Stiff’s Gambit

I stood in the security room with Cyborg after helping him bring in his suitcase computers.

I watched him as he began restoring the surveillance system and turning the monitors in the room back on.

“Are you set, Shade?”

I tapped my comm. “All set, Captain. I have Red standing guard outside the room. Blue is off at the left end of the corridor while Green is at the opposite end standing guard. I have the area secured.”

“Good.”

The fate of underlings, I thought. Until they rose high in the organization they were stuck with rainbow colors for aliases.

Cyborg finally got things operating in tip top shape again. The monitors showed every single corner of the building, even the outside.

I focused on one showing surveillance footage from outside the building.

The morning air was still, the silence broken only by the occasional hum of passing cars on the street. The consulate building stood imposing, its pale walls illuminated by sunbeams.

Across the street, was our reinforcement. More underlings so we could better maintain control of the building.

The black ops team lay in wait, eleven shadows blending into the dark corners in the streets. They moved with precision, each member knowing their role down to the second.

Their leader, a stoic man with a scar running across his jaw, signaled with a clenched fist. Their operation had begun.

They were going to infiltrate from the outside.

Two men emerged from the shadows, clad in black tactical gear, their faces hidden beneath balaclavas.

They scaled the outer fence with practiced ease, the wire cutters they carried glinting faintly under the light.

One was about to snip through the alarmed perimeter wire while the other set a jamming device on the ground. But the team leader stopped them, index finger pressed to one ear.

He was probably in contact with Lynx. Which meant she'd probably informed him that all systems were under their control and he had a go.

Three operatives approached the front gate, carrying a large crate disguised as a diplomatic package.

They were dressed as delivery personnel, their casual demeanor masking the tension crackling in the air.

I continued watching as the lone guard stationed at the entrance frowned as they approached.

“Delivery?” the guard asked.

“Priority shipment for the ambassador,” one of them replied smoothly, handing over a clipboard.

As the guard leaned down to inspect the document, the operative’s hand shot out, delivering a quick jab to the guard’s throat.

The man crumpled silently to the ground. The team dragged his body behind a pillar as the other operatives slipped inside.

“Team Bravo, go,” Lynx ordered.

That was Chasm’s unit.

Armed with suppressed weapons, they arrived at a service door near the basement that Cyborg quickly got open.

They swept through the lower floors, neutralizing staff with tranquilizer darts. Moving efficiently, leaving no room for error.

From the control room Cyborg started closing the blast doors and placing the whole building on lockdown as the reinforcement team got in.

“Let them through, Blue, Green, Red,” I ordered, seeing that two of the six reinforcements were heading towards the security room while the others took up guard positions in the atrium.

“Control is ours, move to positions,” Lynx said into the comms.

“Phase two,” she commanded.

In the basement, Chasm and his trio of operatives burst into the conference hall. A junior diplomat screamed but was silenced quickly with a gag. The Foreign Director, trembling, raised his hands in surrender, the bomb on his vest jostling.

“Please—” he stammered.

“Quiet,” Chasm growled, pressing a weapon to the ambassador’s temple.

In under seven minutes, the building was secured. The hostages were herded into the atrium by Hammer and Chasm’s team, their hands bound and eyes wide with fear.

Lynx stood at the center, surveying the scene with cold satisfaction. “The Embassy is under control. Stand by for further orders.”

I sighed as I looked at the monitor covering the streets outside.

Outside, the city remained oblivious, the embassy’s walls concealing a brewing storm.

The door opened as Red let in two of the operatives from the reinforcement team. One was the team leader.

“Shade,” he greeted, giving me a polite nod. He turned towards the area with the monitors. “How are we holding up, Cyborg?”

Cyborg smiled. “All systems are A-okay, Steel.”

Steel nodded and took position beside the door along with his squad member.

We all watched the monitors together as Lynx read the hostages their rights. More like their orders, if anything, and divided them by gender.

Once they were separated, she placed them under guard, leaving them under Chasm’s command and left the hall with two guys from the reinforcement team.

My eyes caught Trojan. She was standing next to the redhead VIP who I felt like I should know.

I made sure not to look at the mole too much, else the others might notice. I don't know if they knew there was a mole amongst the hostages but it paid to be careful.

We watched as Lynx headed to the upper floors, in the direction of the Foreign Director’s office. Cyborg got the door opened for her and she stepped in.

The two grunts with her joined her and they got to work, gathering boxes and going through shelves around the office and swiftly transferring valuable documents into duffel bags.

That certainly was not part of the plan. I wondered what she was doing. What was in those documents? And what could Stiff possibly need them for?

From the corner of my eyes I caught Steel shift uneasily and fold his arms as he watched Lynx gathering the documents.

He wasn't told about this part of the plan either.

We all knew there were parts of the plan Stiff kept to just himself and Lynx but that did not mean we liked it. Myself especially.

For the others, this lack of honesty could compromise the mission as they lacked information of the plan’s parameters which they could use to make informed decisions in case an unforeseen situation called for improvisation.

For me, not being aware of certain factors of the plan meant that I had to be a thousand times more careful with foiling the entire mission.

“Go through Lynx's phone. Try and see if you can find out what she's doing,” I mentally ordered M.

“On it,” she responded, mentally.

I took a seat, eyes focused on the monitors.

What’s your game Stiff?