."
She smirks, and for a moment, I can see that gleam of ambition in her expression. "I've been waiting for something like this."
"Good," I say, keeping my voice even. "Because we're going to use this to our advantage." I lean in closer, lowering my voice. "This mission isn't just about finding a criminal. It's about proving where the real power lies. And if we play it right, we can come back with more than just a successful capture."
Scarlett's eyes gleam as she begins to see the opportunity unfolding before her. "You're saying we could come back with leverage."
"Exactly." I close the file, already formulating a plan. "We'll bring back exactly what they asked for—but on our own terms."
She nods, her enthusiasm barely contained. "Let's make sure this mission gives them more than they bargained for."
With that, we set to work, preparing for the mission ahead. This island, this target—it would be more than a test. It would be our proving ground, a chance to show just how far we could go to shape the game. And when we returned, the board would look different… as would the players.
In the pre-dawn light, Scarlett and I stand in a dimly lit briefing room as Miller and Monroe prepare to send us off. The two men, usually at odds, now wear identical expressions of grim resolve. It's clear that whoever we're going after isn't just another criminal; they're someone both feared and, apparently, highly capable.
Monroe steps forward first, handing me a small, sealed file marked with the mission name in red ink: Operation Nightfall.
"This assignment is classified at the highest level," Monroe begins, his voice steely. "The target is known only as Anton Mercier. A former intelligence officer with a brilliant mind—and, unfortunately, a taste for treachery."
Scarlett and I exchange a look as he continues. Mercier. I've heard whispers about him, but never had a face or a dossier to go on.
Miller speaks up, folding his arms across his chest. "Mercier defected nearly a decade ago. He possesses not only extensive knowledge of our intelligence networks but also high-level codes and sensitive information that could cripple several departments if it falls into the wrong hands."
"He's been selling information to foreign powers and criminal organizations alike," Monroe adds. "Not only is he well-funded, but he's also meticulously covered his tracks. If you find him, it will be a miracle. If you capture him alive, it will be even more so."
Scarlett raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "And this island he's hiding on?"
Monroe's jaw tightens. "The island is remote, outside typical surveillance reach. It's a known hub for certain high-profile figures who need privacy and protection. Mercier is likely well-guarded."
Miller unfolds a map, highlighting a tiny speck of land isolated from any other major territories. "This is Blackthorn Island. Limited access, heavy security, and a revolving roster of unsavory guests. Mercier has taken it over as his personal fortress."
"And what exactly does he have on us?" I ask, letting just a trace of skepticism creep into my voice. "What makes him a risk worth this kind of mission?"
Monroe narrows his gaze. "Let's just say his knowledge extends to certain… foundational vulnerabilities within our organization. We can't afford to let him leverage that. Which is why your objective is simple: locate him, neutralize any threats around him, and bring him in alive if possible. But do not hesitate if containment becomes impossible."
I nod, and Scarlett follows suit. The stakes here are obvious; Mercier represents not only a personal vendetta for the agency but also a loose end that could unravel much more if left unchecked.
Monroe steps closer, his tone firm. "One more thing. While Mercier is the primary objective, you are also tasked with gathering intelligence on anyone else on the island who could pose a future threat. Keep your eyes open. Report anything unusual."
He looks at me, a silent warning in his expression. "And remember, V, this mission is off the books. If anything goes wrong, there's no rescue coming. You and Scarlett are entirely on your own."
I give him a curt nod, accepting the gravity of what he's just said. This isn't a mission where failure is an option. But that also means it's the perfect opportunity to uncover exactly what Monroe and Miller are so desperate to hide.
Scarlett and I gather our files and gear, the weight of this assignment settling in. As we turn to leave, Miller stops us with a final remark. "Stay focused, stay controlled. Mercier is cunning. But remember—our resources are vast. Use them wisely."
With that, we're dismissed, and the cold dawn air hits us as we walk toward the transport waiting to take us to the island.
As we board, I glance over at Scarlett. "Ready to go after the most dangerous man on the government's blacklist?"
She smirks, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I've been ready since we got this assignment."
With our plan set, we take our seats, and the jet engines begin to hum. This mission is about more than just capturing a traitor; it's a chance to bring back something that could give us leverage over the people who think they can control us.
