Snow still clung to the mountain ridges when Lacolone stirred. Dawn light crept over the shattered plateau, glinting on the frost that blanketed everything. His chest rose slowly, rhythm steady but weak. Then, with a sudden gasp, his eyes opened. He blinked into the pale sky, confused but calm.
Maya was kneeling beside him, her hair tangled from wind and ash, a half-wrapped sandwich in her hand. Without a word, she offered it to him. Lacolone sat up gingerly, staring at his arms, his chest—no wounds, no scars. Only a dull ache deep inside. "Why am I not injured?" he asked, voice low, uncertain.
Maya tossed the sandwich into his hands and sat back, watching him chew slowly. "Walid held back," she said flatly. "He hit you full-force—then fixed you."
He froze. "Fixed me?"
She nodded, eyes steady. "During the fight, he repaired the damage you took in the war. Sealed it while you were still moving. You didn't lose—he just didn't let you die."
Lacolone stared at the snow, realization sinking in. A man who could destroy and heal at once—this wasn't strength; it was divinity wrapped in discipline. Jessica's boots crunched against the ice as she stepped forward. "He taught us everything," she said. "He's the reason Valgor's terrifyingly strong."
Valgor stood on a nearby ridge, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The wind howled between them all. Lacolone bowed his head slightly. "He's more than a leader," he murmured. "He's a force."
Maya's voice softened. "He's complicated."
A sharp gust cut through the silence, scattering flakes across the plateau. Contradiction defined their world—mercy and ruthlessness braided into the same breath.
Moments later, a quiet figure appeared from behind the rocks—a tech operative, calm and clean-cut, carrying a metal case. He opened it to reveal passports and agent IDs, crisp under the morning light. "Orders from Walid," he said.
Lacolone took one ID. A forged CIA badge gleamed under his fingers. Maya received another. Their names were false, but the mission was real. "For some missions," Lacolone whispered, "you have to become someone else."
They gathered in a dim command tent at the base of the ridge. A holo-display flickered to life, showing a flight route across continents—a private twenty-hour trip to Washington, D.C. Maya smirked. "Long flight. Good time to sleep."
Jessica leaned over the display, tapping a glowing waypoint. "Private jet, no traces. We move as ghosts."
Hours later, the steady hum of an engine filled the air. Inside the jet, the team sat in silence. Clouds stretched endlessly beneath them. Maya worked from her encrypted tablet, fingers never still. Lacolone gazed at the horizon, replaying Walid's words in his mind. Jessica reviewed mission briefs, her expression unreadable.
"Twenty hours," Maya murmured, "between us and the Deep State's heart."
By nightfall, they descended through the clouds toward a dark airstrip outside Washington. The jet touched down without sound. A cold wind swept across the tarmac. Under blackout shades, they stepped into the night.
Jessica checked the time. "Forty minutes until contact."
They didn't wait long. A nondescript van rolled out of the shadows, headlights dimmed. The door opened and a suited figure stepped down—the leader of the U.S. Evolutionary Organization. His eyes were sharp, calculating.
"Welcome to D.C.," he said. "This gets you inside." He handed Maya an encrypted tablet. "Don't trust anything you see."
Inside the van, the screen flared to life—a 3D map of the CIA building, red lines for patrols, blue for cameras, green for maintenance routes. "These are the weak nodes," the leader said. "Plant the seed in the archive server."
Maya leaned closer, scanning every pathway. Lacolone's voice was quiet but firm. "We move before they blink."
The leader nodded once. "Good. Act normal—and suspicious. Draw attention when you need to, not before."
Lacolone grinned faintly. "Ready to wreck the biggest terror network on Earth."
Maya didn't smile. "It's too smooth," she said.
The van glided through neon-lit streets. Rain streaked the windows, city lights bending in the reflection. "We'll drop you close," the leader said. "Plant the drive. Extraction will follow."
Lacolone practiced breathing, centering himself. Maya checked her jammers in the dark. Valgor watched from the rear seat, silent as a shadow.
When the van stopped, the CIA facility loomed across the street—steel, glass, and silence. Security cameras swept the perimeter like cold eyes. The leader turned to them. "This is as close as we go. The rest is yours."
Lacolone glanced once at the forged passport in his hand, the alias glinting under the moonlight.
Inside the van, they checked gear one last time. Maya's fingers flew over her device. Jessica handed over a single earpiece. "Silent channel. Listen only."
Valgor's voice was low. "Make it clean. No fireworks."
Maya whispered, "If anything feels off, abort."
The leader placed a hand on Lacolone's shoulder. "You'll do fine. Plant the seed, then vanish."
They exchanged a firm nod before he stepped back into the shadows.
The van door slid open. Cold night air rushed in. Lacolone and Maya stepped out, merging with the passing crowd. To any observer, they were just two travelers, moving without purpose.
Valgor watched them go, expression unreadable. Jessica adjusted her comms, ready for whatever came next.
Maya adjusted her forged badge, her voice low. "We're ghosts tonight."
They walked until the CIA tower reflected in the windows of a small café. Inside, they sat like tourists, pretending to scroll through photos. Maya checked feeds, whispering, "Security rotates every seven minutes. We move at minute five."
Lacolone nodded once. "Plant the drive. Washington team extracts."
The city hummed around them, unaware. A street musician played a haunting tune nearby. When the minute came, they rose together, slipping into the current of foot traffic.
Maya's pulse stayed steady. Lacolone's eyes never wavered. The service access gate loomed ahead—one step from the archive.
She looked at him. "We go now."
He tightened his grip on the hard drive. "For everyone who was silenced."
The city lights flickered across his face as they crossed the street.