The city was different. Different place, different faces… but the mission remained the same.
Inside the safehouse, in a room lined with mirrors, Specter stood staring at her reflection. No more sleek, black suit. Instead, a short-haired wig, glasses, and soft makeup. She tilted her head, studying the unfamiliar image. "…I look like a normal person," she muttered.
Blitz burst out laughing, her voice echoing off the walls. "…YOU? Normal?? Impossible." Specter rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "…Focus."
Blitz tugged at her casual hoodie, her messy ponytail bouncing as she grinned. "…I look like I just came from college." Raven smirked from where he leaned against the wall. "…You look like you skipped college." Blitz snapped back instantly. "…OI!"
Noxis adjusted his jacket, neat and precise. "…Less talking. More planning." His tone cut through the banter, pulling them back to the task at hand.
Specter placed a tablet on the table, her reflection forgotten. "…We're going back to the organization," she said. Silence followed. "…But not as ourselves."
Blitz crossed her arms, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "…You sure this is a good idea?"
"…No," Specter admitted honestly. "…But we don't have a better one. We need answers. About Vex."
The room went quiet. Blitz lowered her gaze, her voice barely a whisper. "…She's not dead. She can't be." Raven's expression hardened, his words sharp and direct. "…Then we find her."
Noxis broke the silence, his tone grave. "…There's movement in the organization." He paused, eyes narrowing. "…Recent activity… classified. Linked to memory manipulation protocols."
The air grew heavy. Specter's voice dropped, low and tense. "…Memory…? Don't tell me…" Blitz clenched her fists, her voice sharp. "…They're messing with her head?"
Raven's jaw tightened; his words clipped. "…If that's true… we're already late."
Noxis tapped his device, and a holographic file flickered to life. Dark. Restricted. The words glowed across the screen:
EVENT: THE OBSIDIAN GALA.
Invitation: Authorized Personnel Only.
Access: Biometric Thumbprint Verification.
Location: Underground Facility - Level Black.
Blitz blinked, incredulous. "…Gala? Since when do villains throw parties?" Raven smirked faintly. "…Since they have something to hide."
Specter's eyes sharpened. "…This isn't just a party. It's a cover. For something bigger."
The door opened, and Helen stepped inside; calm, prepared. "…You're right," she said. All eyes turned to her. "…And I already got you in."
Blitz's eyes widened. "…Wait… WHAT?"
Helen placed several ID chips on the table. "…These are profiles of authorized agents." She paused; her tone casual. "…I borrowed them."
Raven raised a brow. "…Borrowed?" Helen smirked lightly. "…Let's just say… they won't be attending tonight."
Blitz grinned, leaning forward. "…I like you already." Noxis stepped closer, his voice steady. "…Thumbprint verification. We can't fake that easily."
Helen nodded. "…That's why I didn't fake it. I copied it." Blitz nearly shouted. "…YOU WHAT?!"
Helen tapped her device, the hologram shifting. "…Thermal biometric replication. Temporary. But enough to pass entry." Specter's eyes narrowed. "…How long will it last?"
"…Ten minutes," Helen replied. Silence fell again, heavy with urgency. "…Then we move fast," Specter said firmly.
Raven cracked his knuckles. "…In and out." Blitz grinned, mischief sparking. "…Or in and chaos."
"…No chaos," Specter snapped. "…We're going in quiet. We get inside, find the memory lab, and confirm if Vex is there." She paused, her voice hardening. "…If she is… we bring her back."
The screen flickered, showing the event location. Deep underground. Hidden. Dangerous.
And tonight… they were walking straight into it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Liam Mossberg's Office]
The room was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of keys tapping against the keyboard. Liam sat at his desk, posture rigid, eyes locked on the screen. His focus was absolute, his expression cold. Sera stood nearby, tablet in hand, waiting for the moment he would ask.
Finally, without looking up, Liam spoke. "What's my schedule for next week? Something that requires me to leave the region."
Sera scrolled through her tablet, her voice calm but deliberate. "There is one. You're required to attend a gala night. Location: Alpine Star Hall. Hosted by the Obsidian Organization."
The typing stopped. Silence filled the office, heavy and unnatural. Liam's fingers hovered above the keys, frozen. Then, slowly, he resumed. As if forcing himself to act like nothing had happened.
But the whisper escaped anyway. "…Obsidian…" The word carried weight. History. Danger.
Sera continued her tone steady. "They're organizing the gala as part of a 'contribution ceremony'… for the new system protocol in Canada."
Liam's eyes lifted, sharp now. "…That system was already shut down." The silence that followed was darker than before.
Sera met his gaze. "Because they're covering it. They can't let their investors know the system failed. So, they present it as a success… and continue their operations behind the curtain."
Liam leaned back, his expression hardening. "…So, the system wasn't the end. It was just phase one."
Sera lowered her tablet slightly, her voice dropping. "…Exactly. And if we're right… they'll reveal the next phase at that gala."
Liam's gaze darkened, the weight of his resolve settling in. "…Then I will not attend. Send them my regrets."
