"Okay Greg, thanks. I'll go there now." Aaron Sader, the man introduced as Field Agent, closed a plain manila folder and tucked it under his arm. He turned to Joan, adjusting the spectacles perched on his nose. He looked like an accountant who occasionally worked late.
"Joan, you can just call me Aaron," he said, his voice surprisingly soft. "No need to be formal. In our team, we go by our names, and we are all... mostly equal. You seem to be the youngest member, though."
Aaron led her down a surprisingly utilitarian corridor, stopping at a plain metal door marked only with a dull brass plaque that read: "Unit 7 - Off-Hours Services." He tapped a short, simple code.
The door hissed open, revealing a room that was less a high-tech briefing center and more a cramped utility closet repurposed with a cheap folding table, mismatched chairs, and a single, flickering fluorescent light. Joan saw four people inside, none of whom looked like trained field agents.
"Attention everyone," Aaron announced, stepping aside to usher Joan in. "Let's meet our new team member. This is Joan. She'll be our main fighter, same as Brent."
A tall man, rugged and clearly in his late forties, immediately stood up. His face was lined with experience, and he wore practical, durable field clothing.
"It's Brent," the man said, offering a curt, professional nod. "I'm also able to use the ego black and liquid. I heard a young genius who joined the ranks. Glad to have you, kid."
Joan, the youngest at around 23, felt a flicker of respect for the veteran fighter. "I'll be on your care, Brent," she replied.
Aaron, looking more like he was about to give a presentation on quarterly sales figures, smiled faintly. "Actually, Joan, we will be under your care. None of us are fighters like you and Brent."
He gestured to the others.
The first was a man dressed with an alarming level of high-end, tailored detail—velvet vest, perfectly knotted cravat, and a gold watch chain. He looked ready for a gala.
"This is Chris," Aaron said. "Our social chameleon. Don't let the suit fool you; he can be a waiter, a Duke, or a baker by tomorrow morning. He’s our infiltration specialist."
Chris flashed a dazzling, practiced smile—the kind that was clearly designed to melt inhibitions. "I'm Chris. Nice to meet the young lady in the group. Thrilled to have someone with your reputation on board."
Next was a figure who was completely absorbed, sitting slightly slumped over a small, intricate brass device. They were tweaking a mechanical spring, making a tiny, polished cylinder twirl and twirl with focused, unblinking intensity.
"That's Jai," Aaron said, his tone utterly casual. "He's our support tech guy. He'll be the driver, in charge of communications, and handles all our tools and equipment."
Jai only grunted softly, not looking up as the metallic whirring of his tinkering continued. His skills as a former master thief were now focused entirely on specialized tools.
Finally, a quiet woman with sharp, observant eyes was sitting slightly apart, nursing a cold cup of tea, her modest dress blending into the shadows.
"And this is Hana," Aaron concluded. "Our human profiler and social analyst." Hana, the former librarian, specialized in reading human data.
Hana dipped her head slightly. She set her teacup down and spent a long moment observing Joan, her gaze clinical and assessing.
"Welcome, Joan," Hana said, nodding once. Then, she looked Joan squarely in the face. "You're young." She trailed her eyes down to Joan's stance. "A bit impulsive." She checked the practical but sturdy material of Joan’s jacket. "Your work history at a news agency is apparent." Hana paused, looking at the scuff marks on Joan’s boots. "The way you walk suggests you favor a forward, almost boyish stride." She glanced at the calluses on Joan's hands. "And I note your brother works in construction."
Joan frowned, completely taken aback by the precise, intimate details that seemed plucked from thin air. "That's... all correct," she admitted, amazement coloring her voice. "It's incredible that you figured all that out just by looking at me."
Hana gave a slight, wry smile. "No, nothing like that," she clarified, utterly deadpan. "I read your personnel file in advance. That's why I know."
Joan stared, the moment of awe draining away instantly, replaced by a slightly bewildered frustration. A gold digger, a former thief who only cares about clockwork, and a librarian who reads personnel files for fun? What kind of team is this? she wondered, struggling to connect this group to the deadly covert mission Chief Gin had mentioned.
As if reading her mind, Aaron spoke in his gentle, professorial tone. "Yeah, we all look ordinary, Joan. That is the purpose of this team; it's perfect. You should know that we have done lots of successful missions together relying on the fact that no one ever suspects us."
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He walked over to a small, laminated sign near the door. "For the records, we need a designation." He pointed to the sign. "We are Unit 7, Off-Hours Services."
Joan frowned. "Off-Hours Services? Why did we name our group that?"
Aaron shrugged, retrieving a piece of chalk to write on a small board. "It was the Chief's idea. Something he came out of random just to put in the records. He likes names that sound like low-level internal bureaucracy."
Brent chuckled, running a hand over his tired face. "That is so like the Chief to name something like that. Guess what he named some other team? 'Dairy Creamer'! Said they were 'light, fast, and always mixing in where they shouldn't.' So I'm not gonna complain about our name."
Aaron smiled, the first genuine, unawkward expression Joan had seen. He was clearly the calm center of this strange collection.
