edit made by Archandriel. April 28th 2025
Kellan stood beside her, shoulders squared, jaw locked tight. He didn’t twitch, didn’t blink. But Summers could feel the tension rolling off him like static ready to arc. It mirrored her own — coiled and restless beneath the surface.
Sosh leaned against the far wall, feigning ease. She twirled a stylus between her fingers, her visor casting a faint green glow as she scrubbed through synced drone footage. Even she wasn’t immune; her fingers moved a little too fast, a little too sharp.
Across from them sat a row of USVA administrative aides, flipping through field reports with mechanical precision. Only two words mattered now: Mission Failure.
Primary targets escaped.
The lack of emotion from the aides was nothing compared to what played out behind the transparent walls of the adjoining office. Director Halvors stood locked in a brutal, silent barrage from Thomas Mackenzie — the USVA's Western Division Representative — his face a thundercloud behind the glass.
The walls stayed clear by design.
The message was deliberate. Failure would not be hidden. Failure would be punished. Wrath was here.
Summers swallowed against the knot tightening in her throat. The debrief room felt smaller with every passing second, the air thick, suffocating.
Eight criminals apprehended. Seven dead. Victims secured. And yet — Cragskull and the buyer had slipped through their fingers like smoke.
A perfect storm of tactical success and political disaster.
Summers shifted her weight unconsciously. They were supposed to be ZED-West. Elite. Untouchable. Instead, they sat here like schoolchildren waiting for the principal’s axe.
Behind the glass, Mackenzie’s hand slammed down on Halvors’ desk.
Kellan’s knuckles flexed at his sides. Sosh stopped spinning her stylus. Summers clenched her jaw so hard it ached.
Summers barely reacted. She couldn’t afford to.
The real judgment hadn’t started yet.
The heavy air in the room stirred as the door swung open. Director Halvors entered first, face drawn tight. Representative Mackenzie followed, his expression a mask of contempt.
Finally, Summers thought, forcing the tension from her shoulders.
“Get on with it,” Mackenzie snapped.
Summers gave a curt nod. “Operation commenced at 0413 hours based on actionable intelligence regarding a human trafficking exchange at a freight warehouse in the Delta sector.”
She kept her voice steady, formal. Clinical. Don’t rush. Don’t stumble.
“Intelligence originated from Confidential Informant A13C-a, a contracted shipyard worker at Deltaport Terminal. Routing data confirmed an AI-driven transport truck loaded with two sealed containers, rerouted from standard port protocols to the Delta industrial zone.”
Summers caught Halvors’ rubbing the tension out of his brow but kept going.
She opened her mouth to continue—
"Enough," Mackenzie cut in, voice sharp.
"You failed to capture the buyer. Bigger yet you failed to gather actionable intelligence on the organization behind him."
Summers locked her jaw. Stay clinical. Stay composed. Don’t give him anything.
Mackenzie leaned forward, voice cutting sharper.
"Explain how two high-value targets disappear from a locked-down warehouse."
Summers drew a controlled breath — but before she could answer, Sosh stepped in.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"If I may, Director," Sosh interjected, stepping forward. Her visor flickered, feeding telemetry into the holotable. A schematic of the warehouse district bloomed.
"Both Cragskull and the unidentified buyer vanished from all thermal and structural scans immediately following the event," she said evenly. "Current status: unknown. Possibly dead at the epicenter of what we can only presume was an implosion."
She tapped a control point, overlaying telemetry readings across the display.
"Preliminary analysis indicates the event was not a conventional blast. Sensor data captured a high-intensity implosive anomaly localized within the last known location of both targets."
She marked a precise location — a distorted, heat-warped core.
"The epicenter matches the pinned individual Cragskull was restraining at the time."
Sosh nodded to Summers, handing the discussion back.
"We are coordinating with the Technical Analysis Division for a full forensic breakdown. Initial field reconstruction has failed to recover trace evidence. Further investigation into potential third-party Variant involvement is ongoing."
Before Mackenzie could fire back, Director Halvors leaned forward.
“We still have leads to pursue,” Halvors said. “The recovered victims. The surviving detainees. The containers. Each could yield actionable intelligence.”
He tapped the holotable once.
“This operation isn’t closed. Not yet. Far too early to call it a loss.”
Mackenzie’s mouth tightened but said nothing.
Halvors continued. “Our priority remains identifying the buyer’s network. It may help to find out more about this Cragskull's organization. Until then, speculation helps no one.”
Summers stayed perfectly still. Halvors hadn’t absolved them. But he’d bought them breathing room. For now.
"All right," Halvors said. "Do we have any idea who’s behind this?"
