"I guess that went…better than expected? At least we're all still breathing," I say, voice catching on the last word.
Rose, Chioma, and Angela spin toward me, brows raised.
"What do you mean, 'better'?" Angela asks, massaging her temples.
"I—sorry," I backpedal, hands fluttering. "I'm trying to stay optimistic. Actually, I think I have a plan."
Angela collapses into a steel chair with an exasperated sigh. "Alright—how do you plan to find witnesses?"
I grin. "Time to use our spy training."
Chioma and Rose exchange skeptical glances. Hadal shrugs, arms folded.
Rose leans in, interest sparking. "Go on."
I pace in front of the long conference table. "We sign up for a field op under Lance Corp: a low-priority intel mission to gather proof of the Sankoré family's illegal use of forbidden flow art from the Invader War."
Silence. Chioma chews her lip, Rose taps her foot, Hadal narrows his eyes.
Rose finally claps once, sharp. "Perfect. Hadal and Joseph need a win before North Africa. And any intel helps with the Vassal-of-Time situation."
Hadal arches an eyebrow. "Wait—why was that summit postponed? Weren't we meeting already?"
Angela exhales, rubbing her neck. "SRF had a scheduling conflict and canceled it. But let's stay on track."
Ms. Stillwell steps forward from the whiteboard. "Find the victims of the forbidden flow art and bring them here for the next briefing."
I offer a clumsy salute. "Yes, ma'am."
She rubs her forehead, then nods. "Be careful. Rose and Chioma will be your liaisons."
"Liaisons?" I echo.
"They'll feed you intel as you go," Hadal says.
Ms. Stillwell checks her holo-watch. "You leave in two hours. It's already 4 PM."
"Understood." Rose and Chioma herd us down the fluorescent corridor.
"You'll love the gear," Rose promises, practically dragging us up three flights of stairs. Chioma's eyes sparkle.
At the top, we enter the training hall—a cavernous room of weapon racks and mock city blocks. Michael stands at the shooting range, coaching recruits in quick-draw drills.
Rose waves, then steers us toward a door marked CHANGING ROOMS. Inside, benches face full-length mirrors.
"Here," Rose says, dropping two sleek black boxes. Chioma places another by mine. "Spare gear. Same kit as full agents."
I lift the lid. A matte-black jumper with integrated straps, slim synthetic-silk trousers, and a nose-up face mask lie neatly folded. No logos. No reflective seams.
I frown. "It's…pretty basic."
Chioma's shoulders slump. "You don't like it?"
Before I can answer, Rose snatches the box. "They hand you crap gear while they keep the good stuff." She flings it onto a bench. "Change."
Five minutes later, we emerge, zipped up and ready.
Rose nods slowly. "Not bad. Definitely better than my first spares."
Chioma claps, and the wall beside the door ripples like liquid metal, folding open to reveal an armory lined with modernized African weapons—sleek blades, barbed spears, compact recurved bows.
Hadal's jaw drops. "How—?"
Chioma rolls her eyes. "Pick your weapon."
Inside, a Ngombe sword calls to me: broad steel, the upper edge curving like a crescent. It balances perfectly. I sheathe it across my back.
Hadal's testing a recurve bow. "You sure?" I ask. "I've never seen you shoot."
He stands tall, bow at the ready, lips twisting into a smirk. "I was on the Shalu Academy archery team last year."
"Last year?" I raise an eyebrow. "I thought we started school together."
His face drains. He nocks an arrow, pointing it at me. "Don't joke. Ten seconds."
My laughter dies. "Sorry—no more jokes. I'll buy you pizza later."
His lips twitch. "Whole shop."
He slings the bow over his shoulder. "Let's move. We have a royal to catch."
We step into the main hall. Michael stands at the far end, arms crossed.
"Michael?" I call.
He smirks. "Chioma and Rose are at the intelligence office. I'm here to drive you to your first mission."
Every recruit turns to watch, murmuring about favoritism and early assignments.
Hadal chuckles. "We're making waves."
Michael's face darkens. "On-duty officers reported the Muscle-Head High-Top crew isn't at their usual residence."
"When did that report come in?" Hadal asks, checking his comm pad.
"Three hours ago," Michael replies. "We had to verify before sending you out. They found stockpiles of food, money, electronics—but no crew."
I run a hand through my hair. "So Tajudeen bribed them to stay silent—but he didn't kill them. Where are they now?"
Michael's tone drops. "That's why we're investigating. Suspicious activity around flow users can lead to bigger threats."
He taps a coordinate on my holo-map. "New Lekki. Infiltrate the Sankoré household and bring the crew back alive. Figure out why they were spared."
"Car's waiting outside," Michael says, already moving toward the exit "Let's move!".