We parked a safe distance from the estate, just out of sight. From here, the place looked like a fortress—tall iron gates, security cameras, and guards patrolling every corner. Mercier wasn't taking any chances. This was a high-stakes game, and he knew exactly who might come knocking.
Scarlett and I exchanged a final nod, each of us sinking into our cover identities. We were supposed to be Mercier's potential allies, two operatives with questionable allegiances but undeniable skill. It was a risky angle, but if played right, it could get us past the gates.
As we approached, a guard stepped forward, eyeing us suspiciously. "State your business."
Scarlett stepped up, her voice cold and confident. "We're here on Mercier's orders. He didn't send you a heads-up? Not surprising—he likes to keep things quiet. Now, are you going to let us in, or do we need to have a word with him?"
The guard hesitated but then gave a quick nod, opening the gates and motioning us through. Once inside, we were led through winding hallways, the estate's opulence in stark contrast to the hostility in the air. It was clear that Mercier had invested in both style and security.
In the back of the main hall, we were escorted to a dimly lit room with a set of computers and servers humming softly. We'd reached the nerve center of his network—Mercier's hidden tech hub.
The guard left us alone, locking the door behind him. Scarlett immediately began scanning the servers, her fingers flying across the keyboard. Meanwhile, I positioned myself near the door, ears attuned for any sound of movement outside.
"We're in," Scarlett whispered, eyes fixed on the screen. "But it's encrypted, layered with security that's… unusual."
"What do you mean unusual?" I asked, my own tension rising.
"This is top-tier. Like, government-level. Mercier's either gotten himself some serious tech or he's still got someone on the inside feeding him intel."
I clenched my jaw, my mind racing. If Mercier was still getting insider info, that meant our operation could be compromised. We had to be faster, smarter.
"Keep digging," I said. "See if you can pull anything on his network—contacts, recent communications, maybe even his location."
She nodded, her gaze focused. But just as she broke through another layer of encryption, the screen flashed red.
"Alert triggered," she muttered, her face hardening. "We need to move. Now."
At that exact moment, heavy footsteps sounded outside the door, followed by the telltale click of safeties being disengaged. I drew my weapon, gesturing for Scarlett to fall back.
The door burst open, and three guards rushed in, weapons drawn. The first was down before he could react, and I dropped the second with a swift, precise shot. Scarlett took out the third, her stance steady, unflinching.
"We're exposed," I said, keeping my voice low. "They know we're here."
Scarlett's eyes narrowed. "Then let's make it count. Grab everything we can and get out."
She quickly downloaded as much data as possible onto a flash drive, the server humming as files transferred in rapid succession. Alarms blared in the distance, echoing through the estate, and the time on the screen crawled painfully slow.
Just as the transfer completed, more footsteps echoed down the hall, along with the distinct sound of someone giving orders.
"We're surrounded," I muttered.
Scarlett shot me a glance. "Then we fight our way out."
With no other option, we kicked down the emergency exit at the back of the room, sprinting through dark corridors and barely avoiding another wave of guards. We ducked into a side corridor, and I took out the paralyzing agent I'd brought, my insurance for Mercier.
Finally, we burst out of the estate and into the night. Mercier's men were hot on our heels, but we made it to the nearby river where we'd stashed a boat. With the guards closing in, I hit the accelerator, and we sped off, bullets splashing into the water behind us.
As the estate shrank in the distance, Scarlett glanced back, a hint of satisfaction in her expression. "We made it."
I nodded, the adrenaline still coursing through me. "And we've got exactly what we need."
When we finally arrived back at the government facility, we handed over the flash drive. Miller and Monroe were waiting, faces tense but clearly eager to see what we'd uncovered.
"This better be worth it," Monroe said, his gaze flicking between us.
Scarlett smirked, crossing her arms. "Oh, it is. We've got enough on Mercier's network to expose his entire operation."
Monroe's expression shifted, the satisfaction evident. "Good work. Take a day to recover; we'll debrief tomorrow."
