February 16, 2030 — Late Evening
Detective William Vexley had just poured himself a second glass of bourbon when the sound of his front door clicking open shattered the stillness of his apartment. His hand moved instinctively to the drawer beside his couch where he kept his revolver, but before he could grab it, a familiar voice purred from behind him.
"Really, William? Still using that same creaky lock?" Victoria—Agent February—emerged from the dim corridor of his hallway like a shadow wrapped in scarlet. Her dress tonight was simpler, more practical, but her presence was no less arresting.
William stood, tense. "Jesus, you can't just break into someone's place like that."
Victoria sauntered over to the small living room with the air of someone who owned the space. "What? Afraid of getting caught jerking off to my gift card?"
William blinked, half in disbelief, half in irritation. "Unbelievable."
She grinned, not denying it, and perched herself on the armrest of his couch. The scent of her perfume drifted through the air—something faintly floral, clean..
"You've been busy," she said, scanning the bulletin board near his desk—still crowded with photographs, red string, and annotated files.
"So have you," he replied, finishing his drink and placing the glass down with a quiet clink. "You know, if we're going to work together, ground rules might be a good start. Like not entering through my locked front door like some noir ghost."
Victoria shrugged. "You know who I am. Stealth is kind of my thing."
William exhaled and crossed his arms. "Fine. So why are you really here?"
She turned toward him fully, her teasing demeanor fading into something more focused. "I heard you got invited to the gala. Graves' inner circle. That's a huge opening."
William nodded, hesitating. "He's an old friend. It's... complicated. But he trusts me."
"Good," she said. "Because I need to be there. And I need a way in that doesn't set off any alarms."
William frowned, already bracing for something extreme. "You have an idea, don't you?"
Victoria leaned forward, eyes alight with a conspiratorial gleam. "More than an idea. A plan."
She slid a black leather case onto the table and unzipped it, revealing blueprints, security schematics, and a guest list that had somehow been redacted even from official archives that Agent September crafted for her. William sat down, slowly shaking his head.
"You really never sleep, do you?"
"Sleep is a luxury for people not being hunted by billionaires and ghosts from their past," she murmured.
Victoria laid out her plan with precision—a dual-entry maneuver. William would arrive as himself, a respected detective with legitimate credentials and ties to Graves. Meanwhile, Victoria would pose as a plus-one, using falsified identity records they'd forge together. She'd play the role of a French diplomatic liaison, complete with a forged digital passport and a verifiable cover story. Once inside, her objective was two-fold: gain closer proximity to Captain Graves and extract digital data from his personal communicator.
"The gala is formal," William muttered, tracing his fingers over the blueprint. "Security at the ballroom entrance, biometric scans, facial recognition at the corridor checkpoints. How are you going to get through that?"
Victoria smiled, sliding over a contact lens and a prosthetic fingerprint pad. "You forget what I do for a living."
"That's... impressive," he admitted. "Scary, but impressive."
"You haven't seen anything yet," she replied, before turning serious. "This is more than just espionage, William. We need evidence. Unbreakable links between Graves and the corporations funding warfare in the Middle East. The human trafficking lines. The bioweapon research. The gala isn't just a party. It's a summit."
William nodded, his thoughts catching up to her intensity. "I saw some of it on the drive you gave me. Emil's not just involved. He's facilitating it. He's a liaison."
"That's why I have to get close to him," Victoria said, her voice quieter now. "We need to know what he knows. And if necessary... stop him."
A moment of silence passed between them. The gravity of it all settled in like a chill breeze.
William stood, walking to the window. Below, the city buzzed with distant sirens and late-night headlights. He had walked into a world darker than the one he already lived in, and yet, with her here, somehow it felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.
"I'm in," he said, turning back to her. "I'll help. We go in together."
Victoria tilted her head, a flicker of warmth touching her expression. "Then let's make sure we both come out."
They reviewed the final phases of their plan: entry routes, emergency exits, timed check-ins. William would wear a modified communication pin; Victoria a hidden mic embedded in an earring. At precisely 10:45 p.m., Victoria would initiate the data extraction while William provided cover by distracting the security team.
It was dangerous. Risky. But calculated.
As Victoria gathered her files back into her case, she paused.
"There's something about you, William," she said, standing near the door. "You're different from the others I've worked with."
He gave her a skeptical glance. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"
She chuckled softly and leaned in, brushing her lips against his cheek. The kiss was gentle, fleeting.
"Maybe both," she whispered.
Then, just as she came, she was gone.
William stood in the silence she left behind, the faint imprint of her presence still clinging to the air. He looked again at the gala invitation lying on his desk.
This wasn't just a mission anymore. It was the unraveling of a conspiracy decades in the making. And he was right at the center of it.
He poured himself one last drink, not for courage, but to mark the calm before the storm.
In two nights, the gala would begin.
And so would the reckoning.