Upper Floors of the Building
"Hrk!?"
The head of the tenth guard collapsed to the floor, his skull having just been slammed into the wall by a fifteen-year-old girl.
Jody could hardly believe it—was that really the strength of a teenager?
It had been a while since she followed Roxxy all the way up here, climbing from the lower levels. Luckily, the party floor wasn't far from the top, so they'd only had to scale about three or four levels.
And honestly? Jody hadn't done much of anything. Roxxy had taken care of every single guard they encountered.
Now, the two girls stood before the restricted Security area—a massive server room. In front of them, a reinforced steel door.
Roxxy swiped a keycard she'd acquired from the security office.
"Shoot everyone inside. If anyone presses the alert, the plan goes to hell."
"..."
Jody nodded.
Click! Beep!
The door slid open, revealing rows of control panels and dozens of monitors showing live camera feeds from across the building.
"Hey—!?"
The guards inside spotted their reflections and turned around just in time to get shot down—air bullets tearing through them before they could react. Jody didn't give them a chance.
"Close the door."
Roxxy stepped in right behind her, setting up her laptop and tapping into the security system while Jody locked the room and checked for alternate exits.
Neither of them knew that just outside, on the same floor, a black-clad woman was descending down the building on a rappel line.
Her name: Trigon, an Indian operative with one eye covered by hair. She glided down the sleek wall, stopping at the window of their floor.
With precise movements, she drilled a clean circle into the glass and inserted a small, box-shaped drone on wheels through the hole. Hanging from her rope, she pulled out her phone and watched the drone's POV feed on the screen.
It rolled forward quietly with a soft mechanical whir, scanning the corridor.
Trigon frowned.
Empty.
But just as the drone rounded the corner, it found a trail of unconscious guards sprawled across the floor.
"!?"
—
Inside the Server Room
The only sound was Roxxy's fingers dancing across her keyboard. She'd successfully breached the building's security system.
First order of business: disabling all surveillance recording.
She didn't shut down the cameras completely—just stopped the recording. They could still switch feeds and use the cameras to monitor freely, just without the red "REC" indicators.
Next, Roxxy began disabling the building's backup power systems.
Jody glanced up. "If we blow the power room, won't this place lose power too?"
"Server room's on a separate grid," Roxxy replied, not even looking up.
Then she called it in.
"This is Roxxy. I've got control of the cams."
—
Outside the Server Room
Trigon had entered the building, weapon drawn—a compact black silenced pistol. She walked past the unconscious guards, checking their pulses. All alive. But judging by the trauma, each had been taken down with overwhelming force.
She tapped her comms calmly.
"...Trigon here. I've reached the top floor. Another faction is here. Repeat—hostile presence confirmed."
—
At the Gala
Fred and Priya stood beneath the spotlight, addressing hundreds of high-profile guests. Cameras flashed. Orchestral music played. Applause thundered.
"Thank you… everyone, for being here tonight..."
Backstage, their expressions remained composed despite the immense pressure bearing down on them.
Then:
[Roxxy speaking. Camera system's locked down.]
Sera, keeping close watch on the stage, was laser-focused. Her eyes flicked between Fred, Priya, and potential escape routes.
But what concerned her more were the VIP-only exits. Big names always had private ways out, and those were much harder to predict.
They'd been on stage a while now…
Sera tensed, afraid they might slip away.
"Hey! You guys! What're you doing!? The targets are out here already!"
[Toshi here. Stay cool. Just keep eyes on them. You're doing good.]
[We're good here. Exiting now. Countdown—three minutes.]
"…Alright! Got it!"
Not far from her position, three more agents were facing a far more stressful situation.
[This is Trigon. I've reached the top floor. Enemy group confirmed—high skill level. Took down a dozen guards. Unknown how many.]
"Another group...? Don't tell me... those airport bastards?"
Blanchette glanced at the others. The tension was mutual.
"Can you ID them, Trigon?!"
[Negative. But they're fast. They're already in the server room.]
This wasn't a two-sided game anymore. It was a three-way standoff… or more.
"Boss? Orders?" Blanchette called in.
The response was immediate.
[We can't let anyone else get Fred and Priya. Ideally, we let them all fight it out—then swoop in for the win.]
