"you know you will be covering me right?" she asked
"i know that," i responded as we parked the bike in an alleyway near the mission area.
The mission was simple. We were to recover the data that was kept in the server room in the Data Center that was located by the extract i collected days ago.
"You will be using the drone to enter the server room in the basement of that building." she pointed while explaining. "i will escort it creating a pathway for it while you help me navigate from here until i reach the vents and place the drone to fly to the servers. Luckily servers need cold rooms so obviously the vents will reach there." she elaborated
No pressure, flying a drone through a maze of ventilation while backing up Isabella so that she is not caught and hacking the security systems so that they are not caught stealing info and escaping sounds easy, right. I just nodded as i removed the drone and separated it from its controller. The controller had a small keyboard attached that made it easier for me to use it to hack the systems. And the panel on my arm simplified the whole process as it located technical equipment and had a code break system that helped me breach the firewalls without being detected. I turned on the drone and the screen on the controller came alive showing live feed of the drone's camera.
"ready" i declared.
She took out a flash drive and attached it to the drone and started moving out as i followed her with the drone.
"This mission's delicate. Stealth first. You're my insurance policy." She left while saying.
I nodded, the weight of it all settling in my chest. Support from the shadows. It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't glorious. But it was necessary. And maybe — just maybe — it was exactly where I needed to be.
The building looked like a bunker pretending to be an office. Concrete walls, barbed wire fencing, and just enough floodlights to make you feel like you were being interrogated by the sun. The place gave off serious we're-hiding-something energy.
I crouched behind a cracked loading ramp, trying to keep my breathing steady. My suit's panel was already lit up, the drone humming softly as it followed Bella. Its camera had an infrared mode and that helped me see anyone coming near and informed Bella so that she could take them out before they spotted her.
Bella's voice came through my earpiece, calm as ever. "On my mark."
She was already moving, a blur in the dark. No hesitation. No wasted movement. She slid out of the shadows and sprinted toward the outer fence like she was born in an obstacle course. One leap and she was up and over — no wire touched, no sound made.
My palms were slick with sweat.
"Mark."
I tapped the panel. The drone deployed instantly — rotors whirring to life as it slipped free from its housing like a razor-edged moth. It hovered in place for half a second, sensors blinking, then shot forward low to the ground, clutching the flash drive beneath it like a fragile egg.
It was carrying everything — the mission, the data, the proof we needed. All packed into a black chip the size of a paperclip.
And me? I was the one flying it.
No pressure.
The drone zipped past the fence, hugging the terrain. From my monitor, I watched its camera feed — grainy, green-tinted, and jumpy as hell. "Bella — guard incoming, east side!"
"I see him," she answered, already moving.
She ducked low, grabbed him from behind, and dragged him into the shadows before he had a chance to yawn, let alone call for backup. The guy hit the dirt like a dropped sack of flour.
Meanwhile, the drone had reached the main structure. No entry points. No windows. Just the ventilation system — a narrow shaft running along the roof.
"Override grate," I muttered, fingers flying across the embedded keyboard on my forearm.
A soft click in my earpiece confirmed it worked. The drone adjusted altitude and climbed, angling for the vent.
I held my breath as it squeezed in — rotors folding tighter, barely skimming the metal edges.
"Inside," I confirmed. "Navigating ductwork now."
The screen jolted with every turn. Dust, rust, condensation. It was like piloting a wasp through a sewer pipe. But the AI handled most of it. I just told it where to go.
Then — light.
The server room opened up below. Massive cooling towers. Blue lighting. Thick cables running along the floor like black vines. This was the heart of the system. The place where secrets lived.
"Dropping payload," I said.
The drone hovered above the main terminal. Its claw opened and let the flash drive fall — a tiny, perfect drop. It landed right in the port.
And then it began.
The red light blinked once… twice… then turned green.
"Upload initiated."
Everything was going smoothly.
Naturally, that's when it all went sideways.
"Marx," Bella's voice snapped through my earpiece, sharp and fast. "We've got company."
I switched the drone's external cam to rear view. Two black SUVs had pulled up at the back entrance. Windows tinted. No lights. Four guys jumped out — all carrying the kind of weapons that don't come with a safety switch.
"Private security," I muttered. "Definitely not rent-a-cops."
One of them had something worse than a gun — a jammer rifle. Sleek, high-tech, and aimed straight at my drone's last known position.
"Bella — jammer's moving in."
"I've got him."
She moved before I could stop her. I watched from the drone's camera as she rolled out from cover, sprinted across open ground, and hurled a baton like a pro baseball pitcher. It nailed the guy in the side of the helmet — hard enough to drop him cold.
The drone's feed wobbled, then stabilized. Just in time.