The gala wasn't a celebration. It was a stage. For lies. For power. And for something far more dangerous, a threat to both himself and Lyra's identity.
He paused, his expression shifting, something unreadable flickering across his face as Sera watched. Then his voice cut through the silence. "…Change my plan. I'll attend the gala."
Sera nodded; she had expected that. But then came the part she hadn't. "…And Lyra is coming with me."
Sera froze. Her brows furrowed, voice sharp. "…What? Why? You know she doesn't like events like that. You remember what happened last time, right?"
Crowds. Noise. Panic. Combat reflex. Lyra was losing control, slipping into instincts she didn't understand.
Liam's reply was calm. Too calm. "…I remember." Sera stepped closer, refusing to let his calm mask the truth. Her tone sharpened. "…Then why bring her again?"
His answer cut through the air. "…Because she needs to face it. If she keeps avoiding it… her condition won't improve."
Sera narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. "…That's not the real reason." Silence hung in the air. "…You're testing her again. Or worse… you want to see who approaches her this time."
The words hit too close. Liam's jaw tightened. "…Watch your words." But Sera didn't flinch. "…Am I wrong? Last time someone got too close. And you didn't like it."
The silence that followed was sharper than any blade. Liam's voice was final, unyielding. "…She'll come with me. Full stop." No explanation. No argument.
Sera exhaled slowly, realization dawning. "…You're putting her in danger. Not because of the organization… but because of you." Her eyes locked onto his. The truth was undeniable.
Liam didn't respond. Because deep down, he knew. This wasn't about strategy anymore. It was about control. About watching her. About not letting anyone get close again.
And this time, the gala wouldn't just be a mission. It would be a trap. For Lyra. For Liam. Maybe everyone.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The garden was bathed in soft evening light, sunlight filtering through the leaves in golden strands. The air was calm, peaceful, carrying the faint scent of flowers.
Lyra sat at the small table, happily eating her blueberry cake. A small smile touched her lips as she murmured, "Mmm… this is good."
The sound of a car entering the garage broke the silence. Lyra looked up quickly, her eyes brightening. "Sera!" she called, waving enthusiastically. Sera stepped out, still holding her tablet, and walked toward her.
"You're enjoying yourself," Sera said, raising a brow. Lyra grinned and pushed the plate forward. "Want some?" Without hesitation, Sera sat down, took a fork, and replied, "Just a bite."
Lyra glanced around; her tone curious. "Liam didn't come back with you?" Sera shook her head. "No. He'll be back tonight. Meeting with a client."
Lyra tilted her head. "Don't you usually follow him? Why is he alone this time?"
Sera calmly took another bite of cake. "He told me not to. Doesn't like me listening to certain conversations." She paused, then added casually, "Especially when it involves his future wife."
Lyra blinked, surprised. "Future wife? I thought he liked you, Sera."
"I told you already," Sera said firmly, putting the fork down. "There is NOTHING between me and Sire."
Lyra stared at her for a moment, then suddenly laughed. "Relax, Sera. I was just joking." Her grin lingered, playful.
Sera leaned back, exhaling slowly. "You're really something… even without your memory."
Lyra smiled, but her gaze dropped slightly. "Future wife…" she whispered. Something about those words felt strange, uncomfortable, as if they carried a weight, she couldn't quite place.
The air was calm. Too calm for what they were about to say.
Lyra lifted her teacup, taking a small sip of rose tea, her brows slowly raising. "So… who is his future wife anyway?" she asked, leaning forward with curiosity.
A small smirk formed. "Don't tell me it's that woman who disturbed me at the event?"
Sera didn't answer immediately. She calmly took another bite of blueberry cake before looking up. "Yup. That's his future." Tilting her head, she added, "You must be shocked."
Lyra blinked once, then burst into laughter. "Seriously? That's his taste?" She set her cup down, still laughing, shaking her head in amusement. "Weird one, I think."
Sera almost choked on her tea. "You really said that out loud. If he hears you…" But Lyra kept going, wiping a tear from laughing. "No, really. She was so loud and dramatic. I don't get it."
Sera glanced at her, a smirk slowly forming. "People's taste can be unpredictable." Her eyes lingered on Lyra just a moment longer.
Lyra's laughter softened. "Hmm… still weird." She took another sip of tea, but this time something felt slightly off. They laughed together, easy and carefree, as if it was nothing.
Yet somewhere in that conversation, the mention of a "future wife" had planted something small, unclear, but real.
Lyra lifted her cup again but didn't drink right away. "Future wife…" she repeated softly, eyes drifting somewhere distant. "Still weird." She finally took a sip, but her expression had shifted.
Sera didn't laugh this time. She watched Lyra carefully, sensing the change. "You think it's weird," she said lightly, "but people choose what they think is right. Even if it hurts someone else."
Lyra frowned slightly. "That sounds… sad." Sera gave a small shrug. "It is."
The garden stayed peaceful, but the conversation left something behind, a question, a feeling. Small, but growing. Because by night, everything would change again.
TBC