The target building stood in silence; its worn-out frame bathed in moonlight. It wasn’t just old, it felt

abandoned

, too still for something rumored to hold classified secrets.

Arthur’s eyes swept across the empty gate, then up to the second-floor balcony where guards should’ve been stationed.

Not a single shadow moved. His footsteps slowed. Each crunch of gravel beneath his boots echoed too loudly, too clearly.

His heart pounded in his chest, a warning bell in the quiet.

Something’s not right,

he thought. It felt less like an opportunity and more like a trap waiting to be sprung.

Arthur moved cautiously along the left side of the building, his eyes sweeping through the shadows for any sign of danger.

Every step was deliberate, every movement measured. His senses were razor-sharp, straining for the faintest sound, yet all he found was the hollow silence of the night.

The air lay unnaturally still, tension coiling thickly around them.

Finally, reaching the back of the building, Arthur paused, his gaze flicking toward the others across the way.

With a subtle motion, he signaled for Ray and Therese to move in closer.

Ray responded first, his steps quick yet smooth.

Therese followed shortly after, his movements just as calm, his expression unreadable.

They moved with a practiced ease—convincing enough to pass as ordinary strangers drifting by, leaving nothing to suspect, nothing out of place.

When they finally reached the spot where Arthur was waiting, he made a subtle signal to the rest of the crew, signaling that the plan was about to begin.

As they slipped through the building’s back doors, the world seemed to hush around them. Shadows clung to the walls, and the darkness of the corridors swallowed their footsteps whole.

Every step felt like a countdown, closer to danger, closer to something they couldn’t yet imagine.

They all knew the stakes. If they were caught here, on foreign soil, war wouldn’t just be a possibility; it would be inevitable. The risks weighed heavily on their minds, but even more so on their chests.

Logic could only go so far when fear crept in, curling cold fingers around their spines.

Arthur led the way, his steps confident but quiet. At one turn, he glanced back at the team. That’s when he saw it.

Therese’s hand was slightly trembling.

A subtle shake, but enough. Arthur pressed his lips together in a hard line, then spoke low, steady.

“Soldier, your hands are shaking. Be at ease.”

Therese’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by Arthur’s calm voice. He quickly gripped his wrist with the other hand, trying to still the tremble.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant. Of all the missions we’ve taken... this one feels different.”

“I know.” Arthur’s voice didn’t lose its calm.

“It’s okay to be scared. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He paused, then added, “But once your foot hits the battlefield, fear has to kneel. You know that.” he said as he gripped his hand tightly.

Therese nodded, drawing in a slow breath as they moved forward again. The tremor faded, but the tension in the air didn’t.

Arthur, on the other hand, moved with precision, his mind sharp and senses alert, but his thoughts were murky, clouded by something heavier than doubt.

As they passed through the dim, lifeless hallways, a cold knot began to form in his stomach.

The silence wasn’t just unsettling; it felt

intentional.

No guards. Not even the sound of a distant voice or a flicker of movement.

Only the soft, rhythmic echo of their boots against the concrete floor remained, as if the building itself were holding its breath, waiting for them to stumble into the trap laid in their path.

As they were about to turn the corner, they stopped when Arthur raised his hand, signaling them to halt.

He cast a careful glance down the new path, wanting to be certain it was safe.

That was when he noticed a wall that didn’t quite match the others; the concrete was cleaner, the paint noticeably fresher than the surfaces they had passed earlier.

It was enough to set his instincts on edge.

He moved toward it slowly, eyes scanning for any sign of a hidden mechanism.

Beside him, Ray stepped forward and knelt, inspecting the base with quiet focus.

As he searched near the base, a few tense seconds passed before his eyes suddenly widened in surprise.

“There’s a seam here,” Ray whispered, brushing his gloved fingers along the edge. “It’s a hidden door.” He paused and looked at Arthur.

“It camouflaged well but not well enough for us not to notice it.” He smiled.

Therese kept watch, his pistol trained down the corridor.

“A hidden room in a place like this… it has to be where the data's stored.”

Arthur nodded once. “Or it’s a trap set for us,” he responded.

No one spoke after that. The silence closed in tighter than ever, heavy with the weight of decisions.

Arthur exhaled slowly and steadily, then placed his hand on the wall. A faint click answered back.

The panel hissed open.

Behind it lay a narrow staircase, descending into darkness.

Silence hung in the air for a brief moment—then, without warning, a bellowing cry echoed from within.

A woman’s voice, trembling and laced with pain, rang out from below, sending shivers down their spines.

But what chilled them the most was how familiar the voice was. It sounded like Sasha.

Thankfully, Arthur held back his urgency. He looked at the two of them and gave a firm nod twice.

“Stay sharp,” he said, taking the first step down the staircase, then slowly walking toward the bottom.

The others followed close behind.

Every step felt like walking deeper into a nightmare. The air grew heavier, the shadows denser.

Then suddenly, the staircase gave way.

The structure gave way beneath their feet, and in an instant, they were hurled downward.

There was no time to react.

Their bodies tumbled violently through the pitch-black shaft, limbs colliding with cold steel and concrete in a chaotic blur.

They fell fast, swallowed by the dark toward the unknown pit at the heart of the hidden room.

As they scrambled to their feet, the flicker of a light bulb snapped on, blinding them for a moment. When their eyes adjusted, their breath caught in their throats.

Before them, a massive group of uniformed soldiers stood, weapons raised, heavy guns aimed directly at them.

The cold metallic gleam reflected the harsh light, and the tension in the room was thick enough to cut.

Arthur froze, instincts screaming in protest, but the reality of the situation settled over him like a heavy cloak. His mind raced, calculating every possible outcome, and none of them were favorable.

With a sharp exhale, he motioned for the others to lower their weapons.

Slowly, Ray and Therese obeyed, the weight of the guns pressing heavily on their consciences.

They had no choice but to surrender.

Arthur bit his lip as the soldiers forced his crew to their knees. What surprised him most, though, was that none of them touched him.

Only Ray and Therese were shoved down, cold rifle barrels pressed hard against their backs.

As his eyes adjusted and the scene sharpened, his gaze shifted to the side of the room.

His eyes widened in shock. He saw his other soldiers, barely conscious, bloodied, and blindfolded:

Sasha, Danny, and Albert.

Their bodies trembled with pain, stained with dried blood, their breaths shallow and uneven.

Arthur’s heart clenched, but what truly made it stop for a beat was the realization that hit him as he scanned the soldiers more carefully.

These weren’t Exolus uniforms.

He muttered under his breath, cold sweat sliding down his cheeks.

They were his own countrymen. A soldier from his own nation had aimed a gun at them and had gone so far as to brutally beat his crew, leaving them on the brink of death.

He glared at the soldier still pointing a rifle straight at him.

“What is the meaning of this?” Arthur demanded, his voice sharp and clipped.

Urgency and confusion warred in his chest while his emotions spiraled beyond control.

The soldier stared back at him coldly, unflinching under the weight of his glare.

“This is a direct order from command. Don’t resist, Sergeant,” he said flatly.

“Or we’ll kill your squad.”

Arthur’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening.

He didn’t know how to respond. Thoughts collided in his mind, chaotic and relentless.

Why? Why are we being treated like traitors? We followed orders. We did everything they asked… So why are our own soldiers the ones pointing guns at our heads?

He bit down hard on his tongue, the bitter taste of betrayal rising like bile in his throat.