Chapter 7: The Vulnerable Target
The terminal screen displayed the architectural blueprints of Vanguard’s downtown headquarters—a gleaming glass monolith that pierced the city skyline like a cold obsidian blade. Maya leaned over the workbench, her eyes tracing the highlighted security checkpoints and perimeter patrols marked in red.
“A senior director biometric,” Maya repeated, shaking her head. “You want me to walk into a fortified corporate fortress and steal someone’s fingerprint or iris scan?”
“Not someone,” Vance corrected, pulling up a personnel profile on the adjacent monitor. A clean-cut man in his late forties with cold, calculating eyes stared back at them. “Director Julian Vance. My estranged younger brother.”
Maya blinked, straightening up from the desk. She looked from the monitor to Vance’s hardened expression, the family resemblance suddenly snapping into sharp focus around the jawline and the intense gaze.
“Your brother?” Maya asked, her tone dry. “Family reunions must be an absolute delight in your household.”
“Julian traded his soul for a corner office and a seat on the executive board thirty years ago,” Vance said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion. “He oversees the containment protocols for Vanguard’s human trials. If anyone has the active authorization codes to decrypt the master server and trigger the public data leak, it’s him.”
“And where is he tonight?” Maya asked, already calculating the logistical hurdles of an infiltration.
“He doesn't work out of the headquarters after hours,” Vance replied, tapping a key to bring up a residential map. “He hosts a private gala at his estate in the hills twice a month for political donors and board members. Tonight happens to be one of those nights. The security will be heavy, but it’s tailored for high society—meaning guest lists, valet parking, and private security guards who are more accustomed to dealing with overzealous paparazzi than trained operatives.”
Maya crossed her arms, leaning back against the workbench. Her pink hoodie felt heavy and restrictive in the sterile air of the bunker. She reached up and unzipped it halfway, letting her breathing settle into a slow, rhythmic pattern.
May you like
“Paparazzi don't carry flash drives that trigger corporate annihilation,” Maya noted. “If we go in there, we need a clean entry, a precise extraction, and zero margin for error. One mistake and we’re sharing a cell with whatever ghosts Julian keeps locked in his basement.”
“There are no cells in Julian’s world, Maya,” Vance said grimly, opening a reinforced metal locker against the wall to reveal an array of sleek tactical gear and formal evening wear. “Only disappearances. Are you in, or do I drop you back at the cinema lobby to finish your movie?”
