Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Cavern – Outskirts,

Thok.

A recon bolt ricochets off stone, then embeds itself high above the unloading zone—just above the trucks

PING.
PING.
PING.

Three silhouettes blink into view. Guards, clustered near a convoy. Rifles slung, unloading cargo. They don’t even know they’ve been tagged.

UNKNOWN VOICE (low, calm): “There they are.”

FLASH!

A bright streak slices the dark. Phoenix’s curveball arcs clean around a support pillar, erupting in a blinding pulse of light. The guards react too late—staggering back, firing wildly—

Pew. Pew. Pew.
Three precise Phantom shots drop them before their magazines even empty.

JETT (landing softly, wind swirling): “Huh. That was easy.”
Her feet barely touch down, the breeze lifting her jacket and dancing around her drawn kunai.

From the shadows nearby, Phoenix steps out with a scowl.
PHOENIX (offended): “Oi! You stole my kills, mate. Not cool, man!”

Boots echo behind them as the full strike team emerges, weapons drawn,

Clove, Iso, Killjoy, Raze, Gekko. Each one sharp.

CLOVE (casually):
“And thus… the party descends into darkness.”

GEKKO (eyes wide, spinning slowly):
“Man… this place is crazy big…”

ISO walks past the convoy, eyes on the crates. He raps the back of his Vandal against one—CLANK. The lid jolts open, revealing a cache of weapons lined with eerie violet lights and the unmistakable Hourglass sigil burned into the side.

ISO (coldly):
“No doubt. Hourglass tech.”
He pulls one out, examines it, then tosses it back in with a dull thud.
“I’ve got unfinished business myself.”

Nearby, Killjoy kneels, setting down her Alarmbot with a quiet whirr.

KILLJOY (focused):
“Flank secured. No one’s sneaking up our six.”

A soft crackle in their comms.

SOVA (voice calm, accented):
“Friends. It’s time to move.”

The Cavern – Upper Ridge

Sova moved like a ghost above them, weaving between rocks. Boots silent, breath steady. He crouched low behind a boulder.

His eye scanned the darkness below—the squad weaving through steel pillars and half-lit halls. Down there, they were in the danger. Up here? He was the only light guiding them through it.

SOVA (soft, into comms):
“Cypher. We’re in.”

INT. CYPHERS BASEMENT-HQ

CYPHER (filtered, distant, calmly typing):
“Good, good… What’s the situation?”

SOVA (eyes scanning):
“Light patrols on the outskirts. Too low.”

He settled the Operator down on the boulder as he looked down sight through its scope,

He narrows on a guard post near the northern scaffolding—two soldiers posted high with rifles and floodlights.

SOVA (in comms):
“Clove. You’re up.”

CLOVE (soft whisper, Scottish lilt):
“Aye. Copy.”

Clove tapped their HUD. A ripple of holo-screens flickered around their glove,

SOVA (steady tone):
“Targets: Eleven and two o’clock.”

CLOVE:
“Got ‘em.”

They swiped—two clouds of violet smoke surged into position. Chokepoints covered.

From above, Sova watched the panic unfold. The guards shouted, backing away from the rails, trying to climb down to get eyes on the intruders.

GUARD (shouting):
“Who’s there!? Sound the alarm!”

Sova didn’t flinch. He pulls out  his bow from back unfolding it and reached for a shock bolt from his quiver. Nocked it. Charging it just enough.

SOVA (cold, controlled):
“On my mark…”

CLOVE (raising a Decay Orb):
“Fall back, people.”

Clove tossed the orb high. It arced like a ember, then detonated mid-air above the guards. A burst of withering energy engulfed them, weakening their armor in seconds.

SOVA (loosing his arrow):
“Mark.”

CRACK!
The shock bolt hit dead-center in the chaos—a burst of lightning rippled through the decay cloud, sending both soldiers tumbling with distorted screams.

SOVA (in comms):
“Post A1 cleared. Proceed.”

CYPHER’S BASEMENT – HQ

The screen glowed red. Cypher’s hands flew over the keyboard, bringing up heat signatures, and static feeds from a compromised relay station deep in the facility.

CYPHER (muttering, to squad-wide channel):
“Copy that. Set your timers, people.”

He tapped a key—T-minus 150 seconds blinked across screen.

CYPHER (grim):
“Expect heavy resistance ahead. You’re walking into a trap.”

The narrow corridors give way. Metal and stone open into a vast subterranean expanse—an underground complex the size of a city block. Floodlights line the ceiling in rows. Catwalks crisscross above, suspended by thick cables, while cargo elevators move between levels. Storage containers, lab pods, blacksite bunkers, and automated drones loom in the distance.

Dead center—a massive portal system hums with unstable energy. Pulsing. Breathing. In middle it  whirls a violent, violet gateway trapped inside a tech-ring of spires and rotating stabilizers. The Fabron dynaimcs logo burns on its frames.

The squad halts. For a second, everyone just stares.

KILLJOY (staggered, in German):
“Das ist Wahnsinn…”
(This is madness…)

Her eyes scan the tech architecture—quantum gate stabilizers, power nodes, thermal locks humming. She’s seen some wild prototypes. Nothing like this.

SOVA (firm, clear):
“Killjoy. Begin lockdown protocols.”

Killjoy snaps back to focus, fingers already racing over her gauntlet. She deploys turret in standby mode as she deployed multiple bots.

SOVA (broadcasting to all):
“Everyone—start the clocks. Operation commences now.”

All agents sync in, countdowns activating across the team.

[TIMER – 02:30]

Beeps.

Each agent spreads out across the massive facility, weaving between crates, climbing staircases, and prepping for engagement.

Jett dashes forward, scouting high ground.
Iso loads a fresh mag, eyes locked on the gate.
Phoenix rolls his neck,.
Clove take a vantage point.
Raze grins, already planting a blast pack under one of the cargo lifts.
Gekko sends Wingman towards the far side control panels.
Killjoy’s bots start syncing with the central core’s power nodes.

SOVA (quietly, to himself, watching the portal):
“…and so it begins.”

Chapter Text

Jett, Phoenix, and Raze fan out toward the frontline, their boots thudding over grated metal walkways.

RAZE (grinning, pulling a grenade):
“Heh… It’s showtime, baby!”

She tosses it high, a rainbow arc that blasts over a nearby terminal cluster on the upper deck. The grenade explodes mid-air, ejecting smaller, sparking fuses. A chain reaction erupts—

KRRRZT—BOOM!
Electric arcs blast through the terminals. Sparks flying.
Two technicians convulse, screaming as they're electrocuted.

From the catwalks above, robotic voices shout:

GUARD 1:
“Unidentified hostiles. Sound the alarm!”

One guard breaks from cover, running for the console.

KILLJOY (smirking, activating her wristpad):
“Schön... not so fast.”

Her turret pops, activating auto-locking and firing—

PEW! PEW! PEW!
The guard drops before reaching the button.

SOVA (from overwatch):
“Move, people. Move!”

He’s already locked in on a far patrol. Operator scope tight. Breathing calmly.
His shot fires—one guard down with a snap of recoil.
He immediately relocates, staying mobile along the upper ridge.

GEKKO (raising his arm):
“Dizzy’s up!”

Dizzy launches, blinking blue across the cavern before letting out a burst-blind.
Nearby soldiers stagger, shouting, cursing, revealed.

JETT (leaping off the railing, voice proud in Korean):
"봐봐! Watch this!"

Mid-air—dash. Flip. KUNAI OUT.
Three shimmering blades flicker—sing, sing, sing—
Three headshots. Three down.

ALARM BLARES—
A piercing siren howls through the entire cavern.
Red lights flash. Speakers shout.

ISO (checking corners):
“Here they come.”

A mechanical announcement echoes across the cavern in a cold, artificial voice:

FACILITY ANNOUNCEMENT:
“ALERT. Breach detected. Northwestern quadrant 35A. All available personnel, engage and neutralise hostiles.”

CLOVE (aiming and firing at a speaker overhead):
“Too loud, mate.”

BANG!
The speaker explodes, sparks raining down.

Soldiers emerge from side doors, catwalks, and maintenance lifts—flooding toward the agents.

ISO narrows his eyes.
He pulls his Undercut, forming a bolt of hexagonal, purple energy.
With a flick, he throws it toward the first wave.

The bolt phases through them-
Two enemy agents stagger, their weapons falling limp, armor flickering offline.

ISO (shoots both, calmly):
“Not bad.”

[TIMER – 2:19…]

The agents move like a tide—methodical, precise, fast.
Every movement is covered. Backs protected. Corners cleared.

Phoenix ducks behind the scorched terminal. Two soldiers charge, yelling as one throws a grenade toward his cover.

PHOENIX (eyes wide, diving out):
“Oi! Cheeky lot—alright, my turn!”

Mid-roll, he whips out his Hot Hands, flame dancing in his palm, then hurls it.

WHOOSH—FIREBALL.
The floor under the enemy’s boots, igniting a raging fire.

One soldier’s leg catches fire—panicked screams echo as he stumbles, trying to tear off his gear.

Raze aims, grinning—

BANG! The screaming soldier drops.

The second soldier hesitates, but a sudden curve ball blind bursts in front of him—eyes white, senses gone.

PHOENIX (pulls trigger):
“Lights out.”

The shots hit clean. Blood splatters the wall as the body slumps.

From above the crates, Raze scans the field, eyes widening as a heavy energy cannon is wheeled in.

Soldiers shout commands, the weapon begins to hum—charging up.

RAZE (chuckling, tongue out):
“Oho! Nice toy you’ve got there!”

She slaps down two satchels in rapid motion—click, click—and leaps, blasting herself high over the firefight.

Mid-air, flames trail behind her.

RAZE (cackling):
“I brought the party!”

BOOM.
She pulls her Showstopper—aims—fires.

The rocket screams downward—
Direct hit.

Massive explosion.
The cannon and the squad guarding it are obliterated, chunks flying, colors bursting.

RAZE (landing hard):
“Hoh, that worked great!”

In the chaos, Killjoy pushes toward the central console, flanked by Gekko, Iso, and Clove.

Enemy fire erupts from cross angles and front shots hammering against catwalks and railings.

GEKKO (gritting teeth):
“They brought Odins?! Seriously?!”

The group dives for cover as high-caliber rounds rip through the air.

ISO (on comms, breathing steady):
“Sova, I need your mark.”

SOVA (calmly):
“On my signal… now.”

Iso activates Contingency.
A pulsing purple energy shield forms it moves forward like a tactical wall.

The ODINs keep firing, hammering the shield with everything they’ve got. Sparks fly, but it holds.

Then—click. Click.
The enemies’ magazines dry out just as the shield fades.

GEKKO, CLOVE, ISO, and KILLJOY rise—

FOUR-WAY VOLLEY.

Shots land clean—soldiers drop, one by one. Helmets crack, armor bursts, smoke trails.

CLOVE (grabbing energy from a fallen enemy):
“You plum. Thanks for the top-up.”

She straightens, refreshed, eyes burning for the next fight.

[TIMER – 2:19…]

Killjoy dashes up the final platform toward the central console, breathing heavily, eyes locked.

KILLJOY (muttering in German):
“Fast. I just need a minute—”

Behind her, the lab breaks open—steel clanging as emergency shutters fail.

GEKKO (snapping):
“Get'em, Wingman!”

The little yellow buddy zips forward, as he runs into a pair of armed guards mid-step—
stunning them, arms twitching.

ISO doesn’t waste the opening.

He steps forward, precise and ruthless, two clean headshots—the enemies crumple.

CLOVE raises a hand,
a thick cloud of smoke blankets the hallway behind them, cutting off sightlines.

CLOVE (coolly):
“That should buy you time, love.”

Killjoy’s fingers fly across the terminal, code streaming as she begins the hack.

Up above, perched on a rusted crane arm, Sova lies prone,

He fires.

One soldier down—pierced through a crate.
Another stumbles back from a clean chest shot, no scream, just thud.

SOVA (calm):
“Two down. Area clear—”

Cypher’s voice crackles in through his comms.

CYPHER(urgent):
“Sova, come in.”

SOVA(shooting another):
“Copying. Go.”

CYPHER:
“Heat signatures. Southwest quadrant. Moving fast. Confirm visual.”

Sova blinks—his bionic eye zooms in, shifting angles, scanning.

Focus sharpens—he sees them.

SOVA (eyes narrowing):
“...Shit. INCOMING!”

BOOOOOOOM.

Before anyone can react—a brilliant white flash detonates from the southwest entry.

The entire cavern trembles.

Crates tumble, glass shatters.

Everyone hits the floor.

Static fills their ears. HUDs flicker. The purple portal at the center warps violently.

For a moment—only blinding light and ringing silence.

Then… movement.

Sova blinks, forcing his vision to return.

Through the smoke and dust—silhouettes emerge.

SOVA (hoarse):
“Cypher… they’re here.”

Unfamiliar voice, smooth and cocky, comes through

??? (sassy):
“My, my. I leave for a minute and it turns into a mess…”

A figure steps into full view—
Jett, but not.

Spinning a  kunai, her stance effortless.

OMEGA JETT.

OMEGA JETT (grinning):
“Let’s level the field, hm?”

Chapter Text

FLASHBACK
SEOUL –INSA-DONG –EVENING

A cozy street-side restaurant glows beneath lanterns, nestled between narrow alleyways and flickering neon. The buzz of a young evening, soft jazz on the radio, sizzling pans—it’s calm and lively.

