One Week

One Week

The drive to the White House was tense and silent. The weight of what they had just learned sat heavily on their shoulders. The command center wasn't just raided. It was burned down. According to Jacob, several bombs were planted in the warehouse and everything got ruined. Every single file they had on the Watchman, everything they got from Neurospark, the pictures they took from the facility in Cincinnati....

Everything was gone. Up in flames.

The streets of Washington, D.C., were alive with the usual morning traffic, but inside the black SUV, there was nothing but the sound of tires humming against the road and the occasional beep of Thompson’s phone as he checked for updates.

As they arrived at the secured entrance, a uniformed officer stepped forward, scanning their IDs before waving them through. The White House loomed ahead, a stark reminder of just how deep they were in this. They were led through the familiar corridors, their footsteps echoing against the polished floors, until they reached a private briefing room tucked away from the usual offices.

Jacob Russel was already waiting for them. Dressed sharply in a tailored suit, he stood near the window, flipping through a classified report. His expression was unreadable as he turned to face them.

"Take a seat," he said, nodding toward the long conference table.

No one moved at first. Finally, Aaron stepped forward, pulling out a chair. The others followed, though the tension in the room remained thick.

Jacob exhaled, placing the folder down. "I’m going to need you all to stand down for now. A new base of operations is being built as we speak. It’ll be ready in a week."

The announcement caught them off guard. Hera exchanged a glance with Shane. Aaron frowned.

"You knew this was happening?" Aaron asked.

Jacob nodded. "I didn’t tell you earlier because I didn’t want it derailing the mission in Alaska."

Shane leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “So, what, we just sit around and wait?”

Aaron, who had been silent up until now, suddenly leaned forward, his voice low and serious. "We have a bigger problem."

Jacob looked at him, waiting.

"Protocol Q is gone."

The air seemed to shift in the room. Jacob’s expression didn’t change immediately, but the flicker in his eyes told them he understood the weight of those words.

"Say that again," Jacob said, his voice quieter this time.

Aaron’s jaw tensed. "Someone infiltrated the CIA and took it."

Jacob slowly sat down, steepling his fingers as he processed the information. The silence stretched for a long, unbearable moment before he finally spoke.

"Tell me everything."

The air in the room remained heavy as Aaron laid out the details. Jacob listened, barely moving, his fingers still pressed together. When Aaron finished, silence followed.

Then, Jacob exhaled sharply and leaned back. "Damn it."

His reaction said enough. He knew how bad this was.

Aaron glanced at Shane, then at Hera. "We were gone for a few days. That’s all it took for everything to go to hell. Protocol Q is missing, and our command center has been completely wiped out."

Jacob nodded, his expression unreadable. "I won’t lie to you—this is bad. But panicking isn’t going to help. Right now, we have to be smart about our next steps."

Shane scoffed. "And what exactly are our next steps?"

Jacob folded his arms. "For now, you hang tight. In a week, we’ll figure something out. The new command center will be operational by then."

Aaron narrowed his eyes. "A week is a long time when Protocol Q is out in the world."

Jacob met his gaze without flinching. "I know. Which is why you won’t be sitting on your hands. Aaron, you’re going to work with Lucas at the CIA. We need to find out where Protocol Q was taken—and fast."

Aaron didn’t argue. He understood the stakes. "Lucas already started looking into it," he said. "But I need full access if I’m going to help."

"You’ll have it."

Jacob leaned forward, his expression darkening. "And before you say anything else, I need you all to understand what we’re dealing with."

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before continuing.

"Protocol Q isn’t just dangerous—it’s one of the most lethal chemical weapons ever designed. It’s airborne. Invisible. And the second it enters the lungs, it starts burning its way through the body from the inside out. First, the victim feels an intense heat in their chest, like they swallowed fire. Then, their blood vessels begin to rupture—starting with the eyes, nose, ears. Their skin doesn’t blister. It melts. Organs liquefy. By the time they hit the ground, they’re choking on what’s left of their own lungs."

The room was dead silent.

Hera swallowed hard. Shane clenched his jaw. Even Thompson, who had seen his fair share of horror, looked grim.

Jacob’s voice was steady, but there was no mistaking the weight behind his words. "We’ve been working closely with the CIA and the CDC while you were in Alaska, trying to understand the full extent of what this thing can do. And let me tell you—if the wrong people get their hands on it, we are looking at mass casualties in the millions. Maybe more."