"Now that we're properly acquainted," Aaron said, turning serious and gesturing toward a map on the wall. "Let's talk about the Founder's Ball at Blackwood Manor."
The small room, dimly lit by the flickering fluorescent, was dominated by a large whiteboard covered in charts and markings. Hana, functioning as Aaron's secretary, stood ready with a marker.
Hana quickly passed a folder to Joan.
"Alright, we start immediately," Aaron Sader announced, his voice steady and calm, contrasting sharply with his slightly rumpled suit and tired eyes. "You can catch up from the info in your folder, Joan. We have been on this case for a month now. But our initial objective has been completely changed. Forget everything from the past. The Chief said that case is now out of our hands and was transferred to the other team."
Chris, the flamboyant gold digger, sighed dramatically. "Oh, all of our effort, and now the other team grabs the glory."
"Now, now, Chris," Aaron said patiently, like a calm school principal. "You know we don't work for glory. But I assure you, this one is suited for us than any other team. The Chief has full faith in us."
Aaron turned to the whiteboard, gesturing toward a complex chart marked with threads connecting various photos. At the very top, a drawing of a head was marked UNKNOWN with a large question mark.
"This ball is very important, and extremely dangerous," Aaron stressed. "Eyes on the board. We've been tracking a surge in smuggled goods and artifacts. These were stolen by some kind of Dark Organization (marked here as Dark Org 1)."
He pointed to a row of pictures below the main chart. Several heads were marked with a Red X.
"Pictures with the red X mark are all deceased," Aaron confirmed. "Most of them are minor heads or lackeys of criminal groups, others from lesser nobility. All of them link to a second organization, Dark Org 2, which we think is some kind of cult that recruit members for strength. The other heads in the same row, somehow not marked X, are still alive, but we're not sure for how long. The missing guy at the top must be one of them. Let's call him Person X."
Brent, the veteran fighter, leaned forward. "Come on, Boss, you're skipping the best part."
Aaron nodded. "Oh, right. This 'Group Z'—now we've finally identified them as 'The Unwoven.' Red Ops has finally identified them as terrorists, and they are extremely dangerous. They are a cleaner group of assassins. Avoid them as much as possible, unfortunately, our mission involves possible contact with them. Hence, this mission is extremely dangerous."
"The ball we are focused on is very soon. Some of the questionable figureheads and targets of both groups will be attending," Aaron said. "So our broad initial objective is to infiltrate and identify their target. Or, it's possible we can identify some of these nobles as heads of the Dark Org 2 cult."
Chris threw his hands up in confusion. "So which or what is our true mission, then? That seems confusing."
Hana, without being prompted, distributed new, thinner folders to each team member.
"Good question, Chris," Aaron replied calmly. "We have a week before the ball. It’s the birthday of Henreich Frank, a noble famous for trading linens. He's also to announce his son as the new head of his major brand. People will be coming there with different purposes: for business, for stealing, and to socialize. Now, we aren't going to join the ball. The event is our last resort. We need to identify a possible link to Person X. Open page two of your folder."
Brent whistled softly. "Artifacts?"
"Yes," Aaron confirmed. "And the next page... Most of those who seem linked to those artifacts are wearing the same ring. Those rings are somehow related to Person X and Dark Organization 1."
Aaron paused for emphasis. "Now, the twist: those attending the ball are known enemies, competitors, and even have a record of skirmish. The tension will be high."
Brent followed Aaron's logic. "So this ball is intentionally made as an avenue for them to poke at each other?"
"Good point," Aaron said. "But that is not the angle we are looking at. We are looking at it from The Unwoven's view. If you are The Unwoven, this event is a good place to kill a group of influential men and steal from them. There are smuggled items and transactions related to these people. The Unwoven will kill and steal those items. And that brings me to the main point: We identify Person X, and we report the activities of The Unwoven. We do not engage."
Aaron reached under the table and pulled out a small, heavy wooden case.
"And as for the ring, we managed to have one in our hands. Don't question where we got it—even I don't know how the organization got its hand on it." Aaron tossed the wooden case across the table. It slid to a stop directly in front of Joan.
"Joan," he instructed. "Go have it checked by some expert. See what you can come up with and find out about that ring. We believe it is related to Person X and Dark Organization 1."
He looked around the table at his unconventional crew, assigning each agent their solo mission:
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Hana (The Analyst): "Your assignment is to use your archival network to locate any known historical or familial links between the deceased targets and Henreich Frank's family line. Focus on land deeds and old business partners."
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Chris (The Chameleon): "Your assignment is to leverage your social skills to get eyes and ears inside the Blackwood Manor's staff, specifically the catering and valet services, before the event. Find any unusual deliveries or staff hires."
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Jai (The Tech): "You will be preparing our vehicle and communications setup. Also, design a micro-level acoustic dampener that Joan and Brent can use. We need silence."
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Brent (The Fighter): "You have a surveillance target outside of the ball. We have preliminary files pointing to a man not on the public list who we suspect is directly involved with Person X. He is confirmed to be wearing one of the rings. Your mission is to find and follow him, assessing his movements and connections."
"Each one of you will have a different assignment. After two days, we come back here and consolidate the information. We acquire info for now, and then move based on that. Dismissed."