The alarm blared at 4:00 AM. Zeph moaned, shoving his face into a pillow that had the scent of stale beer and cheap perfume. In a groggy state, he swung his arm and sent a half-eaten pizza box crashing onto the floor.
"Time to wake up," a voice commanded, crisp and clear.
Zeph reluctantly opened one eye. Kaelen was already dressed. He was clad in black tactical gear, boots laced up tight, with a data-pad glowing in his hand. He appeared as though he'd been up for hours, and he probably had.
"Five more minutes," Zeph grumbled into the mattress. "I'm having a dream about a yacht."
"We launch in thirty," Kaelen announced, striding over and yanking off the blanket. "Get up. Or I leave you behind."
Zeph shivered in the chill of the morning air. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "You always say that. You never do."
Kaelen didn't respond. He was already packing his bag. A stun baton, a coil of rope, two nutrient bars. Precise. Organized. Dull.
Zeph hauled himself out of bed. He found his pants on the floor and slipped them on. He shot a glance at Kaelen's back. "You know, one day I'll be the one waking you up. I'll be the responsible one."
Kaelen snorted. "The day you're responsible is the day the sun explodes."
An hour later, they were crouched on a rooftop, overlooking the Sector 4 Industrial District. Rain made the metal roof slick and treacherous. Below them, massive automated trucks rumbled through the streets, hauling crates of valuable tech components.
"Target is the third truck," Kaelen murmured, adjusting his scope. "It's carrying a prototype processor. High value. High security."
"How high?" Zeph inquired, checking his own equipment—a rusty grappling hook and a pair of shock-gloves he'd purchased from a shady mechanic.
"Two drones. Three guards inside. Automated turrets on the roof."
Zeph whistled softly. "Spicy."
"We have a window of twelve seconds," Kaelen elaborated. "When it turns the corner onto 5th Street, the sensors reset. That's when we drop."
"Got it," Zeph said, stretching his arms. "Drop, grab, run. Simple."
"Stick to the plan, Zeph," Kaelen cautioned, his eyes glued to his scope. "No improvisation. No showing off."
"I am a professional," Zeph declared, feigning offense.
The truck turned the corner.
"Now!" Kaelen hissed.
They jumped.
Wind roared in Zeph's ears. He loved this part. The freefall. The adrenaline rush.
They landed on the roof of the moving truck with a heavy thud.
Kaelen wasted no time. He pulled a device from his belt and slapped it onto the roof hatch. It hummed, slicing through the metal lock in seconds.
"Inside," Kaelen commanded.
They plunged into the cargo hold. It was dim, with only the red glow of security lights illuminating rows of crates.
"Jackpot," Zeph whispered, moving towards the nearest crate.
Click.
A laser grid sprung to life around the crate. Red beams crisscrossed the air, just inches from Zeph's nose.
"Whoops," Zeph muttered.
"Don't move," Kaelen hissed. "It's a pressure sensor."
Suddenly, the back door of the truck hissed open. Three guards clad in heavy armor stepped in, weapons at the ready.
"Freeze!" one yelled.
Zeph glanced at the guards, then at the laser grid, and finally at Kaelen.
"Plan B?" Zeph suggested, grinning.
Kaelen sighed. "There was no Plan B."
"Plan B is I distract them, you hit them."
Before Kaelen could argue, Zeph raised his hands. "Wait! Don't shoot! I'm just a lost pizza delivery guy! Do you guys have a coupon?"
The guards paused, confused for a split second.
That was all Kaelen needed. He tossed a smoke pellet.
BOOM.
Grey smoke filled the confined space.
"Go!" Kaelen bellowed.
Gunfire erupted. Bullets ricocheted off the metal walls. Zeph slid under the laser grid, scooping up a heavy wrench from a tool rack and throwing it blindly into the smoke.
Thunk. "Ow!" a guard yelled.
"Bullseye!" Zeph cheered.
Kaelen was a blur in the smoke. He disarmed one guard with a swift kick and slammed another into the wall. He moved like water—fluid and lethal.
Zeph, meanwhile, was scrambling up a stack of crates. He spotted the prototype box at the top. He grabbed it.
"Got the goods!" Zeph yelled. "Kae, let's get out of here!"
"Exit is blocked!" Kaelen shouted back, evading a swing from a stun baton. "Roof hatch!"
Zeph glanced upwards. The hatch was open, revealing the grey sky above.
He jumped down, clutching the box to his chest. "After you, Princess!"
Kaelen knocked the last guard unconscious and dashed for the ladder. He clambered up, pulling himself onto the roof. Zeph was right behind.
They stood on top of the speeding truck, wind whipping their hair.
"Jump to the overpass!" Kaelen instructed, pointing ahead. A concrete bridge was approaching fast.
They sprinted. They leaped.
They hit the concrete hard, rolling to a stop.
The truck sped away below them, disappearing into the city.
Zeph lay on his back, panting heavily. He held up the small metallic box. "We did it."
Kaelen sat up, wiping blood from his lip. He looked at Zeph, then at the box. A small smile crept onto his face.
"You're an idiot," Kaelen said.
"But I'm your idiot," Zeph shot back, grinning. "And we just got rich."
They fist-bumped.
High above them, a drone watched silently. It wasn't a police drone. It was sleek, black, and devoid of any markings. It zoomed in on Zeph's face.
Scanning...
Subject Identified: Zephyr Vane.
Potential Match for Omega Interface: 94%.
The drone blinked once, then disappeared into the clouds.