It was nearly midnight.
The streets were silent, apart from the distant rumble of thunder and the pitter-patter of rain drumming against the pavement.
Beneath an abandoned overpass, a black luxury car sat idle. The windows were illegally tinted, and the headlights dimmed low. The soft hum of the engine was swallowed by the downpour, leaving the vehicle nearly invisible in the shadowy city nightscape.
“Where the hell are they?” the driver murmured, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Those idiots surely should’ve been here by now.”
He slid back to the partition screen, “Hey, Boss,” he called.
A thick cloud rolled out through the crack and curled into the front seat. The driver scrunched his nose as the pungent smell of tobacco assaulted his senses. He squinted through the smoke, his gaze falling on the silhouette in the backseat.
“It doesn’t look like they’re coming tonight,” he continued. “Want me to bring you back?”
The guy squinted through the screen, addressing his employer. In the backseat, sat a man engulfed in ribbons of smoke. A lit cigar rested between two gloved fingers, casting a faint orange light across his jawline hidden behind a sleek, matte-black mask. But what truly unsettled him were the glowing eyes–two perfect white circles–that stared back at him, unblinking. Cold. Empty.
“Patience, Anthony,” a distorted voice replied from the haze. “It’s not midnight yet. Give them fifteen more minutes.”
The driver nodded quickly.
“Of course, Boss.”
He then slid the screen shut without another word.
The Boss sat in silence. His cigar smoldered slowly between his fingers as he listened to the storm rolling through outside. Time ticked by slowly. Soon, it was already five minutes to midnight.
Where the hell was Wraith? he thought to himself. In and out. Retrieve the case and return. How hard could that be?
He took a long drag of his cigar.
Wraith was annoying, for sure–arrogant, dramatic. But he followed orders when it mattered. That much he could tolerate.
It was thanks to his connections that they were able to gain access to restricted district files. Scrub away digital surveillance. And even creating the convenient gas leak excuse to empty out the school science wing.
The guy knew how to maintain an appearance. Especially useful for someone who needed to hide their true face behind a public one. As public as the district superintendent.
Still…the man was late.
The Boss tapped his cigar against an ashtray.
That case was the key. The culmination of years of research, careful maneuvering, blood-soaked deals, and buried loose ends.
Very few people are able to secure their essence. And with the project notes destroyed, they were just lucky Reed happened to be too anxious that he couldn’t help but keep a few vials even after the project disbanded.
If Wraith screwed this up…
He clenched the cigar tightly between his fingers. The end flared brighter.
Then—
A series of knocks started him. Two short taps. Pause. Three quick taps. Pause. One slow tap. The code was unmistakable.
“Finally,” he muttered. He pushed a button. The doors unlocked with a loud click. The rain-soaked figure wasted no time sliding into the backseat across from the Boss. “You’d better have a good explanation for this, Wra—“
But this wasn’t Wraith.
“Huffman?” he asked, confused. “Where’s Wraith?”
Anger was evident in his voice. The man in front of him bowed his head before answering.
“H-he’s not coming, sir.”
“What do you mean he’s not coming?”
Huffman shifted in his seat, unable to meet his gaze and clearly bothered. “He’s dead, sir.”
The Boss froze.
“They encountered some pushback in the lab,” Huffman continued. “We think Wraith tried putting on a prototype Aegis, but it must’ve malfunctioned.”
“There was a prototype locked in that lab? Which one?” the Boss asked eagerly. “Did it survive?”
“Yes. The frame was codenamed FORTRESS—Dilo. Wraith was able to protect himself with the armor.”
“But didn’t you just say that he was dead?”
“He is, sir. After escaping the explosion, he returned to the site for transport. Though he did sustain major burns and injuries. However, soon after, he was attacked.”
“Attacked? Who would be so bold?”
“We are unsure, sir. The three guards who managed to flee said that the attackers were short, perhaps children, but one seemed to also have a fully equipped Aegis frame.”
“WHAT?!” the Boss shouted. Huffman curled in his seat, afraid to meet the Boss’s gaze. “Are you telling me that not only have I lost my enforcer, and that he managed to find and destroy a frame in less than a day, but now someone else in this city has gained access to a complete frame before me?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
The Boss tried to contain his anger.
How on earth could someone else have found another frame? Not only would they have had to construct one, but how did they find a way to extract essence?
“I apologize, sir. There must’ve been an issue with the security. We’re also in the process of alerting the wife and—“
“What about the case?” the Boss interrupted.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“The case? The essence that should’ve been locked away in that lab. What happened to it?”
“Well, w-we couldn’t retrieve it before the explosion.
“Wraith is dead. The lab is gone. A prototype is destroyed. My elite force was taken down by a bunch of kids? And the only other known, fully equipped and functioning Aegis frame is in the hands of some child?!”
Huffman looked embarrassed. He gulped as he nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
The Boss heaved, trying to control his breathing. But Huffman could see the way his employer shook in rage. “And you thought to come back empty-handed?”
Although he couldn’t see his face, Huffman could hear the mask hiss in the distortion. Reflecting the boss’s growing anger.
The boss took another drag of his cigar and stared out the window. It was silent for a moment. Then—
Crack!
He slammed into the internal console beside him, cracking the panel. Sparks flew from the impact, and Huffman couldn’t help but flinch.
“That case was irreplaceable,” the Boss growled. “Do you have any idea how much time and money have gone towards getting this far?”
“I-I know, sir. It wasn’t supposed—“
“Shut up! For such a colossal failure, I should have all three of those guards who fled executed for treason and abandonment. And you…” He pointed to Huffman, “The only reason you’re still breathing is because at least someone paid the price. Don’t mistake this for mercy.”
The figure exhaled slowly. Then removed his mask. A thin scar trailed down his left cheek.
“If Reed survived,” Warren said, “then others may have as well.”
Huffman looked confused.
“Had the team not perished in the plant explosion? Do you think there are still survivors from the vanguard team?
“If one survived, who’s to say the others couldn’t have as well?”
Warren reached into his trench pockets and pulled out a folder. The logo and words had long worn out, but the outline remained: Vanguard Project–Employee Folder. He handed it to Huffman.
“Take this. Start tracking down the old codenames,” Warren said. “If even one survived, we’ll have trouble continuing our plans. Confirm their status and threat level. Focus on the Snake, the Warden, the Sage, and the Cat. Find them before they find each other. But start with her.”
Warren tossed the binder towards Huffman, who scrambled to catch it. Upon opening it, he read the name printed on the documents.
“Vanessa Goss. Codenamed ‘The Chemist.’ But wait, isn’t she already…?”
“She is. But–” Warren turned the pages in the binder to show a young elementary school photo. “Her son is not. Look into him. Track down his records, his history, and anything else you can find. I want to know everything there is to know about Michael Goss.”