The night air was silent, save for the soft hum of the stealth transport's engines slicing through the sky. Kirion sat across from his team, their faces ghostlike under the red cabin lights. He had led many missions—raids, extractions, sabotage—but this was different. This was personal. His daughter's life—and perhaps her mind—hung in the balance.
"Approaching drop zone," the pilot whispered through comms.
Juno, disguised in a captured government uniform, adjusted the makeshift ID badge on her chest. "Once we breach the perimeter, we'll only have 18 minutes before internal scans flag us. We stick to the script."
Kirion nodded. "And if we're discovered?"
"Then we improvise," said Drex, the former special ops enforcer turned resistance fighter, cocking his rifle.
The transport landed in the clearing near Delta-7's hidden entrance, masked by thick woods and a crumbling comms tower. Kirion, Drex, Juno, and two others—Mei and Varik—slipped into the shadows, eyes scanning the tree line for motion sensors and patrol drones.
"This way," Juno whispered, leading them to a tunnel disguised beneath a fake generator. With practiced precision, she bypassed the biometric lock. The gate opened with a hiss.
The corridor was narrow, damp, and barely lit. Government black sites weren't built for comfort—they were built for control.
Inside the compound, the second team—Kiri's "ghost squad"—already moved through supply tunnels, laying charges, scrambling sensors, and prepping emergency exits. They were the shadow hand. Kirion's unit, by contrast, was the visible blade.
As they walked deeper, the sterile white walls and flashing security lights gave way to darkness and silence.
Then came the sound Kirion had dreaded: a scream. Muffled, raw, human.
His daughter?
He clenched his fists. Focus. Don't compromise the mission.
"Security office—dead ahead," whispered Mei, peering around the corner.
Drex took the lead, neutralizing the guard inside with a silent strike. Juno went to work on the mainframe, fingers dancing across the interface.
"They've got her in Cell B-9, lower sublevel. Guard rotation just changed—now's the window."
Kirion took the lead.
They moved swiftly—one floor down, then another. With every level, the tension built. Surveillance drones hovered above them. Bio-locked doors snapped open with stolen credentials. Kirion's pulse thundered in his ears.
Then—Cell B-9.
He stopped. He didn't breathe.
Inside the thick glass chamber, strapped to a chair, bruised but alive, was his daughter—Zae. Electrodes lined her temples. A monitor above displayed waves of neural data. A shadow stood beside her—a doctor or interrogator. Unaware of what was coming.
"Now," Kirion whispered.
The door exploded inward—Drex stormed through, tackling the guard. Juno deactivated the monitor and restraints.
Zae blinked, disoriented. "Dad…?"
"I'm here," Kirion said, dropping to his knees. "We're getting you out."
She clung to him, trembling.
But then—the alarms screamed.
"Perimeter breach detected. Repeat: resistance operatives in lower sublevel."
"Ghost squad must've tripped something," Juno shouted. "We've got maybe ten minutes before this place floods with troops."
"Then we vanish," Kirion said. "Follow extraction route Epsilon. We stick to the plan."
As the team moved out with Zae in tow, Kirion glanced back at the cell—once a place of silence and torment, now just another ghost in the machine.
The enemy knew they were here.
But they wouldn't be staying.