Inside, in a steamy kitchen, Sunwoo Han is busy at the stove. Her hair’s tied back in a bun, apron dusted in flour and oil. She's fast, efficient, familiar with every corner of the kitchen.

A woman leans into the kitchen, hands full of plates.

MOTHER (in Korean):
“Sunwoo! Two Bibimbap and one Seolleongtang. Table five—your friends.”

HAN (Korean, smiling):
“Got it, Mom. Last one, then I’m on break.”

She wipes her brow, adjusts the flame, and flips a pan with ease. The steam rises, colors vivid—egg yolks, pickled vegetables, rice.

Meanwhile, just outside.

EXT. ALLEY BEHIND THE RESTAURANT – SAME TIME

The night turns colder. The gentle warmth of the street fades as, from behind the restaurant, a figure steps into view from a shadowed alleyway in the darkness.
Black tactical boots. Long windbreaker. A hood pulled low over white hair.

In her hand, a projected holographic map, Seoul’s narrow grid shining in light blue. A portrait flickers on the display:

[TARGET: HAN SUNWOO – PRIORITY ELIMINATION]

Below the image, the Valorant symbol is crossed out. The Kingdom seal was burned into the corner.

OMEGA JETT (low voice):
Arrived at the location. Beginning search.”

She flips the Sheriff in her grip, quietly loading it with practised hands.

She looks up toward the glowing restaurant windows. Her expression is unreadable.

DING.
The bell above the door chimes. A soft sound, barely cutting through the quiet hum of the restaurant. Han wipes her hands with a towel tucked in her apron, turns to greet her friends sitting by the window.

CUSTOMER (grinning, raising bowl):
“Boss! Another one of these, please!”

Sunwoo laughs, light and bright.

HAN (Korean):
“You’ll be too full to walk, Jaemin. One sec!”

Behind her, we see the door swing shut.

Standing there, framed by the glow of the restaurant, is a figure in a hoodie, hands in pockets, face shadowed. Raindrops cling to the coat.

Sunwoo’s mother turns from the counter to greet her.

MOTHER (in Korean, welcoming):
“Welcome! Table for one or—?”

She doesn’t finish.

WOOSH—

A violent gust of wind explodes from the doorframe. Dishes shatter. Tables flip. Customers scream.

Sunwoo barely turns before she’s thrown to the ground. Her ears ring. Glass rains around her.

Darkness…
Then—SOUNDS.
Sirens. People crying. Distant shouting. The screech of tires.

EXT. INSA-DONG – NIGHT – MINUTES LATER

A storm has torn through the narrow street.

First responders arrive—fire brigade, paramedics, police. Lights flash red and blue across the shattered restaurant, now barely holding its structure. Flames cover the kitchen. Smoke rises into the air.

Reporters have swarmed the scene.

INT. ALLEY BEHIND THE RESTAURANT

Sunwoo—her apron now torn, face streaked with runs through the back alley, panting, stumbling.

A kunai slices through the air, missing her by inches and slamming into a dumpster beside her with a metallic THUNK.

Omega Jett moves through the smoke like a phantom, calm and deadly.

EXT. SIDE STREET – ROOFTOP VANTAGE – HOURS LATER

From a nearby rooftop, Han watches the scene unfold.
A burn on her shoulder, a cut across her eyebrow, her body shaking.

Below, news vans swarm.

KOREAN NEWS ANCHOR (TV broadcast):
“…An unnatural explosion occurred tonight in Insa-dong, centred around a local family-run restaurant. Eyewitnesses describe an intense burst of wind, destroying nearby structures.”

Cut to another reporter on-site:
“Ten injuries confirmed so far. One fatality—believed to be the restaurant’s owner.”

Photos appear. A blurred image of the wreckage. Then—

ANCHOR:
“…And the suspected assailant is now identified as Han Sunwoo. Eyewitnesses claim she fled the scene after the attack.”

She stares down at her face on the news, stunned.

Then the words land—

“…fatality… owner…”

Her knees give out, and she falls to the ground, hand clamped to her mouth.

Tears run down her cheeks,

She whispers through broken breaths:

“Mom… no…”

Rain is starting to fall.

Han sits against the ledge, arms around her knees, trembling. Smoke still rises in the distance. The city, for all its lights, feels dead silent.

Footsteps approach from behind.

She tenses. Reached instinctively for the kitchen knife she had grabbed on the way out.

VOICE (calm, weathered):
“No need for that, kid. If I wanted you dead, I’d have done it already.”

She turns. Slowly.

Out of the shadows steps a large man in tactical gear—grizzled, scarred, tired eyes under a cap.

Brimstone.

He stops a few feet from her, not making a move.

BRIMSTONE:
“Now you see what I was talking about, Sunwoo.”

She glares at him, eyes still red. Her mouth trembles, words fighting to get out. But he keeps going.

BRIMSTONE (firm, low):
“These bastards… they don’t care if you’re one of us or not.”

He nods toward the ruined street in the distance.

BRIMSTONE:
“Being a Radiant? That’s enough to put a target on your back. Doesn’t matter if you’re a kid flipping pans or a soldier on the frontlines. The moment you spark, the moment you glow, you’re the enemy.”

She looks down, fists clenching.

BRIMSTONE (voice softens):
“And being near the ones you love… that’s what gets them caught in the crossfire.”

Sunwoo whispers:
“…My mom.”

Brim closes his eyes briefly,

Then:
“You can keep running. I won’t stop you. You’ve earned that right. But if you want to stop this from happening again—if you want to make sure no other kid goes through this shit—”

He steps closer, crouching to her level.

BRIMSTONE:
“Join us. We’ll teach you how to fight back. How to survive.”

She doesn’t look at him. Not yet.

BRIMSTONE (quiet but clear):
“We’ll make sure they never lay a hand on someone you care about again.”

INT. THE CAVERN – MAIN LAB PLATFORM – PRESENT MOMENT

BOOM.

SOVA (Alpha Earth) blinks, trying to regain focus. His bionic lens adjusts, stabilizing. Shadowy silhouettes walk through the light haze—smooth, predatory, and controlled.

OMEGA JETT steps through first, a sly, arrogant grin on her lips, twirling a kunai between two fingers.

OMEGA JETT:
“Let’s level the playing field, hm?”

Jett(Alpha Earth)’s eyes go wide. Her face twists in fury.

JETT:
“You piece of shit!”

Without thinking, she breaks the formation, launching forward with a furious dash, her kunai spinning in her hand.

SOVA:
“JETT NO-”

Too late.

A crackling TWANG—and a shock dart comes streaking from somewhere, piercing the air with precision. It slams into Jett mid-air, arcing electricity across her chest. She crashes to the ground, coughing, her kunai skidding out of reach.

The source?

Another SOVA steps from the upper level—Omega Sova, wearing darker armour, half his face obscured by shadow.

OMEGA SOVA (calm, cold):
“Down, girl.”

He lands hard on the catwalk beside Omega Jett.

From the shadows behind him, OMEGA agents REYNA, OMEN, and DEADLOCK appear, stepping forward with calm menace.

Our Sova moves to help Jett, eyes never leaving his double.

OMEGA SOVA:
“Your senses have rusted, Sasha.”

ALPHA SOVA (grim, steady):
“So it seems.”

They lock eyes across the ruined lab.

Then—boots thud as Alpha Team move in, forming a semi-circle around Killjoy, who’s still hacking the main terminal, working frantically.. Sweat drips down her brow.

ALPHA SOVA:
“Priority order: protect Killjoy at all costs. Defend the terminal.”

ISO (drawing shield):
“No one’s getting past us.”

CLOVE:
“They’re not ready for this.”

GEKKO:
“Wingman’s with her. Let’s go!”

RAZE (priming grenades):
“Goin’ loud, baby.”
On one side: Alpha Protocol team, damaged but standing strong.
On the other hand, Omega Unit, composed, dominant, and already flanking.
The two Sovas still stare at each other. A quiet, bitter mirror.

Then the Omega side begins to move, like wolves circling.

OMEGA REYNA (hungrily):
“Time to hunt.”

Chapter Text

Omega Reyna’s eyes ignite—deep, unnatural violet swallowing the whites. A ripple of Radiant energy rolls off her skin, tendrils of shadow curling around her like smoke.

OMEGA REYNA (low, hungry):
“The hunt begins.”

Her body blurs as Empress floods her veins—movements sharper, faster. She flicks her wrist, and a glowing purple Leer blossoms into the air, its haunting iris opening wide.

The instant it hangs above the lab floor—

Everyone’s vision fractures into hazy silhouettes, their vision collapsing in the void.

Omega Deadlock wastes no time. She snaps her Operator up, chambering a fresh round with a metallic CLACK.

ALPHA SOVA (yelling):
“GET DOWN!”

He dives, pulling Jett beside with him as the Operator round CRACKS overhead, shattering a steel conduit. Sparks rain from the ceiling.

Upon the main platform, Clove is already reacting, throwing a smoke orb down at their feet. The space around them blooms with thick haze, swallowing Killjoy and the terminal in cover.

CLOVE (urgent, to Sova):
“It’s up to you, Hunter!”

Below, Iso’s shield flares into life, the hexagonal plates locking into place around his arm as he steps forward. Raze tosses a paint shell, trying to get some time.

The lab doors slam shut behind them with a hydraulic hiss, sealing Clove and Killjoy inside while Iso and Raze take point outside.

Footsteps—too close.

A sudden WHOOSH of displaced air.
Shrouded Step.

From the blindside, Omega Omen’s shadow peels into existence behind Sova and Jett’s cover.

OMEGA OMEN (cold, deliberate):
“Don’t make a move… Hunter.”

Some habits never change. His form bleeds out of the darkness, the matte-black barrel of his Vandal pressing against Sova’s temple.

Across the floor, Omega Reyna and Jett are already in motion—blurs of speed. Jett vaults a crate, Tailwind slicing the air as she follows with a double Updraft, landing high on a catwalk for the flank. Reyna pushes hard up the middle, her glowing form weaving between cover, tossing another Leer to clear the way.

Deadlock stays low at the rear, Operator steady, tracking every flicker of movement through the haze. Vanguard position

From the upper ridge, Omega Sova draws and looses—a recon bolt arcing high into the cavern ceiling. It ricochets off steel, plunging through a breach in the lab’s roof.

BZZZZT

It slams into the platform inside Clove’s smoke. Ping markers bloom instantly on HUDs across the Omega squad.

Deadlock’s scope snaps to the ping.
Finger tightens.

BANG!

The smoke ripples as the round tears through it, a small metallic CLINK—a spent cartridge hitting the deck.

A shape stumbles out—Clove’s body crumpling forward, eyes already vacant.
Their Spectre slips from grip, clattering across the grated floor.

ALPHA SOVA:
“Clove!”

His voice cracks through the haze, but the reply never comes.

Outside the lab doors, Raze and Iso crouch low, one on each side of the entryway, waiting. Reyna’s silhouette cuts through the smoke.

RAZE & ISO (together):
“Now!”

Both spring out, muzzles blazing into the blinding purple haze of Leer.
Rounds find crates, wall plating, nothing else.

Empty mags click.

And Reyna… is gone?

A shimmer of light flickers—she reappears beside Raze, fresh from devouring Clove’s soul orb.

BANG!

Raze’s shield gauge nearly shatters. She blasts a satchel at her feet, launching herself back, forcing space.

Iso whips out his Undercut, the energy slicing past Reyna—her glow sputters as her Empress abilities flicker out.

Reyna snarls, ducking behind cover as Iso switches to his pistol.

REYNA (spitting in Spanish):
“Molestia…” (Nuisance.)

He advances—only to freeze.
A cold point touches his neck. Not metal… kunai.

OMEGA JETT (low, dangerous):
“Take another swing… I DARE you.”

She shoves him forward with the blade, smirking.

OMEGA JETT:
“Hah… this was easy.”

The last wisps of Clove’s smoke curl away, revealing Killjoy still locked at the terminal—fingers hammering keys, eyes never leaving the code.

KILLJOY (muttering):
“Come on… come on …”

Her voice is tight, focused—she knows the crosshairs are swinging her way.

From the catwalk, Omega Sova’s voice cuts through the room.

OMEGA SOVA (in Russian):
“Конец, учёный. (It’s over, scientist.) Stand down.”

He raises his Vandal, sight fixed on her head.         

A burst of light—three flashes at once—detonates through the cavern.

GEKKO (shouting):
“Dizzy, I choose you!”

PHOENIX:
“Watch your eyes!”

The Omega squad reels, vision clouded. Somewhere in the glare, a deep blue orb bursts—Harbor’s Cove splashing to life at Killjoy’s feet, shielding her in swirling water.

WHUMP—a Cascade wall crashes through, cutting Deadlock’s sightline.

OMEGA DEADLOCK (in Norwegian):
“Son of a bitch…”

She shifts, trying to swap angles, GravNet in hand—
—and reality tears open behind her.

ALPHA YORU:
“What was that you called Harbor again?”

She spins, but it’s not Yoru—it’s his clone. Her blade swings—too late. The clone bursts in a flashbang, blinding her as the real Yoru steps out of a Gatecrash near the Alpha formation.

Across the cavern, Harbor stands at a breach in the wall, water still dripping from his gauntlets.

