Berlin, Germeny - Airport
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Mathis finally stepped off the plane, blending into the steady stream of travelers as he collected his luggage and disappeared into the bustling chaos of Berlin's airport. The crisp September air hit him as he stepped outside, carrying a faint chill that bit at his skin despite the afternoon sun hanging low in the sky. The sky was a pale blue, fading slightly at the horizon, and the hum of distant planes lingered like a persistent echo in his ears. Even amidst the noise of taxis and travelers, Mathis remained hyper-aware, his senses on high alert. The weight of the nine-day deadline bore down on him, like sand slipping through his fingers.
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He adjusted his collar, trying to shake off the exhaustion that clung to him. Hours spent chasing leads had left him feeling like a dog running in circles. Was he chasing ghosts? No. It was all connected. He was sure of that much.
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The cacophony of hurried footsteps, rolling luggage, and murmured conversations faded the moment his eyes locked onto a familiar figure leaning casually against a sleek, black car.
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Bree.
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The car's polished surface gleamed under the pale afternoon light, blending into the backdrop of taxis and passengers, but Bree stood out like a beacon. She always did. As he approached, expecting the usual cool reception, Bree surprised him by stepping forward and pulling him into a hug.
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The warmth of her embrace caught him off guard, along with the familiar scent of her perfume—a scent that had once been comforting, now wrapped in bittersweet memories. For a second, the image of her laughing, carefree and light, flashed in his mind. But that was a different time. It felt like a lifetime ago.
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His body stiffened instinctively, the wall he'd built around himself refusing to crumble, even when part of him wanted to. Guilt gnawed at him—for pushing her away, for keeping her at arm's length ever since the truth about his family's death came from Mr. Sha. He knew it was for the best, but that didn't stop the ache that twisted in his chest every time he was near her. He almost pulled away, the instinct to protect himself kicking in, but he forced himself to relax, though a knot still sat heavy in his stomach.
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"So, Mathis," Bree smiled, though her eyes carried a weight that her light tone couldn't mask. "How are you? You're walking well—looks like your leg healed nicely."
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Mathis nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Long recovery," he said, though the words felt hollow. The nine-day countdown pounded in the back of his mind. Time was slipping away too fast, and every second spent on small talk felt like a waste. He could feel Bree's warmth, her concern for him, but it only reminded him of the distance he'd created between them. It was easier this way. Safer.
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"How about you?" he asked, more out of courtesy than curiosity.
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Bree's eyes flicked over him, lingering a little too long, as if she were searching for the man he used to be. But that man was long gone, buried under the weight of grief and revenge. She must have known that.
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"Keeping busy," she replied, her voice softening. For a moment, her easy smile faltered, and he caught a glimpse of something deeper—something unresolved. She hadn't mentioned the silence between them. She didn't have to. It hung heavy in the air, an unspoken question neither of them was ready to confront.
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Bree shifted gears, slipping back into the confident agent she'd always been. "Speaking of busy," she said, hefting his bag into the trunk with ease, "I've been tracking a cargo van that passed through Berlin, heading for Italy. I got the registration number, but beyond that, it's been... tricky."
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Mathis chuckled, grateful for the shift in topic. He pulled out his phone and dialed quickly. "I know just the guy for that. Hey, Brillo. I've got a job for you. Can you use SAT-ONE to track a vehicle if I give you the registration number? Perfect. I'll send it your way."
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As he ended the call, Bree raised an eyebrow but didn't push for details. Years in the field had taught her to leave some things unspoken. But Mathis knew she had her own reasons for being here—reasons beyond just helping him.
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She wasn't just here out of loyalty. Her government had a vested interest in the stolen drone too. If they could recover it, they'd want a piece of the technology—a bargaining chip in the global game of espionage. She hadn't said it outright, but Mathis could sense it, feel the tension between her personal stake and her feelings for him. He didn't doubt her friendship, but it was layered with complexity. Bree had always been driven, and that hadn't changed.
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Mathis slipped his phone back into his jacket, the weight of the next nine days pressing harder. That van wasn't just a lead—it was their only link to the drone capable of pulling off an assassination that could throw the world into chaos. If they lost it, everything would unravel.
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"Brillo will have something soon," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. The Shadow Front wouldn't give them the luxury of time.
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Bree nodded, her fingers tapping lightly against the car, her gaze drifting toward the road. "Good, because we're running on borrowed time. The van is key to figuring out how the drone moved. If it crosses into Italy, we could lose it for good."
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"Any luck with the footage at the checkpoints?" Mathis asked, already preparing himself mentally for the next step.
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Bree sighed, leaning against the car, her face serious. "Nothing yet. The van's keeping a low profile, probably running with forged papers. It's like they're always a step ahead."
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Mathis frowned. The frustration was mounting. "We'll get it," he said, mostly to himself.
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They climbed into the car, the city's rhythm still pulsing around them, but quieter now. As Bree started the engine, she glanced at him. "There's more. The van's heading to Rome, but that's not the only reason we're going there."
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Mathis turned to her, curiosity piqued. "What else?"
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"The Gray Man," she said, her voice lowering. "I've heard whispers that he's resurfaced."
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A cold chill ran down Mathis's spine. The Gray Man wasn't just a ghost in the intelligence world—he was a specter. The kind of operative who disappeared without a trace, leaving devastation in his wake. If he was involved, it meant they were already deep in a game far more dangerous than they'd realized.
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Mathis stiffened at the name, the air suddenly feeling colder despite the sun still hanging in the sky. "If he's involved..." He let the thought hang in the air. They both knew what it meant.
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Bree met his gaze, her expression grim. "Exactly. We're walking into a storm, Mathis. But we've been here before, haven't we?"
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Mathis grinned, though the tension between them remained thick. "Yeah. And we always make it out."
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But as they pulled away from the airport, the nine-day countdown ticked in his head, a reminder that this storm might be unlike any they'd faced before.
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