The forty-eight hours before the OmniCorp heist were a crucible that forged our team in new and unexpected ways. The warehouse became a true command centre, the air thick with the energy of a real black-ops mission.
The fear that had once defined my pawns was being burned away, replaced by the focused, high-octane fuel of purpose. Their duties were evolving, and they were rising to the challenge.
Maya was no longer just a documentarian; she had become a formidable intelligence operative. She presented her findings on a projected screen in the warehouse, her voice crisp and professional. She had everything.
Architectural blueprints of the OmniCorp tower, detailed guard rotation schedules, and psychological profiles of the key security staff.
Her masterstroke was the file on the lab's lead scientist, Dr. Aris Thorne.
"Dr. Thorne is a creature of habit," Maya explained, pointing to a timeline of his daily activities.
"He drinks exactly two cups of black coffee before 9 AM. He's arrogant, frequently bypassing lower-level security protocols with his master keycard because he can't be bothered to wait. And, most importantly," she zoomed in on a snippet from his public social media feed, "his datapad password hint is 'My Greatest Discovery.'
His daughter's name is Elara. Born on the 12th of June, 2015. The password is 'Elara120615'."
It was a stunning piece of invasive intelligence gathering. She hadn't just found information; she had weaponised it.
Mark's transformation was just as profound. He was no longer a simple hacker who could disrupt a video feed; he was becoming a true Oracle.
He had spent two days buried in the OmniCorp tower's digital architecture, his fingers a blur across his datapad.
"The main security network is an iron fortress," he announced, projecting a complex network diagram.
"Trying to breach it directly would be suicide. But," a confident smirk touched his lips, "they made a classic mistake. They integrated the building's automated environmental systems—HVAC, lighting, air filtration—on a secondary network with much weaker security.
It's the digital equivalent of leaving the bathroom window unlocked. I can't open the front door, but I can get into the air ducts. From there, I can trigger a localised system 'brownout' on the 47th floor.
It will knock out the power to a specific service entrance lock for exactly fifteen seconds. It's not long, but it's our way in."
Jake's role had also shifted. He was no longer just the muscle; he was our contingency plan, our get-out-of-jail-free card. He had procured two vehicles. The first was a nondescript, grey maintenance van for the quiet extraction.
The second was a massive, beat-up construction hauler he'd hot-wired from a nearby site.
His job was to wait, a coiled spring of potential energy. If things went south, he would unleash hell, using the hauler to cause a multi-vehicle accident that would bring the city's emergency services screaming to the base of the tower, creating a smokescreen of chaos for our escape.
He had embraced his new title with terrifying enthusiasm. He was no longer a distraction; he was Havoc incarnate.
And Leo… Leo was our ghost, our sole infiltrator. The entire mission rested on his shoulders, on his ability to use the power I had given him.
His duty was no longer a simple act of sabotage; it was a high-stakes penetration into the heart of a corporate fortress.
I was the commander, the strategist. My role was to see the entire board, to coordinate the moving pieces from a distance.
I had established a secure command centre in a rented, anonymous corporate apartment three blocks from the OmniCorp tower, giving me a direct line of sight.
The night of the heist was cold and clear. The OmniCorp tower glittered, a jewel of corporate power. My team was in position.
Oracle, status? I typed into our secure channel.
In position. I'm inside their environmental network. The air on the 47th floor is about to get 2% more humid, Mark replied, his text laced with newfound confidence.
Havoc, status?
Got a nice view of the intersection. Both my babies are ready to roll. Just say the word, Boss.
Ghost, Maya, status?
We're at the base of the tower, Maya responded. Ghost is ready for insertion.
I took a deep breath. The penalty for failure—my home address leaked to the Guild—was a blade hanging over my head. But my team was ready.
I was ready.
Oracle, execute the brownout. Now.
Initiating, Mark replied. Fifteen seconds on the clock.
Across the city, Maya watched a small service door on the side of the tower. A tiny red light above it flickered and died.
"Go, Ghost, go!" she whispered into her comms.
Leo, clad in his smoky Raiment, slipped through the door just as the light flashed green again. He was inside.
My screen switched to a 2D blueprint of the floor, fed to me by Oracle. A single blinking dot represented Ghost.
Moving through the west corridor, Leo's text appeared. It's… quiet. Too quiet.
The hallways of the R&D lab were pristine, white, and silent as a tomb. The air was sterile. It was a far cry from the familiar chaos of school hallways.
This was a professional environment, and the sterile silence was more unnerving than any overt threat.
You're approaching the clean room,Oracle guided him. The Scrambler is inside. Be ready for physical defences.
Leo reached the door. A biometric hand scanner glowed on the wall. It was useless to us. But beside it was a keypad, for Dr. Thorne's password override.
Elara120615, I typed.
Copy, Leo replied. A moment later, he texted, I'm in.
The clean room was just as we'd imagined. In the centre of the sterile white space, the Aetheric Scrambler sat on a sleek, black pedestal.
It was a dodecahedron of polished, silvery metal, humming with a soft blue light. Protecting it was a nightmare of technology: a dense, shifting grid of crimson laser beams.
This was Leo's moment. I could feel his apprehension through our bond, a tight knot of fear and determination.
Engaging skill, he texted.
On my screen, his dot didn't move. But in that room, Leo took a breath and stepped forward. For three seconds, his body became an intangible silhouette of smoke and shadow.
He walked through the first wall of lasers, the crimson beams passing harmlessly through his form. The sensation, he would later tell me, was nauseating, a feeling of being unmade and remade in an instant.
But he pushed through, his feet landing silently on the polished floor on the other side. He was past the grid.
He approached the pedestal, his gloved hand reaching for the humming device. He was inches away. Victory was a heartbeat from our grasp.
Then, everything went wrong.
As his fingers were about to touch the Scrambler, a new defence activated. The pedestal holding the device retracted instantly into the floor.
A series of soft clicks echoed in the room as the floor panels around the pedestal's former location began to glow with a faint red lattice.
A new text message from Oracle flashed on my screen, frantic and sharp.
New system detected! It's not on the blueprints! It's a weighted pressure plate system! If he steps on it, silent alarm! If he takes too long, silent alarm! He's boxed in!
Leo was trapped. The laser grid was behind him. The pressure-sensitive floor was in front of him. And his Phase Stepskill, his only escape route, was on a ten-minute cooldown. He was a ghost in a cage.
His message appeared on my command screen, a single, panicked word that made my blood run cold.
TRAPPED.