HARBOR:
“Sorry, people. Took longer than expected—you know… bureaucracy.”

GEKKO (readying up Odin):
“Just on time, coach!”

The flashes still have Omen off-balance. Alpha Jett catches Sova’s eye.

JETT:
“On my mark.”

A Cloudburst blooms around them—cover. They split, sprinting in opposite directions, breaking Omen’s line.

PHOENIX:
“OPEN FIRE!”

Odins roars to life in his hands, the same one he and Gekko dragged off earlier. The barrage forces Omega Jett, Reyna, and Omen to peel back, distance opening again.

Now, both squads face each other across the wreckage.

Iso kneels beside Clove, searching for a pulse.
Nothing.

ISO (grim):
“She might be… We don’t know.”

Sova wipes blood from the corner of his mouth. His eyes are steel.

SOVA:
“Now…I am pissed. Either they walk out of here… or we do.”

Jett. Gekko. Phoenix slamming a fresh belt into the Odin. Iso. Raze. Yoru. Harbor.
All shift forward, weapons ready.

Sova takes a step—

DUMM!

A single round slams into the floor at his boots, spinning, burrowing into the concrete before stopping dead. The metallic whine of overpressure still hums in the air.

A voice slides through the cavern, calm, mocking:

???
“Monsieur… Madames… let’s keep this fight fair, shall we?”

Chapter Text

CHAMBER (in French):
“Mesdames et messieurs… gardons ce combat équitable, d’accord ?”
(Ladies and gentlemen… let us keep this fight fair, shall we?)

Sova steps forward, Sheriff levelled in both hands, stance squared like a soldier calling judgment. His voice cuts through the cavern, stern and unyielding:

SOVA:
“Vincent Fabron, you are hereby declared under arrest by the VALORANT Protocol. Charges: conspiracy against Alpha Earth, trafficking of classified radianite weaponry to the Hourglass organisation through illegal channels, and direct collaboration with hostile Omega agents.

How do you plead?”

Phoenix racks the Odin again, Iso’s hand flickers with static.

Chamber lets out a soft chuckle. His eyes lock onto Sova with sharp amusement.

CHAMBER:
“Sova… I always thought you were one of the more sensible ones in this… ensemble. But it seems I was mistaken. Declaring me guilty without prosecution? How very… unprofessional.”

His tone is calm, biting with sarcasm. Then, with a subtle snap of his gloved fingers, his Rendezvous beacon flares, and his form collapses into a shimmer of golden particles.

In an instant, he materialises beside Omega Reyna, his silhouette reforming out of fractured light. The gun spins back into his grasp as if it never left.

CHAMBER:
“But you are correct about one thing… I have been in contact with my counterpart. Omega Chamber—my better… though not nearly as handsome. We’ve been planning this for some time now.”

He turns slightly, angling his Tour de Force on sova. His etched tattoos glow brighter.

CHAMBER:
“And you? You’re all just a nuisance. So do us both a favor—and die. Hm?”

A weak, rasping voice cuts through the standoff.

JETT (panting, leaning against Phoenix’s shoulder):
“Where… where is Brimstone?”

Her eyes burn with determination, but her body is barely holding itself upright. The words freeze Sova mid-breath. Somewhere deep in his mind, the reminder lands heavy—arresting Chamber wasn’t the only point of this mission.

Chamber tilts his head, brow raised in faint confusion.

CHAMBER (mocking):
“Brimstone? Eh? Who knows… Haven’t seen him in a while. Perhaps he’s lying in some hole, oui?”

The smirk that follows is the final spark.

SOVA (furious, pulling back his bow):
“CHAMBER!”

Energy surges into his frame as the glowing lines of his ultimate streak across his arm.

SOVA:
“No more hiding. NOWHERE TO RUN!”

He loses the first arrow. A blinding beam of radianite energy screams across the cavern.

OMEGA REYNA (shouting):
“¡Cúbranse!” (Take cover!)

The shot tears through the air—Chamber narrowly dodges, as the blast rips a massive hole into the cavern wall. The structure shudders, stone groaning as chunks of ceiling begin to rain down.

OMEGA DEADLOCK (in Norwegian, panicked):
“Er du gal?! Du begraver oss alle i live!” (Are you mad?! You’re going to bury us alive!)

SOVA (grim, notching another arrow):
“Fine by me.”

The second radianite arrow crackles to life. He fires—another colossal blast slamming into the rock, sending tremors through the cavern..

Cypher’s voice crackles harshly through Alpha comms:

CYPHER:
“Strike team! The cavern is destabilising fast! Get out—now!”

But Killjoy doesn’t budge. She’s still at the console, fingers flying over keys as debris crashes around her.

KILLJOY (muttering under breath):
“Accessing database… radianite core doping processes, tear-shard oscillation patterns? quantum transformers!?… wait. This isn’t… this isn’t a portal.”

Her eyes widen,

GEKKO (calling out, urgent):
“Yo, fam! We gotta move—¡vamos!”

KILLJOY:
“Just one more second!”

A huge slab of rock slams down on the console—sparks fly, the system fries out.

KILLJOY slamming her fist):
“Verdammt noch mal!” (God damn it!)

But from below the wreckage, her nanobot scrambles up, its screen flickering alive—100% Downloaded.

KILLJOY (relieved, exhaling):
“Good job, Mädchen…”

Both sides begin to fall back, the cavern collapsing in earnest now. Omega agents vanish into the shadows one by one, teleporting out.

Sova catches sight of Chamber as his form fades. Their eyes lock.

CHAMBER (fading out, voice carrying):
“This isn’t over.”

Sova lowers his bow slowly, chest heaving, then folds it back with deliberate finality.

SOVA (muttering, cold):
“It never was.”

Dust rains from the ceiling as the squad breaks into a sprint, boots hammering the steel walkways.

Sova leads, bow folded across his back, every breath sharp in his throat. Behind him—Phoenix with Jett slung over his shoulder, Raze dragging Iso along, Harbor hauling Clove’s limp form, Killjoy clutching her bot, Gekko scrambling in the rear.

GEKKO (panting, shouting):
“Uh—any plans on how we’re actually getting out of here?!”

YORU (snapping back, reloading mid-run):
“You think we came without backup? Please.”

A burst of static crackles in their comms.

CYPHER (urgent, filtered):
“On your right—Q12 sector. There should be a loading bay. You’ll find transport there.”

The channel hisses, cuts out.

And then, only in Sova’s ear:

CYPHER (low, personal):
“Sova… are you okay?”

Sova’s jaw clenches.

SOVA (quiet, raw):
“I am not.”

They hit the junction—Sova points right. Yoru doesn’t hesitate, empties an entire clip into the reinforced door. The slab gives way—CRASH—as they get in.

Parked inside: a battered radianite skimmer, its surface glowing faintly, and two Hayabusa bikes angled by the wall.

YORU (grinning, almost feral):
“Perfect.”

He vaults onto one of the bikes, Harbor handing  Clove to killjoy before straddling the other. Iso and Raze jump onto the rear seats, locking grips.

Sova smashes a fist into the skimmer’s side window, glass shattering under the impact. He climbs inside, yanks the door open from within as its alarm blares, shrill against the rumble of collapsing stone.

Phoenix eases Jett into the back, laying her against the seats, then helps settle Clove beside her before climbing in himself.

Killjoy dives into the passenger side. Gekko swings himself into the tailgate.

Sova leans forward, wires sparking as he hotwires the ignition. The skimmer coughs—lights flicker—then the engine roars alive, glowing radianite cores pulsing in its chassis.

He slams a boot down on the accelerator, hands locked to the wheel.

SOVA (commanding, steady):
“Lead the way.”

The cavern groans like a dying beast. The ramped access road twists upward, carved into stone and reinforced with failing steel beams.

The Hayabusa bikes dart ahead, engines screaming, weaving between falling chunks of debris. Iso twists in his seat, firing into the shadows. Raze mirrors him, ares in hand as she open fires, blowing loose rubble aside before it can crush the skimmer.

Behind them, the skimmer surges forward, as Sova keeps the wheel steady through a bunch of collapsing rock.

CYPHER (comms, sharp, cutting through static):
“Thirty seconds until full destabilisation. Hurry!”

Gekko glances back from the tailgate. His eyes widen. He raises his Phantom.

GEKKO (yelling):
“Guys—we got pursuit! In Hot!”

Tracer rounds whistle past, slamming into the walls.

PHOENIX (snapping, leaning out the window with his Vandal):
“There were more!?”

He returns fire, muzzle flashes lighting the tunnel in strobing bursts. Killjoy braces herself against the dashboard, one hand locked on the doorframe as she leans out, Stinger rattling.

KILLJOY (shouting in German):
“Scheiße—too many of them!”

Out of the collapsing smoke behind them, Hourglass goons on radianite bikes burst through—black armour glowing with sickly light, weapons raised. A convoy of three modified transports follows.

SOVA (gritting his teeth, voice steady):
“Hold them off!”

The Hayabusas swerve, Iso and Raze firing wildly from their rear seats, shredding the lead riders. One bike explodes in a streak of flame, debris cartwheeling across the road.

But more spill out of the smoke, relentless, their visors glowing an ominous red.

GEKKO (shouting over gunfire):
“They’re not backing off!”

Phoenix ducks back inside, reloading.

PHOENIX (to Sova, breathless):
“Mate, you better have a way outta this tunnel!”

JETT (clutching onto Phoenix’s jacket):
“Lem’me try.”

HARBOR (yelling, bracing on the bike):
“We won’t make it unless we throw them off!”

With a sharp motion, he activates his bracelet. Water erupts from the cavern walls, surging forward in a cascading torrent, a towering wall of churning liquid between the Alpha team and the pursuing Hourglass riders.

The lead bikes skid violently, splashing through the flood. Engines scream, tires struggle for traction.

The dark pink smoke erupts around the riders, billowing in thick clouds that obscure their vision. Spray and mist blur their path. The water and smoke combine, turning the tunnel into a chaotic labyrinth of liquid and haze.

Inside the skimmer, Clove smirks faintly.

JETT (pushing herself out the window):
“Get out of my way.”

Kunai spin from her hands, slicing through the smoke and water. They strike directly at the pursuers’ tanks—metal rupturing.

Phoenix throws his Hot Hands forward. Flames collide with the spinning bikes, engines catching fire. Riders collide mid-stream as the water wall destabilises their balance.

BOOM!

The bikes explode in a flash of fire and shrapnel. Water sprays across the tunnel, pink smoke swirling in chaotic eddies.

GEKKO (from the tailgate, voice full of awe):
“Damn… that was gruesome.”

YORU (gritting his teeth, eyes on the collapsing ceiling ahead):
“Brace for impact!”

The ramped road twists sharply upward as the entire team goes airborne. The skimmer lands with a heavy, grinding thud, kicking up dust and debris as the ramp hits the cavern’s exit. The ground shudders beneath their feet.

Behind them, the tunnel collapses violently, stones and radianite shards crashing down, burying the entire structure under tons of rubble. Dust clouds into the air, the cavern now a tomb to the chaos they just left behind.

KILLJOY (wiping sweat from her brow, voice tight):
“That… was way too close for comfort.”

SOVA (pressing a finger to his comms, eyes scanning the horizon):
“Owl to HQ. We need air and medical support—ASAP. Mission compromised. Returning to base.”

The sun dips low, casting long shadows across the jungle.

Far above, a VTOL descends, its engines slicing through the evening sky. Dust and heat swirl around it as it touches down with precision.

CYPHER (calm, over comms):
“Roger that. Owl touchdown at 1830 hours. Sit tight, team.”

The Alpha agents exchange tired, grim looks—bodies bruised, armour scorched, adrenaline still racing—but the mission may have failed, yet they survived.

And for now, it’s all that matters………..

Chapter Text

The desert night stretched endless. A lone VTOL cut across the horizon, its engines humming low as it approached the cloaking barrier.

LOCATION UNKNOWN 0100 Hours.

Inside the cockpit, the pilot adjusted his comms.
Pilot:

 “This is Nightwing to Nest. Requesting clearance for landing. Chicks aboard. Over.”

Static broke, then a calm, accented voice answered. Tejo’s tone carried both relief and warmth, words sliding into Spanish before switching back.

Tejo (over comms):

“Sí… you have clearance, Nightwing. Bring our kids home”

The cloaking field glitched like matrix as the VTOL pierced through. Beyond it, the silhouette of VALORANT HQ emerged from the desert. The VTOL’s landing gear hit the rooftop pad with a metallic groan, hydraulics hissing as it locked in place. The rear hatch dropped, and an elevator opens up, already crowded with medical personnel pushing gurneys forward.

The first out were Clove and Jett, laid flat, oxygen masks pressed over their mouths, IV drips already piercing their arms. Paramedics swarmed them, strapping vitals, wheeling them toward the elevators. Sage, masked and gloved, directed the controlled chaos, her voice clear despite the urgency.

Sage:

 “Move them to the medical wing—stabilize vitals first, no delays!”

Behind them, the others stepped out of the transport. Phoenix had blood on his sleeve where he’d carried Jett. Raze’s gear was scuffed and soot-streaked. Killjoy’s beanie was half torn, goggles carcked, face still smudged with dust. Even Yoru—usually immaculate—dragged one boot heavy, shirt slashed at the shoulder. They looked less like elite operatives and more like survivors.