As we lift off, I settle back, my mind already racing with possibilities. This island may be Mercier's stronghold, but it's also going to be our battlefield. And if all goes according to plan, we'll leave with much more than we came for.
The flight is quiet, the kind of silence that carries tension. Scarlett and I go over the mission details one last time, scanning each line of intel. The dossier on Mercier is thin but telling—former field agent, strategic mastermind, unmatched in evasion tactics. He didn't just slip through cracks in the system; he found a way to widen them.
I glance out the window at the dark ocean below. Blackthorn Island is somewhere out there, a speck surrounded by miles of cold, unforgiving water. A perfect hiding place for someone who wants to stay invisible.
"We touch down in twenty," the pilot announces.
Scarlett and I exchange a glance, each reading the readiness in the other's eyes. She's practically vibrating with energy, a stark contrast to the stillness I feel inside. This is my element—striking in the shadows, learning the terrain as I go, dismantling the pieces of a problem before anyone realizes what's happening.
As we land, I can see the island's rugged outline in the first light of dawn, surrounded by cliffs and dense forest. It's beautiful in a stark, dangerous way, and completely off-grid. This isn't just a tactical advantage for Mercier; it's a fortress.
A military jeep is waiting, driven by a silent, stone-faced operative Monroe must have hired as local support. Scarlett slides into the back, and I follow, settling into the uncomfortable seats. The driver takes us through winding, narrow paths that cut through the dense forest toward the safe house—a discreet, abandoned cabin, stocked with the supplies and surveillance tools we'll need.
Once we're inside, I check the equipment. Heat sensors, drones, encrypted comms—it's a small arsenal, enough to keep us alive and undetected for a while.
Scarlett drops her bag on a creaky table and stretches, glancing around the place with an arched eyebrow. "Cozy. Nothing like a remote jungle hideout to make you feel at home."
I chuckle, though my mind's already mapping the next steps. "Well, it's no luxury suite. But it's quiet, and it keeps us off the radar. The less we're noticed, the better."
We spend the next couple of hours going through Mercier's possible locations and known associates. His network is fractured, held together by whatever remaining loyalty he commands. But a man like him will have guards, informants, and escape routes layered into this island like a spider's web.
As we're finalizing our plan, my comm buzzes with an encrypted message from Miller, a direct line meant for emergencies.
"Change of plans," it reads. "Additional targets confirmed on the island. Mercier isn't alone—high-priority assets detected. Proceed with caution."
My eyes narrow as I show Scarlett the message. "Additional targets. They're not telling us everything."
"Of course they aren't." Scarlett's lips curl into a wry smile. "Why make our job easier when they can make it impossible?"
I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this. A high-priority target means someone with the same level of secrecy—and threat—as Mercier. But it also means more leverage if we play this right.
"Fine," I say, slipping the comm back into my pocket. "We'll keep an eye out. But Mercier remains our primary objective. Any secondary target is just that—secondary."
We gather our gear, checking every piece of equipment one last time. As we step outside, the sun is already high, the humid air thick around us. The jungle feels like it's pressing in, concealing a thousand hidden dangers. But this is why we're here.
Our first destination is a vantage point high on the cliffs, where we can survey Mercier's suspected compound without detection. We take a narrow trail up, careful to leave no trace. After what feels like an hour of climbing through tangled underbrush, we reach the top.
The compound sprawls below us, a series of reinforced buildings surrounded by armed guards and electronic surveillance. Mercier has clearly made this place his fortress.
Scarlett lifts a pair of binoculars, scanning the layout. "Looks like a regular resort if you ignore the assault rifles and perimeter fencing."
"And the heavy artillery," I add, noting the anti-aircraft weaponry hidden near the cliffs. He's not expecting a quiet visit.
But if this operation has to get loud, so be it. I'll do what's necessary, and if Miller or Monroe think they can dictate the terms, they're wrong.
"Alright," I murmur, turning to Scarlett. "Tonight, we infiltrate. We move under cover of darkness, get eyes on Mercier, and assess the situation with these new 'targets.'"
She gives me a nod, the fire in her eyes sharp and ready. "Let's bring him in, or burn his empire to the ground."
As the jungle shadows lengthen around us, I feel that familiar, dark anticipation. We're about to go to war on this island.