Back at the warehouse, they began planning the execution in detail. The group had decided to refer to the target simply as "The Politician," avoiding the use of his name altogether to avoid confusion. According to the intel, on the day of the campaign, the politician would meet privately with his team in a building near the rally site. Before stepping out to deliver his speech to the public, he would be in a separate prep room with minimal security. That room was chosen as the perfect strike location.
Marcus was bold and coordinated. Each member of the team would wear a carefully prepared costume—mimicking the campaign's promotional gear. They would blend in with the crowd seamlessly.
At the right moment, they would trigger a power outage and activate the fire alarm to create confusion and divert attention. Amid the chaos, they would infiltrate the prep room and execute the hit using silenced weapons. The entire operation would be over within ten minutes. Then, they would vanish into the crowd—just another group of supporters in a sea of chaos.
As the team was planning Marcus remained focused throughout. He listened intently, coordinating closely with the translator to keep the group aligned. Lucia Maren and Alina Vetrova used a mix of sign language and fragmented speech to offer their suggestions, gradually finding a rhythm in their communication. Renji Takeda, though mostly silent, contributed by pointing out key entry and exit points on the blueprint with sharp precision. Kaleb Tesfaye, with his rough but steady voice, voiced concerns and offered alternative strategies when needed.
The translator worked tirelessly, relaying every word, gesture, and concern so the group could stay connected despite their differences. The group was reviewing the final blueprint. The translator looked worn thin. Everyone was exhausted, but Marcus kept correcting Lucia's approach—quietly but firmly. He was focused on control. Lucia, meanwhile, was growing tense. Marcus wasn't trying to take over—but he kept poking holes in her suggestions, always steering things back in his way. Not a power play… just the kind of unshakable belief in himself that made teamwork feel optional. She said something in Spanish, low and sharp. The translator hesitated to translate it.
Marcus glanced over. "Translate," he said.
The translator exhaled, his eyes flicking between them. "She said, 'Just because you love the sound of your own voice doesn't mean the rest of us are deaf. This isn't your solo action flick—we were here for a reason. It's called a group mission, Mr. Brooding-and-Better-Than-Everyone.'"
Marcus smirked, unfazed (the translator relayed). "Sith sass, hmm? Leads to the dark side, it does. Careful, you must be." He folded his arms, his voice smooth with confidence. "I was here because I had the cleanest record on missions like this. No slip-ups, no traces, no one the wiser. All solo. Han style." He took a slow step forward, and with a more serious tone added, "Working alone wasn't just what I did. It was how I stayed alive. No one to slow me down. No one to miss."
The room went quiet. Lucia didn't break eye contact. But something in her expression cracked—just for a heartbeat. A flicker of old pain surfaced, raw and unguarded, the kind that came from being left behind too many times. She touched her scar on her collarbone, her fingers lingering for a moment too long before dropping her hand quickly, as if the touch had pulled too much to the surface. Then she spoke, her voice low but edged.
Lucia (in Spanish—the translator hesitated but relayed): "Funny how some people called being alone a strength. When really… it was just a way of saying no one stuck around long enough to matter."
What was meant as a quip landed like a bruise. Marcus didn't flinch, but something shifted in his eyes. Not anger. Not ego. Just the quiet sting of something familiar. A shared silence stretched between them—heavy, unsaid.
Then, with a quiet exhale, Marcus stepped back. Just enough to ease the tension. His voice was lighter now, but steady. "Point made. Let's just finish the plan." No bite. No sarcasm. Just space. The kind you offer when you've been there too.
The translator glanced between them, sensing the shift. The rest of the team slowly refocused, the meeting drifting back to strategy. But the air between Marcus and Lucia didn't go back to normal. It just… shifted.