raysaura

[raysaura]

See What I See (Chapter One)

The team gathered around the mission table, its surface flickering with blue-tinted schematics of the target building. Etheria Co.’s main laboratory loomed on the holographic display—three floors of concrete, reinforced glass, and secrets buried beneath security measures. Inside, scientists were rumored to be testing a new class of radianite-enhanced weaponry. Weapons that weren’t just illegal—they were unstable, unpredictable, and deadly in the wrong hands.

And with Omega Earth’s desperation for radianite growing more volatile by the day, these prototypes posed a threat far beyond this world. If replicated or smuggled across dimensions, they could neutralize Valorant agents before a fight even began.

Brimstone stood at the head of the table, arms braced against the metal frame, his eyes sweeping across the projected blueprint—and then to the agents before him.

“This is Etheria Co.,” he began, his voice steady, firm, every syllable weighted with urgency. “They’ve been manufacturing unauthorized radianite-class weapons for months now, off the books. We have credible intel that these weapons are being prepped for distribution—likely to Omega operatives.”

He paused, letting that sit in the room like a ticking device. “If even one of these gets into the wrong hands, it could change the balance of everything.”

He looked to his team—five agents, handpicked for this mission. Viper. Sova. Jett. Phoenix. Sage. A calculated blend of precision, speed, power, and control. They didn’t just look ready—they were ready. Eyes sharp. Posture relaxed. No nerves, just focus.

Brimstone gestured to the tactical folders laid out in front of them, sliding one toward each agent.

“Inside are your mission details—entry points, guard rotations, intel locations. Your positions are critical. Timing is tighter than usual; you’ll have a ten-minute window before backup arrives. We go in clean, fast, and quiet.”

Phoenix flipped open his folder with a cocky grin. “Quiet’s never really been my thing, mate.”

Jett smirked. “That’s ‘cause you like setting off alarms just to hear yourself talk.”

Sova chuckled under his breath, scanning the blueprints already committed to memory.

Viper didn’t look up. “If you two are finished, maybe we can focus on the task at hand. Preferably before someone fries the perimeter sensors again.”

“Hey, that was one time,” Phoenix shot back.

Brimstone cleared his throat. The room settled.

“This mission has no room for improvisation,” he said. “If anything seems off, report it immediately. We don’t know what kind of resistance we’ll face. And I don’t like walking into unknowns blind.”

He started toward the door, then paused at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder.

“If there are any questions, direct them to Viper. She’s lead on this op. I’ve got full confidence in all of you—don’t give me a reason to second-guess that.”

And with that, he left them to the silence and the sharp hum of the mission table.

———————-

Viper sat alone in her laboratory, bathed in the sterile glow of fluorescent lights overhead. The hum of filtration systems buzzed faintly in the background, harmonizing with the low clinks of glass and metal as she refined her utility for the mission ahead. Vials of green-tinted compounds lined the steel counter, some bubbling gently, others sealed tight—lethal in the wrong hands, perfect in hers.

She held one of her toxin-emitting orbs delicately between gloved fingers, turning it over in her palm as a fine mist escaped from a pressure valve. It hissed softly, a sound she found oddly comforting. This was her element, her ability—precise, clinical, controlled. Out there, chaos reigned. But here? She was the architect of every reaction.

This kind of mission wasn’t new. Humanity had always feared what it didn’t understand. Radiants were just the latest monster to point a gun at. Different. Powerful. Dangerous. But Viper had seen enough to know that fear wasn’t always irrational—it was survival. Even she had to admit, some Radiants were unpredictable. Reckless.

Still, something about it grated at her. “At the end of the day,” she muttered to no one in particular, adjusting the capsule’s pressure ring, “they were all just people. Once.”

She slid the orb into its custom slot on her belt, eyes flicking to the towering canister that housed her toxic screen emitter. Her wall would be useful during infiltration of the facility—covering visibility, disrupting lines of sight—but once inside the building, she’d have to be more precise. The space would be tight, enclosed. Her usual wide-scale control wouldn’t work. It would come down to orbs, poison clouds, and her ultimate—if she needed it.

She typed a command on the lab terminal, watching the gas levels stabilize inside her gear. The air smelled faintly of chemicals—acrid, bitter, and strangely familiar. She didn’t mind. The others could call her methods extreme. Cold. Inhuman.

But they were alive because of them.

