The night stretched long in Clareo HQ, the celebration in the hall a distant hum of camaraderie and fleeting joy. Val's night, however, had been anything but restful.
In the span of a few hours, he had left and returned from five separate solo missions, each one more grueling than the last. Each time he entered HQ, his presence was a whisper in the wind—silent, purposeful, and fleeting.
By 3 a.m., Dr. Lewis, leaning against a console with weary eyes, finally intervened.
"You're taking a rest," he stated, his voice brooking no argument.
Val stood still for a moment, his mask concealing whatever flicker of emotion may have crossed his face. Without a word, he nodded and took a seat in the corner of the hall, his posture calm yet radiating exhaustion.
Dr. Lewis sat beside him, the silence between them heavy but oddly comforting. For a brief moment, Clareo's most dangerous operative allowed himself to breathe.
But respite was never long for Val.
At 6 a.m., the soft chime of the HQ system signaled a new mission briefing. Val rose, adjusting his cloak as he prepared to leave again. His movements were precise, his mask sealing into place with an audible click as he stepped toward the door.
Dr. Lewis, leaning against the doorway, glanced at Val with his usual mix of weariness and amusement. "You know, Val, you've officially replaced Ember as Clareo's favorite workhorse."
Val glanced over briefly, his tone dry. "Should I be flattered or concerned?"
"Neither," Dr. Lewis quipped. "Just don't make a habit of going radio silent, or—"
"—you'll have Ember screaming across HQ again." Val cut him off, amusement faintly lacing his voice as he walked past.
Dr. Lewis chuckled, shaking his head as he followed. "Duly noted, indeed."
The hallway leading to the briefing room was dimly lit, the faint hum of Team Unknown's synchronized steps filling the silence.
Ember, Fon, Riggs, and Bo walked a few steps behind Val, their hooded cloaks and masks shrouding them in shadow, as the team prepared for yet another mission.
Unbeknownst to them, Halcyon's forces had begun to follow, curiosity pulling them into silent pursuit.
Commander Elira led her soldiers, her sharp eyes narrowing as she observed Team Unknown's every move. The past three days had left a lasting impression on her—one she couldn't quite shake.
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She recalled how they operated: a mix of military precision and something far less orthodox. It wasn't just their methods—it was the intent behind them. Team Unknown didn't just neutralize enemies; they eradicated them with a cold, calculated brutality that bordered on merciless.
As they moved, something caught Elira's attention.
At the front of the procession, Val's half-gloved hand reached up, his fingers brushing against his black pin. Without hesitation, he removed it, tucking it away into his cloak.
It was such a small gesture—so subtle that most would have missed it. But to Commander Elira, it was as if the final piece of a puzzle had snapped into place.
Her breath hitched, her steps faltering as her mind raced.
The way they moved. The way they executed their missions. The way they fought with precision and lethality.
This wasn't just a team of elite soldiers.
Her eyes widened as the realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. They were assassins.
Her lips parted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "Holy fuck…"
The words, though whispered, carried through the hallway like a ripple in still water.
Team Unknown stopped mid-step.
One by one, their masked heads turned toward her in perfect unison, the silence that followed was suffocating, and no pins worn by the rest of the team as well.
When Commander Elira saw no pins as well, she felt her stomach twist, her breath shallow as the weight of her realization bore down on her.
Dr. Lewis, standing at the far end of the hallway, had clearly caught on to what she'd deduced. He turned his head, his glasses glinting under the overhead light, as he offered her a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
It wasn't a friendly smile.
It was a warning.
Elira's spine stiffened, a chill creeping through her as she realized the full implications of what she had just muttered.
Team Unknown weren't just Clareo's elite forces. They weren't just military operatives. They were Clareo's shadow, its hidden blade, and its enforcers of ruthless judgment.
Behind her, one of her soldiers whispered, "Commander?"
Elira swallowed hard, her voice shaky but firm as she responded. "It's nothing. Let's keep moving."
Dr. Lewis turned back toward the briefing room, motioning for Val to follow.
As Val passed Commander Elira, he paused briefly, his mask tilting ever so slightly toward her. She couldn't see his expression, but she could feel the weight of his gaze.
The message was clear: you know, but you will not speak of it.
And with that, he continued down the hallway, his steps steady and unrelenting.
The rest of Team Unknown followed, their movements as synchronized as ever, their silence more chilling than any words could have been.
Commander Elira stood frozen for a moment, her soldiers murmuring behind her as they tried to understand what had just transpired.
"Commander?" one of them asked again.
She exhaled shakily, her hand brushing against the hilt of her weapon. "It's nothing," she repeated, though her voice betrayed the unease swirling within her.
As the last of Team Unknown disappeared into the briefing room, the door slid shut behind them with a soft hiss.
Dr. Lewis lingered for a moment, his smile fading as he regarded the commander one last time. "Careful, Commander," he said, his tone calm but edged with something far darker. "Some things are better left unspoken."
And with that, he followed Team Unknown into the briefing room, the door sealing behind him.
Elira remained in the hallway, the chill of realization still clinging to her like a second skin. For the first time in her career, she felt truly out of her depth—not because of the mission, but because of the people she had just shared the battlefield with.
They weren't just soldiers.
They were the storm Clareo unleashed when all else failed.
And she had never been more certain that some storms were better left untouched.