Hiding Behind The Red Visor

Chapter 100 The Mission At Hand

The agency HQ's private lot was dim and quiet under the late-night sky, the hum of distant city noise muffled by security barriers and tall concrete walls. Davis barely had time to text Kat a final leaving now before a pair of agents flanked him on arrival.

He didn't even get a greeting.

A firm hand clapped his shoulder and nudged him toward a sleek, black SUV idling near the side entrance. The rear door was thrown open.

"In." one of the agents said flatly.

Before Davis could respond, his suitcase was lifted from his hand and tossed into the open trunk with a dull thud. He barely had time to climb in before the door slammed shut behind him.

Nightquake was already inside, seated, stoic and composed in his trademark tactical hero suit.

Davis exhaled sharply through his nose and sank into seat, shoulders stiff. No briefing. No small talk. Just business.

The SUV pulled out with a low growl, merging onto a private route leading to the restricted airfield on the edge of the city.

For a while, the only sounds were the tires on pavement and the occasional crackle of encrypted radio chatter.

Nightquake finally spoke, but not to Davis.

"Emily" he said to the woman seated in the front passenger seat, directing in front of him, his assistant.

"Yes, sir," she replied, already pulling up a projection from her wrist module.

"Has the payload been secured?"

"Confirmed. Local agents are on standby, but they're stretched thin. Tensions are high."

Nightquake gave a small grunt of acknowledgment.

Davis kept his gaze on the blur of city lights outside the window, watching them smear across the glass as the SUV sped on.

"...And the target?" Nightquake asked.

"Last sighting was near the docks. No confirmation, but strong traces match previous encounters."

Nightquake didn't reply right away.

Davis finally spoke, voice low but steady. "You're really dragging me across countries for an off-the-books mission involving what exactly?"

Nightquake's head shifted slightly. "You were the only one cleared who's dealt with this specific threat. And you know Monarch City better than anyone else on active—or suspended—status."

Davis leaned back, eyes narrowing. "So I'm useful again. Until I'm not."

Nightquake didn't dignify that with a response.

Emily turned her head slightly, giving Davis a look over her shoulder. "Don't take it personally. He treats everyone like an asset."

"Comforting," Davis muttered, then went silent again.

At the airport, the SUV swept through a secured gate and pulled straight onto the tarmac. A black ops transport jet waited, humming with readiness under the runway lights.

No boarding pass. No check-in. Just a wordless march toward the ramp, their boots echoing on concrete.

Inside the jet, Davis and Nightquake took window seats on opposite sides of the cabin, with an empty seat between them.

As the engines roared to life and the runway lights blurred past, Davis leaned his head against the window. His reflection stared back—older than he remembered, tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.