The service area outside Nagoya was a monument to the mundane: flickering fluorescent lights, vending machines humming in the darkness, and the perpetual smell of diesel fuel and convenience store coffee. It was here, in this temple to the ordinary, that Ouroboros had chosen to make their handoff.
Kenji watched from the shadows as the circus convoy rumbled into the parking area. One by one, the trucks and trailers found their designated spots, drivers climbing down to stretch their legs and grab late-night snacks. To any casual observer, it was just another traveling show making a routine stop.
But Kenji's trained eye picked out the inconsistencies. Certain drivers moved with too much purpose. Several trucks parked in a precise formation that had nothing to do with convenience and everything to do with security. And there, emerging from the lead vehicle, was Alek himself, his usual performer's gear replaced by dark, tactical clothing.
"Phase one is go," Sato's voice whispered in his earpiece. She was positioned on a hill overlooking the service area, her surveillance equipment hidden among a picnic setup that made her look like a late-night stargazer.
Kenji keyed his microphone twice in acknowledgment, then settled in to wait. The plan was complex, requiring precise timing and more than a little luck. But then, the best plans always did.
Ricco's voice came through the comm system, tense but controlled. "I'm in position. Truck Seven, climate control active. I count at least twelve modified containers in the cargo area."
"Copy that. Pops, are you ready?"
"Standing by," the old electrician's gravelly voice replied. He was positioned near the service area's main electrical junction, a maintenance access point that no one would think to guard. "Give me the word and I'll plunge this whole place into darkness."
"Yuu?"
"Locked and loaded!" The young illusionist's enthusiasm was audible even through the encrypted channel. "My Illusion-Nation is gathered and ready for the show of a lifetime!"
Kenji smiled grimly. If this worked, Yuu's audience would indeed witness something unprecedented.
The handoff began at midnight. Kenji watched through night-vision binoculars as a nondescript black sedan pulled into the service area. Three figures emerged: two obvious security personnel and a third man in an expensive suit who moved with the confidence of someone accustomed to getting what he paid for.
"That's our buyer," Sato confirmed from her overwatch position. "Facial recognition is running now."
The buyer approached Truck Seven, where Ricco waited in the driver's seat. Even from a distance, Kenji could see the young man's tension in the rigid set of his shoulders. This was the moment of greatest danger—if Ouroboros suspected anything, Ricco would be the first casualty.
The exchange of credentials went smoothly. The buyer presented a briefcase, which Alek verified with some kind of electronic scanner. In return, Ricco began the process of transferring the modified containers to the buyer's waiting vehicle.
It was all very professional, very efficient, very ordinary. Which was exactly what made it so dangerous.
"Something's wrong," Sato's voice cut through the comm. "I'm picking up additional heat signatures moving in from the perimeter. This isn't just a handoff—it's a trap."
Kenji's blood ran cold. "Trap for who?"
"Unknown. But we've got at least six additional personnel in tactical gear converging on the service area. Whatever Ouroboros is planning, it's bigger than just selling their product."
The answer came from an unexpected source. Yuu's livestream, which Kenji was monitoring on his phone, suddenly erupted with excited comments from viewers who had spotted something unusual in the background of his "late-night truck stop exploration."
"OH MY GOD YUU THERE ARE GUYS WITH GUNS!"
"CALL THE POLICE!"
"THIS IS LIKE A MOVIE!"
Kenji looked up from his phone to see muzzle flashes in the darkness. But they weren't aimed at Ricco or the buyer. They were aimed at the legitimate circus performers who had wandered too close to the handoff area.
Ouroboros wasn't just selling their product. They were eliminating witnesses.
"All units, execute now!" Kenji commanded. "Pops, kill the lights!"
The service area plunged into darkness as Pops overloaded the main electrical system. Emergency lighting kicked in moments later, but the brief blackout was enough to throw off the attackers' aim and give the innocent bystanders time to scramble for cover.
Yuu, his performer's instincts taking over, began running toward the chaos with his camera still rolling. "Illusion-Nation, you're about to witness the greatest escape in magical history!"
What followed was the most bizarre firefight in the history of modern espionage. Circus performers, mistaking the gunfire for some kind of elaborate stunt, began applauding and cheering. Haruto, driving a feed truck loaded with actual animal feed, used it as a battering ram to separate the Ouroboros operatives from their targets. Ivan the clown deployed smoke bombs from his performance gear, filling the area with theatrical fog that made accurate shooting nearly impossible.
In the chaos, Ricco made his move. Instead of fleeing as instructed, he backed Truck Seven toward the service area's loading dock, putting the modified containers behind a concrete barrier where they would be safe from stray gunfire.
"Ricco, get out of there!" Kenji shouted into his microphone.
"Negative!" came the reply. "I'm not letting them destroy the evidence!"
It was exactly the kind of heroic stupidity that Kenji had hoped to avoid. But as he watched the young man defend their only proof of Ouroboros's conspiracy, he felt a surge of fierce pride. The broken acrobat had found his courage again.
The battle turned when Miyuki emerged from her hiding place with a mop bucket filled with industrial floor cleaner. Moving with the methodical precision she brought to all her work, she spread a slick of soap across the service area's main thoroughfare. The first Ouroboros operative to hit the soap slick went down hard, his weapon skittering away into the darkness.
"The floor is clean," she announced calmly into her microphone, as if she had just completed a routine maintenance task.
The arrival of actual police—summoned by panicked calls from Yuu's livestream viewers—ended the firefight. Ouroboros's remaining operatives melted away into the darkness, leaving behind their buyer, their product, and enough evidence to unravel their entire network.
As dawn broke over the service area, Kenji surveyed the aftermath. Truck Seven sat surrounded by police tape, its climate-controlled cargo now in the hands of federal investigators. The buyer was in custody, his briefcase full of cryptocurrency wallets that would lead authorities to financial networks spanning the globe.
But the real victory was smaller, more human. Ricco sat on the bumper of an ambulance, grinning despite the bandage on his forehead. Miyuki was calmly giving a statement to a detective, describing the events with the same matter-of-fact precision she brought to reporting maintenance issues. Haruto and Pops were arguing with paramedics who wanted to check them for shock, insisting they felt fine and just wanted to go home.
They had won. More than that, they had won together.
Sato appeared at Kenji's elbow, her equipment packed and her cover as a stargazing tourist intact. "The Director is sending a cleanup crew," she reported. "Official story is a failed robbery attempt on the circus convoy. The Ouroboros connection will be classified."
"And our people?"
"Heroes who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They'll be debriefed and released." She paused. "The Director wants to see us. Both of us. Immediately."
Kenji nodded, but his attention remained on his unlikely team. Miyuki was now helping clean up the debris from the fight, because that's what she did. Ricco was sketching in a notebook, probably working out the technical details of some new rigging solution. They had returned to their normal lives as if nothing had changed.
But everything had changed. They had proven that ordinary people could do extraordinary things when they chose to stand together. They had shown that the overlooked and underestimated were often the most dangerous opponents of all.
As the circus convoy prepared to continue its journey, minus one compromised truck and with several new legends to tell, Kenji allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He had started this mission as a lone agent pursuing a routine investigation. He was ending it as part of something larger, something that mattered more than any individual operation.
He was ending it as family.