Tension rippled through the walls of the Aid Facility like a silent alarm. The techs were nervous—no one said it, but everyone felt it. Screens flickered, silent systems screamed: the impossible had happened.
Simon, the senior handler, burst into the secured command chamber, breath shallow, eyes wild. The safe was empty.
Aid was gone.
A weapon unlike any other—an AI-integrated synthetic operative, built in secret by the late Victor Samuels. A ghost in the system. A miracle of science worth over N$10 billion.
Now? Missing.
Simon stood at the head of the roundtable, surrounded by agents who once called themselves elite.
"We've grown complacent since our top agent died," Simon began, voice low but hard. "Since Paige left the organization. We've relied on tech, not instinct. And now look what's happened... They solved the puzzles and stole our only hope—Aid."
Gasps and glances shot around the table.
"Aid wasn't just a tool," he continued, pacing. "With Aid, we didn't even have to fight. We'd attach it to a target and it would handle the rest—non-lethal arrests, surgical cleanups. It was flawless."
Robert, quiet until now, raised an eyebrow.
"But how did they solve the puzzles? Only one person here knows how to unlock them. You, Mr. Simon."
Silence. Then, a sharp intake of breath.
"You think I sold it?" Simon snapped.
"If that's not what I'm saying, just answer the question," Robert replied coldly.
Natasha, a hardened field agent with piercing eyes and steady hands, stepped forward.
"Or maybe you did. And maybe what happened five years ago is happening again."
Simon's jaw clenched.
"You still believe what Paige said back then?"
"Paige was the only extraordinary agent we ever had. If she investigated something, her findings were always accurate. She's still my role model," Natasha said firmly.
"Everyone's," another agent muttered in agreement.
"Back to Aid," Robert cut in. "This wasn't a random theft. Someone inside helped."
Simon rubbed his temple, weary.
"You think so? Fine. Robert, take point on this case. Natasha, keep tracing. And if there's any way—find Paige."
"Too late," Robert said, stepping forward. "Simon... you're under arrest."
The room froze.
"What?"
"I'm in charge now. You're my first suspect. You're the only one who could've bypassed the puzzles. I have questions—lots of them."
"You can't do this—" Simon started, but Robert shoved a small silver device into his mouth. The handler collapsed instantly—unconscious.
Then the comms beeped.
"Ruben checking in."
The screen lit up with Ruben's face, frowning, his tone urgent.
"There's someone targeting the Shikongos. Last night, a man infiltrated the event and tried to get into Nathan's room with a gun. I nearly caught him, but he vanished. I need Aid for two weeks—I need to find the mastermind."
Dead silence.
"...Why are you all just staring at me?" Ruben asked.
His eyes landed on Simon's slumped body.
"What the hell happened?"
"Aid got stolen last night," Natasha said, her voice tight.
"What!? Oh my god! How?"
"Simon was the only one who knew how to solve the puzzles. We found the hallway safe opened. No sign of forced entry. Aid just... vanished," she explained.
Ruben cursed under his breath.
"Then I'll have to act as Aid myself until we find it. What's our next move?"
"Right now? We're blind," Natasha said. "Without Aid, our identities, our cover systems—everything is vulnerable."
"Wait," Robert said, eyes narrowing. "There's a tracker on Aid. We'll find it."
"Good. Do it. And don't let Simon out of your sight," Ruben replied.
Natasha stepped forward.
"Before Simon passed out, he told me to find Paige. She's enough without Aid. If she's out there, she's our best shot. She may look different now—longer hair, dyed, new identity—anything. But if you spot her... call me."
"Yeah, cool," Ruben nodded. "Good luck. Keep me posted."
The call ended. The room fell into uneasy silence.
Outside, the desert wind howled, carrying dust and whispers of a ghost named Paige.