As we left the briefing room, Scarlett's usual bravado softened just slightly. She glanced over at me, a rare moment of vulnerability in her eyes. "Guess we're making a decent team."
I gave a faint smile, acknowledging the truth in her words. "Yeah… maybe we are."
But I knew this was far from over. Mercier would strike back—and when he did, we'd be ready.
Just as we exited the briefing room, Scarlett swayed slightly. I caught it out of the corner of my eye, but before I could say anything, she stumbled forward, her face pale.
"Scarlett?" I reached out, grabbing her arm just in time to keep her from collapsing completely.
She mumbled something incoherent, her eyes half-closed, her strength giving out. The wounds she'd endured during Mercier's torture flashed through my mind. She'd barely taken a moment to rest since we got back, pushing herself beyond her limits. But now, it looked like her body was finally giving out.
"Scarlett!" I called, shaking her lightly, but her eyes were already closing, her breathing shallow.
Miller and Monroe both turned, their expressions instantly shifting from annoyance to concern. Monroe took a step forward. "Get her to medical. Now."
Without waiting, I hoisted her up, carrying her down the hall toward the infirmary. The medical team sprang into action as soon as we entered, guiding me to lay her on a bed and hooking her up to various monitors. They began a quick examination, speaking in low voices to each other as I watched from a few feet away, feeling a strange, sinking unease.
After a few minutes, one of the doctors approached me. "She's suffering from severe exhaustion and some untreated internal bruising. Given what she went through, it's surprising she didn't collapse sooner."
I swallowed, trying to push down the gnawing feeling of guilt. "How long until she's stable?"
"She'll need at least a few days of rest and close observation," the doctor replied. "But I'm confident she'll make a full recovery, as long as she doesn't push herself."
Nodding, I glanced back at her, lying there motionless. Scarlett, fierce and relentless, now completely vulnerable. It was a stark reminder that, as strong as she was, she was still human, still breakable.
As I left the infirmary, I steeled myself. I'd finish the mission and ensure Mercier's plans crumbled entirely—Scarlett's safety depended on it, and so did mine.
I made my way back to the briefing room, pushing down the urgency bubbling in my chest. Scarlett was out of commission, likely for days. Mercier's threat loomed larger than ever, and I needed someone capable to step into her place.
Miller and Monroe were still there, deep in conversation. I cleared my throat, and they looked up, both of them taking in my expression.
"So, with Scarlett down," I said, crossing my arms, "who am I working with on this?"
Miller and Monroe exchanged a glance, a silent exchange that spoke volumes. Finally, Monroe turned back to me, his expression as composed as ever. "We anticipated the possibility of Scarlett's injuries catching up to her. That's why we have a contingency plan."
Miller stepped forward. "We're assigning Anderson Silva to the mission with you. He's been briefed on Mercier's operations, and his tactical knowledge might be just what you need to counter Mercier's network."
I clenched my jaw, hiding my initial reaction. Anderson? Not only was he abrasive and unpredictable, but he also had a history of working his own angles. Trusting him on a mission like this was a gamble.
Monroe seemed to catch my hesitation. "I know Anderson wouldn't have been your first choice. But he's proven his capability, and we need someone who can think on their feet. He's aware of the risks and the stakes."
"Do I have any choice?" I asked, a hint of sarcasm slipping through.
Miller shook his head. "Not really. Anderson is your best option, and, frankly, the only one available right now."
I exhaled, knowing I'd have to make it work. "Fine. But I'm setting the terms. Anderson doesn't make a move unless I say so."
Miller's mouth quirked in a small, approving smile. "Good. Keep him on a tight leash. We can't afford any more loose ends on this one."
"Understood," I replied, nodding once. "Anything else?"
"Just one thing," Monroe added, his voice taking on a sterner edge. "Do what you need to, but don't underestimate Mercier. He's always been two steps ahead, and he's unlikely to stop now. Stay vigilant, and don't let any distractions compromise the mission."
Message received. I left the room with a mental note: keep Anderson close, keep him in line, and keep my eyes open. Mercier wouldn't get the upper hand again—not this time.