The outsider’s posture shifted — subtle but noticeable. His eyes lifted from the display.
Summers kept her gaze ahead.
“The on-site crew were members of Cragskull’s organization — not outside hires. They appeared to be facilitating a trade on behalf of an unidentified supplier, exchanging trafficked Variant individuals for an unknown payment. The supplier's identity remains unconfirmed, and the nature of the transaction is still under investigation.”
Mackenzie let out a dry breath, his voice cutting through the room.
"Lot of unknowns for an operation this costly."
Summers didn’t react.
“Our informant, A13C-a, was scheduled to report to his handler after the operation window. He failed to check in. Current assessment: compromised or fleeing. Locating him remains a priority. He might have more intel on the supplier, but he knows how Cragskull supply chain works.”
An aide leaned toward Halvors, whispering something low.
Summers pressed on.
“Second lead: the containers. Internal lining matches high-end Variant shielding — typically restricted to military or agency contracts. Initial scans show construction similar to USVA detainment transports.”
She paused deliberately giving everyone in the room time to read through the data on their tablets and central holo feed.
“Containment in design. Not for transit. Someone wanted the Variants to survive their trip here and remain undetected.”
“Our techs are dissecting the containers. We expect a data trail — serials, supplier IDs, internal access tags.”
For a brief moment, the room felt less suffocating.
“I recommend we split. Kellan and Lang will follow up on the informant. Vega and I will coordinate with techs at the site.”
Halvors considered, then nodded.
“Approved. Move swiftly.”
Summers gave a crisp nod. “Yes, sir.”
She barely took a step before Mackenzie’s voice cut in.
"Director Halvors," Mackenzie said, tone oily with restraint, "perhaps a reassignment of assets should be considered. Before we waste any more resources on half-finished work."
Summers locked her spine in place, forcing her body to move forward, not react.
Halvors didn’t even glance at Mackenzie.
“The team stays intact,” he said, voice clipped. Final. “Until I say otherwise.”
He motioned them toward the door.
Summers didn’t glance back.
But Sosh did.
She risked a quick look and Summers caught the shift in her face.
The representative was staring.
Halvors leaned toward him, speaking low.
The man didn’t respond — not immediately.
He just kept watching Summers until the doors closed behind them.
Even after the doors sealed, she still felt it — that weight between her shoulder blades.
Not fear.
Not threat.
Presence.
She forced it down as they turned the corridor.
A figure stood ahead — spine straight, hands crisp behind his back.
“Reporting for duty!” Agent Lang barked.
Before she could respond, Kellan casually slapped the salute down.
“Kid, knock it off. We’re not at the academy."
Lang blinked, then fell into step. Embarrassed, but hiding it well.
Summers didn’t slow her stride.
“Sosh, you’re with me. Lang, you’re with Kellan. Grab everything we have on A13C-a before you move.”
Kellan grunted, dragging Lang forward like an unruly backpack.
“Come on, Rookie. I’ll show you how real agents work.”
Lang stumbled, then recovered, shooting Summers a sheepish look before following.
Unfazed, Sosh blew a bright pink bubble and popped it.
Summers blinked.
Chewing gum?
“When did you even—” Summers started.
Sosh raised a brow. “Chewed it through the whole debrief. Kept me from saying something I’d regret.”
“Fair.”
“I need to check BigBoy into diagnostics before we roll,” Sosh said, handing over a hardened tablet. “You mind grabbing Fido and making sure he’s locked into the transpo properly?”
Summers accepted the tablet. The interface lit up: Fido’s vitals, command queue, behavioral settings. Calm — for now.
“Got it. I’ll make sure he doesn’t bite anyone.”
Sosh smirked. “He only bites people who mess with us.”
“Good boy.”
They split at the corridor junction, boots clicking against polished tile.
For a moment — just a moment — Summers let herself breathe.
Orders had been given. The team was moving.
Politics was not in her job description.
That didn’t mean it wouldn’t affect her
A note from Archandriel
Reviews and Critiques:
I'm pen to feedback, suggestions, and constructive criticism. While I do some editing before posting each chapter, I'm not a professional editor, so your input is appreciated!
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Developmental Editing – Story structure, pacing, and overall flow.
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Logic and Inconsistencies – Plot holes, character actions, or worldbuilding details that don’t make sense.
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Confusion – Areas that feel unclear or need more work to better connect.
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Immersion, not Realism – If something breaks your engagement with the story, even if it’s technically “realistic,” I want to know.
Specific to this chapter: My original draft even after the Narrative changes. I had a whole debrief of the previous chapter. I cut around 1200 words out. How does this feel?
Spectre!