Two weeks earlier.
Location: The Raider's Museum of National History–New Mexico.
The old museum lay silent under the snow-white crescent moon. Behind reinforced glass and state-of-the-art alarms, a meteorite lay on display. On the top of the building, a dormant helicopter sat uninterrupted under the starry canvas above.
A soft clink. Door unlocked.
5 infiltrators slowly slip through the shadows, narrowly weaving in between the laser detectors. Each step was calculated—motion sensors, silent arms, pressure plates—all had to be avoided. Ahead, the display room glistened with the artifact.
"Target in visual. Moving to secure," one of the infiltrators says, his voice muffled under his cloth mask.
"Roger that," the helicopter pilot replies, tinkering with the control buttons. One of the infiltrator's gloves slowly pressed against the tinted glass case, gazing upon the sparkling stars reacting to the man's headgear light.
His hands work with precision, dismantling the locks one by one. Sweat dropped from his brow. Seconds later, a soft clink echoed–case unlocked. Grabbing the space jewel, it felt like a frozen piece of stardust, carrying the essence of space and time with it.
"Begin extraction point," a female infiltrator orders through her earpiece. "Prep for rooftop exfil." The meteorite is carefully transferred from the glass case to a padded briefcase.
"Roger that," the pilot replies, his voice scrambled and compressed, crackling next to the infiltrator's ear.
From the shadows, the museum guards appeared, but the team was ready. Throwing a smoke bomb, through the chaos, the thieves dove into the hidden tunnel. Behind them, the guard's shouts echoed through the haze.
*Code Red. Target Stolen. Intruders on the alert*
The alarms blared in every corner of the museum, and emergency strobes flashed as nearby guards rushed to secure every perimeter in the building. Steel shutters slam down on every known exit.
"What have they done?" the copilot questions, hearing the sirens below them. The infiltrators slip onto the gravel-grown rooftop, keeping low. Throwing the case into the open door, one by one, they leap inside.
Inside the aircraft, no one spoke. Closing the door, the chopper banked hard west. The wind surged across the rooftop as it made its extraction.
"Meteorite secured," the operative talks through his earpiece. "Tell the boss we're coming home." The helicopter's large wings slice through the air as it travels through the unsuspecting city below.
As the chopper faded into the distance, weeks slipped by to the present. Edward listens carefully to the news, taking a sip of coffee. Outside, Kiara and Evander spar against each other, trying not to break any of the nearby fragile vases.
"Authorities continue to investigate the daring theft of a meteorite from the Raiders' Museum of National History nearly 2 weeks ago," the news anchor announces, reading off her script. "The artifact, dating back billions of years, vanished during a nighttime security breach."
"Hmm," Edward scrutinizes, leaning closer.
"Museum director Dr Elaine Cluff stated, 'The loss is a blow to the science community as a whole. We are committed to recovering the artifact and bringing those responsible to justice," a reporter comments, standing in front of the museum building.
"A space rock?" Edward questions, furrowing his brow. Kiara's voice echoes out from the backyard, momentarily distracting the old man. Evander's wooden blade snaps against Kiara's in a fast rhythm.
Kiara, extending her leg forward, tries to trip her opponent. Evander jumps, avoiding the attack. Swinging the blade forward, he aims for her neck, but Kiara manages to block it just in time. Using the built-up force, she pushes Evander to the bed of grass below.
"Not bad," Edward comments. He turns his gaze back to the TV.
The news shifted.
*Breaking news. Billionaire Aldehard Romano became co–sponsor of a multi-billion-dollar development project that promises to revitalize downtown districts and create thousands of jobs worldwide. Analysts say that Romano Enterprise is reshaping the future of urban development*
"Wait, what?" Edward's brow raises. "Another project? That's what– Three this month? Four?"
"Hey, grandpa. You're yelling at the TV again," Kiara yells from the backyard.
"I'm not yelling. I'm reacting with concern," Edward mutters, tapping the ceramic cup in thought. "Aldehard Romano is on the screen, Kiara."
"Ugh, why him?" Kiara scoffs. Aldehard's voice echoes into the backyard as Edward turns up the volume.
"People throw stones when you build higher than their view." Aldehard softly answers the reporters. "To succeed, you don't play you. You have to build higher–where no one can reach you."
The sounds of the phone ringing blast out like a full-volume marching band.
"Hello?" Edward answers.
"We need you and Kiara at the temple," Zhang directs, looking over piles of files and folders. "It's very important, meet me at the Surveillance Corp chambers."
Edward casts a glance at Kiara as he ends the call.
[Surveillance Corp chambers--American Warden Temple]
"Well, this is not how I expected to start my summer," Kiara chuckles, moving past many sleepy members slouching in their seats.
"It must be very important to be called up to the Surveillance Corp at this time," Edward says absently.
Opening the door, they are met by the Arbiter awaiting their presence, Quincy and Zhang looking over the files, and Adam standing by himself.
"Kiara?" Adam says, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"I could say the same thing for you," Kiara asks, playfully pushing his shoulder.
The Arbiter's voice cuts them off. "You two, as well as Zhang, will be placed on a very specific mission."
Edward frowns, curious. Zhang lifts his eyes, surprised by the turn of events.
"This mission is top secret: Operation meteorite," the Arbiter declares, speaking in quiet tones.
"Late at night, a train left New York with the stolen meteorite on it," Quincy Harlow explains, changing the images on the slideshow. "Its destination is going to guess where—Coral Bay, California. The buyer goes by the codename: Covenant."
"The same Covenant that Kiara met?" Zhang asks.
"Most definitely," Quincy agrees.
"You want us to infiltrate this train and steal back this space rock?" Kiara smoothly cuts in.