And then came Sova. His head was lowered, his steps slower than usual. Dust clung to his fur-lined coat, and his bow hung, lifeless. The weight of failure pressed on his broad shoulders like a visible chain.

Sage intercepted him, her brows tightened sweat glistening on her temples.
Sage:

“Sasha… how did it come to this?”

Sova’s lips parted, but the words stumbled out,

Sova:

 “I… I did not mean for this to happen.”

She reached out, placing a steadying hand on his arm, her tone softening.

Sage:

“We will talk later. Your injuries take priority.”

But Sova flinched away, brushing her hand off as if the comfort only burned deeper. Turning his face from hers.

Sova:

 “Treat the others. I will be fine.”

Without waiting for her response, he walked past—toward the elevator.  

The elevator doors shut on Sova, leaving the hangar in a silence.

Gekko rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking to the closed doors, voice low and uneasy.

Gekko:

“Is… is he okay?”

Before Sage could answer, a firm hand landed on Gekko’s shoulder. It was Harbor, steady as ever, though even his stance betrayed fatigue. The weight of his palm tipped Gekko slightly off balance.

Harbor:

“Don’t worry, kid. He’ll bounce back. But…” —his tone softened— “sometimes even a hunter mourns.”

Killjoy, however, stayed sharp-eyed despite the cracked goggles. She tugged off one glove, already reaching for her datapad.

Killjoy:

“Sage—I need access to the labs. We might’ve completely misunderstood this entire thing.”

Sage turned, her authority cutting.

Sage:

“Request denied. The labs are still under forensics, and you’re all severely exhausted. Overworking will only worsen it.”

Killjoy: “But—”

Sage raised a hand, voice firm, final.

Sage: “I am the in command right now. My orders are absolute. Rest for a while. Give the intel to Cypher—he’ll take a look at it.”

With that, she pivoted, striding after the med team without waiting for reply.

Killjoy froze for a beat, then let out a groan, yanking an ORS packet from a medic’s tray and snapping it open.

Killjoy: “For fudge’s sake…”

She downed it in two gulps, grimacing as the artificial sweetness clung to her tongue, and followed the others deeper into HQ.

INT. VALORANT HQ – MEDICAL WING [CODE: 7X3-91 // 0300 HOURS]

The room hummed with low tones of machinery. Clove lay on a critical care unit, body draped in sterile sheets, chest rising shallowly beneath the glow of overhead lamps. Holo-screens pulsed with data across her bedside:

• BP: 68/40
• HR: 41 BPM

Medic: “Her vitals are low.”

At the center of it all, Sage stood masked, surgical apron tied tight, gloves already stained faintly with antiseptic. Her eyes—focused, unwavering—never left the readouts.

Sage: “SpO₂ check.”

The anesthesiologist adjusted the dial on the mask covering Clove’s face.

Anesthesiologist: “Holding steady—we’re good to go.”

Sage’s hand hovered over the sterile tray, fingers curling around a scalpel

Sage: “Then let’s begin.”

The holo-screens flared brighter as the team moved in sync.

INT. VALORANT HQ – GENRERAL WING

Iso sat with his jacket half torn, gritting his teeth while a doctor ran a suture kit across the gash on his side.
A few beds down, Gekko winced as a medic strapped his arm into a sling.

Gekko: “Ow—OW! Careful, man, that’s attached to me!”

From the bench, Yoru rolled his eyes, arms crossed.

Yoru: “Don’t be a pussy. Take it like a man.”

Gekko smirked despite the pain, turning his head just enough to throw the jab back.

Gekko: “Alright, big guy, why don’t you try a needle sometime?”

On the table beside him, Wingman perked up, chirping loudly in its strange tongue, raising both stubby arms mocking Yoru.

The med staff chuckled despite themselves, tension loosening in the room for just a second.

On one cot, Phoenix lay sprawled.

Phoenix: “Uhh… I might not make it. Somebody get me a lawyer—I gotta write a will.”

Across from him, Jett leaned against her pillow, color slowly returning to her cheeks, a faint smile tugging her lips. She raised a brow.

Jett: “And what exactly are you leaving behind? Your crappy labels and those overpriced sneakers? Maybe one of your tacky jackets?”

Phoenix tilted his head toward her offended.

Phoenix: “Careful, wind girl. You’re treading on dangerous ground.”

From nearby, Killjoy groaned, as she sits stuck to her laptop.

Killjoy:

“Um Gottes willen…Can I get one minute of peace? I’m doing something here.”

Phoenix perked up immediately, grinning.

Phoenix:

“What, tech support? Fixing the Wi-Fi?”

Killjoy shot him a look that could burn through steel.

Killjoy:

“Keep talking, flame boy. You might need that will after all.”

The two started bickering back and forth, voices overlapping, until Harbor walked in, a tray of meds balanced in his hands.

Harbor:

“What the hell happened while I was gone?”

Yoru, seated against the far wall with bandages on his arm, didn’t even look up. He exhaled, long and tired before replying.

Yoru:

“Welcome to the no one gives a fuck club.”

INT. VALORANT HQ – RESIDENTIAL FLOOR – SOVA’S QUARTERS [0315 HOURS]

Steam filled the dim-lit bathroom. Water cascaded over Sova’s frame as he leaned against the tiled wall, one hand bracing, the other pressed against his shoulder where a deep gash from Jett’s kunai still bled. The hot stream hissed as it hit torn flesh.

He clenched his jaw, eyes shut, before slamming his fist into the wall. The tile shattered under his knuckles. Blood mixed with water, running down the cracks.

Sova stared at his own hand, trembling, dripping red. He exhaled through his nose, then curled it again into a fist, tighter this time, as though daring himself not to fall apart.

Moments later, he stepped out of the shower, a towel draped loosely around his waist. At his desk, he set down a med-kit. His movements were clumsy, labored. He threaded a needle, tried to suture the torn muscle on his shoulder—his fingers trembling too much to guide it cleanly.

The stitches wouldn’t hold. His hand slipped, the needle pricking skin instead of closing it. The silence of the room pressed in heavy—broken only by Sova’s ragged breath as he stared at the half-done wound, realizing he can’t  even patch himself back together.

The knock came sharp against the quiet.

TEJO (firm):
¡Muchacho! It’s me.”

Sova hesitated, then pulled the door open. His attempt at composure faltered; blood still dripped from his bandaged knuckles, the sutures trembling in his hand.

SOVA
"Tejo… what brings you here at this hour?"

TEJO
"What else? Babysitting. You kids are high maintenance."

He brushed past without waiting for permission, setting down his own kit on the desk.

His tone is dry, but his eyes soften. He gestures at the chair.

TEJO
"Sit".

SOVA (protesting, quiet):
“It’s fine, I can—”

TEJO ((cuts him off, firm)):
“That’s an order, soldier.”

Sova’s posture stiffens. He obeys, lowering himself into the chair. Tejo rolls up his sleeves, takes the sutures, and begins working with calm precision

Silence stretched for a moment, broken only by the steady rhythm of thread pulling flesh together

TEJO
I read the reports. It wasn’t your fault, Sasha.

SOVA
(voice low, eyes down)
I knew what we were walking into. We knew Omega agents would be there. And still… I let my guard slip. Ollie’s blood… it’s on my hands.

Tejo pulls the thread taut, making Sova flinch.

TEJO
Better. Now listen. Yes, you broke formation. Yes, Chamber slipped through. That’s on you. But the collapse? The destruction? That was never in your control.

SOVA (startled, snapping his gaze up):
“What!?”

TEJO (calm, matter-of-fact):
“After you pulled out, we sent cleanup teams. The place was rigged—dynamite, charges, enough to bury anyone inside. It was a trap from the start..”

Sova stares at him, shock hardening into realization.

TEJO
So no, Sasha. You didn’t lose them to your mistake. You saved what was left of the squad from a slower, uglier death.

He ties the final knot, pats Sova’s shoulder once—firm but not unkind.

TEJO (meeting Sova’s eyes):
“Remember, Sasha. You have to make peace with yourself before you fire the bullet. No one else gets to judge you.”

Tejo watches him for a long moment, then nods. As he heads for the door, he pauses in the frame.

TEJO (gravel in his tone):
“We all have blood on our hands. The difference is… which of it we can justify.”

The door clicks shut behind Tejo

Sova sits in chair, his shoulder freshly bandaged, his breathing steadier now. In the mirror across the room, his reflection stares back—tired, scarred, but no longer shaken.

He reaches for his responder on the desk, flicking it on.

SOVA
“Amir, I need—"

CYPHER (over comms, cutting him off)
“Sasha. Come to the command room. Now. We’ve got problems.”

Chapter Text

INT. VALORANT HQ – COMMAND ROOM – NIGHT

The doors slide open. Sova strides in, still breathless, no shirt on—fresh stitches and stark bandages visible across his shoulder and chest.

SOVA
(out of breath)
What’s the matter?

Cypher doesn’t turn immediately. He’s hunched over the console, feeds running across a wall of monitors—global news, satellite relays, encrypted channels all flickering in chaos. He adjusts the dials, speaking into a live channel.

CYPHER
Copy. Keep me updated on ground…

He cuts the line, pulls his hand back from the mic, then finally looks over his.

CYPHER
Ah. You’re here. Take a look.

With a push, he pushes a slider forward—the main screen’s volume surges.

On-screen, a NEWS ANCHOR speaks with the practiced calm of broadcast.

NEWS ANCHOR (V.O.)
Just an hour ago, reports confirm a massive explosion at a radianite processing facility in France. Eyewitnesses describe a sudden flash of light turning night into day, followed by a devastating blast. Entire reserves of radianite have disappeared without a trace. At the time of the report, no casualties have been reported.

The footage cuts to shaky phone recordings—crowds staring at a glowing dome of light before it ruptures into fire. Then to aerial shots of smoking craters where warehouses once stood.

NEWS ANCHOR (V.O.)
Kingdom Corporation jointly operated the facility in partnership with ATLAS. No official statement has been made regarding the cause of the incident. However, early estimates suggest the plant contained up to eight hundred tons of radianite at the time of the incident.

Cypher mutes the screen with a flick. He leans back in his chair, mask glowing faintly in the low light.

CYPHER
(smooth, but heavy)
The entire stock… gone. Just like that.

Sova’s jaw tightens. His voice drops into Russian, guttural and sharp.

SOVA
(Russian, low growl)
те ублюдки…
Those bastards…

SOVA
Kingdom has always been incompetent—but this? This scale? Even a spike detonation couldn’t transport that much. What’s the preliminary report?

Cypher doesn’t turn, his fingers already flying across the console, pulling files onto another screen.

CYPHER
Our channels confirm no spike activity. No dimensional tears at the time of the blast. We can rule that out.

Sova’s voice hardens, almost cracking under its own pressure.

SOVA
So what are you saying? That much radianite just vanished into thin air? Don’t be ridiculous.

He turns away, storming toward the door.

SOVA
I’ll check it myself.

CYPHER
(quiet, firm, without looking up)
No, Sasha. You won’t.

Sova stops only to throw back his warning, sharp as an arrow loosed.

SOVA
And who is going to stop me?

Cypher’s head tilts ever so slightly, the glow of his mask unreadable.

CYPHER
Oh… it won’t be me.

Before Sova can take another step, the door hisses open.

Breach fills the frame, broad shoulders casting a shadow across the corridor. His mechanical arms flex with a low hiss of hydraulics as he blocks the way.

BREACH
(low, menacing)
You’re under arrest, Hunter.

Sova’s eyes narrow, voice steady but bitter.

SOVA
On whose authority?

From behind Breach, a calm but unyielding voice cuts through.

SAGE
Mine.

She steps into view, mask lowered, gloves pulled free, her face showing both concern and strong presence. Sova doesn’t raise his eyes to meet hers—he looks down instead, the weight of his own shame pins him.

SOVA
(soft, breaking)
How’s Ollie?

Sage’s expression softens for only a flicker before steel returns to her tone.

SAGE
Out of immediate danger. But you are not going anywhere. You know the standing procedure after an operation.

Sova breathes sharply, as if struck by his own arrows.

SOVA
Mandatory forty-eight hours of rest… and a full debrief to Command.

SAGE
Correct. And in your case, I’m elevating it. Effective immediately, you are declared combat-unfit and placed under Level Three Operational Confinement. No missions. No field access. Not until cleared.

Her tone sharpens as she turns to Breach.

SAGE
Escort him back to quarters. See that he stays there.

Breach nods as he urges Sova to move along.

Sage moves past them, her calm voice rising again.

SAGE
Update me on France. Every channel, every source.

INT. VALORANT HQ – ARMOURY – NIGHT

Metal clatters and echoes as weapons are prepped under white light. Deadlock snaps a mag into her Phantom with mechanical precision. KAY/O sits on a crate, methodically loading shells into a Bucky. Omen lingers in the shadow, looking at something in his hand.

At the bench, Reyna slams a fresh mag into Spectre, her eyes burning. She mutters under her breath, venom dripping.

Neon catches it. She frowns.

NEON
Hey… what’s wrong?

Reyna freezes, surprised she let her voice slip aloud. She lifts her gaze, sharp, but not at Neon.

REYNA
(snickering, bitter)
Oh, cariño… It’s nothing. Just… I thought Wei would finally take this seriously. But her childish trust in that hunter nearly got us all killed. I told her, Let me go. But no… “Sova will handle it.”

Her tone curdles into rage.

