Chereads / ULTIMATE VENTURES SEASON 2 / Chapter 4 - CHAPTER 3: RETRIEVING THE ALABASTER BOX

Chapter 4 - CHAPTER 3: RETRIEVING THE ALABASTER BOX

Next Day – Australia

MORINJO

The Australian sun blazes outside, but inside the polished conference room, the atmosphere is cool and focused. The Ventures—our tight-knit team—stand just inside the doorway. Prime Minister Joseph Lucky, an approachable leader with a sharp mind, sits at the head of the oval table, a faint smile playing on his face.

The room is designed for diplomacy: sleek black chairs around a glossy table, a modern chandelier casting a soft glow, and heavy drapes partially drawn to let in beams of sunlight. But we aren't here for politics.

I step forward, clearing my throat, trying to balance urgency with politeness.

"Prime Minister," I begin, locking eyes with him. "We've run into a situation, and we're going to need your expertise. It's… well, it's not exactly straightforward."

Jessica, always quick to energize the room, jumps in. "We think you're the perfect person to help us figure this out. No pressure," she adds with a grin.

Lucky leans back in his chair, curiosity flickering across his face. "Well, you've got my attention. What's going on?"

John can't resist chiming in. "Just saying upfront, this might be a bit trickier than what you're used to. Definitely not your average cabinet meeting material."

The Prime Minister chuckles, shaking his head. "I've handled a few tricky puzzles in my time. Try me."

Leonard leans against the table, his tone turning serious. "It's about the Alabaster Box. We've tracked it down to a location within your jurisdiction, but—" He hesitates. "It's heavily guarded, and we don't have clearance to act alone."

Jessica adds, her voice steady, "We've got the intel, but no one knows this territory like you do. With your backing, we think we can retrieve it safely."

Daniel, the G.A.L.A.X.Y agent, nods. "The tech we're up against isn't simple either. It's got advanced biometrics and an AI lock that I can override—but only with time we might not have."

Prime Minister Lucky's smile fades, replaced by a look of concentration. "The Alabaster Box…" He repeats the words as though weighing their significance. "I've heard whispers about it. What exactly are we dealing with here?"

I exchange a glance with Jessica before answering. "It's not just a box, sir. It holds classified artifacts that—if they fall into the wrong hands—could destabilize… well, a lot more than just this region."

Lucky's gaze sharpens. "You're telling me it's a potential global threat?"

"Exactly," Daniel confirms. "And time is against us. We need your help to act fast."

The room falls silent for a moment, tension thick in the air. Then, Lucky leans forward, resting his arms on the table. His expression is resolute.

"Alright," he says firmly. "You have my support. Tell me what you need, and let's make it happen. Australia doesn't back down from a challenge, especially not one this important."

Relief sweeps through the group, though none of us fully relax. The stakes are too high. As we begin laying out the plan, the camaraderie between us and the Prime Minister becomes our anchor—a reminder that, together, we have a shot at success.

Back in Montana City, the Ultimate Tower stands tall, its white marble exterior gleaming under the afternoon sun. Spiraling upward as though it's trying to touch the sky, the tower feels alive, a symbol of power and innovation. Intricate carvings cover the surface, whispering tales of ancient wisdom. Stained glass windows glint with sunlight, scattering colors across the tower's base.

"It's still incredible," I say, taking a moment to absorb the view.

"You call this a tower?" Daniel mutters, craning his neck to see the top. "It's more like a castle."

Jessica smirks, nudging him. "Wait till you see the inside."

"Let's move," I say, leading the group forward.

As we step inside, the air changes, cool and charged with quiet energy. The entrance hall gleams with polished floors that reflect the ambient glow of holographic displays scattered across the walls. The control center dominates the room, with touchscreens and holograms alive with data streams. A hum of advanced tech fills the air, making the space feel more like the bridge of a starship than a building.

"This is where you've been hanging out?" Daniel asks, his voice full of awe.

Jessica shakes her head. "We haven't set foot here in three years. Feels good to be back, though."

"Three years?!" Daniel stares at her, baffled. "How could you leave something like this behind?"

"Long story," I interject. "For now, let's focus. We've got a job to do."

---

A few hours later

The team gathers in the central control room, a massive holographic map of the S.K.U.L.L base glowing in front of us. The Alabaster's location pulses in red, deep within enemy territory.

"Alright," I say, addressing the group. "We need a plan—fast, smart, and flawless. Ideas?"

Jessica leans forward, her fingers tracing patterns on the table as she thinks. "I can hack into their security systems remotely and disable the alarms. It'll give us a small window to get in."

"Good," Joseph says, nodding. "Zetacode and I can create a diversion at the main entrance. They'll focus on us while you go for the Alabaster."

Leonard grins. "I can add a little thunder and lightning to the mix. Freak them out, make them think nature's turning against them."

John cracks his knuckles, his grin matching Leonard's. "And if they get through the storm, I'll handle them. No one's stopping us."

I glance at Daniel. "Can you take out their communications? We can't risk them calling for reinforcements."