"Upload at seventy percent," I said, my fingers tightening on the keyboard. "Almost there."
Gunfire erupted outside. Real, sharp, too close.
"Bella?!"
"I'm fine!" she shouted back. "Buy me thirty seconds!"
I didn't think. I launched a decoy signal from the drone — a fake ping that appeared fifty feet away from its actual location. Two of the guards peeled off, chasing a ghost.
"Upload complete," I breathed. "Drive's in. Systems breached."
The flash drive ejected automatically. The drone caught it mid-air, claws snapping shut.
"I'm initiating burn protocol."
Bella was already moving toward the perimeter. "Get it done."
One command. One tap.
The drone's AI flared blue.
Then came the fire.
A silent whump echoed through the server room. Not big. Just enough to fry the electronics and turn the walls into toast. The camera feed went dark. Static.
"Drone's gone," I said. "Data's ours. You're clear."
Bella didn't reply right away. Then: "Nice work, nerd."
I was about to say it — mission complete — when Bella's voice snapped in my ear like a whip.
"Contact — I'm hit!"
My stomach dropped.
The feed had cut, but her mic was still active. I could hear movement — a scuffle, fast breathing, footsteps. Then a grunt. Something heavy hitting the ground.
"Bella?!"
No response.
I didn't think. I just ran.
The building looked like a bunker pretending to be an office — too solid, too sealed, too defensive for anyone with honest paperwork. Floodlights washed the yard in harsh white, throwing hard-edged shadows that made every object look guilty.
I took position behind a broken loading ramp, concrete crumbling under my glove. My breathing sounded too loud inside the mask. The drone hovered beside me, humming softly — a metal heartbeat waiting for permission.
Bella's voice slid through the earpiece, cool and centered.
"On my mark."
She flowed from cover — low, fast, economical. No wasted motion. She hit the fence, stepped once on the support bar, vaulted clean over the wire without even brushing it.
My pulse spiked.
"Mark."
I launched.
The drone shot forward, hugging the ground, rotors whispering. Through the camera feed the world turned green and grainy — heat blooms, motion ghosts, signal tags dancing over moving shapes.
"Bella — east side patrol, closing," I warned.
"I see him."
She intercepted before the man finished his turn. One hand over his mouth, weight shift, silent drop. He vanished into darkness like he'd never existed.
The drone reached the structure wall. No doors. No mercy. Just steel and sealed seams.
"Overriding vent grate," I murmured, fingers racing across the micro-keys.
Firewall. Subnet. Lock handshake. Spoof. Slip.
Click.
The grate released.
The drone rose and folded tight, squeezing into the shaft. Metal scraped close on both sides. Condensation beaded across the lens. The echo of the rotors turned the duct into a drum.
It felt like threading a needle from a mile away.
Then the shaft opened.
The server room glowed below — cold blue light, towering racks, vapor drifting from cooling stacks. Cables ran across the floor like roots drinking secrets.
"There you are," I breathed.
The drone hovered over the primary terminal node.
"Dropping payload."
The flash drive fell — a tiny black dash — and slid perfectly into the port.
Red light.
Blink.
Blink.
Green.
"Upload initiated."
For three seconds, nothing went wrong.
Which should've been my first warning.
"Marx," Bella snapped. "We've got company."
I flipped to external cam view.
Two black SUVs rolled into the rear approach — engines quiet, lights off. Doors opened in sync. Four operators exited — armor plates, suppressed rifles, coordinated spacing.
Not guards.
Hunters.
"Private security," I said. "Real ones."
One raised a jammer rifle and aimed toward the structure.
"Bella — jammer inbound."
"Handled."
She broke cover at full speed — baton flashing once — impact — down. Clean.
"Upload seventy percent," I said. "Hold them."
Gunfire cracked across the yard — sharp, echoing.
"I'm a little busy!" she answered.
I injected a ghost signal — fake drone telemetry fifty feet off position. Two operators peeled away instantly.
"Upload complete," I exhaled.
The drive auto-ejected. The drone snatched it mid-air.
"Burn protocol armed."
"Do it."
I tapped once.
Blue flare.
Silent pulse.
The server stacks died like candles in vacuum. Feed collapsed into static.
"Drone lost," I said. "Data secured. You're clear."
A beat.
Then Bella's voice, breath edged but alive:
"Nice work, nerd."
I almost laughed.
Then—
"Contact — I'm hit!"
All the air left my lungs.
Noise flooded the channel — struggle, impact, fabric scrape, a choked grunt.
"Bella?!"
Nothing.
No confirmation. No signal drop. Just breathing and movement.
Training said hold position.
Logic said wait.
I ran anyway.