Later that evening, I found Anderson waiting near the exit, arms crossed, already looking impatient. He spotted me, his expression shifting to a smirk.
"Thought you'd back out of this one, V," he said, feigning casualness. "Guess you can't get enough of my company."
Ignoring the jab, I kept my tone neutral. "We both know this is bigger than either of us. So let's cut the games and focus on what needs to be done."
He raised an eyebrow, but for once, kept his sarcasm in check. "Fair enough. I reviewed what we know about Mercier. He's holed up somewhere in the outskirts of the city, a place that's practically a fortress. If we're getting close to him, we're going to need more than the standard approach."
"Agreed. I have a plan to get us in, but it'll require exact timing and zero deviation from the route," I said, laying out a detailed path based on the intel I'd gathered. "We get in, secure Mercier, and bring him back. Simple."
"Simple," he echoed, though his tone suggested he thought otherwise. "And what happens when Mercier throws a wrench in your perfect timing?"
"Then we adapt," I replied, meeting his gaze. "But we stay on task. Understood?"
He gave a slight nod, his expression unusually serious. "Understood."
The following night, we moved out. The cityscape around Mercier's hideout was dark, an industrial area lined with warehouses and shipping containers, each casting heavy shadows that blanketed our approach. We stayed low, moving in silence, each step carefully calculated to avoid triggering any alarms.
Anderson's eyes flicked to me as we reached the perimeter of Mercier's hideout. "Think he's expecting us?"
"He's always expecting something. The trick is making him expect the wrong thing."
He nodded, and together we scaled a low wall, moving into the heart of Mercier's territory. We navigated a maze of narrow corridors, every sound amplified by the silence around us. So far, the plan was working. Too well, actually.
"Hold up," I whispered, stopping abruptly. "Something's wrong."
A second later, the air was shattered by an alarm, piercing through the quiet like a knife. Floodlights blazed on, casting harsh, glaring light that erased our cover. Anderson and I were exposed, caught in the blinding beams.
"Seems Mercier's one step ahead, after all," Anderson muttered, his voice tinged with dark amusement.
"Stick to the plan," I snapped, my mind racing. We had to keep moving, keep pushing forward. Mercier's men were closing in, shadows advancing under the bright lights, the sound of footsteps echoing.
We dove behind a stack of metal crates, bullets sparking off the sides as Mercier's guards opened fire. Anderson returned fire, his face focused, all traces of sarcasm replaced by cold precision. For a moment, there was a strange sense of synchronization, as if we were moving as a single unit.
"Doorway, ten o'clock," I muttered, pointing out our route forward. We bolted toward it, slipping inside just as the guards reloaded. We were in a narrow corridor, dimly lit, the walls echoing with the distant sound of footsteps.
"This way," Anderson gestured, leading us through a winding path that led deeper into Mercier's hideout. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, his steps confident, purposeful.
At last, we reached a heavy, reinforced door at the end of the hall. I could feel it—that unmistakable sensation of being on the brink, a feeling that Scarlett would've shared. She'd have known just how to read the situation, when to hold back and when to strike.
But Scarlett wasn't here, and I had to focus.
Inside, Mercier was waiting, sitting calmly as if he'd anticipated this moment. He glanced up, an unsettling smile spreading across his face.
"You two are persistent," he said, his voice smooth, almost amused. "But persistence only gets you so far."
Ignoring the taunt, I drew closer, Anderson flanking me, his gaze sharp and wary. "It's over, Mercier. You're coming with us."
Mercier laughed, the sound cold and calculating. "Oh, you think so? You've been chasing shadows, running yourself ragged. But there's one thing you've overlooked."
In an instant, he pressed a hidden button on his chair, and the floor beneath us shook. Alarms blared once more, this time a deep, guttural warning, and thick metal shutters began descending over every exit.
Anderson shot me a look. "So much for a clean exit."
"Focus," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "We're getting out of here— with him."
The clock was ticking. We'd reached Mercier, but now we had to survive long enough to bring him back.