REYNA
And look what happened.

That finally drags Omen’s hooded face upward. His voice seeps like smoke, calm but edged.

OMEN
Careful, Reyna. Don’t forget—it was Sova who convinced Brimstone to bring you into the fold at all.

Reyna rounds on him, eyes flaring like amethysts catching fire.

REYNA
So what? Should I bow my head and lick his boots? I was fine before Protocol. The Sanctuary has endured longer than VALORANT ever will. We’ve protected Radiants for generations. What has this place done but bleed us for someone else’s wars?

The room chills. KAY/O halts mid-load, turning toward her.

KAY/O
(voice cutting, robotic)
CONTROL your emotions, Queen. We have a mission. Don’t jeopardize it.

Deadlock finally joins, her voice blunt.

DEADLOCK
The bot’s right. Save the speeches. Loadout’s finished.

Reyna exhales through her nose.

REYNA
Fine. But after this op, I’m leaving for Sanctuary. There’s been… a situation.

Neon stiffens, her tone almost pleading.

NEON
Did you tell Sage?

Reyna’s voice drops, softer, but no less dangerous.

REYNA
She doesn’t need to know…yet. She has enough on her plate

The armoury door hisses open as Reyna storms out, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. Followed by deadlock, KAY/O and neon.

Omen stays behind. He looks down again at the thing in his hand.

A photo—creased and worn, edges fraying. Brimstone and Omen, shoulder to shoulder. A memory before smoke and ruin.

Omen exhales, a guttural grumble barely audible beneath his mask, a sound more ache than words. Slowly, he folds the photo, slipping it into his cloak’s inner pocket.

Without another word, Omen steps out into the corridor, the door sliding shut behind him with a cold hiss.

INT. VALORANT HQ – COMMAND ROOM 

The team files in. At the front, Cypher, Sage, and Tejo stand like a tribunal. Deadlock sets her rifle against the table.

DEADLOCK
We’re ready.

TEJO
(nods)
Cypher.

Cypher adjusts the dials on the console. The feed shifts to a high-res schematic of the processing facility. Images of hollow vaults, cracked machines, and storage bays flash in sequence.

CYPHER
As you can see… the facility has been cleaned out beyond precision. Even the secure vaults—emptied. It’s as if radianite was never there.

He pauses, the hand tightening on the console. His voice dips for the first time.

CYPHER
Currently, a perimeter has been set around the site. But our preliminary research suggests that this—

He swallows, eyes flicking toward Sage. She gives him a steady nod.

CYPHER
—this might be an anomaly.

The word hangs.

Reyna’s eyes snap wide.

REYNA
WHAT!? Are you sure?

CYPHER
Yes. Which means… it could carry a variety of effects. Random Teleportation, Disabling your abilities. Muting them. Or… stripping them entirely.

REYNA
(snapping)
And you’re sending us in knowing that? Don’t tell me we’re your best shot to secure this faculty.

The room tightens. Neon looks away, Omen’s head tilts low.

Sage steps forward, her tone calm but edged with command.

SAGE
Karina. You, more than anyone, know what happens when a normal human is exposed to raw radianite. We cannot risk sending untrained forces into an anomaly field. This—this is the best course of action.

Reyna’s glare burns, but Sage presses on, softer now.

SAGE
And I give you my word. Agree to this, and I’ll honor any condition you place on us.

Reyna exhales through her teeth, chest rising and falling.

REYNA
I don’t trust any of you. Not really. But… your word, I do.

She looks away, lips curling.

DEADLOCK
When do we leave?

All eyes turn to Tejo.

TEJO
(flat, decisive)
Now.

The night air hums as the VTOL engines spin upon the roof in harsh white floodlights. Neon’s streak of blue, Reyna’s purple glow, and others vanish into the cabin as the hatch seals. A low whoomph of thrust, and the craft tilts skyward, shrinking into the dark.

Sova sits alone. His quarters were dim, only the faint static glow of his disabled digital window cutting through. He leans forward, one bandaged hand pressing against the sill as his one good eye tracks the VTOL’s ascent until it becomes no more than a flicker.

His responder, resting on the nightstand, rattles against the wood. Its screen flashes once, then again. He frowns, picks it up—only for the VALORANT crest to warp, glitching into a fractured swirl of static.

The Cypher mask bleeds through the distortion.

No command codes. No briefing text. Just a single message pulsing on the display:

THE HUNT CALLS.

Chapter Text

INT. VALORANT HQ – KITCHEN – 0630 HOURS

The HQ is alive again. Footsteps echo faintly down the halls, agents moving about their morning routines. Yet, underneath the hum, there’s a weight—an unspoken tension.

At the counter, Jett, in a blue hoodie, clutches a steaming cup of green tea. She stares at the rising steam, her brows pulled tight.

Astra strolls in, plate in hand, dropping it into the sink with a soft clink. She looks at Jett.

ASTRA
Ay, wind girl… why the long face, challe?

Jett snaps out of her daze, blinking as if pulled back from some heavy thought.

JETT
It’s… nothing, Eff—just this anxiety, like something’s about to happen. My head won’t calm down.

Astra leans against the counter, voice soft but firm.

ASTRA
Don’t carry it alone. Take a breath. Remember—we’re a family before we’re a team.

Jett tries to smile at that, but it barely reaches her eyes. She sips her tea in silence.

The door slides open. Yoru steps in, yawning. He eyes the kettle.

YORU
お茶ですか? (Ocha desu ka?)
(Tea, huh?)

He grabs a cup and pours for himself. One sip, and lets out a satisfied sigh.

YORU
ああ… 朝には最高だな (Aa… asa ni wa saikou da na)
(Aah… that hits the spot in the morning.)

Jett looks over her cup, watching him with a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

JETT
Hey—have you seen Eva? She wasn’t in her room. Thought we could grab some German breakfast or something.

Yoru shrugs, taking another sip.

YORU
さあな (Saa na)
(Who knows.)

INT. VALORANT HQ – LABS – 0645 HOURS

The lab wing is sectioned off, yellow-black caution tape stretched across the entrance. “KEEP OUT” signs plastered along the doors. But inside, the lights glow faintly.

KILLJOY sits hunched at her console, smoothie cup sweating on the desk. Her screen is stacked with data streams and logs pulled from the Cavern.

She scrolls—eyes wide, darting.

KILLJOY
(muttering)
This doesn’t make sense…
Why such a secure and empty facility for just a stabilisation frame?

A faint buzz interrupts her—the sound of her nanobot connected to the console. She glances at it, lips tugging into a small smirk.

KILLJOY
Just a little longer, Kleines.

On the table, a 3D model of the portal-like frame blooms into view. Components auto-bisect, dissected in real time. Layer after layer rotates, exposing intricate parts. She runs sequences, dissecting, reassembling, isolating functions.

Her wrist module buzzes. She groans, not looking away.

KILLJOY
Was jetzt…? (Now what…?)

She glances—eyes catch on the log name. “FRANCE ANOMALY.”

KILLJOY
I don’t have time for—

She freezes. Her pupils dilate.

KILLJOY
…Wait

She bolts upright, fingers snapping.

KILLJOY
Hey, M.A.X—start side-by-side analysis. Preliminary report vs. stabilisation frame. Now.

M.A.X (AI)
Acknowledged. Beginning analysis.

The holograms split. Two columns of data cascade against each other—the anomaly’s residual energy markers, the Cavern frame’s output patterns. Overlaps start glowing red.

Killjoy’s face drains color. She doesn’t say a word. Just stares—frozen for a beat.

And then—she moves. Snatching her wrist module, she vaulted clean over the tape with practised ease.

INT. VALORANT HQ – COMMAND ROOM – 0700 HOURS

The room hums with activity. Sage stands by the commander's table, her hands folded neatly behind her back, eyes locked on the mission feed. Cypher sits at the comms station, fingers flicking across dials, juggling incoming streams of chatter and satellite images.

Over the speakers—Deadlock's voice, steady and sharp.

DEADLOCK (comms)
This is Team Firefight. We’re touching down at the location.

SAGE
Roger that, Firefight. Secure the perimeter and begin operations. HQ out.

The comms click silent.

Then—suddenly—

ALL LIGHTS FLICKER.
MONITORS SNAP OFF.
A complete BLACK OUT.

The command room plunges into darkness. For a beat, the only sound is the whirring stop of machines.

Before anyone can speak—
The lights blaze back on. Monitors re-light, data streams resuming as if nothing happened.

CYPHER
(calm, almost casual)
Don’t worry. Just a minor power surge.

He adjusts his hat, going back to his feed. But Sage isn’t convinced.

The doors slam open.

Killjoy bursts in—hoodie askew, hair messy, chest heaving from the sprint. She’s pale, panic behind her glasses.

KILLJOY
Sage—stop them. RIGHT NOW.

SAGE (stern, controlled)
Killjoy, you should be in bed, not here—

KILLJOY (cutting her off, shouting)
STOP THEM! RIGHT NOW!

She slams her palm on the table, voice breaking through the hum of machines.

KILLJOY
Cypher, they’re in danger!

For a split second, Cypher freezes; his instincts kick in. His hands fly across the console. But before he can act—

ALL MONITORS FLASH RED.
Emergency sirens erupt across the command room.

CYPHER
(over the alarms, panicked for once)
We’ve lost contact with Team Firefight!

CYPHER
All biosignatures…gone.

SAGE
(voice cracking)
What… how!?

CYPHER
(rapid, frantic)
Wait—wait—we still have a live feed. Pulling it up now.

One of the security cameras from the French facility stutters onto the central screen. Grainy. Static.

The image stabilizes—

Guns scattered across the floor.
A Spectre.
A Phantom.
A Bucky.
All dropped mid-fight, abandoned.

No agents in sight. Only silence.

SAGE
(whispers, horrified)
…No.

Her hand rises to her mouth as if to hold back a sob. For the first time, her composure falters.

The alarms are still howling as the door slams open.

BREACH (booming)
Sova’s gone!

SAGE stiffens, the weight of one disaster colliding with another.

CYPHER lowers his head, the brim of his hat casting a shadow.

EXT. DESERT – OPEN ROAD – DAWN

The horizon burns with first light.

SOVA roars across the sands on his Harley, engine screaming. His cape billows behind him.

On his handlebars, the responder glows.
The screen glitches between static and a single distress signal:

CODE: FIREMAN

Sova narrows his eyes, pushing the throttle harder.

The desert wind howls past. The machine vibrates under him. His jaw is set, his focus absolute.

The hunter is on the move.

Chapter Text

INT. VALORANT HQ – PHOENIX’S QUARTERS

The room hums with a glow from a bedside lamp. Phoenix lounges on the sofa, spinning a basketball lazily on one finger.

The faint crackle of a radio fills the air — a blend of jazz, static, and a voice bursting with energy.

RADIO (upbeat with a hint of edge)
You’re vibin’ with Cruz Control on 94.5 Heatwave Radio, L-A!
And this is your chica, Naina Cruz, keepin’ you hot and honest.

She laughs lightly.

NAINA
So, mi gente, we’ve been followin’ the First Light Expo live from Paris —
our little star Mary Adeyemi shinin’ bright, sí?
But word on the street…some kinda incident went down near the event.

The ball slips. Thud. It rolls off his hand and hits the floor.

NAINA
Kingdom says “todo bien, no pasa nada,” but I don’t know, familia.
The vibe’s off today — too quiet, too bright, ya feel me?

PHOENIX
…Mary?

A silence follows, only a slow, moody beat. Of the radio filling the space—then suddenly, the HQ alarm blares through the halls, echoing.

HQ ANNOUNCEMENT (looping, automated voice)
Attention all agents. Assemble and prepare for deployment by 0830 hours. This is not a drill. Repeat—this is not a drill.

Phoenix grabs his jacket from the chair, slings it over his shoulders in one sharp motion, and bolts for the door.

INT. VALORANT COMMAND ROOM

Cypher stands with arms crossed, motionless, his gaze locked on the display. Sage sits on a chair, elbows on knees, head buried in her hands. Tejo stands by the wall — calm, watchful.

CYPHER
Killjoy... start from the beginning. What’s the connection between this and the Cavern?

Killjoy, mid-scroll through her datapad, freezes. She grabs a marker and drags a whiteboard into view.

KILLJOY
Alright… Cypher, you do know what radianite is, right?

CYPHER (tilts his head)
I left chemistry behind in my early years. Keep it simple.

Killjoy nods, already sketching a glowing crystal structure on the board.

KILLJOY
Fine. Five years ago, The First Light happened — an anomaly that rearranged atomic structure itself. It didn’t just alter metals and minerals… it reshaped them into a new crystal-like element we call Radianite. You following?

(she circles a rough lattice diagram.)

CYPHER (stroking his chin)
Go on.

KILLJOY
The Light didn’t just change inorganic substances. It alterd organic matter too.
That’s what created Radiants. People whose DNA was restructured by the anomaly.

Sage looks up slightly, listening. Tejo crosses his arms, expression hardening.

KILLJOY (tapping the board)
That structure in the Cavern… it wasn’t a portal to Omega Earth like we thought.
It was stabilizing a tear. Not to one world — but to many.

TEJO
You’re saying that place was bridging… multiple realities?

KILLJOY
Exactly. And if my readings are right, the tear’s frequency matched that of First Light.

SAGE straightens.

