Operation: Zodiac

Chapter 4

Scorpio pov:

The warehouse felt like a distant memory as I paced in the safe house, my mind replaying every second of the fight. The guards we'd encountered weren't amateurs, and their coordination had been too precise to be local hires. Whoever was behind Project Solstice was investing heavily in keeping their secrets buried, and we were just beginning to scratch the surface.

Libra sat cross-legged on the floor, tools spread out in front of him as he examined the crystalline core we'd extracted from the device. His blonde hair was slightly mussed, and a streak of grime ran across his cheek, but his sharp eyes remained focused. He handled the intricate work with the precision you'd expect from someone used to balancing physical finesse with strategic thinking.

"Any breakthroughs?" I asked, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed.

"Not yet," he said, his voice steady. "But give me a few more minutes. This thing is delicate, and I'd rather not blow us all to pieces."

"Encouraging," Gemini quipped from her spot on the couch. She was tossing a rubber ball into the air and catching it, her movements casual but her gaze sharp as she observed Libra's work. Her accent coming off thick. 

"You're not helping," he muttered, glancing up at her. Despite his annoyed tone, there was a warmth in his expression. They had an easy camaraderie, the kind that only came from years of working together. It was clear that, for all her teasing, Gemini trusted Libra implicitly.

Aquarius, sprawled out on the other couch, smirked. "She's helping by staying out of the way. That's something, right?"

Gemini rolled her eyes but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she turned to me. "So, Scorpio, what's the plan when this thing finally talks to us? Because I doubt Solstice is going to roll over and let us shut them down."

I shrugged, though the weight of her question lingered. "We'll need more intel before we make any decisions. If Libra can pull something useful from that core, it might give us a clearer picture."

"And if it doesn't?" Gemini asked.

"Then we improvise," I said flatly. It wasn't the kind of answer I liked, but it was the truth. In our line of work, improvisation was often the only option.

Libra straightened suddenly, his face alight with triumph. "Got it."

We all crowded around as he held up the core, its faint blue glow illuminating the small circuit board inside. "It's not just a power source," he explained. "It's also a data storage unit. Give me a few minutes to connect it to the terminal, and I'll see what I can extract."

As Libra worked, I found myself studying him more closely. He moved with a quiet confidence, his hands deft as they navigated the delicate wires and circuits. Despite his slight limp, there was an undeniable grace to him—a reminder of the training that had shaped him into the agent he was today.

"Alright," Libra said, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. "The data's uploading now."

We all turned our attention to the terminal, where lines of code scrolled rapidly across the screen. After a few tense moments, a map appeared, overlaid with a series of red markers.

"Coordinates," Libra said, his tone serious. "Looks like Solstice has multiple facilities scattered across Europe."

"Great," Aquarius said, sitting up. "So, which one do we hit first?"

Before anyone could answer, an alert flashed on the screen. A red icon blinked ominously, accompanied by a sharp beeping sound.

"Uh, what is that?" Aquarius asked, his voice tinged with unease.