Steel and Shadows!

Zteel had chosen a modest, abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city of Blueport as their temporary safe house. The building's rusted exterior and broken windows made it an unlikely place for anyone to venture near—a perfect base for their mission.

Nyota stood near the entrance, peering through a crack in the warehouse door. From this vantage point, the silhouettes of the factories loomed in the distance, their chimneys spewing thick plumes of gray into the already clouded sky. The proximity of the two factories to each other was a relief—they wouldn't have to stretch their resources too thin. But the sight of guards patrolling the perimeter in well-coordinated patterns reminded him of the risks ahead.

"They've really locked this place down," Sage muttered from behind him, leaning against a crumbling support beam with his arms crossed. His voice carried the tension that none of them wanted to address directly. "This isn't going to be a walk in the park."

Aurora sat at a small makeshift table in the center of the room, a map of the factory grounds spread out before her. Her fingers traced the routes they'd already observed during their initial surveillance. "We'll need to hit both sites at the exact same time," she said, her tone even but laced with resolve. "If one team acts even a minute too early, we risk alerting them."

"Two teams," Kilo said, pacing restlessly near the table. "We've done worse with less. What's the problem?"

Aurora glanced at him, her brow furrowed. "The problem is ensuring no one gets hurt—innocent workers included. These aren't empty buildings, Kilo. We can't treat this like a battlefield."

Kilo stopped, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. "Doesn't change the fact that this is the government's fault. They're poisoning people and covering it up. We can't just let that slide."

"We're not letting anything slide," Nyota said, his voice quiet but firm as he turned back toward the group. "But we have to be careful. If we mess this up, it won't just be the workers who pay the price."

Silence fell over the group for a moment, broken only by the sound of the wind rattling the loose panels of the warehouse. It wasn't just the risk of the mission weighing on them—it was the knowledge that what they were doing, no matter how justified, would paint a target on their backs. Every step forward made it harder to turn back.

"Okay," Aurora said finally, straightening up. "Let's go over the plan one more time."

The group agreed to split up for reconnaissance—Nyota and Aurora would scout the eastern factory, while Sage and Kilo would handle the western one. Their goal was simple but daunting: gather enough information to devise a strategy that could dismantle both factories simultaneously, without harming the workers or alerting the authorities too soon.

As the team prepared to head out, the gravity of the mission hung heavily in the air. Nyota adjusted the straps of his pack, exchanging a brief nod with Sage before they split into their respective teams.

Nyota adjusted the hood of his jacket, casting a wary glance around as he and Aurora approached the eastern factory under the cover of dusk. The building loomed ahead, its towering chimneys belching smoke into the air. Rows of windows lined its facade, though most were dark or too grimy to see through.

Aurora crouched beside him near a rusted fence, her eyes scanning the grounds with practiced focus. A guard with a flashlight strolled by, his steps slow but purposeful. "Routine patrols every fifteen minutes," she whispered. "They're covering a lot of ground, but their patterns are predictable."

Nyota nodded, jotting the timing in his notebook. "And the cameras?"

Aurora pointed toward a pole near the main gate. "Wide-angle, fixed. No blind spots on the perimeter, but the inside might be different. We'll have to get a closer look at the security hub to know for sure."

They moved silently along the fence, keeping to the shadows. The factory gates were massive, reinforced steel that groaned slightly whenever they swung open to let a delivery truck through. Nyota noticed the way the workers exited—heads down, weary movements, no small talk.

"They don't look like they want to be here," he murmured.

Aurora's expression darkened. "They probably don't have a choice. A job's a job in places like this. It's either this or nothing."

They crept closer to the building, ducking behind a row of stacked crates. From this vantage point, they could see a loading dock where barrels of chemicals were being unloaded. The workers wore masks and gloves, but the bright warning labels on the barrels told a grim story.

"Those chemicals," Nyota said, his voice tight. "They're not just dangerous—they're lethal."

Aurora nodded grimly. "And they're using them to make mouthwash. Unbelievable."

A faint noise drew their attention—a second guard rounding the corner. Aurora grabbed Nyota's arm, pulling him deeper into the shadows. The guard paused near the crates, his flashlight sweeping over the area. Aurora's grip on Nyota's arm tightened as they both held their breath.

After what felt like an eternity, the guard moved on, his footsteps fading into the distance.

"That was too close," Nyota whispered, his heart pounding.

Aurora gave him a small, reassuring smile. "We'll get the information we need. Just stay sharp."

They spent the next hour mapping out the building's entrances, guard patrols, and possible vulnerabilities. By the time they would return to the safe house, their notes were detailed enough to sketch a preliminary plan.

The eastern factory reconnaissance had been tense but fruitful, yet across the industrial sector, Sage and Kilo approached the western factory with a different energy. Their usual banter served as a thin veil for the seriousness of the task ahead.

Sage and Kilo stood on a rooftop overlooking the western factory, the wind tugging at their jackets. The building was nearly identical to its counterpart, though its layout seemed slightly less guarded. Kilo peered through a pair of binoculars, muttering under his breath.

"Looks like they're slacking on this side. Two guards near the main gate, and one patrolling the side entrance. Cameras are old models—easy to blind with the right angle."

Sage leaned on the ledge beside him, his gaze thoughtful. "Or it's a setup. They might want us to think it's poorly guarded."

Kilo lowered the binoculars, grinning. "C'mon, Sage. Not every place is a trap waiting for us to walk into. Sometimes incompetence is just incompetence."

Sage raised an eyebrow. "And sometimes overconfidence gets you caught."