Euclid smirked. "Let 'em wear each other down, huh? Smart."
[But we lack intel. I suspect this new group's here to kill the targets—not capture them. Secure Fred and Priya at all costs. No one else can have them.]
"Yes, sir."
Basement – Electrical Room
"This baby right here… is the power distributor~"
Toshi peeled the yellow tape off the back of a black-and-red striped C4 explosive and slapped it firmly onto a large gray-white metal box.
He wasn't the only one packing. Mickey had his share of bombs too.
[Roxxy speaking… camera system fully secured.]
Oh. Time to move.
Beeping sounds echoed softly around the room as the two agents began setting charges across every transformer they could find—dozens in all. They weren't just aiming for disruption—they wanted annihilation.
Suddenly, Sera's voice cut through on small talk.
[Hey! What the hell are you two doing!? Those two are already on stage!!]
"...Whoa, she's quick~"
Toshi chuckled.
"Right on schedule. Let's regroup with Sera. I'll catch up."
With that, Mickey transformed into pure electricity and zipped out through the powerlines—leaving Toshi to find his own exit.
He tapped his earpiece to speak to Sera again. He understood why she was stressed—it was natural for someone new to worry about losing the targets.
"Calm down... Just keep watching. You're doing fine. We're done here. Countdown from three minutes."
Toshi stood up, double-checked every planted C4 charge, then strolled out of the room whistling casually—gently closing the door behind him.
Inside the Gala
Sera wove through the crowd, tailing Fred and Priya as they stepped down from the stage, leaving the fashion show to continue.
She ignored every passerby and casual greeting, eyes locked solely on the targets.
Then—out of nowhere—someone grabbed her from behind.
Grab!
"....!!!!!!"
Startled, Sera instinctively jerked away, trying to gain distance—but as she spun around, she saw it was Mickey.
"Bang. You're dead."
He poked her waist with a finger-gun.
"Jesus! You scared the hell out of me, you bastard!"
Relieved it was just him, she caught her breath.
"You kept your cool better this time… but you're too focused on them. Try to look more natural."
"...You got back fast."
"Of course. Electricity moves at the speed of light. I could sweep the entire building before you even blink."
"...Okay… fair."
"Come on. Follow me, slowly."
Mickey pushed through the crowd with Sera trailing behind.
Back in the control room, Roxxy monitored their position.
[Roxxy speaking. There's a camera behind the stage—I have visual. Sera, Mickey—head to the left side of the stage. Once Toshi blows the main power, you'll cut through the staff hallway to reach backstage.]
"Copy. I'll check if there's another way in first."
Beep.
Mickey turned to her.
"You close with Priya?"
"...Not really. I just know her. Worked with her dad."
"Can you use that to get us backstage?"
"...Probably."
This time, Sera took the lead.
They rounded the stage area where the models were still strutting. The bass thumped softer here, allowing for conversation.
Sera walked up to a woman standing guard—a secretary-type.
"Hey."
"Yes—? Oh?"
"Is Priya in there?"
"Ah—Madam President? Yes, she is. If you have something for her, I can take it—"
That was all they needed to hear. Priya had given orders to block all access.
They were already making preemptive moves.
So be it.
Mickey was ready to call it off and wait for Toshi's detonation—but Sera surprised him.
She pushed forward, negotiating with the secretary.
"Why can't I go in?"
"The president isn't feeling well at the moment. She's not accepting visitors—"
"Oh? So if she's unwell, shouldn't I definitely check on her?"
Mickey tugged at her sleeve, whispering,
"Sera…"
She shushed him and turned back.
"Tell Priya that Seraphina Gilmour is here. Right now. I'd like to see her."
"...S-Seraphina… Gilmour… Gilmour!?"
"That's right. Go."
"Y-Yes, ma'am! I'll contact her immediately!"
As the secretary rushed off in a panic, Mickey raised an eyebrow.
"...Didn't you say you barely knew her?"
"I do barely know her. But my family works on massive projects with her company all the time. Even if she doesn't know me personally, she's not gonna deny the future heir of the Gilmour empire."
"...I see."
To Priya's company, Gilmour meant money. Turning Sera away risked a business conflict they couldn't afford.
That might actually work to their advantage.
