Specter: Project Archangel

Chapter 3 | Team Player

The next morning Blake walked out of his room evenly at 5:00 AM and automatically set off in the direction of the break room. He approached the coffee machine and... paused.

On the table, at the spot where he usually sat, was a steaming cup of coffee. Black, two sugars, just the way he liked it. There was only one person who could have done this.

Blake narrowed his eyes. He glanced around, half-expecting to see his new partner somewhere nearby, grinning that smug grin of his. But the room was quiet. The sight of the cup irked him for some reason. Maybe it was James' way of trying to prove something, or maybe just stupid attempt at camaraderie, but whatever it was, Blake didn't have time to think about it.

His comm vibrated against his wrist, and he swiped it on, expecting a routine update. Instead, the familiar name appeared on the screen.

Vance.

The moment that bastard's name came up, Blake's stomach clenched with a familiar dread. Commander Vance had a reputation – a bad one. Any mission tied to him always ended up with casualties, and more often than not, things went sideways in the worst possible way. His operations always skirted the edge of recklessness, with no regard for who lived or died, as long as he got results.

Blake's brows furrowed as he read the brief summary of the upcoming mission. He felt his pulse quicken with a mixture of disbelief and anger as the details scrolled across the display. He hadn't been informed—kept out of the loop until the last minute. A high-risk infiltration mission, dangerous and brutal, the kind that was bound to go south, and no one had said a word to him until now.

Blake muttered a curse under his breath, clenching fist around comm unit. This wasn't just disrespect – it was calculated move to keep him from questioning the mission, forcing them all into compliance before they even had a chance to ask questions.

Setting the comm down with more force than necessary, Blake drained the last of his coffee. He had no idea how many of the team would be involved or what the full scope of the operation was. The only thing he knew for sure was that they were going in blind. And he hated that.

***

Blake arrived in the briefing room twenty minutes early, as usual. He preferred the quiet, the chance to center himself before being bombarded with the inevitable chaos that came with last-minute details. The room was dimly lit, a large holo-screen flickering idly at the front, displaying the agency's insignia. It was exactly the same room in which he had met James earlier - filled with cluttered wallpaper, monitors, and an egg-shaped table in the middle.

He paced around the room, but no amount of preparation could suppress the frustration boiling beneath the surface. Vance's missions were never clean. He'd seen too many good men lost on these kinds of ops. Too many reckless decisions made at the expense of the team. Blake eventually let out a tired breath and sat down. Just then, he heard the door slide open. He instinctively straightened, expecting Rickford or one of the higher-ups to enter. Instead, it was James who strolled in, wearing that same easy grin that had already started to grate on his nerves.

James spotted Blake and grinned, waving casually. "Morning, Major." he greeted

Blake didn't respond immediately, trying to connect the dots. James wasn't supposed to be on this mission—was he? Not a chance. This operation was high-risk, the kind that only seasoned agents took on.

The surprise must've shown on Blake's face, because James grinned, though it was subdued compared to his usual cocky demeanor. "Didn't think I'd get invited to the big leagues, Major?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

James raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused. "What do you think? I'm part of the mission too."