SAGE
The same frequency...? That would mean—

KILLJOY (cutting in, voice rising)
No life signs within the Cavern’s radius. Omega also teleported in instead of being stationed there.
It was a control setup, Cypher.
A test site.

Killjoy caps the marker, eyes sharp.

KILLJOY (grimly)
And this new anomaly... it’s showing the same echo frequency pattern.
If my hunch is correct...

(she turns toward Sage)

KILLJOY
Something big is about to happen.

Sage’s voice comes out barely as a whisper.

SAGE
A… second light.

SAGE rises, her composure returning like a wave.

SAGE
Cypher… call everyone. The HQ is going mobile.

CYPHER (steps forward)
Surely you don’t mean—

SAGE (cutting him off, steady but fierce)
Yes, Cypher. We’re going all in. Gear up.

She walks out, haori sweeping behind her as Tejo follows. Cypher exhales softly, already activating comms.

48°38'FH" N8, 1°33'YV" W8 (48°38'57" N, 1°33'14" W)— OMEGA EARTH

A massive violet-gray cyclone churns in the distance, lightning ripping through clouds that stretch across endless salt plains. A derelict castle-like fortress stands half-buried in the haze.

OMEN shields his form with his cloak, his GHOST raised. NEON steadies herself against the gusts.

NEON
Uh… so what just happened?

DEADLOCK checks her datapad, voice tight over the storm.

DEADLOCK
HQ’s gone dark. No signal… no command link.

REYNA looks around, unimpressed, brushing stray strands of purple hair back.

REYNA (under her breath)
¡Qué grupo tan problemático…!

(then louder)
KAY/O, where are we?

KAY/O, crouched behind a slab of stone with his classic drawn, scans the horizon.

KAY/O
Still in Normandy. But…

He stops. A shadow forms away from them — tall, moving closer.

OMEN raises his weapon, cloak rippling violently.

OMEN
Identify yourself.

A woman’s voice drifts through— mocking, sultry, and all too familiar.

VOICE
Oh, John… always with your playthings.
Can’t we talk normally for once?

OMEN freezes. The name stabs close to him.

OMEN (low, dark)
You don’t get to call me that… Sabine.

Lightning strikes — the silhouette steps into view. It’s Viper — mask unlocking with a hiss, revealing her face, hair whipping in the wind.

She smirks faintly.

VIPER
I’m the reason you’re all alive right now… instead of dust in that shithole.

DEADLOCK levels her ghost.

DEADLOCK
Viper, under Article Beta — abandonment of post, and failure to report —
you’re under arrest.
How do you plead?

VIPER looks at her — calm, unbothered. Then she smiles, bitter and tired.

VIPER
I didn’t have time for formalities.
I did what I had to.

(beat — her eyes narrow, storm lightning flashing behind her)

VIPER
Besides… with what’s coming —
None of this will matter anyway.

Chapter Text

OMEGA EARTH – NORMANDY SALT PLAINS

The violet-gray storm over the horizon. A churning wall of light and lightning tearing through the sky. Omen’s cloak whips violently, his hand steady on his pistol.

OMEN
What do you mean?

VIPER’s gaze flicks toward the storm, her voice calm but grave.

VIPER
Look over there. That’s not weather.
That’s a Rapture Storm.

The others turn. The vast salt flats shimmer under purple lightning — jagged crystalline spikes jutting around them, glowing violet.

VIPER (continuing)
Now look around you.
This place is covered in radianite salt — so dense you can feel it in the air.

KAY/O kneels, lifting a shard of crystalized salt, his scanner lighting up in dull blue pulses.

KAY/O
Primary analysis… confirms it.
These formations were created by rapid oceanic evaporation.
Deuterium traces… fused with saline structure.

He stands, turning the shard over in his hand.

VIPER
Desperate with their radianite shortage, ATLAS tried building a Superspike powerful enough to open Rapture points to multiple Earths at once.

(she looks toward the horizon, eyes narrowed)

VIPER (cont’d)
Instead, it tore the fabric of space itself — caused that storm —
and evaporated an entire ocean near Normandy in seconds.

Lightning cracks.

DEADLOCK (frowning)
Now that you mention it… Omega’s raids have dropped significantly over the past months.

She slowly lowers her Ghost.

VIPER
I noticed that too.
That’s why I left everything — my research, my post — to find out why.

Neon, eyebrows raised, half-grinning in disbelief.

NEON
Didn’t you like… steal some top-secret files or something?

Viper shoots her a side glance.

VIPER
So that voyeurist really did break into my lab.
I wondered why the alarms tripped.

(she folds her arms, tone sharpening)

VIPER (cont’d)
I had to make sure HQ couldn’t trace me.
Erased my location manually. Altered every protocol.
If a disaster hit… I needed them to survive it.

She turns,

VIPER (quietly)
And believe me, my research says it’s coming — very soon.

OMEN steps closer, voice rising through the howl of the wind.

OMEN
Enough, Sabine!
Where’s Brimstone?

Viper locks her mask in place — the hiss of the seal cutting.

VIPER (flatly)
He should be coming back.

( her voice muffled through the mask)

VIPER
We should get moving too.

INT. VALORANT HQ – MAIN HANGAR BAY

The HQ is alive with motion. The entire facility hums like a machine stirring awake. Sirens pulse overhead.

INTERCOM (V.O.)
Attention, all agents. T-minus ten minutes to departure.
All non-essential personnel initiate lockdown procedures.
Repeat—HQ lockdown in effect.

All agents are suiting up. Cases snap shut. Weapons click into place.

Pheonix slams a fresh mag into his frenzy, then checks the slide on his Vandal. The usual swagger is gone — what remains is silent focus, buried under worry.

Behind him, Jett stands near the window. Unusual weather shapes on the horizon.

JETT
(quietly)
What’s happening to our home…

Her eyes stay, wind faintly vibrating the pane.

Waylay strides in, eyes sharp and voice cutting through their gloom.

WAYLAY
Hey—hey! Snap out of it, both of you. You can mope when you’re dead.
Right now? Focus.

Jett exhales, gives a small nod.

PHOENIX
Yeah, yeah… mission first, feelings later.

They grab their gear and fall in line.

INT. LABS – SAME TIME

The once-organised lab now looks like a battlefield. Killjoy kneels beside Breach, tightening the final lock on his bionic arm.

KILLJOY
(grunting as she twists a wrench)
I told you to take my extra coolant reactor. If these overheat again—don’t come crying to me!

BREACH
(laughing, voice booming)
Lilla flicka, you worry too much.
Guns in my face? Just another Tuesday.

He flexes his new arm — the servos hum with power.

BREACH
These bad boys look better than ever!

He stands, grabbing his gear with a grin that hides the weight in his eyes. As he heads for the door, Raze waits by the frame — headphones under one arm, launcher slung across her shoulder.

She tries to joke, but her tone cracks.

RAZE
Guess this might be the end of the line, huh?

Killjoy looks up from her console, the glow reflecting in her glasses. She stands, steps close, and gently touches her forehead to Raze’s. Their usual playfulness fades — what’s left is raw, silent trust.

KILLJOY
No matter what happens…

RAZE
No matter where you are…

BOTH (softly, together)
…I’ll be there for you.

INT. COMMAND ROOM

Guns lie on the table. Monitors run static

CYPHER
(pulling another wire from the console, teeth gritted)
Good thing we went off-grid.

He rips a connector free — sparks spit and die. He stares at the exposed wires like they betrayed him.

CYPHER
We were being traced. Never in my life have I felt so exposed.

He stands, wiping off the grim from his hand.

CYPHER (cont’d)
Zero live intel. Zero tracking. No boots on the ground. And—
(he flicks a glance at the news.)
A crowd of one hundred thousand-plus came for Mary Adeyemi. The Kingdom is not calling the expo off.
المخاطر هنا عالية بشكلٍ لا يصدق.
(The stakes here are ridiculously high.)

Tejo leans forward on the table.

TEJO
(low and steady)
¿Quién dijo que no tenemos nada? Yo conozco a un tipo.

Sage ignores them, voice already moving to logistics.

SAGE
There’s one VTOL with full comms and intel built in. Cypher—you, me, Tejo and Waylay will take that. The rest go on secondary transports.

SAGE
We’ll need a perimeter up as soon as we land. Cypher—How wide are we talking?

Cypher taps furiously, feeds flickering in fragments.

CYPHER
Working on it. But I can say this much: it could cover at least the entire Paris metro.

Sage’s brow tightens. She knows the thin line they’re being asked to walk.

SAGE
Worst case, but still within operational parameters if we move fast.

Tejo cracks a short, picking the vandal with methodical calm.

TEJO
(Colombian, steady)
Sí. Let's kick some asses.

Waylay slaps a clip into her rifle, nodding once. They shoulder their weapons, a small unit made of necessity.

SAGE
Move. Let’s get to the birds.

EXT. VALORANT HQ — ROOFTOP LAUNCH PAD — DAWN

Engines rumble, a low thunder as VTOLs glow along the pad.

FADE
(forced, sharp)
For fuck’s sake—what’s Sage thinking? Has she finally gone senile?

She boards with a flash of movement. VYSE follows amused.

VYSE
(wry)
Wanna bet?

HARBOR straps in last, voice low as he closes the hatch.

HARBOR
This situation calls for everything we’ve got. It’s bigger than all of us. “हमें चमत्कार की ज़रूरत होगी।”
(“We will need a miracle.”)

SAGE (V.O.)
All units, prepare for departure.

Skye, Iso, Yoru, and Clove shuffle along the ramp. Clove’s head is bandaged; she walks steadily, eyes oddly clear.

YORU
(half-grin, teasing)
Hey, flower girl—wanna go for a ride after this?

SKYE
(in Aussie accent)
In your dreams, mate. Maybe—later.

Yoru chuckles and mutters under his breath.
YORU
おもしろい。(Omoshiroi.) — Interesting.

Iso checks Clove’s bandage, worried.

ISO
You okay, Clove?

Clove gives a small, dry smile.

CLOVE
Aye — I’m refreshed, Dead lad. Not gone. Besides, outside of this gig, immortality doesn't have as many day-to-day benefits as you think.

Down the ramp, GEKKO, PHOENIX, JETT, BREACH, RAZE, and KILLJOY form the last cluster before the door seals. Phoenix pauses, hand on the VTOL’s rail, looking back at the HQ.

He breathes out, steady and fierce.

PHOENIX
Mary… I’m coming for you.

The ramp seals. Hatches close, mechanical growl building to a roar. The VTOL lifts—first a judder, then smooth—tearing up from the rooftop into the violet-tinged dawn.

UNKNOWN LOCATION – ABANDONED FIRE STATION

The night hums with the growl of a lone engine. SOVA stands in front of a decrepit fire station, the Harley’s exhaust still rumbling behind him. He stares down at his transponder, the holographic map flickering—signal locked right at this building.

. He pulls the Vandal from the bike’s side holster, loads a fresh mag with a sharp click, then slides his combat knife into the slot on his leg. The weight of the weapon feels heavier than usual.

SOVA (under his breath)
Let’s end this.

He pushes the old fire station doors—rusted metal groaning open. Sova’s bionic eye flickers blue, scanning through the darkness. Heat signatures ghost across the walls — none distinct, yet the signal still blinks stronger. He follows it, rifle raised, steady breaths.

Finally, he stops. There—on the ground—a single playing card lies half-stuck in the dust. A golden insignia.

Sova bends slightly, eyes narrowing.

SOVA (low, tense)
...Chamber.

A voice drifts from the shadows, rich, mocking, every syllable soaked in amusement.

CHAMBER
Sova — now here stands a man of principle!
But it seems even men like you… can break rules.
Ah, of course you CAN.

Sova spins, aiming his Vandal toward the voice.

SOVA (furious, restrained growl)
Chamber… WHY do you have Brimstone’s transponder?

Chamber steps out from behind an old firetruck, perfectly composed, his demeanor untouched.

CHAMBER
Let’s just say… we had an arrangement.
I completed my part of the deal.

He snaps his fingers — his Tour de Force materializes in a shimmer of gold and violet. In one smooth motion, he fires.

The sniper shot cuts the air like thunder. Sova barely dives aside — the bullet ricochets off the steel wall behind him, showering sparks. He rolls, aims back, finger tightening on the trigger—

UNKNOWN VOICE
Stand down, soldier.

Sova freezes. The voice cuts through like a command his body can’t disobey. From the deeper shadow at the back of the hall, heavy boots echo on concrete.

BRIMSTONE, face hardened, beard thicker, coat tattered, steps into a beam of broken light.

BRIMSTONE
That’s an order.

Sova’s face is a mix of expression — disbelief, anger, confusion — with trembling, he lowers the rifle just slightly.

SOVA
(stumbling over his words, voice shaking)
B–Brimstone... you... You’re okay!?
What happened? Where were you? Why—why are you with him?!
What’s going on!?

The words spill out all at once, a storm of confusion and relief crashing through his voice. For a second, it’s not the soldier talking — it’s Sasha, the man who followed Brimstone through every fire and fallout.

Brimstone’s eyes soften. Just slightly. His tone stays calm.

BRIMSTONE
Sova… you’ve been my most trusted man since the beginning.
Can I ask you to trust me… one more time?

Sova’s instinct twitches. His eye hums faintly — reading the tiniest pulse changes, the faintest muscle tension in Brim’s arm, the angle of his stance. Something’s off. His hunter’s sense screams — raise the gun!

