Against All Odds

Ep.12: Ace of Spades

The Wimbledon stadium’s backstage area was dimly lit, casting long shadows over the gang as they huddled in a cramped security room. The walls buzzed faintly with the excitement of the ongoing matches, but in their corner of the stadium, the mood was tense. Ethan was pacing, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his usual air of world-weariness tinged with frustration as he glanced over the file on the table. It was a thin dossier but one that had managed to bring them here on high alert.

“Why’d they have to stick us with this?” he muttered, glaring at the file. “I mean, it’s Wimbledon. Can’t the agency just give me a break?”

Sasha, sprawled in a chair, was more focused on her phone than the mission. “Hey, don’t complain. It’s Wimbledon. People would pay good money to be here.”

Across the room, Tanner was throwing wild punches in the air, shadow-boxing in preparation for… well, no one was exactly sure what. Meanwhile, Tyler sat with his arms crossed, his scowl deepening every time Tanner’s enthusiastic jabs came a little too close to his face.

Shane, as usual, was lost in his notebook, scribbling lines of poetry that, in his words, would “capture the spirit of both tennis and protection.” And then there was Gordon, who was his usual unflappable self, sipping tea in the corner as if they were all at an afternoon social rather than on a mission to protect a tennis star.

Claire Hudson, the up-and-coming tennis sensation they’d been hired to protect, stood by the door, texting with nervous energy. In her crisp tennis outfit, she looked poised and prepared for the match, but her eyes betrayed a hint of worry. She glanced up occasionally, clearly uncomfortable with the group of strangers charged with her safety.

It hadn’t been Ethan’s idea to take on this mission. Apparently, Claire’s manager had contacts in the agency and, after her recent blackmail threats, had requested “the best protection money could buy.” Unfortunately for Ethan, that “best” had ended up being him and, by default, the rest of his gang. And so, with a reluctant sigh, he’d agreed—after all, they needed the paycheck.

Just then, Ethan’s phone buzzed, and he held it up with a scowl. It was a call from Liam, one of the agency’s less-than-tactful agents.

“What is it, Liam?” Ethan snapped, pacing away from the group.

There was a muffled voice on the other end, but the conversation was short. Ethan hung up, shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Great. Another mission coming up. Because why wouldn’t they load me up like this?”

Tanner perked up. “Another mission? I’m in!”

“Let’s get through this one first,” Ethan replied dryly, shoving his phone in his pocket. He turned back to the group, clapping his hands. “Alright, listen up. We’re splitting into two teams: Combat and Strategy.”

He pointed to Tanner and Tyler. “Combat team is me, Tanner, and Tyler. We’ll handle anything that comes our way physically. Got it?”

Tanner pumped a fist. “Got it, boss!”

Tyler just nodded, his scowl firmly in place.

Ethan looked to the others. “Strategy team is Sasha, Shane, and Gordon. Your job is to figure out who’s behind these threats and give us a heads-up if anything goes south.”

Sasha gave a thumbs-up, her eyes already scanning her phone with a hacker’s precision. Shane nodded thoughtfully, and Gordon simply sipped his tea, his calm presence a steadying force for everyone.

---

The Match Begins

With their roles set, the gang dispersed. Claire took to the court, warming up with graceful ease, and Ethan, Tanner, and Tyler stationed themselves around the stadium, attempting to blend in. Ethan had picked a vantage point by the courtside entrance, watching for any suspicious activity, while Tyler lurked near the players’ exit, keeping an eye on the crowd.