MIKE
A day had passed. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. It was quiet—too quiet. President Bobby Ford remained inside his room, guarded and untouched by the outside chaos that was always threatening to seep in. The rest of us? We were stationed right outside his door, playing our part as his invisible shield. Then, came the report—something odd near the perimeter. A bag filled with bottled mineral waters, discarded and scattered just two kilometers from the safe house. A red flag. Agent Bea and I volunteered to check it out.
The sun was high, wind steady, and the atmosphere unusually still as we walked toward the reported location. As we arrived, Bea handed me a pair of gloves without a word. Her tone had shifted—focused now. The kind of tone that warned me she was thinking three steps ahead already.
I slipped on the gloves as she carefully picked up the used bottles—each sealed inside a ziplock. She didn’t hesitate. Bea called over one of the guards, passed the bag over, and told him to hand it directly to Marvin for DNA analysis. As she inspected the surrounding ground, her eyes combing every inch, I stepped away.
Something caught my attention.
A small piece of paper swaying ever so slightly on a tree branch. Odd placement. Deliberate. I moved closer.
Reached for it. Fingertips barely brushed the edge when—
BOOM.
The ground shook. My ears rang.
The explosion erupted just a few feet away—right where Bea had been standing. Dirt flew, branches snapped, screams rang out from the guards as they scrambled. I dropped down instinctively, shielding my face, heart pounding like a war drum.
“Bea!” I shouted, lifting my head, eyes scanning through the smoke and dust. I had no idea if she was alive.
But I knew one thing.
That wasn’t just a message.
It was a warning.
And whoever left it—they knew exactly where we were.
Smoke still lingered in the air, but I didn’t care. I ran—heart thundering, legs moving before I could even think. Bea. That was all I could think of.
“Bea!” I shouted again, ducking low, pushing past debris and shaken guards. She was lying motionless near the edge of the scorched grass, covered in dirt and fragments of rock. My chest tightened as I dropped beside her, my hands trembling as I reached for her neck, praying to feel something.
Please...
A beat.
A faint pulse.
And then—her chest rose slightly.
“Thank God,” I muttered under my breath, brushing some dirt from her face. Her skin was warm. She was unconscious, but alive. I looked over my shoulder.
“You—!” I barked at one of the guards who was kneeling nearby, dazed. “Stay with her. Don’t move from her side. Medics are coming. Backups too. You don’t leave her, understood?” The guard nodded firmly, snapping back into duty mode. “Yes, sir!”
I stood, just as a new sound sliced through the chaos— Gunfire. Rapid. Sharp. Echoing from the direction of the safehouse. My blood ran cold.
“No, no—” I reached for my earpiece, my voice rising, desperate. “Alfred! Liam! Fredd—someone respond!”
Nothing.
Just static.
I started sprinting. My legs burned but I didn’t stop. The trees blurred past as the gunshots echoed again—closer, louder.
At the safe house. My boots stepped through blood. The metallic scent choked the air—fresh, thick. Bodies of guards sprawled across the floor, some still clutching their weapons. Eyes open. Lifeless.
Damn it...
I pressed my back to the wall, gun raised, sweeping each room carefully. My heart pounded against my ribs like a drumbeat. Each creak of the floorboard felt deafening. Where was Alfred? Where were the others? I stepped over a fallen guard and started up the stairs, slow, silent. My finger hovered near the trigger. The house was too quiet. Something wasn’t right.
Then—
A faint sound. Metal clinking… movement.
From the kitchen.
I took a steady breath and shifted direction, moving toward it. I hugged the wall, slow, inch by inch, until I reached the entrance. Gun first, I turned the corner— And stopped cold.
T
here, slumped against the lower kitchen cabinet, was Marvin. Blood soaked his shirt, pooling beneath him. His breathing was shallow, rattling—barely clinging to life. His phone lay shattered beside him.
“Marvin—!” I lowered my weapon and moved closer, kneeling cautiously.
His eyes flicked toward me, clouded, burning. His mouth twitched… then twisted—not in pain, but something else.
Rage.
He coughed, blood spilling at the corner of his lips, then locked his gaze onto mine.
"You..." he rasped, voice barely audible, “…you traitor."
My breath caught.
"What?" I whispered, stunned, frozen in place.
But he didn’t say another word. His eyes dulled as the life drained from them, and his body went limp.
I sat there, stunned in silence.
What the hell did he mean?
I shook Marvin’s shoulder harder this time.
“Marvin!” I whispered with urgency, desperation tightening in my throat. “Come on, stay with me—hey!”
Nothing. No breath. No flicker of life in his eyes.
He was gone.
I clenched my jaw and was about to stand when— Tap. I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I spun around in an instant, raising my weapon—my finger already on the trigger.
“Mike—shhh!” Alfred.
My heartbeat was still racing as he raised both hands, motioning for me to lower my gun. His eyes were sharp, sweat glistening across his forehead.
“Come with me,” he said in a low voice. “Now.”
He led me out of the kitchen, careful not to step on broken glass or blood trails, and moved swiftly toward the far side of the hallway. Behind a wooden shelf, he pushed open what looked like a storage closet—except it had a hidden hatch.
Underground.
We climbed down into the dimly lit space. Concrete walls, thick pipes, a single emergency light flickering above. It was a bunker. And inside… Liam and Fredd, unconscious on stretchers, bruised and battered.
“What the hell…” I whispered, kneeling beside Liam to check his pulse. He was breathing, but barely.
Alfred put a finger to his lips again.
Then—we heard it.
Above us.
Footsteps. Heavy boots. Several.
Then came the voices.
“No sight of them here.”
“Where is Siren?”
“I think they all left, Don.”
“That piece of bitch… I thought they were done with their agreement with Bobby.”
“Yeah, they were. I think she still needs the president... or wants to kill him because he betrayed them.”
“Let’s go before the agents come.”
We held our breath.
I looked at Alfred, mouthing silently, What the hell is happening?
His jaw was clenched, eyes flickering with something I rarely saw in him—uncertainty.
He shook his head slowly, as if to say, I don’t know either.
The moment the footsteps faded and the bunker above fell silent, Alfred gave me a nod, and we both climbed out of the hidden underground room cautiously. The house was a wreck—bodies, bullet holes, broken windows, and the sharp stench of smoke and blood lingered like a heavy curtain.
Everything was eerily quiet now. We stepped over the fallen guards and broken furniture. My grip on my gun was tight, my mind spinning. Alfred exhaled deeply, finally breaking the silence.
“Several masked men came in, Mike... fast, trained, organized.” His voice was low, but I could hear the tension riding his words. “They were way stronger, way more powerful than any of us.”
He glanced over his shoulder, checking the corners before continuing.
“We managed to secure the president, got him hidden behind the east chamber wall... but then another group arrived. Same precision. Different insignias. Different formation. They weren’t together.”
I furrowed my brows. “Two teams? Working separately?”
He nodded grimly. “Exactly. And Mike...” He paused, leaned in slightly, and whispered just above the chaos. “I saw one of them clearly. It wasn’t a mistake.” He looked me dead in the eye.
“It was Agent Leon.”
I froze.
Leon—one of the Elites.
“What?” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. “Leon was with them?”
“I’m sure of it,” Alfred said, jaw clenched. “I don’t know what the hell this means. But I know what I saw.”
A cold wave crawled down my spine. I looked around the destroyed house—the bloodshed, the silence, the missing answers.
“Why would the Elites want to kill the president?” I asked, more to myself than him. “Was this... sanctioned? Did AIA order this?”
Alfred didn’t respond immediately. He just stood there, fists clenched, jaw locked tight.
His silence said enough.