15 - Protocol Q

15 - Protocol Q

Thompson stepped into the command center, the familiar hum of machinery filling the air. The overhead lights flickered slightly, casting sharp shadows across the sleek consoles and the holographic display hovering in the center of the room. The team followed behind him, their footsteps muffled by the reinforced flooring.

Elias Novak wandered further in, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the past two years. His eyes swept across the room, taking in the high-tech setup, the monitors streaming lines of encrypted code, and the faint, rhythmic beeping of unseen machines.

“Gotta say,” he muttered, stepping closer to one of the monitors, “this is some next-level stuff. If we had a fraction of this back then, we might’ve actually had an easy mission for once.”

Lucas, already at his workstation, didn’t look up. “If we had a fraction of this back then, the war would’ve ended in half the time.”

“Or,” Aaron piped in, smirking, “it would’ve been twice as messy because some people can’t handle new tech without breaking it.”

Lucas shot him a look. “That was one time.”

Aaron grinned. “One very expensive time.”

Elias ignored them, his gaze landing on a screen displaying a dossier. His face was on it—his old military headshot, expression sharp and severe, like he’d been told not to smile. Below it were details: Rank. Deployment history. Last known status: Deceased.

He snorted. “Well, that’s awkward.”

Thompson moved closer. “What?”

Elias gestured at the screen. “They got this wrong.” He tapped at the section listing his official cause of death, which read: Executed during internal coup.

“Funny,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “I could’ve sworn I walked out of that mess very much alive.”

Elijah, standing nearby, frowned. “Someone went through the trouble of making sure the world thought you were dead.”

Elias shrugged. “Could’ve been insurance. Or maybe someone just doesn’t like the idea of me running around unsupervised.”

Thompson’s expression darkened. “We’ll deal with that later. Right now, we need to talk about the lab.”

Elias exhaled dramatically. “And I need coffee.”

Elijah’s patience was razor-thin. “This isn’t a joke, Novak.”

Elias clasped his hands together like a man making a simple, reasonable request. “Neither is my caffeine dependency.”

Thompson sighed. “Fine. I’ll get it.”

Elias grinned. “Black. No sugar.”

Thompson was already walking out. “I wasn’t gonna bring you a damn frappuccino.”

\--

The crisp evening air bit at Thompson’s skin as he stepped outside. The walk to Grounded wasn’t long, but it gave him time to think.

Elias.

He still remembered the first time they’d met—Thompson, barely conscious, bleeding out on a makeshift cot, and Elias looming over him with that infuriatingly calm expression, pressing a needle into his arm.

“You’re not dying today, Holbrook.”

And he hadn’t. Elias had saved his life more times than he could count, both in and out of combat. He was the second person Thompson had told about his promotion to Brigadier General—right after Alex.

Alex.

The memory hit like a blade between his ribs. He pushed the thought down and stepped into Grounded, the warm scent of roasted beans wrapping around him.

The barista barely looked up. “Usual?”

“Yeah but no sugar this time.” He turned toward the seating area, scanning the room.

That’s when he spotted her.

Lena sat at a small wooden table near the window, fingers flying over her laptop keyboard. A faint frown lined her brow, the faint blue glow of the screen reflecting off her glasses.

He hesitated for only a second before walking over. “Didn’t take you for a coffee shop worker.”

She looked up, blinking as if pulling herself out of a trance. Then, a small smirk. “Didn’t take you for someone who assumed things so easily.”

Thompson snorted. “Fair enough.”

Lena rubbed her forehead. "It's fine. I rarely get moments of quiet to myself."

"Oh. I see." Thompson responds.

Lena leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “This is where I come for peace. Less distractions, more focus. Clients are easier to handle when they’re just words on a screen.”

“Right. You’re a therapist, right?”

She made a face. “Psychologist.”

“What’s the difference?” Thompson asked

Lena exhaled through her nose, as if physically pained. “I would expect less from a soldier.”

Thompson frowned. “I never told you I was a soldier.”

She tapped her temple. “The way you walk. The way you stand. I’d be a failure at my job if I couldn’t tell.”

He nodded, impressed despite himself. Before he could say anything else, the barista called out his order.

As he grabbed his coffee, he glanced back toward Lena. Their eyes met.

She had been watching him.

A flicker of something crossed her face—red, faint but unmistakable—before she quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in her screen.

Thompson smirked and walked out.



Back at the command center, Thompson walked in, taking in the new sight that had drastically changed before he left.

Lucas and Aaron were huddled over a workstation, wires and circuits spread out across the table. Lucas’s fingers moved deftly over a small, unfamiliar device, his face tight with concentration.

Thompson arched a brow. “What the hell are you two building now?”

Aaron barely looked up. “A pulse bomb.”

Thompson stared. “A pulse what now?”

Lucas finally turned, adjusting his glasses. “It’s a contingency device. If your heart rate spikes to a certain level—say, in a combat situation—the countdown starts. Two minutes before detonation.”

Thompson blinked. “That has got to be the single worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Aaron smirked. “Wait till you hear Plan B.”

Thompson shook his head. “And you two are working together on this? Since when?”

“Since always,” Aaron said. “We’re basically an unstoppable duo.”

Thompson scoffed. “Right. And what happens when the bomb goes off and you’re still in the building?”

Lucas adjusted something on the device. “Then you run faster.”

Before Thompson could respond, Trinity’s voice rang out from behind him.

“And what exactly was that comment about earlier?”

He turned to see her standing with arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“What comment?”

“The one where you implied that Lucas and Aaron are the only two who work well together.”

Thompson took a slow sip of his coffee. “I don’t recall saying that.”

Trinity scoffed. “Oh, of course not.”

Thompson smirked. “Great talk,” he said, patting her on the shoulder before walking away



Thompson pushed the coffee into Elias’s hands. “There. Now talk.”

Elias took a long sip, sighing in satisfaction. “You have no idea how much I missed this.”

Thompson sat down across from him. “The lab, Elias.”

Elias exhaled, tapping his fingers against the cup. “You remember that time in the mountains?”

Thompson smirked. “The time you almost got us killed, or the other time you almost got us killed?”

Elias grinned. “The second one. Where we had to stay low in that abandoned bunker for three days.”

Thompson nodded. “Yeah. You couldn’t shut up about the rations.”

“Because they were terrible,” Elias said. “And you refused to let me trade with the locals because, and I quote, ‘we’re not about to get poisoned over a damn sandwich.’”

Elijah, listening to this exchange with crossed arms, sighed. “Are we seriously reminiscing right now?”

Elias shrugged. “Hey, nostalgia helps me think.”

Elijah leaned forward, his expression sharpening. “Think faster.”

Elias set the coffee down. “The lab is thirty minutes from the prison.”

Thompson and Elijah exchanged looks. That close?

“What were they working on?” Elijah pressed.

Elias hesitated. His fingers tapped against the table in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Elias.” Thompson called gently.

Finally, he sighed. “It’s a formula. Protocol Q.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Thompson’s pulse kicked up. “What is it?” He asked

Elias stared down at the table, exhaling like he was wishing the answer wasn’t there.

Thompson wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it either.

But it was too late for that now.