Daniel gives a confident nod. "Already on it. Their comms will go dark as soon as we move."

Joseph speaks up again. "I'll secure the extraction route. Make sure we've got a clear way out."

"And I'll use my powers to mess with their soldiers," I add. "Disorient them, keep them off balance."

Jessica looks around the room, her eyes scanning each of us. "This has to be seamless. If one part of the plan fails, the whole thing crumbles."

"Then let's make sure it doesn't," I say firmly. "We're not just here to take down S.K.U.L.L—we're here to save the Alabaster. The stakes don't get higher than this."

The room falls silent as the weight of the mission sinks in. Then, one by one, the team nods, determination etched on their faces.

"Let's do this," John says, breaking the silence.

The Ventures are ready. The plan is set. Now it's time to execute.

Next Day – California

The control room hums with a low, electric buzz. Flickering lights cast shifting shadows across the rows of monitors, creating an eerie glow. My eyes dart across the screens, scanning Skull's defenses for gaps. The security cameras sweep back and forth in precise intervals, but I guide Black Cardinal with the subtle currents of my psychokinesis, timing her every move to stay out of their line of sight. She flows through the space like a shadow, unseen and undetected.

Outside, Zetacode stands rigid at the main entrance, a figure of unyielding focus. He raises his fist, his face turned skyward, as if drawing strength from the heavens. Sparks flicker at his fingertips, building into a cascade of energy that explodes outward with a deafening crack. The air splits with the sound of thunder as bolts of raw power streak through the sky, lighting up the day like a storm unleashed.

The chaos is immediate. Alarms blare, and ten S.K.U.L.L agents burst from the control room, weapons raised. Their focus is entirely on the dazzling display outside, oblivious to the silent threat within. The vibrations of their heavy boots and shouts reverberate through the air, a distraction we've perfectly orchestrated. My lips curl into a faint smile. *We've got them right where we want them.*

LEONARD

The alley buzzes with tension, the sharp crackling of lightning in the distance mixing with the heavy, echoing footsteps of ten agents closing in. Their movements are precise, calculated, and driven by an unyielding determination to neutralize me. But they don't know who they're dealing with.

I feel it building—the raw, electric hum of energy coursing through my veins. My speedster instincts sharpen my perception, each heartbeat stretching time to my advantage. The agents fan out, weapons raised, their faces grim beneath helmets that mask any sign of fear or hesitation.

"Evening, gentlemen," I say, a smirk tugging at my lips. "What's the rush? Lost something?"

One agent steps forward, barking out, "So you're the distraction, huh?!" He signals with a sharp gesture, and all ten level their rifles at me in synchronized precision.

"Hold on, don't—"

The sharp staccato of gunfire rips through the day. But for me, the world slows to a crawl. Bullets tear through the air, glinting under the sunlight as if suspended in a timeless dance. I watch them with detached amusement, each trajectory etched in my mind.

"Cute," I mutter, sidestepping the first wave of projectiles as if avoiding a lazy swarm of flies. The agents' movements are sluggish, almost pitiful in their attempts to track me. I'm already gone before they've even registered my presence.

A flick of my wrist, and I pluck the bullets from the air, twirling them between my fingers before letting it drop to the ground with a metallic ping. Their weapons might as well be toys against me. The world snaps back to speed as I become a crimson blur, weaving between them. My fists move with surgical precision, each strike calculated to disarm and disable without unnecessary force. One agent drops to his knees, clutching his ribs. Another stumbles backward, the shockwave of my punch sending his weapon clattering to the ground.

In a second, they're all down, groaning or too stunned to resist. Calmly, I crouch and retrieve a pair of handcuffs from one of their utility belts.

"You guys really ought to carry less stuff," I say with a chuckle, snapping the cuffs onto the nearest agent. With practiced ease, I secure the rest, using their own handcuffs against them. The irony isn't lost on me.

As the last click of a handcuff echoes in the alley, the crackling lightning overhead begins to subside. I stand amidst the subdued agents, the chaos replaced by an almost eerie calm.

"Next time," I say, dusting off my hands, "maybe think twice before messing with a speedster."

MORINJO

"Lycon, it's time to crush," I commanded, my voice steady as chaos loomed.

The Lycon Wolf steps into the sterile hall of the Skull Facility, its presence like a living nightmare. Its glowing, otherworldly eyes scan the room, locking onto a squad of 20 soldiers who stand frozen for a moment too long. The first soldier barely has time to react. Lycon moves, a blur of shadow and fangs, and slams him to the ground with bone-crushing force. The soldier's armor crumples like tin foil as a strangled scream escapes his lips.

"Open fire!" one of the squad leaders shouts, snapping the others to action.

The room explodes with the deafening roar of gunfire, bullets ricocheting off the walls and tearing through the air. But Lycon Wolf is already on the move, weaving through the storm of projectiles with unnatural speed. The few rounds that connect harmlessly glance off its fur, leaving the soldiers wide-eyed with fear.