But his heart doesn’t let him. He stares into the face of the man who made him who he is.

SOVA
(quiet, uncertain)
Brim... what do you mean—
Of course, I— I trust you with my—

—Life.

He doesn’t finish. Brimstone exhales like a man burdened by regret, his hand already moving. A flash of metal — the Sheriff drawn faster than Sova can blink.

BRIMSTONE
(softly)
Thank you, Sasha.

The shot erupts —

BAM!

Chapter Text

EXT. AIRSPACE ABOVE THE ATLANTIC – 0930 HOURS – NEAR FRENCH COASTLINE

Dark clouds churn over the open ocean. Three VTOLs slice through the wind in formation.

INT. VTOL – COMMAND UNIT (SAGE, CYPHER, TEJO, WAYLAY)

Holographic maps flicker in shades of blue and red. Coordinates pulse near the French shoreline — the facility where Firefight strike team vanished.

Cypher leans over the console, his gloved hands flying across broken circuits and cracked wires.

CYPHER
The decay frequency is identical to what the girl predicted. Even after all these hours, it’s still radiating from the facility.

Across the cabin, Sage stands tense—one hand gripping the comm headset, the other pressed against wall for turbulence. Her voice cuts sharp over the encrypted channel.

SAGE
(to comms)
Listen to me — if you don’t evacuate the Expo grounds now, you’ll have a catastrophe that no PR stunt can clean up. There’s something active under paris. It’s not safe!

KINGDOM EXECUTIVE (V.O.)
(calm, cold)
Miss Ying, VALORANT’s interference has already drawn too much attention. You will not deploy at the Expo. That’s an order.

SAGE
An order? People will die!

KINGDOM EXECUTIVE (V.O.)
Then let them blame it on the weather.
(pauses, voice hardens)
If VALORANT sets foot on that site, we’ll treat it as a breach of jurisdiction. You’ll be dealt with accordingly.

The comm line cuts.

Sage exhales shakily and lowers her headset.

TEJO
(quietly)
So what now?

Sage rubs her forehead, eyes burning.

SAGE
If we go back… millions die.
If we go forward… our family become the ones hunted.

Her voice trembles but she fights to steady it.

SAGE
(small laugh through frustration)
Ah… Brim. Why did you leave me with a mess like this?

Her laugh breaks midway into a half-choked breath.

Cypher, hunched at the console, tilts his head.

CYPHER
Wei… wait. I’m getting a line. Encrypted, friendly signature.

Sage looks up, confused, then tense.

SAGE
Who could even…? Connect it.

Cypher flips the switch. Static bursts through the cabin — and then, a familiar gravel voice, distorted but steady.

BRIMSTONE (V.O.)
(gruff, warm)
And who said our kids were so weak they’d pussy out when the real game started?

Everyone freezes. Sage’s breath catches.

SAGE
(voice shaking)
Brimstone…? You’re— you’re alive…

She presses her hand over her mouth, holding back tears.

Tejo slams his fist on the console, grinning ear to ear.

TEJO
(laughing, in Spanish)
¡Hijo de puta! You old bastard—you actually pulled it off!

Sage smiles through tears, the weight of despair lifting from her chest for the first time in hours.

SAGE
You don’t know how long we waited to hear your voice again, Brim.

INT. SECOND VTOL

The cabin lights flicker red as turbulence hits. GEKKO, tightening his harness, hears the broadcast and laughs into the mic.

GEKKO
You’re late, old man!

BRIMSTONE (V.O.)
(chuckling)
Well, good thing I brought backup.

Before anyone can reply, another line cuts thorugh.

KAY/O (V.O.)
Team Firefight reporting in. Launching from Normandy airspace—ETA, six minutes.

Jett  leans to the window, eyes wide. Through the storm, she spots a glint—another VTOL emerging from the clouds just below theirs, wings slicing through lightning.

JETT
(softly, in Korean; relieved)
Thank god… they’re alive.

INT. FIREFIGHT VTOL

Inside the dim-lit cabin, Viper sits strapped near the rear, mask lowered just enough to breathe. Deadlock glances at her, then back to her console, conflicted.

DEADLOCK
(open comms)
Command, requesting reevaluation of arrest orders for Viper. She’s carrying intel directly tied to Omega Atlas operations. That information could be critical to survival rates on both sides.

Across the channel, silence—then Sage’s voice, softer, hesitant.

SAGE (V.O.)
Brim… what are you saying?

BRIMSTONE (V.O.)
I’m saying this.
Anything Viper did, she did under my orders.
Same goes for Chamber.

Every VTOL falls quiet.

CYPHER, from the command VTOL, mutters under his breath.

CYPHER
(monotone, almost amused)
Well… that explains the missing data feeds.

SAGE
Brim, that’s a direct confession. If Kingdom intercepts that line—

BRIMSTONE (V.O.)
Then let them.
I started this Protocol to protect people… not to keep playing their politics.
If we’re going to save this world, we do it together.

INT. VTOL – COMMAND UNIT – 1105 HOURS

Killjoy’s voice cuts through urgent.

KILLJOY (over comms)
I cross-analysed Viper’s internal corrode-meganite logs with the Toronto. It’s... not good.

Waylay leans forward, eyes sharp. Tejo’s hand tightens on a console — he’s trying to connect a private line, worried and quiet.

KILLJOY (cont’d)
Atlas didn’t just make a spike. They modified it. A super-spike—payload density and salianite engineered to do one thing: shift entire mass-blocks. Enough to transport an entire city-scale sector to Omega. Simultaneously.

Silence like a held breath. Phoenix’s foot taps nervously against the deck.

PHOENIX
(voice small)
Why Paris? Why not— I don’t—

KILLJOY
(rapid)
Listen. Don’t ask why yet. First Light isn’t the first time radianite showed up. It’s been in the record for millennia. We just happened to be the ones who catalogued its modern effects.

KILLJOY (cont’d)
Paris sits on one of the oldest impact loci. It’s an anchor. If you detonate the super-spike at a site like that—resonance does the rest. It finds the nearest rift and opens…

Her voice drops to a harsh whisper.

KILLJOY (cont’d)
—You don’t move just radianite. You move evrything.

From Brim’s channel, Chamber’s voice floats up—cold, smooth, and suddenly very public. He speaks in French, measured and grave.

CHAMBER (V.O.)
« Ceux qui attaquent Paris attaquent l’humanité. »
(Those who attack Paris attack humanity.)

Tejo finally gets his line through; someone answers in low tones. He listens, then nods once, jaw tight.

TEJO (into the headset, clipped, Spanish)
Good. Put them on standby—local assets, extraction teams on call. Prioritize rescue of Mary Adeyemi.
(beat, softer)
Confío en ti.

A beat later: static. A single, metallic ping slams into the comm feeds. Monitors stutter. Lights flash red.

SAGE
SITREP Cypher!

CYPHER
(fighting the console)
Main engine—impact—oh— we’ve been hit. We’re losing output.

The VTOL shudders. Outside the window, Paris tips and slides with every spin of blades.

Cypher’s hands flash across panels, but alarm tone wins. The cabin drops a foot, then another.

TEJO
(standing, voice flat, dangerous)
No es mayday—es save the day!

He slaps the harness down, checks his kit, and looks at Waylay. She snorts, loading her gauntlet, eyes cold.

WAYLAY
We show up now. We live later.

They move to the ramp. Sage yanks a lever hard—hydraulics wail as the VTOL fights for control. Through the open ramp, Paris rushes up: rooftops, radio masts, the sickly yellow haze pooling behind the Eiffel Tower.

BRIMSTONE (V.O.)
(overlapping, steady, commanding)
All units—rendezvous on sighting. Priority one: secure Mary Adeyemi and neutralize spike threats. Move, move, move!

Across the other VTOLs the same order snaps through. All agents, check weapons, faces hard.

CLOVE

Serious face, on.

PHOENIX
(under his breath, furious, tender)
Mary—I'm coming for you. And I swear... I won't be late this time.

The lead VTOL drops low. Ramps open. The deck becomes a blur of motion—agents sliding down ropes, vaulting onto rooftop edges, boots thunder, grapples snap.

Outside: a yellowish atmosphere curls like a living thing behind the Eiffel—hazy, choking light that paints the city in a jaundiced, unreal tint. It breathes slow and wide, like the calm before a bell.

On dozens of roofs, teams land and roll—breach charges, radar bounces. The expo’s heart lies ahead.

Chapter Text

PARIS SKYLINE -1108 HOURS

The command VTOL spirals—smoke trailing black against the sky.

Alarms blare. Red lights strobe across Cypher's mask as he wrestles with dead controls.

CYPHER
(gritting teeth)
Brace! BRACE!

Sage grips the overhead rail, her knuckles white.

The VTOL banks hard—too hard—clipping the edge of a Haussmann building. Stonework explodes. The craft careens sideways, spinning twice before—

CRASH.

It slams into the sloped roof of a museum, metal shrieking as it grinds to a halt. Sparks shower. Glass rains. The rear ramp hangs half-torn, swinging loose.

ROOFTOP -- NEAR CHAMPS-ÉLYSÉES -- SAME TIME

Jett lands in a crouch, wind swirling around her boots. She steadies herself on the edge of a limestone ledge, eyes scanning.

Phoenix drops beside her, flames licking his fingertips as he dispels the heat from his landing.

PHOENIX
(breathless)
You see that?

He points.

Through the haze and smoke, the Arc de Triomphe rises like a monument to something already lost. Beyond it—a sea of humanity. Hundreds of thousands packed shoulder to shoulder, faces upturned toward massive LED screens mounted on scaffolding towers.

The screens flicker between:

• Live feed of Mary Adeyemi on stage, mid-speech, radiant and smiling
• Breaking news chyron in French: "INCIDENT AÉRIEN AU-DESSUS DE PARIS"

The crowd murmurs—uncertain, restless.

JETT
(quietly, in Korean)
"이게 무슨..."
(What the hell...)

EXT. EXPO GROUNDS -- MAIN STAGE AREA

The Expo sprawls across the Champs-Élysées like a festival of light and steel. Vendor stalls. Art installations. Holographic displays showing radianite molecules rotating in midair.

At the center: a massive stage, draped in Kingdom Corporation branding. Mary stands at the podium, mid-sentence, her voice amplified across the plaza.

MARY
(confident, warm)
...And that is why we must embrace this new era—not with fear, but with hope.

Applause ripples through the crowd.

Behind the stage, Atlas forces move in disciplined columns—black tactical gear, rifles slung, visors down. They form a perimeter, eyes scanning.

ATLAS CAPTAIN
(into comms)
All units, tighten the cordon. No Radiants get through. Repeat—no Radiants.

He adjusts his earpiece, listening.

ATLAS CAPTAIN (cont'd)
(nodding)
Copy. The package is inbound.

SERVICE ROAD -- BEHIND THE EXPO STAGE

A flatbed truck rumbles slowly down a narrow access road. Its bed is covered by a heavy tarp, strapped tight with industrial cables.

Beneath the tarp—something massive. Angular. Humming faintly with a glow that bleeds through the fabric in pulses.

The truck rolls past a security checkpoint. Atlas guards wave it through without inspection.

One guard glances at the tarp. Frowns.

ATLAS GUARD #1
(uneasy)
What's in there?

ATLAS GUARD #2
(shrugging)
Above our pay grade.

The truck disappears behind the stage scaffolding.

STREET LEVEL -- CROWD PERIMETER -- EAST SIDE

The crowd's attention shifts skyward—all eyes on the burning VTOL trailing smoke across the yellow-tinged sky. Phones raise. Gasps ripple outward.

In the chaos, Reyna moves like a shadow. Violet eyes hidden behind dark glasses. She slips between bodies, her movements fluid, predatory.

REYNA
(low, to herself in Spanish)
Qué desperdicio...
(What a waste...)

She pauses near a vendor stall, scanning the Atlas positions.

Behind her, Fade emerges from an alley, her coat blending with the crowd. She catches Reyna's eye, gives a subtle nod.

FADE
(under breath)
We're ready.

They split—Fade moving toward the northern barricades, Reyna continuing toward the stage.

CROWD PERIMETER -- SOUTH SIDE

Gekko weaves through the masses, Wingman tucked inside, chirping softly. He keeps his head down, cap pulled low.

A family rushes past him, pointing at the screens. A child stumbles. Gekko catches her instinctively.

GEKKO
(Spanish, gentle)
"Careful, chiquita."
(little one.)

The mother pulls her away, suspicious. Gekko raises his hands, backing off.

GEKKO (cont'd)
(into comms, quiet)
Yo, I'm at South Gate. Civvies everywhere. This is gonna get messy.

WESTERN FLANK -- NEAR SIDE STREETS

Harbor strides through a narrow street adjacent to the main plaza.

HARBOR
This peace won't last long.

He spots Vyse already positioned on a fire escape, binoculars in hand. She looks down, gives a curt signal.

VYSE
(into comms)
Western approach clear. For now.

Harbor nods, continuing forward.

EXT. NORTHERN BARRICADE -- ATLAS CHECKPOINT

Yoru leans against a lamppost, arms crossed, watching Atlas guards check IDs at a security gate. His jaw works a piece of gum slowly.

He catches sight of Iso across the street, pretending to browse a newsstand. Their eyes meet briefly.

Yoru smirks.

