The emergency meeting room inside the National Security Command Center was filled with tension. Maps lit the walls, screens replayed footage of Flight 317's landing, and officers whispered in disbelief.
At the head of the table, Director Evelyn Hart, sharp-eyed and cold, slammed her hand on the desk.
"Explain to me," she demanded, "how an entire team of armed hijackers ended up dead… with no shots fired."
The room went silent.
Colonel Reeves cleared his throat, sliding a report across the table.
"According to passenger statements, the hijackers… simply collapsed. A few claim they saw a blur—a man moving faster than human reflex should allow. Others insist no one moved at all."
Hart narrowed her eyes. "So what you're telling me is—someone executed a flawless rescue operation inside a passenger plane… and left no trace?"
The colonel hesitated.
"Yes, ma'am. Whoever did this was not just trained. They were…" He searched for the right words. "…beyond anything I've ever seen."
---
Classified Recognition
From the far corner, a man in a black suit, his badge marked only with the initials NATO-SC, finally spoke.
"I've seen this pattern before."
Heads turned.
Hart's voice dropped. "Go on."
The man leaned forward, his voice a low murmur.
"Years ago, during black operations in Eastern Europe, there was an agent. Codename: Silent Blade. One of the Heavenly Commanders. An operative so efficient that missions ended before they began. Entire terror cells erased overnight. He vanished without a trace five years ago. Many assumed he was dead."
A chill rippled through the room.
"You think he's back?" Hart asked.
The agent didn't answer directly. He only slid a photo onto the table—the grainy security still from Flight 317's boarding gate.
A lone man, face half-hidden under a cap, walking calmly into the plane.
Hart's expression hardened.
"Find him. If he's with us, he's an asset. If he's gone rogue…" She didn't finish the sentence.
---
Meanwhile
Back in his apartment, Aiden Cross sat quietly by the window, watching the city lights flicker to life. He could already sense the shift in the air. The whispers. The search.
"They'll come looking," he murmured.
His phone vibrated again—this time, an encrypted voice message:
> "Commander, your skills have already been exposed. The officials will not stop. Prepare yourself. Another mission is coming… and this time, the battlefield is your own city."
Aiden leaned back, his eyes cold but calm.
"So much for retirement."