"That is exactly what we're asking you to do," Quincy rolls his eyes, slamming his cane onto the floor. "However, there is one important detail you must know about."
"Have you ever heard the name Aldehard Romano?" The Arbiter says softly, the name leaves a nasty feeling in the back of Kiara's mind.
Zhang clicks a button, shuffling the blueprints of the plan to a picture of a 50-something-year-old man with washed-out strawberry blonde hair walking down the streets. His fancy overcoat blows in the wind as he looks scornfully at a bunch of people across from him.
"Damn, he's ugly as hell," Adam comments, curling back in an exaggerated disgust from seeing the man's picture.
"Why are you bringing up Aldehard Romano?" Kiara questions, her brow furrowing as she steps forward.
"Do you know anything about him?" Zhang questions, placing his hands on the table.
"My friend group had to do a biography about this guy," Kiara remembers carefully. "They got a low C for the assignment."
Adam glances. "Was it really that bad?"
Kiara causally shrugs her shoulders. "It wasn't badly made…but oh my god, this guy, he really was a rising star that came out of nowhere."
"That is really why we have nothing on him," Zhang cuts into the conversation, causing Adam and Kiara to jump suddenly. "A multi-billionaire is somehow involved with the supernatural."
"But who is Aldehard Romano exactly?" Adam raises his hand.
Quincy slams his cane on the ground like a judge delivering a sentence.
"This should jog your memory, boy," Quincy softly chuckles. "This documentary clip should explain everything you need to know about Aldehard Romano."
The screen shifts to a grainy standard definition news recording.
"Mr. Romano. How do you feel about the accusations of New Yorkers that you have stolen their homes in your massive business projects?" the reporter questions, following Romano as he gets in his car.
In a blind rage, Romano lashes out in a wave of anger, being held back by his bodyguards. The rain falls onto the earth like falling stars, creating tiny pools on the sidewalk below.
"Let me tell you something. I did not steal anyone's homes!" Aldehard screams out, pointing directly at the reporter.
One bodyguard tries to cover the camera and push the reporter. The other tries to calm down young Aldehard and get him back into his car.
"That's what I thought, huh!" Aldehard smugly straightens his coat, entering his private car. "I paid everything legally through my investors and contractors. Talk to them."
The scenes slowly fade into the next frame of the narrator standing next to the footage on the screen.
"Many consider this moment in 2004 as the start of Aldehard Romano's shaky reputation," the man narrates, keeping his tone neutral. "However, many assert that his controversy erupted in the following year: The 2005 Romano Blowout."
"Wait. This is the best part," Quincy puts his finger up, almost anticipating the punchline. Kiara crosses her arms together as the rest of the room watches the documentary clip.
[New York–2003]
"How can you say that? You still knew and—" a single mother screams, pushing through the crowd.
"I'm not the one who left your family, Michelle," Aldehard rudely cuts her off. He clenched harder on the staircase rail.
Quincy bursts into manic laughter — a raspy, staccato wheeze like a kettle about to blow. He slams his cane down, gasping for air between fits of glee.
"Oh, it's so good. It never gets old." He wheezes. "It's like a child detonating on live TV. Beautiful stuff!"
"In 9 words. Romano's world would change forever," the narrator comments. "Following the controversy of the Romano Blowout, public outrage and protests escalated in size and intensity. His personal brand would take a significant hit as all of his controversies became known in 2005. "
"That was something back then," Zhang comments.
" I know, right?" Quincy responds, putting his good arm around his hip. From the corner, a boy lifts his head from half-eaten bags of chips, legs kicked up from the console.
"Huh?" He blinks. "Q, you're so loud."
"Cyneric!" Quincy barks flatly, now cool and professional. "When are you going to pick up my order?"
"I don't know," Cyneric squints like a student being scolded in class. "It said ready for pick up around 9:25."
"You bum," Quincy scowls, gravely. "It's 10:30. Get your butt off the table and go get my chow mein."
"O'kay," Cyneric rolls his eyes. He lazily gets off his seat, his brown overcoat getting caught in the chair's wheel. "On your right."
Adam and Kiara move in opposite directions as Cyneric walks between them.
"Last week, we sent a spy to the Obsidian Market–one of the biggest secret markets that sell and distribute weapons, books, and artifacts around the world for the Warden Society," Quincy relays, pressing on a button. It shows the shaky footage of the Warden spy being ambushed by the trenchcoat men.
"As one of our operatives went investigating the Obsidian market, he was ambushed by a gang of goons," he continues, as the camera becomes more shaky. "You two–welcome to the Black Op: Secret division."
"Secret division," Adam gasps, rocking Kiara back and forth. "We get to do secret covert operations. The big leagues."
"It's not the big leagues!" Quincy barks back, "You're lucky if you crawled out skin alive."
"When do we start?" Kiara questions.
"Today, pack your stuff, kids," Quincy answers bluntly. "You're leaving in a couple of hours." Adam and Kiara groan at the response.
"It's simple," he continues, "The train's destination is going to Coral Bay; however, your team is going to arrive at the state before they do, and infiltrate it. You have to be there by tomorrow to catch a ride."
Edward takes a deep breath, taking a worried look at Kiara.
Why Kiara and Adam? He thinks, folding his arms. They shouldn't be doing this; they're just kids.
"Anything wrong, Edward?" The Arbiter asks, head tilted down.
"Nothing," Edward says, not giving him the satisfaction. The Arbiter's expression drops, annoyed. Kiara notices the interaction but doesn't comment on it. He muttered something inaudible that she couldn't catch.
Far beyond the borders of California, the engines of the train roar like a speeding lion, carving a path forward. Inside the cars, rows of suited men dine and drink under the radiant lights above. Inside a singular suitcase, the meteorite glows faintly, radiating its cosmic energy.