YORU
(Japanese, low)
"準備はいいか？"
(You ready?)

Iso doesn't respond. Just picks up a magazine, flips through it casually.

Then—a ripple. Yoru's gate crash flickers for half a second. He steps through, vanishing from sight.

The nearest guard to where he was standing blinks, confused.

ATLAS GUARD
(to partner)
Did you see something?

The other shrugs.

EASTERN EDGE -- QUIETER STREETS

Astra walks alone, star-patterned coat flowing behind her. She stops at a corner, closing her eyes. The cosmic glow pulses faintly around her fingertips.

ASTRA
The threads are tangled... but I can still see them.

She opens her eyes—pupils reflecting constellations.

ASTRA
(into comms)
Something's underneath. Deep. Like roots.

EXT. ROOFTOP -- BREACH, RAZE, KILLJOY

Breach pulls himself up onto a rooftop ledge, bionic arms hissing as they lock. Raze boosts Killjoy up behind him.

Killjoy immediately pulls out a compact scanner, sweeping the skyline.

KILLJOY
(muttering in German)
"Verdammt... die Signatur ist überall."
(Damn... the signature is everywhere.)

RAZE
(looking through scope)
English, meu amor.

KILLJOY
(snapping back to English)
The decay frequency—it's not just near the Expo. It's under it. Deep. Like... basement-level deep.

Breach scans the crowd below, jaw tight.

BREACH
(grim)
Then we dig.

ADJACENT ROOFTOP -- DEADLOCK, KAY/O

Deadlock sets up her Operator on a ledge, adjusting the scope with mechanical precision. KAY/O stands beside her, scanning thermal signatures.

KAY/O
(robotic)
Multiple hostile signatures detected. Atlas deployment exceeds standard event security by 340%.

DEADLOCK
Someone's expecting trouble.

She chambered a round.

DEADLOCK (cont'd)
So are we.

COMMAND VTOL CRASH SITE -- MUSEUM ROOFTOP

The ramp drops with a screech. Sage stumbles out first, coughing through dust. Cypher follows, limping slightly, one hand pressed to his ribs and a ghost pulled out.

Tejo and Waylay meet up with them, weapons already drawn.

WAYLAY
(sharp)
We're two klicks out.

SAGE
(activating comms)
All units, this is Command. VTOL is down but operational. Converging on Expo grounds. Standby for—

Static cuts her off.

CYPHER
(checking his device)
Jammer. Local. Military-grade.

Tejo spits over the ledge.

TEJO
(Colombian Spanish, low)
"Hijos de puta."
(Sons of bitches.)

He checks his Vandal, pulls the bolt.

SIDE ALLEY -- NEAR EXPO BACKSTAGE

Skye crouches near a dumpster, Clove beside her. They watch Atlas patrols pass.

SKYE
(Australian accent, whispering)
Right, we wait for the signal, yeah?

CLOVE
(Scottish accent, smirking despite bandages)
Aye. Though waitin' was never my strong suit.

Skye's hawk circles overhead, eyes glowing faintly.

UNDERGROUND ACCESS TUNNEL -- MAINTENANCE ENTRANCE

Neon sparks faintly as she approaches a locked service door. Omen materialises beside her from the shadow.

NEON
(startled)
Jesus—don't do that!

OMEN
(gravelly, quiet)
The darkness hides what needs hiding.

He shadows steps the door. A moment later, it unlocks from inside.

Neon slips in, electricity crackling along her fingers.

NEON
(grinning)
Show-off.

EXPO GROUNDS -- BACKSTAGE AREA

The flatbed truck parks beside a service tunnel entrance. The engine dies.

Two figures step out of the cab—both in Atlas uniforms.

One pulls off their helmet.

Omega Chamber.

He tosses the helmet and uniform aside, adjusting his cufflinks with a smirk.

OMEGA CHAMBER
(French, smooth)
"Eh bien... le spectacle commence."
(Well... the show begins.)

ATLAS SOLDIER

Spike placement in ninety seconds.

Chamber glances toward the stage, where Mary's voice still echoes.

OMEGA CHAMBER
Such a shame. She had potential.

EXT. ROOFTOP -- PHOENIX, JETT

Phoenix stares at the stage through the haze. His hands start to glow—flames curling around his knuckles.

PHOENIX
(voice cracking)
I'm not losing her again.

JETT
(Korean accent, grabbing his shoulder)
Then we move. Now.

She dashes—wind erupting around her as she vaults between rooftops, closing the distance in seconds.

Phoenix ignites, a streak of fire arcing through the yellow sky as he launches himself forward.

ARC DE TRIOMPHE -- GROUND LEVEL

The crowd is oblivious. Phones raised. Cheering.

On the LED screens, the news feed switches:

BREAKING: UNIDENTIFIED AIRCRAFT CRASH IN PARIS

People start to notice. Murmurs spread.

ATLAS CAPTAIN
(into comms, urgent)
All units, spike is moving to position. Secure the perimeter. Engage hostiles on sight.

He raises his rifle.

And across the rooftops, through the crowds, in the shadows—VALORANT agents converge—one by one—weapons drawn, eyes locked.

The descent into darkness has begun.

Chapter Text

BACK ALLEY -- RUNNING TOWARD EXPO VENUE

Boots slam against wet cobblestone. Sage, Cypher, Tejo, and Waylay move through narrow back streets.

CYPHER
(breathing hard, adjusting his wrist device)
Still nothing. Comms are dead—I can't raise anyone.

SAGE
(focused, not slowing)
Keep trying.

Beside them, Tejo runs with his phone pressed to his ear, speaking rapid-fire Spanish into a separate line.

TEJO
(Spanish, urgent)
"Sí, sí— it's beginning. Move in. NOW!

He cuts the call, pockets the phone.

WAYLAY
(fierce)
Fuck that.

She doesn't wait. Her body glows—a brilliant streak of light as she activates Lightspeed.

In a flash, she's gone—vaulting up a drainpipe, ricocheting off a windowsill, landing on the rooftop in two seconds flat.

WAYLAY (cont'd)
(shouting down)
Oi! T the binos!

Tejo doesn't hesitate. He pulls the binoculars from his vest and hurls them upward in one smooth arc.

Waylay catches them mid-air, already scanning the skyline.

POV -- THROUGH BINOCULARS

• Deadlock and KAY/O on a rooftop to the east, Operator glinting.
• Jett and Phoenix vaulting toward the stage.
• Iso slipping through a checkpoint below, guards distracted.

WAYLAY
(grinning)
Yup. We're ready.

Suddenly—static crackles in Cypher's earpiece. He freezes, tapping it rapidly.

CYPHER
Wait—wait, the static's clearing!

A voice cuts through—calm dripping with precision.

CHAMBER (V.O.)
(over comms, smooth)
Bonsoir, mes amis. We are online.

Waylay spots him through the binoculars—Chamber, perched in a third-story window, Tour de Force resting on the sill. Behind him, two Atlas guards slumped unconscious against the wall.

WAYLAY
(grinning)
"ไอ้เวรนั่น..."
(Ai wern nan...—That bastard...)

Then—Brimstone's voice booms through all channels, strong and commanding.

BRIMSTONE (V.O.)
Alright, listen up. We've got ninety seconds to wrap this up and diffuse that spike.

CROWD -- BEHIND A VENDOR STALL

Gekko crouches low, loading a fresh mag into his Spectre. Wingman peeks out from his jacket, chirping nervously.

GEKKO
(into comms, urgent)
A’ight cool—how we doin’ that?

KILLJOY (V.O.)
(clipped)
With a defuser. Obviously.

UNDERGROUND MAINTENANCE TUNNEL

Omen and Neon move through dim concrete corridors. Omen's form bleeds shadow as he phases past locked doors. Neon's hands crackle with electricity, lighting the way.

Two Atlas guards round the corner.

NEON
My turn.

She bursts forward—a blue streak of lightning. The guards barely raise their rifles before she's past them—sliding low, dodging rounds.

ZAP. ZAP.

Both guards drop, convulsing.

Neon skids to a stop, sparks fading from her fingertips.

OMEN
(low, approving)
Efficient.

NEON
(smirking)
I know.

OMEN
(into comms)
We're in, Brimstone.

BACKSTAGE AREA -- NEAR THE FLATBED TRUCK

Brimstone stands in the shadows near the truck, eyes locked on the covered payload. He raises his bracer—the device glowing orange, coordinates locking in.

BRIMSTONE
(into comms, steady)
On my mark, teams.

SOMEONE (V.O.)
(over comms, tense)
What's the mark, Brim?

Brimstone's jaw tightens. He presses the button.

The sky splits open.

BEHIND THE STAGE

A column of blazing light tears down from the heavens—BOOM—slamming into the ground behind the stage. The shockwave ripples outward, dust and debris exploding.

An entire Atlas squad—twelve soldiers in tactical formation—vaporizes in an instant. Armor melts. Concrete cracks.

The crowd screams.

BRIMSTONE (V.O.)
(booming, rallying)
IT'S OUR TURN!

FRONT OF STAGE

Viper emerges from the chaos, mask locked, toxin canisters primed. She raises her hand—

WHOOSH.

A massive Toxic Screen erupts across the front of the stage, cutting off the crowd's view in a wall of churning green poison.

ATLAS CAPTAIN
(into comms, panicked)
BREACH! BREACH! We have hostiles everywh—

BANG.

His head snaps back. Blood sprays. He crumples.

Behind him, Clove lowers  Spectre, smoke curling from the barrel. Skye vaults over a crate beside them, Vandal raised.

CLOVE
(Scottish accent)
Mate, shut up!

Skye's bird screeches overhead, as it bursts blind off incoming guards.

SKYE
(shouting)
More coming from the left!

Bullets tear through the air. Atlas guards scramble, firing wildly into the haze.

FRONT OF STAGE -- ATLAS DEFENSIVE LINE

The remaining Atlas guards form a line, rifles raised toward the panicking crowd.

ATLAS GUARD #1
OPEN FIRE!

Before they can pull the triggers—

Reyna bites down on her tongue. Her eyes—glowing, furious.

She raises her hand, flicking her wrist. A Leer blooms high above the guards—a massive, haunting eye of purple light.

The guards scream, clutching their faces, blinded.

REYNA
(low and deadly)
"Tontos..."
(Fools...)

She draws her Sheriff—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Three headshots. Clean. Precise. Bodies drop.

Behind her, Harbor surges forward, water cascading from his gauntlets. He raises his arms—

High Tide erupts, a towering wall of water blocking the guards' line of sight.

FADE appears nearby, her Haunt already deployed. The spectral mark pulses, revealing silhouettes through the water.

FADE
(Turkish accent, sharp)
Marked.

REYNA
(stepping through the water, Sheriff raised)
Perfecto.

She fires through the Cascade—each shot finding its mark. The guards drop one by one, unable to see where the bullets are coming from.

Reyna Dismisses—her form dissolving into shadow, reappearing behind a vendor stall. She reloads, eyes scanning.

CROWD -- NEAR FIRE EXIT

The crowd is panicking—stampeding, screaming, children crying.

Harbor pushes through, shouting in broken French.

HARBOR
(French accent, urgent)
"Allez! Sortie! Sortie de secours!"
(Go! Exit! Emergency exit!)

He points toward the fire exit where Vyse stands, arms outstretched, directing the flow.

VYSE
(commanding)
This way! Move! MOVE!

A guard on a nearby rooftop raises his rifle, locking onto Harbor.

DEADLOCK (V.O.)
(Norwegian accent, calm)
Target acquired.

BANG.

The guard's body jerks. He falls from the roof, crashing onto a tarp below.

Deadlock chambers another round, scope already sweeping for the next target.

NEAR VENDOR STALL

Gekko bursts from behind the stall, Wingman launching ahead.

GEKKO
(shouting)
Wingman, ¡vamos!

The creature stuns two guards at once, their vision blurring.

Gekko swings the Spectre like a club, backhanding the first guard across the jaw.

He spins, fires point-blank into the second.

BANG.

The guard drops.

Gekko helps a old man by the shoulder, guiding them toward the exit.

BRIMSTONE (V.O.)
Gekko—keep them safe!

GEKKO
(into comms, breathless)
Aye, chief!

ROOFTOP -- BREACH AND RAZE

Breach charges forward, bionic arms glowing. He leaps from the rooftop—

THUD.

He lands on the stage scaffolding, metal groaning under his weight. Guards scatter.

BREACH
(booming)
GET OUT OF MY WAY!

His fist slams into the ground—Faultline ripples outward, sending three guards flying.

Raze drops beside him, nade primed.

RAZE
(cackling)
FIRE IN THE HOLE!

She throws—BOOM—the grenade explodes mid-air, showering guards in paint and shrapnel.

ACROSS THE EXPO

• Jett dashes through the air, kunai spinning, taking down guards.
• Phoenix ignites, a fireball clearing a chokepoint.
• Iso cuts through hoards of  guards, his Undercut disabling their gear.
• Yoru teleports behind them trapping them in crossfire.
• Astra pulls stars from the sky, smoke covering retreats.
• KAY/O suppresses abilities, his knife glowing.

EXT. MAIN STAGE

Mary stands frozen, mic in hand. Her song cuts off mid-note.

Front of her, the Toxic Screen churns. Gunfire echoes. Screams rise.

MARY
(confused, terrified)
What's happening...?

Her voice cracks.

The world is burning around her.