The bedside clock read 3:12 AM.
The room was silent, save for the low hum of the central air conditioning. Stan Edgar slept as he lived. Perfectly still, entirely composed and without a wasted movement. He slept like the sleep of a man whose conscience had been surgically removed decades ago in the name of efficiency.
The vibration of the phone on the mahogany nightstand was a subtle intrusion, but to a man of Edgar's discipline, it was a siren.
He opened his eyes. He transitioned from sleep to wakefulness in a single second. He reached out, his hand steady in the darkness and picked up the secure device.
The screen displayed a single name: Graves.
Edgar tapped the green icon and brought the phone to his ear.
"Speak," Edgar said, his voice a gravelly baritone, untouched by sleep.
"Sir," Graves's voice was strained like the sound of a man watching a disaster unfold in real time. "Project Odessa. It's gone."
Edgar lay in the dark for a moment, processing the words.
"Gone?" Edgar repeated, his tone devoid of inflection. "Clarify."
"Burned, sir. The entire facility. Sub levels one through four are an inferno. There are no survivors. And the monitoring station went dark twelve minutes ago."
Edgar sat up, placing his feet on the cool hardwood floor. "I will be at the tower in twenty minutes. Have the Situation Room prepped. And Graves?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Use the new eyes. I want to see everything."
"Already online, sir."
Edgar ended the call. He stood and walked to his closet. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, a crisp white shirt and a black tie. He tied the knot by feel, pulling it tight against his collar.
The drive to Vought Tower was a blur of empty streets and yellow streetlights. Edgar sat in the back of his town car, his hands folded in his lap, watching the city pass by.
When he arrived at the tower, the lobby was empty, a cavern of glass and steel echoing with silence. He bypassed the main elevators and took the private lift directly to the sub basement levels, far below the public face of The Seven.
The doors opened onto the Intelligence Division. Usually, this room was a hive of activity, analysts monitoring social media trends and crime rates. Tonight, it was cleared out. Only Graves and two senior technicians remained, standing before the massive wall of monitors.
On the main screen, a satellite feed showed a thermal image of a forest in Pennsylvania. A bright white blotch dominated the center of the screen… the heat signature of the fire consuming Project Odessa.
"Report," Edgar said, walking to the center of the room.
Graves turned. He looked pale, dark circles under his eyes. "The local fire department has been blocked by our perimeter teams, but the smoke column will be visible for miles at dawn."
"The cause?"
"Hostile action," Graves said. "We have the footage. Or rather, we have what the cameras couldn't see."
Graves gestured to a technician. "Bring up the ARGUS feed. Rewind to 0200 hours."
"ARGUS," Edgar noted. "Spencer's satellite grid."
"Yes, sir," Graves said. "We integrated the feed three hours ago. Just in time."
The main screen shifted. The thermal view changed, the resolution becoming terrifyingly crisp. It showed a bird's eye view of the facility before the fire.
"Here," Graves pointed. "Five thermal signatures. They appeared at the main gate out of thin air."
Edgar saw the five blobs of heat appear. He saw the heat signatures of the two Vought guards in the booth dim and slump instantly.
"Telepathy," Edgar murmured. "Or a sonic weapon."
"Telepathy," Graves corrected. "Watch the movement."
The video played out. Edgar watched as one of the thermal figures approached the massive steel gate. He saw the figure place hands on the metal. The thermal flared white at the point of contact… the heat of extreme friction and kinetic energy transfer. The gate buckled and slid open.
"Superhuman strength," Edgar analyzed.
"Keep watching, sir. This is where the Spencer technology pays for itself."
The figures moved into the courtyard. They were wearing heavy armor. Standard optical cameras would have seen nothing but black shapes. But the ARGUS satellite was equipped with multi spectral imaging, capable of penetrating density layers to map the heat patterns of the biological forms beneath the ceramic plating.
"Isolate and enhance," Graves ordered. "Peel back the armor."
The digital image stripped away the outer layers of the tactical suits, revealing the thermal maps of the faces underneath. The resolution was imperfect, but the biometric facial structure was unmistakable.
"Run against the Global Defense Database," Graves commanded.
Processing bars flashed on the side screens. Facial geometry, bone structure, thermal vascular patterns.
MATCH FOUND.
Five profiles popped up on the right hand screen. Five military ID photos.
Edgar stepped closer, his eyes scanning the data.
Name: Miller, John.
Rank: Sergeant.
Unit: 4th Special Forces Group (Airborne).
Status: Active Duty.
Name: Banks, David.
Rank: Corporal.
Unit: 4th Special Forces Group (Airborne).
Status: Active Duty.
Name: Kovacs, Peter.
Rank: Lieutenant.
Unit: 4th Special Forces Group (Airborne).
Status: Active Duty.
Name: Davis, Michael.
Rank: Private First Class.
Unit: 4th Special Forces Group (Airborne).
Status: Active Duty.
Name: Chen, Wei.
Rank: Specialist.
Unit: 4th Special Forces Group (Airborne).
Status: Active Duty.
"The 4th Group," Edgar said softly. "General Raddock's personal wetwork team."
"It gets worse, sir," Graves said.
The video continued. The five figures moved down the ramp. They encountered a squad of Vought security.
Lieutenant Kovacs stepped forward. The thermal display showed the temperature in the tunnel drop instantly. The heat signatures of the Vought guards turned blue black on the screen.
"Cryokinesis," Edgar said.
The assault team moved deeper. The figure identified as Specialist Chen vanished from the thermal view, his mass shrinking to a pinpoint of intense heat that moved at bullet speed.
"Size alteration," Graves confirmed. "That's our shrinking assassin."
And then, the figures gathered in a circle, holding hands. The thermal signatures winked out of existence and reappeared instantly inside the secure lab.
"Teleportation," Edgar noted.
The massacre inside the lab was efficient, brutal and fast. Edgar watched as Sergeant Miller tore through the reinforced doors. He watched Kovacs freeze the staff. He watched Davis simply walk past armed guards who turned their weapons on themselves.
"Telepathy," Edgar added.
Within ten minutes, the entire facility was dead. The heat signatures of the patients in the stasis wing were snuffed out one by one.
PS: There are 20+ Advance chapters available on the Patreon for those who want to read ahead. www.patreon. com/Drrajnovel