The cab hummed beneath Alex as it sped through the dimly lit streets of the city. Neon signs flickered in the rain-streaked windows, their reflections stretching and distorting across the glass. Alex sat back, fingers tapping against the mask in his pocket. He wasn't sure if the feeling bubbling in his chest was irritation, anticipation, or both.
"Downtown Street, right?" the driver asked, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.
Alex nodded, barely acknowledging him. His thoughts were elsewhere, replaying fragments of his last conversation with the gravelly voice over the phone. The tone had left no room for negotiation—he was needed, whether he liked it or not.
The cab pulled to a halt outside the café. It was an unassuming spot tucked between a bookstore and a tailor, its faded awning sagging slightly under the weight of the rain. Alex paid the driver without a word and stepped out into the cold night.
Pulling his hood lower, he pushed through the door of the café. The familiar jingle of the bell overhead felt oddly out of place amidst the tension he carried.
"One blueberry shot. Fifty percent sugar. Double pearls," Alex said to the cashier, his voice low and measured.
The cashier raised an eyebrow, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. Without a word, he disappeared into the back, leaving Alex waiting by the counter. A few moments later, the man returned with a subtle nod, sliding a keycard across the counter.
"Welcome back, Angel," he murmured.
Alex pocketed the card and made his way toward the rear of the café, slipping through a door marked Employees Only.
The staircase beyond was steep and narrow, dimly lit by a single overhead bulb that buzzed faintly. Alex descended quickly, his boots echoing against the concrete steps. At the bottom, a metallic door stood ajar, its edges glowing faintly with an eerie blue light.
Pushing it open, Alex stepped into the hidden meeting room. The air here was thick, not with smoke but with tension. The room was bare except for a table in the center and the three figures who occupied it.
Ian was leaning back in a chair, one boot resting on the edge of the table. His rifle bag was propped against the wall, and he was absently flipping a coin between his fingers.
"Late as usual," Ian drawled, not bothering to look up.
Next to him stood Charlotte, the new recruit. She looked impossibly young in the harsh light, her wide eyes scanning the room nervously. She clutched a small bag to her chest, her knuckles white against the straps.
And then there was the contractor.
The woman's presence was palpable, her sharp suit perfectly tailored, her movements deliberate. She exuded authority, the kind that demanded respect and promised consequences for disobedience. Her eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Alex the moment he entered.
"Angel," she said coolly, her voice like a blade. "I see you finally decided to join us."
Alex ignored her jab, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. "What's the job?"
The woman slid a slim folder across the table. Alex opened it, scanning the documents and photos inside.
"A research vessel?" he asked, his brows knitting together.
"Not just any vessel," she replied. "This is a floating lab for experimental tech. We've received intel about a classified prototype onboard. Your job is to retrieve it."
Ian snorted, tossing his coin onto the table. "Stealing from scientists now? Classy."
Charlotte shot him a nervous glance but said nothing.
Alex leaned back, studying the contractor. "What kind of resistance are we expecting?"
"Armed guards, advanced surveillance, possibly a small security detail loyal to the project's head scientist," the woman replied without missing a beat.
"And the scientist?"
Her lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Expendable."
Charlotte's eyes widened, and Alex felt a pang of unease. He had dealt with morally grey missions before, but something about the way she said it made his skin crawl.
Ian, however, looked unfazed. "Sounds straightforward enough. When do we leave?"
"Now," the woman said, standing abruptly. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she moved toward the exit. "The helicopter is waiting on the roof. Gear up."
As the door slammed shut behind her, Ian let out a low whistle. "She's a piece of work, huh?"
Alex didn't respond, his focus shifting to Charlotte, who was still clutching her bag like a lifeline.
"First mission?" he asked, his tone softer than usual.
She nodded hesitantly. "Yes, sir."
"Don't call me that," Alex muttered. He stood, slinging his own gear over his shoulder. "Just stick close and don't do anything stupid. Ian and I will handle the heavy lifting."
Charlotte nodded again, her face pale but determined.
The helicopter blades roared as they ascended into the night sky. Alex stared out at the sprawling city below, his mask now secured over his face. Ian was tinkering with his rifle, the familiar clicks and clacks of metal against metal a strange comfort amidst the chaos.
Charlotte sat stiffly beside him, her eyes fixed on the floor.
The contractor stood near the cockpit, her hands clasped behind her back. Her posture was rigid, her gaze focused on the horizon.
As the research vessel came into view, Alex's instincts began to tingle. The lights on the deck were too dim, the surrounding waters too still. Something was off.
"Stay sharp," he muttered, tightening the straps on his gear.
The contractor turned, her cold eyes meeting his. "You have one objective, Angel. Don't forget that."
The helicopter hovered above the vessel, and the team began their descent. Alex was the first to land, his boots hitting the deck with a dull thud.
As the others followed, Alex couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap.
The mission had begun.