——————-

High turbulence shook the body of the vulture as the team swayed inside. Brimstone had taken the responsibility of piloting the aircraft, giving the team one final debriefing before they were to infiltrate the lab. A storm had passed an hour before they had decided to take flight, giving them perfect cover in the gray clouds and thick air. The sky still had hung heavy with the smell of wet asphalt and static electricity. The facility stood in the shadow of a broken hill—remote, wrapped in silence, and cold enough that Phoenix’s breath came out in clouds. He and Jett stood at the entrance of the vulture, eager to begin the mission,  It had been a while since they had been sent on a mission like this, and they were ready.

They landed quietly, a little ways away from the facility, as to not be spotted by snipers or any scouts they might have had stationed nearby. The team of five moved quickly and quietly, leaving Brimstone in the aircraft had they had to make a quick exit. Although they doubted that would be the case. 

“Approaching the breach point,” Sova’s voice whispered through comms. He crouched ahead of the group, scanning the perimeter with his recon gear. “One guard, east hallway. Heat signature is… erratic.”

“Could be sleeping on the job,” Phoenix muttered.

“Or dead,” Viper replied flatly, stepping through a puddle without breaking stride.

The team moved like clockwork—Sova leading point, Jett flanking wide along the roof, Sage watching the rear. Viper stalked down the side of the building, gloved hand trailing along the cement wall until she found the service panel. With a flick of her wrist, a long cable extended from her gauntlet and jacked into the access port. Sparks flickered.

“Disabling interior sensors,” she murmured. “Hold for five seconds.”

Inside, the magnetic locks hissed open with a satisfying clunk.

The team slipped in.

Checking their surroundings, weapons at the ready, however, the facility greeted them not with the hum of activity but with silence. The kind that pressed against your ears. The kind that felt wrong.

No guards. No voices. No radio chatter. Just dim corridors and the echo of their own movements.

Jett landed beside them in the main hallway, eyes narrowing as she scanned the flickering overhead lights. “Where is everyone?”

Sova held up a hand and released a scanning dart. It soared down the corridor, embedding in the wall—and blinked red. Multiple heat signatures. Motionless.

“Something’s wrong,” Sage said quietly.

They moved deeper, boots silent against the tile. Phoenix lit his hand slightly, casting a faint orange glow around the corners.

Then the lights cut completely.

In an instant, the hallway plunged into darkness. Seconds later, emergency power kicked in—flashing red lights that pulsed through the halls like a heartbeat. Each flare revealed more of the scene in snapshots.

Flash.

A guard slumped against a wall, mouth agape, eyes unfocused.

Flash.

Two scientists collapsed in a corner, faces frozen in terror.

Flash.

A table overturned. A security drone shattered on the ground.

“None of them are dead,” Sage whispered, kneeling by one of the guards. “Pulse is faint. They’re alive but… not responsive.”

“Gas,” Viper said, stepping forward, scanning the air. “Not mine. Something… else. Someone got here first.”

Sova raised his bow as a noise echoed from the west wing—metal shifting, soft footsteps. The team immediately raised their weapons.

Phoenix moved first. “I got this—”

“No,” Viper snapped. “We go as a unit. Whatever did this is still here.”

They rounded the corner slowly, weapons trained ahead.

And then they saw it.

At the far end of the corridor, beneath the pulsing red glow, stood a single figure. Surrounded by more unconscious bodies. Calm. Still. Cloaked in a purple mist that curled low to the ground like breath on glass.

You.

You weren’t holding a weapon. You weren’t running. You stood loosely, back partially turned, head tilted as if listening to something they couldn’t hear. You were cloaked in all black, a large armored bag on your back.

Flash.

“Hands where I can see them,” Viper’s voice barked through the comms. She narrowed her eyes at the masked person in front of her. “Now.”

You slowly raised one hand, fingers relaxed. The other held something small—barely visible in the red light. A vial? A weapon? Something glowing faintly with purple energy.

Flash.

Viper stepped forward. “You’re not staff,” she said coldly. “Who the hell are you?”

You turned fully now, meeting her eyes. And for a moment, Viper’s breath caught—not out of fear, but recognition.

You smiled slightly. Calm. Detached.

“Late to the party,” you said, voice smooth but ragged from gas exposure and distortion from the mask. “I already handled it.”

Flash.

The lights flickered again, and the mist thickened. You took a slow step forward.

And behind you, one of the unconscious guards began to scream.