That evening, the encrypted feed flickered to life.
Theodore Brassel's face filled the screen—tired, pale, and set in a tight, forced smile.
"Arthur," he said, using Cole's codename, "after internal deliberation, the IMF is willing to meet your price—two billion dollars." He paused. "But we have a condition."
Cole leaned back slightly. "Let's hear it."
"We need your help finding the mole inside the IMF," Brassel said. "And we want you to handle one additional assignment for us."
Cole's eyes narrowed. "You seem to be forgetting who's holding the cards here, Director. You're the one asking for a favour—not the other way around."
"No insult intended," Brassel said, softening. "You'll find we compensate cooperation fairly. When you brought Ross and his team under your banner, you must have realized their criminal records were never wiped. The CIA chose not to arrest them because they've worked with us before. Help us find the mole, and I'll make sure Ross and his crew are cleared—permanently."
Cole turned, gauging Ross. The older man gave a quiet nod—it was true. Their long-running cooperation with the Agency was built on leverage: the CIA held their past crimes over them like a leash. One wrong move and an arrest warrant would hit Interpol within the hour.
"What's the other assignment?" Cole asked.
"That can wait," Brassel replied. "Once the mole is identified, we'll discuss the next phase. You'll be free to accept or decline—no obligation."
Cole considered, then nodded. "Fine. Transfer the funds to the account on-screen. Once the payment clears, we'll move." He paused, voice lowering. "You've probably already guessed who I am, haven't you?"
Brassel's mouth curved faintly. "Cole Shaw. Owen Shaw's younger brother—the quiet one."
Cole didn't deny it. "Then let's call this a partnership. We'll move on the mole in one week."
Brassel exhaled, not quite relief. "We already have our suspicions. John Musgrave's name has surfaced—though his record's clean on paper."
"He's your leak," Cole said, flat. "You know it, even if you don't want to admit it."
Brassel rubbed a hand over his face. Deep down, he knew Cole was right. Musgrave had been one of the few with clearance to the Rabbit's Foot files, and yet his loyalty had never felt absolute. It wasn't easy to accept—John had done too much for the Agency, and his loyalty had once been unquestioned.
"I'll handle it," Brassel said finally. "But be ready—Davian's people may move as soon as we close in."
"Understood," Cole said. "Just make sure we're not fighting alone."
"You'll have backup," Brassel promised. "We'll rendezvous in Morocco in a week."
The feed cut.
Moments later, the base interface pulsed across the control room.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Mission parameters updated.
Previous objective:Protect Jason Tate and eliminate the program codenamed Rabbit's Foot.
Status: Asset secure; employer deceased.
New directive issued:IMF Contract — Identify internal mole and neutralize Rabbit's Foot.
Rewards:– Modified Hummer (deployed to base)
– Attribute Points: +3
– Intelligent Facial Recognition & Analysis Module unlocked
Cole skimmed the feed, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. The upgrade was significant. The new module would supercharge the base's surveillance stack and tighten their targeting loop across Horus Net.
"IMF money's in," Dade said.
"Good," Cole replied. "Spin up a new account—operational funds only. Kate, handle logistics and requisitions. Anything we need, we pull from that pool."
Both nodded.
Roles were locked. Dade and Kate owned intelligence and cybersecurity; Jason Tate handled engineering and weapons; everyone else was frontline. They were efficient, but a black-site of this scale demanded more specialists—analysts, engineers, pilots—recruitment Cole would pace carefully.
"Tomorrow we move," Cole said. "Morocco. Christmas morning. Yin Yang, you're on me. The rest of you hold position and prep to liaise with the Agency when they reach out."
Ross gave a single nod. "Copy."
Cole returned to his quarters after the briefing. The hum of the black-site faded as he opened his system panel.
[PROFILE DATA]
Name: Cole Shaw (Codename: Arthur)
Mobility: 7
Reflex: 6
Vitality: 5
Special Ability: Crisis Sense (effective radius: 500m +)
Skill Points: 10,380
System Storage: 1 cubic meter +
Skills: Firearms Mastery, Intermediate Combat +, Basic Driving +
Assets: MI-class special equipment set; SSS-level black-site base
He spent 2,000 points expanding system storage to three cubic meters, boosted Crisis Sense to six hundred meters with another 3,000, and tuned driving and tactical reflex stats. 2,380 points remained.
Satisfied, Cole closed the panel, exhaled, and lay back on the bunk.
Tomorrow, they'd fly—Christmas morning in Morocco.