The first hints of dawn seeped into the Kuala Lumpur skyline, painting the crumbling buildings in shades of cold grey and blue.
Inside the underground parking garage, Irfan Shah stood over a cracked tablet screen, tracing his finger across hastily decrypted maps.
Aina Farisha leaned over his shoulder, her breath misting slightly in the chilly morning air.
Reza, cross-legged on a broken concrete slab, munched quietly on protein bars, her eyes sharp and calculating.
They had one target now.
Site Zero.
The phantom heart of the TITAN-9 Initiative.
Hidden.
Protected.
Vital.
"There's no direct address," Irfan muttered, frustration edging his voice. "Just references. Layers of proxy sites. Ghost trails."
Aina studied the map.
"What about the energy lines?" she asked.
Irfan's prosthetic eye flickered as he overlaid multiple hidden infrastructure grids—underground power conduits, abandoned subway networks, forgotten maintenance shafts.
Patterns emerged.
Patterns that shouldn't exist.
All leading toward a blank spot beneath the city center.
"Here," Irfan pointed. "An anomaly. No registered utilities. No public records. But enough power consumption to run a small town."
Reza grinned.
"Bingo. That's your Site Zero."
Irfan exhaled slowly.
It wasn't a confirmation.
It was a beginning.
They would need gear.
They would need access routes.
They would need a plan.
And above all, they would need to move before PHALANX realized they were getting too close.
Meanwhile – somewhere above the city
The sleeper agent known only as Operative 017 stood beneath a flickering streetlight, his coat soaked from the early morning drizzle.
He tapped into a secured uplink, the signal pulsing invisibly through layers of spoofed networks.
A single message flashed across his retinal implant:
Subject Shah: Priority Red. Capture or Terminate.
Across the city, others like him stirred.
A network of forgotten men and women—embedded long ago, waiting for the signal.
Taxi drivers.
Café owners.
Delivery couriers.
Janitors.
Silent watchers in the fabric of everyday life.
Now awake.
Now hunting.
Back to Irfan and team
By midday, the group was already preparing their next move.
Reza checked the modified EMP charges strapped under her jacket.
Aina assembled a small drone, no larger than a pigeon, for reconnaissance.
Irfan programmed LUCIA with fail-safe escape routes based on the city's underground schematics.
They couldn't trust GPS.
They couldn't trust cellular networks.
Everything had to run dark.
"Once we breach Site Zero, we extract whatever they're hiding," Irfan said, voice calm despite the enormity of the plan.
"And if we're cornered?" Aina asked, her tone light but serious.
Irfan smiled grimly.
"Then we make it cost them everything."
Reza chuckled dryly.
"I knew I liked you kids."
But beneath the banter, the reality loomed sharp and merciless.
They were preparing for a mission that few could survive.
And somewhere, unseen eyes were already closing in.
Elsewhere
Operative 017 sat inside an old café, sipping black coffee, watching the entrance to an abandoned parking structure through a cracked mirror.
No sudden movements.
No alarms.
He simply waited.
The city breathed around him—unaware.
Uncaring.
And soon, if PHALANX had its way, it would belong to them completely.
In the concrete shadows, two battles were unfolding.
One fought with plans, hope, and desperate courage.
The other fought with silence, patience, and the inevitability of control.
The storm was gathering.
And the first lightning strike was only moments away.