03 • Team by Force •
Abandoned Warehouses,
First Zone
33 days until Zero Hour
The introductory meeting had concluded after an hour. The Troublemakers, as Callean's assistant had dubbed them, left the room with somber expressions, which wasn't surprising in the least.
Against their will, they had been roped into a mission that initially seemed as straightforward as a wire but, as Callean revealed more details, that wire kept transforming into a barbed trap. In summary: they would have to smoothly infiltrate Busterrix's gang and just as smoothly extract themselves, all while capturing Garmadon. And, of course, they couldn't afford any slip-ups. If they failed, Busterrix would snatch the kid. And if Busterrix got his hands on the kid, he'd likely attempt to seize power, blackmail the government, or simply kill the brat for fun. Meanwhile, they'd be watching the chaos unfold from behind prison bars.
As Kelly delved into the extensive mission dossier, her head spun from the magnitude of the task. The folder contained not only the mission plan and its overarching strategy (because improvisation would be crucial once they were inside Busterrix's gang) but also detailed profiles of their adversaries—the motley crew of criminals they would soon be up against. Reading through their profiles made her stomach churn; these individuals were experts in their respective fields, had vulnerabilities in others, excelled in various forms of combat, and wielded their weapons with deadly precision. It was evident that someone had spent months dissecting their characters, offering the Troublemakers a partial understanding of their formidable opponents.
She placed the folder at the foot of her bed, as if it emitted an unpleasant odor—perhaps the stench of a mission aimed at preventing the kidnapping of a brat.
There was nothing she liked about this entire operation. It started with the fact that they were supposed to protect a kid whose family they had nearly plundered (mostly a personal issue for her), and it ended with the suffocating lack of margin for error. Any misstep would land them in prison with no allies or sympathizers. With each passing moment, the rewards seemed less enticing, less motivating. Despite it all, none of them were inclined to back down. Perhaps it was their criminal pride—wanting to finish what they had started, even if the game had begun without their knowledge. Everything felt surreal, insane, and yet undeniably real. And they had to face this reality armed with nothing more than a bent spoon.
She slipped off the edge of her bed with a heavy sigh.
Shortly after the meeting, they had been escorted to their rooms, small windowless cells equipped with a dresser, chair, table, and bed. The closet contained essential items like clothes and toothbrushes—all personal belongings sourced from their residences. The agency didn't hold back.
She glanced at the wall clock; it was nearing ten at night, and sleep was proving elusive. She knew her racing mind wouldn't allow her to rest with the emotional whirlwind she'd endured. She had intended to spend her first evening reading, but her concentration eluded her. Instead, she skimmed through the profiles of Busterrix's gang members, mostly committing grotesque faces to memory rather than names. She had expected it to bore her, but the adrenaline still pulsed through her veins.
Eventually, she slid her legs off the mattress, feeling restless.
Following the meeting, they had been granted some level of freedom—or so it seemed. In an attempt to test this newfound liberty and familiarize herself with the layout of their confinement, she embarked on a brief reconnaissance mission.
However, after a while, hearing footsteps trailing behind her, she had a change of heart. She glanced over her shoulder to spot a young man following a few meters behind her. He didn't seem inclined to halt her movements, indicating that each of them had been assigned a personal observer who trailed them from a distance as soon as they ventured from their rooms. That appeared to be the extent of their freedom. She couldn't help but wonder if there were cameras and listening devices concealed in their rooms.
She meandered through the empty corridors, finding nothing of interest, but eventually grew impatient when the follower's shoes squeaked on the gray linoleum floor again. Did they have a limited budget, or did they employ only imbeciles on their staff?
She quickened her pace and took the first left turn available. She heard her shadow's footsteps hasten as well. Her problem was her lack of knowledge about the facility's layout. So, she impulsively entered the first door she came across, slipped inside, and quietly shut it behind her. She heaved a sigh of relief when she heard the observer pass by. She cautiously peeked her head out but couldn't spot her tail anywhere. Problem solved.
Standing in the middle of the corridor, she looked around. Okay, what now? Perhaps she should scout for a potential escape route? She began to move ahead, well aware that even if she found an open door before her, escape was a fruitless endeavor. She couldn't jeopardize Estheim's safety. Her anger toward Callean flared up once more.
She contemplated various scenarios for the end of her criminal career, but she had never considered this one. To ensure her survival, she had to cooperate and accept the responsibility of safeguarding a child. At this point, she might prefer an orange jumpsuit. But Estheim...
