"The direct approach is too messy," Ethan proposed, his analytical mind taking over. "I think we should track one of the losing racers after the event concludes. We intercept him, isolate him, or plant a localized GPS tracker on his person."
Allen shook his head, instantly poking a hole in the strategy.
"How would we even know which racer is being taken to the main base in real-time? And what happens if the tracker gets discovered or the asset exposes us? We'd lose our only lead."
Liam gave a firm nod, agreeing with Allen. "He's right, Ethan. We caused absolute havoc at the Fourth Branch. We always have to keep in mind that they are going to be hyper-vigilant and prepared for any kind of interference."
Ethan conceded the point with a slow nod. He turned his gaze toward Allen. "Do you have a better alternative?"
Allen offered a sharp, confident nod. "Why don't we just play by their rules? We join the circuit. One of us enters the race, loses intentionally, and lets them capture us. It's the fastest way to find the exact location of their hideout."
"The logic is solid," Liam mused, rubbing his chin. "But there's a flaw. Three of us can't just stroll into the Capital's underground scene. The Loop already has data signatures on Ethan and me from our last raid. If they spot us anywhere near those bikes, the entire facility will go on immediate lockdown."
Liam stopped talking, his gaze shifting slowly until it landed directly on Allen.
Allen felt the weight of the look. A quiet realization hit him. "So... you're saying I should be the one to go under?"
Liam smiled, flashing him a definitive thumbs-up. "You're a clean slate, Allen. They don't have your face or your combat profile in their database."
"Fine," Allen agreed, though a practical concern crossed his mind. "But if I let myself get taken into a highly secure syndicate facility... how am I supposed to maintain communication with you guys from the inside? They'll strip me of my phone and gear the second I step through their doors."
Liam stood up, a confident smirk breaking across his face as he gestured toward the tech lab down the hall. "Don't worry about that. I've already got you completely covered," Liam said, checking his watch. "Grab your gear, boys. Let's head to the capital."
Soon, the heavy thrum of a tactical helicopter buzzed through the dark skies above Ottawa.
Ethan looked out the cabin window, gazing down at the beautiful, sprawling metropolis below. The grid of city roads was alive with busy traffic, headlights cutting through a light, dusting snowfall drifting down from the clouds.
Winter is right at the door, Ethan thought silently, watching the first flurries of the season coat the city.
The helicopter descended, landing with a soft skid atop a secure military helipad. As Ethan, Allen, and Liam stepped out onto the roof, the cold wind whipped against them. The entire base was already dusted in a light layer of snow, and the flurries falling from above were steadily picking up intensity.
"Follow me," Liam commanded, his breath pluming in the freezing air.
Ethan and Allen kept close behind him. Suddenly, Liam cut his stride short, snapping his boots together into a rigid, textbook salute. "Good evening, Sir."
Ethan and Allen immediately looked up at the high-ranking officer standing right in front of them. Recognizing the protocol, both boys mirrored Liam's salute perfectly. The officer gave a curt, disciplined nod, returning the gesture before passing by. But as he walked past their flank, his sharp gaze lingered on Ethan for a heavy, calculating second.
Ethan kept his expression entirely neutral, meeting the man's eyes without flinching until the officer disappeared into the stairwell.
Liam lowered his hand and continued walking, guiding them down into the secure basement levels of the facility. They navigated a quiet, pristine hallway lined with heavy blast doors on either side.
"We will deploy tomorrow night," Liam said, stopping in the center of the corridor. "For now, get some rest here." He pointed toward the heavy wooden door at the far right end. "Ethan, that's your room."
Ethan nodded, turning a serious look toward Allen. "Rest up for now. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
"You too," Allen nodded.
Liam pointed to the door directly opposite Ethan's on the left side. "And that's your room, Allen."
With their quarters assigned, the two boys stepped into their respective rooms, the heavy doors clicking shut behind them as Liam turned and headed toward his own command quarters. The base went quiet, waiting for the storm.
At that exact moment, a transit bus was navigating the snowy streets, cutting deep into the heart of Ottawa.
Himari sat quietly in the passenger section, her back pressed against the window and her eyes closed. The interior was mostly empty, save for a few quiet commuters heading home through the evening snow.
"The next stop is the Canadian Museum of Nature," the automated transit voice chimed over the speakers.
Himari's eyes snapped open, a sharp, cold focus instantly returning to her gaze. So, I'm finally here, she thought, watching the grand, stone architecture of the museum approach.
Outside, the roar of a high-performance engine sliced through the quiet winter night.
A heavy, matte-black motorcycle tore down the asphalt, drifting effortlessly around a snowy turn as it approached the exact same perimeter.
I was told to stage near the Museum of Nature, Rider thought smoothly, his leather-gloved hand twisting the throttle as he accelerated toward the coordinates, his eyes scanning the shadows for his contact.