A thick plume of chemical smoke billowed across the highway, providing the perfect screen. While the police officers fumbled in the opaque white fog, shouts and curses echoing in the chaotic air, a lone figure emerged from the haze. Vincenzo's movements were deliberate, unhurried, a stark contrast to the frantic energy surrounding them. Clutching the retrieved consignment suitcase, his white mask made him seem less like a person and more like a ghost, a silent, unstoppable wraith.
Fifty feet away, by the idling black sedan, Leo and Carl watched in astonishment, their breath held tight in their chests.
"How in the hell did he make that look so easy?" Carl breathed, his eyes wide.
Leo just shook his head, a slow, disbelieving gesture. "S-level mission, remember? We're lucky we're in the support role."
The figure in the mask reached the sedan, the leather briefcase held with casual ease. Vincenzo glanced at the open door, then gestured with a tilt of his head for the two men to get in. "Sit," a voice, electronically flattened and calm, cut through the residual tension.
They scrambled into the back seat. Vincenzo slid into the driver's side, shut the door, and without any word, smoothly accelerated the car away from the highway, leaving the wailing sirens and the confusion far behind.
***
The ride back was thick with a heavy, almost suffocating silence. The two men in the backseat were rigid, their minds still struggling to process the lightning speed at which the "S-level" mission had been completed. They stared out of the window, unable to reconcile the ease of their return trip with the magnitude of the task they had just accomplished- a mission they had departed for in the early morning and were returning from a mere hour later. Up front, the driver, their enigmatic partner, Vincenzo remained focused on the road. With a practiced, seamless motion, he reached up and peeled off the stark white mask, his profile now visible as he smoothly navigated the dense highway traffic.
To the men in the back, the mission had been a true test of skill, high-stakes operation that defied their expectations with its swift conclusion. But in Vincenzo's cold, calculating eyes, it was nothing more than child's play- a trivial task, easily dispatched. He felt no surge of triumph, only a quiet, simmering patience. The mission was simply a necessary step, a means to gain further trust and solidify his standing within the underworld organization they were currently returning to. They were all utterly oblivious to the true endgame, unaware that every fluid movement, every successful mission, and every calculated moment of silence was a stepping stone in his meticulous plan to dismantle the very organization from within.
***
The sedan rolled to a silent halt before the imposing, black iron gates of the organization's compound. As expected, they parted without a challenge. Vincenzo didn't pause, his foot firm on the accelerator as he swiftly led the vehicle into the cold shadow of the underworld's den. It was still daylight outside, but inside the perimeter walls, the world felt instantly muted and grey.
The two men in the backseat exchanged a quick, unsettling glance, their eyes darting to the empty guard posts and the sterile, unoccupied courtyard.
"Place is a ghost town," Leo muttered, a burly man running a hand over his shaved head. "Thought some of the other teams would be back by now."
"We finished the S-level too fast, that's all," Carl replied, though his voice lacked conviction. He fidgeted with his seatbelt. "The others are probably still out there, chasing ghosts."
Up front, Vincenzo remained a statue of calm focus, his expression unreadable. For him, the so-called S-level mission had been nothing more than a mere walk-a simple task, already done. He pulled the sedan into a designated underground garage bay, the low hum of the engine cutting off with a soft click, leaving only the sound of their own strained breathing in the heavy silence.
***
After a heavy silence, the two men accompanying him quickly broke the tension. "We need to debrief about S-level mission we just finished," Carl reminded him, his voice slightly strained, as they hastily got out of the car. Something about Vincenzo's aura was profoundly unsettling- a cold, efficient stillness that made his easy success on the mission seem all the more terrifying. Leo looked nervously at him, silently wondering how he had finished a job of this magnitude with such apparent ease.
Vincenzo's deep calmness was only slightly shattered by a flash of inward frustration. Oh God, can't they call a damn C-level mission what it is? he thought bitterly. Labelling such a simple task an "S-level" mission felt an insult to his skills, a tedious overstatement of a routine job. But he stayed silent, the only sound the soft click of the seadan door closing as he stepped out into the cool air.
***
He walked inside from the courtyard of the underworld organization's building, the sound of his shoes a dull, deliberate rhythm on the polished stone floor. The place was an opulent interior contrasting with the gritty business conducted within its walls. As always, he was used to the types of bragging humans that populated this world, their egos often inversely proportional to their actual skill when faced with true danger.
Ahead of him, two men, fresh-faced and still high on adrenaline, were already at the debriefing station. They were practically vibrating with a boasting air as they spoke into the secured system's microphone, their voices loud enough to echo in the quiet hallway. Vincenzo turned in, just as one of them reached the climax of their tale.
"So, yeah, S-level mission," Carl, his suit still crisp despite the day's work, crowded into mic. "Done and dusted in what, sixty minutes flat? An hour! Max."
Leo nudged him, a wide grin plastered on his face. "And retrieving the consignment suitcase from the police? Piece of cake. They were practically falling over each other. All it took was a mere smoke a grenade, and we walked right out with it. In broad daylight, too!
Carl laughed, a short, sharp bark. "Daylight! Can you believe the rookies? They didn't know what hit them."
Vincenzo paused a feet away, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He simply moved past them, his quiet, composed presence a stark contrast to their boisterous celebration. Real pros, he knew, didn't need to talk about his work; the silence spoke for itself. He'd seen plenty of 'S-level' missions fall apart because someone got too comfortable, too loud, too human. He has a different kind of mission, one he never talked about, and with a quiet step, he disappeared down the hall, leaving the two men to their self-congratulatory posture.
To be continued...🤍