Why? Because Mickey realized—
Sera had credit.
If Priya knew it was her, she might drop her guard completely. She'd be more worried about reporters, media plants, or other infiltrators—not the daughter of her biggest business partner.
Was that Sera's plan all along?
He glanced at her, quietly impressed. He hadn't even thought of that angle.
"...But if Priya gets abducted, won't that affect your family's business?"
"Oh, please. You think we work with just her company?"
"...Fair."
"You better think fast about how you're handling her, Mannix. I've cleared a path for you, and I'm sticking my neck out too."
"We both are."
Footsteps echoed sharply as Priya's secretary sprinted backstage.
Fred and Priya, just returning, were alerted by the urgency in her stride. She rushed to Priya.
"Madam President—"
"Hmm?"
Whispers exchanged.
"...Gilmour!?"
Fred furrowed his brows.
"What is it?"
"Oh… just an acquaintance here to see me."
"Acquaintance? I thought no visitors?"
"This one's different—it's Seraphina Gilmour."
"...Sera? Gilmour?"
"Idris's daughter."
Fred instantly recognized the name, though still puzzled.
"What's she doing here?"
"Probably sent by her father to spy on the competition. Gilmour is developing a new fashion line."
Fred didn't know all the details of Priya's connections, being busy with his automotive empire. But if she wasn't turning the girl away, it was probably fine.
"Where is she now?"
"...Backstage."
"...I really think we should avoid this."
"I'd like to, but what would you do if Ferrari's heir came knocking?"
"..."
Fred fell silent.
"Fine."
Priya turned to her secretary.
"How many?"
"Two."
"...Who's the other?"
"A man. Probably a friend… or her boyfriend."
Only two…?
"Tell her to wait backstage. I'll see her after I finish this next speech."
"Yes, ma'am."
"This way, please."
The secretary led Sera and Mickey backstage.
"Madam President will join you shortly. She just needs to finish one more appearance."
"Sure, that's fine."
Sera crossed her legs on a luxury sofa. Mickey sat beside her.
"Can I get you anything?"
"We're good—"
Smack!
Sera slapped Mickey's hand.
<<< Have some manners, you idiot. >>>
Her glare said it all.
"I'll have whatever she's having."
Soon after, a man entered the room.
Fred Wetton—Priya's husband.
Mickey immediately recognized him but kept his expression neutral, as did Sera.
"Good evening," Fred greeted, shaking their hands.
"Didn't expect you all the way out here, Ms. Sera."
"Gilmour has its eyes on the Asian market," she replied, sipping her tea.
"Priya's practically an aunt to me. The secretary said she wasn't feeling well, so I wanted to stop by."
"Heh, well… thank you for the concern."
Fred turned to Mickey.
"And you are…?"
"I—"
"This is Micchi, my friend!"
Sera smacked Mickey's shoulder, inventing a name on the spot.
"...Micchi? Your friend?"
"Yup."
"..."
"...."
"...Your friend, huh?"
"..."
"....."
"...And Micchi is from where, exactly?"
"He's an actor."
"...Really? I'm afraid I don't follow celebrity news as closely as my wife. What show were you in?"
"...Uh—Middle Eastern series. Not in English."
"..."
"..."
"It's not that I don't trust you, Ms. Sera… but I doubt even my wife would know him. Actor, huh? You've got the aura for it… but your friend?"
"..."
"Please don't hide anything from me, Ms. Sera. Why are you really here?"
"..."
Sera started sweating. Her lips trembled. Heat flushed her face. Her heart pounded.
Fred stared them both down… and then burst into laughter.
"Haha!"
"...!?"
"You two are clearly trying to avoid the press, huh?"
As soon as he said it, Sera jumped on the opening.
"Ah—hah! I thought I could keep it quiet. But you're sharp, Mr. CEO…!"
"My wife's even sharper. She saw right through you. You'll be running Gilmour one day, won't you? No wonder you want to avoid the paparazzi."
"And I wanted to check in on Priya."
"She'll be down shortly. Make yourselves comfortable."
"..."
Once he left—
"'Micchi?' What, am I Muhammad Micchi from Mecca now?"
"That cover saved your ass, Mannix! Were you planning to just wing it and punch your way through!?"