No one spoke. The implications were clear.

Finally, Jacob sat back, exhaling. "That’s why we don’t have time for panic. We move smart. We move fast."

His gaze shifted to Thompson. "You, however, are taking a break."

Thompson blinked. "What?"

Jacob allowed a small smirk to cross his lips. "Come on, Thompson. I’m the National Security Advisor. You think I don’t know everything about all of you?"

Thompson frowned but didn’t respond.

Jacob continued, "I know you’ve been seeing a therapist. Spend more time with her. That’s an order."

Hera turned to Thompson, surprised, but Thompson simply sighed, shaking his head.

Jacob’s eyes landed on Hera next. "You, Hera—go visit your mother."

Hera stiffened.

Jacob’s tone softened. "The Winston Home for the Elderly, right? You haven’t been in months."

Hera swallowed, looking away.

Jacob leaned forward slightly. "Sometimes we think we have all the time in the world. But the truth is, we never know how much time we actually have."

His words settled heavily over the room. Hera nodded, though she said nothing.

Finally, Jacob looked at Shane. "You’ll be at the CIA as well, but you mentioned needing to go to New York first?"

Shane nodded. "I need to see my girlfriend."

Jacob didn’t hesitate. "Then go."

There was a brief pause before Jacob added, "This is a well-deserved break, guys. You’ve done incredible work in a short amount of time. The Shadow Command isn’t over. It’s just on pause."

A pause. Then, firmly, he said, "One week. That’s all. Then we get back to work."

The team exchanged glances before nodding. One week. Then, they’d be back in the fight.

The meeting wrapped up, but the weight of it clung to the air like a thick fog. No one spoke as they rose from their chairs, each lost in thought. One week. It wasn’t a long time, but considering what had just unfolded, it felt like an eternity.

Jacob gave them all a firm nod before they exited the room. "Stay sharp. Stay reachable. We’ll regroup soon."

One by one, they stepped out into the hallway. The sterile lighting of the White House corridors did nothing to soften the tension running through them.

Thompson walked ahead, his jaw tight. Hera lingered behind, arms crossed, while Shane stretched his neck as if trying to shake off the heaviness pressing down on them. Aaron was the last to leave, his mind already shifting to what awaited him at the CIA.

They reached the elevators, a quiet understanding passing between them.

"This is weird," Shane muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Splitting up like this."

"It won’t be for long," Aaron replied. "We’ll be back at it soon enough."

Shane nodded, though he still looked uneasy. "Yeah… still feels off."

Hera pressed the elevator button, eyes distant. "Just one week," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. As they stepped inside, their reflections glimmered against the metallic walls, faces drawn and serious. No one spoke.

The numbers on the panel blinked down as they descended, the tension settling into something unspoken yet understood. They weren’t just stepping away from their mission. They were stepping into a dangerous unknown.

The doors slid open again at the ground level.

One by one, they stepped out, ready to go their separate ways. But just as Hera turned the corner, she collided with someone.

The impact knocked a cup of coffee out of the man's hands, sending papers scattering across the polished floor.

"Sh—" The man scrambled, reaching for his fallen things. Hera immediately crouched down, helping him gather the papers.

"My bad," she said quickly, handing him a few pages.

The man, flustered, looked up at her. "No, no, it’s my fault. Wasn’t paying attention."

Now that she got a better look at him, she noted his dark-rimmed glasses, slightly disheveled brown hair, and the press badge clipped to his lapel.

He cleared his throat, looking even more embarrassed. "I’m Michael. But I, uh, I prefer Mike."

Hera quirked a brow, smirking slightly. "Hera. And I greatly prefer Hera."

He blinked, then let out a breathy laugh. "Right. Good to know."

She handed him the last of his papers before standing. He followed, still looking sheepish.

"Sorry again," he said.

Hera shrugged. "No harm done. But you might wanna be more careful with that coffee next time. You nearly took me out."

Mike chuckled, shaking his head. "Noted."

She gave him one last look before turning to leave.

The others were waiting near the exit, watching curiously.

"New friend?" Shane asked.

Hera ignored him, striding past. "Let’s just get out of here."

They stepped outside, the cool air hitting them as they each headed toward their own destinations.

One week. Then, everything would begin again.