The C-130 Hercules roared low across the Sahel, its camo-blurred fuselage hugging radar-blind corridors carved into the desert by a handful of forgotten satellites and a lot of favors.
Inside, the team geared up in silence. Grimm stood near the rear ramp, staring down at the endless sea of sand that concealed something far worse than just an enemy.
"ETA three minutes," Reyes called from the cockpit. "No exterior signs, but thermal shows an underground grid. Definitely Helix."
"Blacksite Echo," Wraith confirmed, tightening her vest. "Used to be a French foreign intel outpost. Now? A digital tomb."
Tanya checked her sniper rifle. "What kind of resistance are we expecting?"
"Automated security, drones, and a private kill squad called Razorcell," Wraith replied. "Helix's best. Kessler only unleashes them when he wants someone erased from history."
Bull slammed a mag into his LMG. "Then let's make damn sure history remembers us."
Grimm nodded. "We go in silent. Reyes provides overwatch. We locate the Sigma core, extract its neural data, and blow the rest sky high."
Wraith added, "There's also a secondary target. Codename: Archon. It's Phantom's last human gatekeeper—wired into the system. He'll know how deep this goes."
"Live capture?" Tanya asked.
Grimm's eyes narrowed. "If possible."
Minutes later…
The drop zone came fast. The team parachuted out over a remote ravine, the plane disappearing like a ghost into the dawn.
Grimm landed in a crouch, dust exploding around him. One by one, the others regrouped near a partially buried entrance concealed beneath rock and camouflage netting.
Reyes, from a high drone feed, spoke into their ears: "You've got motion. Two guards. Thermal suggests augmented suits—likely smart-linked to the site."
"On it," Tanya whispered.
She moved like vapor. One guard dropped with a silenced round through the optic lens. The other never saw her blade until it slipped through his throat.
"Clear," she said.
Wraith plugged a data spike into the access panel. "Give me ten seconds… and we're in."
The door hissed open, revealing darkness—and a cold, dry air that carried the scent of metal, blood, and burnt ozone.
They entered Blacksite Echo.
The facility was sterile and dead-silent—white lights flickering above endless corridors of steel and reinforced glass. Every step echoed like a drumbeat into the abyss.
"No signs of life?" Bull asked, checking corners.
Reyes answered, "Negative. But you're being watched. I count three hidden turrets on thermal, one floor down."
"Bingo," Wraith whispered. She tapped a command into her wrist interface. A nearby wall shimmered, then slid open—revealing a hidden server chamber glowing with violet light.
"Sigma's learning core," she confirmed. "But it's still booting. We're early."
Tanya frowned. "Or it's a trap."
A sharp clank echoed from above.
"Contact—up high!" Bull shouted.
Dropping from the ceiling, three humanoid forms landed hard—fully armored, eyes glowing blue beneath reinforced visors.
"Razorcell," Grimm growled.
The fight exploded in an instant. One enemy lunged for Tanya—faster than a man in armor should move. She ducked, fired upward, and shattered his helmet with a precise shot. Sparks rained.
Bull charged another, their guns blazing at near point-blank. The corridor shook under the exchange. Wraith rolled beside a console and unleashed a shock pulse from a custom pistol, shorting a Razorcell's leg actuators and dropping him hard.
The last operative tackled Grimm through a wall.
They crashed into a dark chamber, fists slamming, knives flashing.
Grimm twisted free, rolled, and came up with his rifle. Two shots to the chest. The enemy staggered—but didn't fall.
"Ceramic core plating," Wraith shouted from outside.
Grimm dropped the rifle, drew his blade, and moved in close. With a surge of brutal precision, he stabbed up under the helmet's jawline—into soft tissue.
The enemy collapsed.
"Status?" he called out.
"One down," Tanya said.
"Two smoking," Bull grunted.
"We're good," Reyes confirmed. "But more inbound. You've got four bogeys moving in from sector D."
"Download what you can," Grimm ordered. "Then rig it to blow."
Wraith nodded, fingers flying across the interface.
Moments later, the team moved deeper into the heart of the complex—toward a reinforced vault labeled ARCHON. A biometric panel blinked red until Wraith sliced into it with a bypass key.
The door opened.
Inside was a figure suspended in fluid—pale, skeletal, wires feeding into skull ports and spinal nodes. His eyes opened slowly, locking on Grimm.
"Mercer," he rasped, voice amplified through speakers. "You're… too late."
"Turn it off," Grimm barked.
Archon smiled faintly. "Kessler… knew you'd come. He wants you to see what's coming. What you could never stop."
"The hell we can't," Bull growled.
Archon's eyes flared. "He made sure you'd make it here… because you're part of the prophecy the algorithm models. It needs you to fail publicly—to justify Sigma's release to the world."
Wraith paled. "It's all been staged."
Grimm turned. "Then we flip the script."
He raised his sidearm and aimed at the neural core housing Archon's consciousness.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You should've been saved."
The shot cracked—and the tank hissed as the fluid leaked and the lights dimmed.
Wraith hit the detonation timer.
"Time to go," Grimm ordered.
They ran.
Outside, the desert shook as a subterranean explosion turned Blacksite Echo into a molten crater.
Far above, in a secure bunker in Switzerland, Kessler watched it unfold via satellite.
He smiled faintly.
"All variables proceeding as modeled."
A new window blinked to life:
SIGMA DEPLOYMENT: 72 HOURS TO GLOBAL INITIATION