She shook her head, stopping at a junction. It seemed she had been down this path before. The facility resembled a maze. She entered a narrow, short corridor that ended with a glimmer of light.
Her tendency was to worry about others first, putting herself in harm's way. And this time was no different. She bore the brunt of the situation to protect Estheim, who had more at stake and faced a lengthier sentence.
She reached the end of the corridor, leaned against the wall, and tilted her head to peer at the barred window. Their rooms didn't even have a small opening in the wall to discern their location.
She glanced behind her, and when she didn't see anyone, she jumped up and, on her second try, grabbed the windowsill. She pulled herself up on the bars and looked outside. The pale moonlight illuminated an empty field, field, and more field.
"Seems pretty remote, huh?" She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a female voice behind her. She turned to look over her shoulder at Callean's assistant. Damned lack of divided attention...
She dropped back to the ground and faced the girl, who, despite being a few centimeters shorter, exuded confidence. With her shoulder-length black hair and Japanese features, she appeared not much older than Thifer. What could have convinced her to work in such a dismal place, under Callean's command, no less?
"Is this your main headquarters?" Kelly inquired, seizing the opportunity to be sassy. "Seems not only remote but makeshift."
The girl let out a brief, subdued laugh, shaking her head.
"Nah, it's just a temporary setup, specifically for the duration of your mission," she explained. "A hastily converted warehouse, as you can see. Anyway, I'll escort you." She spun on her heel and began walking slowly ahead.
"I know the way."
"I don't doubt it, but we need to find your bodyguard," she chuckled and waved her hand
Kelly sighed audibly, took one last look in the direction of freedom, and reluctantly followed the girl. And once again, freedom proved elusive.
"You could've at least invested in a better team," she muttered as she matched her stride with the girl. "The ones you've got here would be defeated by a child with a finger up their nose."
"Well, the more experienced ones are out in the field or sitting at our main headquarters in the center of Ninjago City," she replied. "And the unfortunate ones assigned to you have their cross to bear. I heard about how you handled two of them," she chuckled as if it were a good joke. Her sense of humor remained intact.
They walked side by side down the empty corridor. Their footsteps echoed off the barren walls, naked light bulbs blinked above their heads. Megan held a paper coffee cup in her hand. She drained the last drops, crumpled the cup in her hand, and tossed it into the nearest trash can. It appeared that she had no intention of going to sleep anytime soon.
"Taking a little stroll?" Megan inquired, tucking her hands into the pockets of her black overalls. She looked like she had just come from a skatepark.
"I was trying to burn off some adrenaline," Kelly replied.
"Can't sleep?" the girl asked in a friendly tone, as if they were good friends. Not enemies. At least, not at the moment, with their temporary alliance, but still, enemies.
"It's not easy to just go to sleep after being kidnapped and held against your will, with strangers on the other side of the wall," she blurted out, but the girl remained unfazed.
"You'll get used to it," she assured her with a faint smile. You have to, her unspoken words implied. And she was right; Callean had warned them that before embarking on the mission, they would spend a good week here, getting accustomed to their company and preparing mentally and physically.
In silence, they reached the wing where the rooms were located. There they found Thifer, who visibly breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her. He probably thought about resigning already.
"I found your lost sheep, Marcus," Megan calmly announced as the boy approached them.
"I apologize, Inspector Nakane, but she suddenly disappeared from my sight..."
Megan Nakane raised her hand, and the boy fell silent abruptly.
"Even the best slip up sometimes, but next time, be more vigilant," she said with a sweet smile, but her eyes remained cold. The boy shuddered, nodded, and, delegated by Inspector Nakane, disappeared around the corner. Megan sighed softly, muttered something about "trainees," and then opened the door for Kelly.
"Try not to give our subordinates heart attacks next time," she quipped, and Kelly gave a wry smile.
"I can't guarantee that."
For a moment, they locked eyes, until driven by curiosity, Kelly blurted out, "Why did they choose me out of all the thieves? Knowing that I wanted to steal from the Garmadons. Isn't it some kind of conflict of interests?"
The inspector tilted her head, as if pondering whether to say one word too many. In the end, she stated, "Let's just say someone wanted to see you on this mission. Sweet dreams, Thifer."
Kelly watched Nakane leave, her questions only growing larger. Instead of being satisfied, her curiosity had increased. She wanted to throw herself onto the bed, but at that moment, there was a soft knock on the door.
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