Kilo chuckled but didn't argue. Instead, he adjusted the binoculars and focused on the loading dock. "What about the workers? Think they know what's going on?"

"Doubt it," Sage said, his tone somber. "Most of them probably think they're just making another product. They might not know how dangerous it is."

They watched in silence as a truck pulled up to the loading dock. Workers shuffled out to unload its contents, their movements sluggish and resigned. Sage's eyes narrowed as he noticed one worker stumble, clutching his stomach before steadying himself against the truck.

"Did you see that?" he asked.

"Yeah," Kilo said grimly. "Whatever they're handling, it's already messing them up. Makes you wonder how long they last on the job."

Sage didn't respond, his thoughts already racing. If the chemicals were harming the workers directly, the effects on the end consumers had to be devastating. His jaw tightened as the weight of their mission settled heavier on his shoulders.

"All right," Kilo said, breaking the silence. "Let's get closer. I want to see what kind of locks they've got on those side doors."

They climbed down from the rooftop, using the alleyways to stay out of sight. The side entrance was less fortified than the main gate, as Kilo had predicted. He crouched near the door, examining the lock while Sage kept watch.

"Simple tumbler lock," Kilo said, pulling a small tool from his pocket. "Wouldn't even take me a minute to crack this."

"Don't," Sage warned. "We're not here to break in—just to gather intel."

Kilo sighed but put the tool away. "You're no fun sometimes, you know that?"

Sage allowed himself a small smile. "And you're too eager for your own good."

They continued their sweep of the factory, noting security weaknesses and escape routes. By the time they returned to the safe house, they had a clear picture of the building's layout and vulnerabilities.

As the team regrouped in the safe house, exhaustion mingled with determination. Aurora spread out both maps on the table, marking key points with a red pen.

"The eastern factory has tighter security, but the guards' patrols are predictable," she said, pointing to the areas they'd scouted. "We'll need to time our approach carefully to avoid detection."

"The western factory is sloppier," Kilo added. "We can take advantage of the gaps in their coverage to get in and out quickly."

Aurora nodded. "That's where we'll split into two teams. Sage and Kilo will handle the western factory. Nyota and I will take the eastern one."

Sage frowned. "Are we sure we can pull this off simultaneously? One team messing up could blow the whole mission."

"We'll coordinate with comms," Nyota said. "Once both teams are in position, we'll strike together. If anything goes wrong, we abort immediately. No exceptions."

The group fell into a pensive silence as they considered the stakes. This was no ordinary mission—it was a statement. One wrong move could turn them from heroes into villains in the eyes of the public. But for now, all they could do was prepare and hope their meticulous planning would be enough.

--

Fazian's movements were quicker than usual during fencing practice, his dueling foil cutting through the air with unnerving precision. Ethan parried one strike, only for another to come faster, leaving him struggling to keep up.

Marcus stood at the edge of the training room, brow furrowed and arms crossed as he watched the growing intensity in Fazian's swings. The usual fluidity of their sparring had been replaced by something rougher, driven by a tension in Fazian's posture that was impossible to ignore.

"What's gotten into him?" Marcus muttered, his eyes narrowing as Fazian pressed Ethan further into defense. "He's usually the one telling us to keep our emotions in check during sparring."

"You're going harder than usual, Fazian," he called out, his voice steady but edged with curiosity. "What's going on with you today?"

"Nothing," Fazian snapped without looking over, his foil clashing against Ethan's in another rapid exchange.

"Doesn't feel like nothing," Ethan muttered, stepping back to regain his footing. "You've almost skewered Ethan twice now."

Fazian let out a frustrated breath but didn't respond, his blade snapping forward in another aggressive thrust. Ethan barely managed to deflect it, the force of the strike sending him stumbling a step back. Marcus uncrossed his arms and stepped forward.

"Is this about Kai?" Marcus asked, his tone pointed. "Because if it is, I think you should talk instead of trying to stab him."

The question froze Fazian mid-motion, his foil trembling slightly in his grip. "This has nothing to do with her," he said sharply, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed his words.

Ethan lowered his own foil, eyeing Fazian warily. "Could've fooled me. Do you know just how long you've been on edge?"

Fazian's grip on his foil tightened, his knuckles whitening as a shadow of swelling and unchecked frustration crossed his face. Before he realized it, the air around him began to shift, a faint metallic shimmer flickering in the space near his shoulders.

Marcus noticed first, his arms falling to his sides as he took a step forward. "Fazian," he called, his voice cautious. "Hey, you're—"

But Fazian didn't hear him. His thoughts were elsewhere—on the widening distance between him and Kai, on the things left unsaid and unresolved.

More glimmers appeared, taking shape as translucent blades materialized one by one, their edges catching the dim light. Ethan's eyes widened in alarm. "Fazian, what's going on?!"

"Fazian!" Marcus's shout broke through, but Fazian didn't seem to hear. His mind was a storm, drowning in thoughts of the growing distance between him and Kai, of his inability to mend it. Without realizing it, his frustration had breached his control.

The swords surged forward, propelled in a sudden burst of motion. Ethan barely reacted in time, diving to avoid the brunt of the attack. The blades slammed into the wall behind him, the force knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling. The clang of metal echoed sharply, every sword embedding itself into the wall or floor, each one missing Ethan by mere inches.

The silence that followed was deafening. Fazian's chest heaved as the realization hit him. His gaze flicked to the scattered blades, then to Ethan, who lay stunned but unharmed. The color drained from Fazian's face.

"Fazian," Marcus said again, softer now, but no less alarmed. "What the hell was that?"

Fazian's shoulders tensed. He turned away, jaw clenched. "Drop it," he growled, his tone a warning.