The city of Norveth Prime was still breathing when the signal arrived.
Carla was standing near the reinforced window of the safehouse, watching traffic bleed through the elevated arteries of the capital. The city looked calm—too calm. Towers of glass and steel reflected artificial dawn, commuters flowing in predictable patterns. Order. Stability. The illusion nations paid trillions to maintain.
Behind her, Julie was dismantling a sidearm with mechanical precision, each movement economical, controlled. The room smelled faintly of gun oil and ozone from encrypted equipment that never truly powered down.
The secure console embedded in the wall pulsed once.
Then twice.
A black pulse.
Carla stiffened.
Julie looked up immediately. "That's not standard priority."
"No," Carla replied, already moving. "It's worse."
She crossed the room and placed her palm against the biometric panel. The system hesitated—then complied. The screen shifted from blue to matte obsidian. No insignia. No agency seal.
Just text.
BLACK TIER ACTIVATION
NO OVERSIGHT. NO EXTRACTION GUARANTEE.
FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION.
Julie exhaled slowly. "They only use Black Tier when they want deniability."
"When they want ghosts," Carla corrected.
The feed continued.
LOCATION: Norveth Prime – Financial Sector
TIME TO EVENT: 00:04:17
THREAT LEVEL: MASS CASUALTY
SOURCE: UNKNOWN
Julie was already on her feet. "Unknown source means either a goddamn amateur… or someone very good."
Carla's jaw tightened. "No amateur hits Black Tier without triggering five layers of alarms."
The lights flickered.
Then the city screamed.
A dull, concussive shockwave rolled through the skyline. The glass in the distance bowed outward before shattering, a silent bloom of debris followed by a delayed thunder that rattled the safehouse walls. Carla's eyes locked on the horizon as a tower in the financial district collapsed inward, fire punching through its core like a wound.
Julie swore under her breath. "That was controlled. Surgical."
"Too clean," Carla said. "This wasn't terror. It was calibration."
The console updated automatically, streams of data cascading down the screen. Casualty estimates. Emergency response delays. Power rerouting failures that made no sense unless someone had rewritten protocols weeks in advance.
Julie leaned in beside her, shoulder brushing Carla's arm. Neither commented on it.
"They mapped response time," Julie said. "Police. Medical. Military. This wasn't about the building."
Carla nodded. "It was about the reaction."
Another line appeared on the screen.
SIGNATURE DETECTED
For half a second, nothing followed.
Then a single emblem resolved.
A white rose.
Stylized. Minimalist. Almost elegant.
Julie frowned. "That's new."
Carla didn't respond immediately. Something cold had settled behind her ribs—not fear, not exactly. Recognition without memory. The kind of instinct that came from long years of surviving people who thought three moves ahead.
The system tagged it automatically.
DESIGNATION: WHITE ROSE (UNVERIFIED)
"Run cross-references," Carla ordered.
Julie's fingers moved fast across the console. Databases lit up and died just as quickly. Financial crime. Arms trafficking. Black-market logistics. Proxy militias. Every trail ended the same way.
Clean.
Too clean.
"Nothing," Julie said. "Or rather… everything stops just before it gets useful."
Carla straightened. "Then we're not dealing with a cell. We're dealing with architecture."
Another explosion thundered in the distance—smaller, secondary. The city's emergency sirens finally began to howl, late and disorganized.
Julie glanced at Carla. "This is escalation."
"No," Carla replied quietly. "This is an introduction."
The console chimed again.
A message request.
Not routed through official channels.
Direct.
Julie's eyes narrowed. "That shouldn't be possible."
Carla stared at the screen. "Yet here we are."
She accepted.
The display shifted to text only. No video. No audio. Just words, appearing one line at a time.
You're watching the wrong skyline.
Norveth was never the target.
Consider this a courtesy.
Julie laughed once, sharp and humorless. "They're mocking us."
"They're educating us," Carla said.
Another line appeared.
The world doesn't burn all at once.
It burns in patterns.
Then, after a pause:
You, Carla, understand patterns.
Julie turned sharply. "They used your name."
Carla felt it like a blade sliding between her ribs. "Which means they've been watching longer than this operation."
The message continued.
This was Black Signal One.
There will be others.
The emblem of the white rose bloomed once more—then vanished. The screen returned to black.
Silence reclaimed the room, broken only by the distant sirens and the faint hum of the safehouse systems.
Julie looked at Carla carefully now. "You okay?"
Carla didn't answer immediately. She was replaying the phrasing in her mind. The restraint. The confidence. No demands. No manifesto. No ideology.
Just control.
"This wasn't terrorism," Carla said finally. "It was a systems test. Someone just stress-tested three governments at once."
"And named you personally," Julie added.
"Yes."
Julie crossed her arms. "You've never mentioned anyone like this."
"Because I've never met anyone like this," Carla replied. "Not directly."
Julie studied her. "You think they're inviting you into the game."
Carla's expression hardened. "I think they've already assumed I'm playing."
The console updated again—this time through official channels. Emergency task forces mobilizing. Borders closing. Markets freezing. Predictable chaos.
Julie scoffed. "They're reacting exactly how White Rose wanted."
"Which means the next hit won't be here," Carla said.
"Where then?"
Carla zoomed the map out. Multiple cities highlighted faintly—fictitious capitals across different continents. Trade hubs. Energy nexuses. Diplomatic choke points.
"Everywhere," Carla replied. "But not at once."
Julie inhaled slowly. "This is bigger than anything we've handled."
"Yes."
"And Black Tier means if we die—"
"No one disavows us," Carla finished. "Because no one ever acknowledged we existed."
Julie smiled thinly. "Romantic."
Carla finally turned to face her. Their eyes met—steady, grounded. Whatever tension had complicated their bond before was gone now, replaced by something older. Sharper.
Survival.
"They singled me out," Carla said. "Which means they want leverage. Or they think I'm a mirror."
Julie stepped closer. "And if they're wrong?"
Carla's voice was calm. "Then they'll learn."
Outside, Norveth burned—not uncontrollably, but precisely. Emergency lights painted the clouds red and blue, a fractured halo over a city that still believed it was an exception.
Julie reached for her jacket. "What's our move?"
Carla shut down the console. "We don't chase White Rose."
Julie raised an eyebrow. "We don't?"
"No," Carla said. "We wait."
"For what?"
Carla picked up her weapon, checking it with practiced ease. "For the next lie."
Somewhere, far beyond Norveth's skyline, someone had just opened the first door of a much larger war.
And Agent X had been personally invited inside.