The holographic data streams continued to pulse around the room, but the silence was broken as a figure detached himself from the shadow of a reinforced pillar.
Vance moved with a relaxed, confident stride that suggested he was one of the few operatives comfortable enough to bypass the Agency's rigid formality. He was a striking contrast to the more somber agents; his skin was a rich, deep mahogany, and his hair was styled in a sharp, modern fade with a crown of thick, natural curls. He sported a neatly trimmed beard that framed a smile that seemed perpetually ready for a joke, though his amber-toned eyes held the same razor-sharp focus as everyone else in the room.
Unlike the others who were buried in their forearm gauntlets, Vance casually held a blue iPhone 15, his fingers dancing across the screen as he pulled up a localized encryption. He wore a fitted black mock-neck tactical shirt that hugged a build just as impressive as Vlad's—athletic, broad-shouldered, and coiled with hidden strength.
"You're the new heavy hitter they've been talking about," Vance said, his voice a smooth baritone that cut through the low hum of the servers. He tilted the blue phone toward Vlad, showing a blurred satellite image of a target site. "Word is you don't miss. I'm Vance. Recon and Digital Intercept."
Vlad turned his head slightly, his gaze moving from the holographic display to the man standing beside him. He took in Vance's relaxed posture, noting the absence of tension—a sign of a veteran who had seen enough to stay calm before the storm.
"Vlad," he replied, his voice level and cool. He didn't offer a handshake; in this room, a nod of acknowledgment was the highest form of respect. "I've seen your work on the Istanbul logs. You're fast."
Vance flashed a grin, tapping the side of his phone. "Speed is the only thing that keeps us ahead of the heat. Looks like we're sharing the same grid for this one. Don't blink, or you might miss my opening."
Vance swiped his thumb across the screen of his blue iPhone, broadcasting a shimmering 3D map into the space between them. The mission was a high-stakes extraction in a fortified "dead zone"—a subterranean research facility hidden beneath a coastal cliffside.
"We're looking at a three-layer security perimeter," Vance murmured, his amber eyes reflecting the blue glow of the schematics. "Biometric locks, thermal sensors, and a floor patrolling with automated drones. My job is to ghost the network from the ridgeline while you provide the 'aggressive negotiations' inside."
Vlad nodded, his eyes memorizing the vent shafts and exit points. "Internal security is heavy on the lower levels. I'll need to move fast."
"Then let's go get our toys," Vance said, pocketing his phone with a flick of his wrist.
They moved in sync toward the heavy steel doors of the armory. Inside, the air smelled of gun oil, cold metal, and ionized polymer. The walls were lined with rows of precision-engineered hardware, but both men bypassed the standard-issue racks, heading straight for their personalized lockers.
Vlad reached for his kit first. He was a man who excelled in the visceral, quiet chaos of close-quarters combat. He slid a pair of blackened titanium daggers into the integrated sheaths on his thighs, the blades treated with a non-reflective coating. Next, he checked the balance of a serrated combat knife, sliding it horizontally into the small of his back. Finally, he holstered a sleek, suppressed semi-automatic pistol—a secondary tool for when silence was no longer an option, though his preference remained the steel in his hands.
Across from him, Vance was prepping for the long game. He pulled a collapsible, high-tension compound bow from his locker. It was a masterpiece of carbon fiber and silent pulleys, designed to fire localized EMP arrows or standard broadheads with lethal velocity. While he also holstered a tactical sidearm and a backup dagger for emergencies, his primary focus was the distance. He slung a quiver of specialized shafts over his shoulder, checking the tension of the bowstring with a practiced tug.
"Up close and personal for you, a mile away for me," Vance remarked, testing the weight of an arrow. "The perfect pair."
Vlad snapped his last magazine into place, the metallic click echoing through the armory. "Just make sure those cameras stay dark until I'm out of the basement."
"Have I ever missed a cue?" Vance grinned, heading toward the extraction bay.