A guttural growl fills the room as Lycon leaps into the fray. Its claws, gleaming like obsidian blades, slice through armor and flesh alike. It grabs a soldier mid-step, tossing him effortlessly into two others, their bodies crashing into the far wall with a sickening thud. One soldier tries to flank the beast, his rifle aimed at Lycon's head. Before he can pull the trigger, the creature's elongated tongue lashes out, coiling around his neck. The soldier chokes, clawing at the slimy appendage as he's yanked off the ground. Lycon swings him like a ragdoll into the nearest group of comrades, scattering them like bowling pins.

The sterile facility begins to reek of sweat, blood, and fear. Lycon Wolf is relentless, its movements a terrifying blend of precision and brutality. It stalks through the remaining soldiers, slashing and tearing with surgical efficiency. One soldier raises his shield in desperation, but the beast's claws carve through it like paper, dragging him to the ground.

"Fall back!" another shouts, his voice trembling.

But there's no escape. Lycon's body begins to shift, dissolving into a swirling shadow that engulfs the nearest group of soldiers. Tendrils of darkness lash out from the black mass, piercing armor and draining life with horrifying precision. The soldiers' screams echo as their bodies collapse lifelessly to the ground. The last few survivors, panic etched into their faces, unload their weapons in a desperate final stand. Lycon, now fully reformed, moves with liquid grace, dodging the bullets as though they were moving in slow motion. The beast closes the distance in seconds, and with a blur of claws and fangs, the last soldier falls.

Silence descends on the facility, broken only by the soft hum of dying machinery. The walls, once sterile and bright, are smeared with the carnage of the encounter. Lycon Wolf stands amidst the devastation, its massive form pulsating with dark energy.

I step forward, surveying the aftermath. "Good work, Lycon," I mutter, a faint smirk curling my lips. The beast turns its glowing eyes toward me, its feral energy still crackling, awaiting its next command.

Daniel is stationed at a concealed terminal, his fingers flying over the keyboard. My mental waves weave into his digital efforts, creating a synchronized disruption. Skull's communication network dissolves into chaotic static, their calls for reinforcements silenced.

"Got them scrambling," Daniel mutters, a smirk playing on his lips.

From the shadows, Menace picks off guards with precision, his silenced shots ensuring our escape route remains clear. Meanwhile, I extend my psychokinetic influence, crafting illusions that lead Skull agents astray. Confusion reigns as they stumble through their facility, chasing phantoms.

"Black Cardinal!" I call out, my voice sharp amidst the chaos.

"I'm on it," she replies, her tone steady.

She moves like a shadow toward the Alabaster Box, her every step guided by our combined efforts. Alarms fall silent as she secures the artifact, holding it close. Triumph glints in her eyes. As a team, we flow through the Skull facility, a seamless dance of misdirection and precision. With the Alabaster Box safely in Black Cardinal's grasp, we rendezvous at the extraction point.

In the clearing, Lycon Wolf kneels, his towering, verdant form shrinking. Claws retract, fangs recede, and his vibrant green hue fades. The beast gives way to John Brown, his body trembling with fatigue from the transformation.

"Are you okay?" Black Cardinal asks, concern in her voice.

"Yeah… I'm fine," John breathes, though his labored tone betrays his exhaustion.

"Let's move," I command, urgency still pressing us forward.

We board the Quinjet, leaving behind a wake of confusion and chaos. The mission is a success, a testament to our coordinated efforts.

---

The Quinjet hums as it glides through the clouds toward our destination. Upon landing, we're greeted by Director Smith, his warm handshake welcoming us back.

"Good to see you all again," Smith says, his eyes scanning the team. "Anything unusual on the mission?"

"No major hiccups," I reply, though my mind flashes to the taxing transformation John endured.

As I prepare to hand over the Alabaster Box, a group of unfamiliar faces approaches. The new recruits, 20 strong, carry a mix of eager and nervous energy.

"Hi! I'm Sarah," one of them introduces herself, extending a hand.

"And I'm Jake. Really excited to be here!" another chimes in.

Leonard passes the Alabaster Box to Director Smith, who holds it with reverence.

"This is crucial for our mission. I can't thank you enough," Smith says, his gratitude evident.

"Your team's getting stronger, Morinjo," Alexander adds with a smile.

We nod, accepting the appreciation, and leave the Quinjet.

---

Back at our Ultimate Tower in Montana City, I head straight for the kitchen, my body craving a moment of reprieve. I grab a cold drink from the fridge, savoring its refreshing chill.

"Long day, huh?" Jessica says, her hands busy prepping lunch alongside Leonard.

"Thanks, Jessica. You and Leonard killed it with those mission meals," I reply, appreciating their efforts.

"We aim to please," Leonard says with a grin, arranging plates on the table. "Dig in, folks!"

Minutes later, the table is laden with steaming dishes, the delicious aroma filling the room.

"Let's feast!" John exclaims, his earlier fatigue replaced by enthusiasm.

Before we start, John raises his hands for a brief prayer. "Thank you for this food and for bringing us back safely. Amen."

A chorus of "Amen" follows, and we dive into the meal, laughter and conversation filling the room as the team finally relaxes after a hard-fought mission.