Red and blue lights pulsed against the night sky, flickering across shattered glass and scorched concrete. The air was heavy—burnt wires, blood, and something metallic lingering in every breath. The street just outside the blast radius had already been barricaded, yellow tape fluttering like warning flags in the chill breeze.
"Clear the perimeter! Nobody gets through!" a uniformed officer barked, waving a flashlight toward the small crowd forming at the edge of the scene.
Detective Raymond Cruz stepped out of an unmarked car, trench coat flapping behind him as he made his way toward the chaos.
"Christ," he muttered. "What the hell happened here?"
A forensics team was already at work—kneeling over debris with gloved hands, snapping photos, tagging evidence. A drone hovered overhead, capturing the overhead layout in real time. One officer placed numbered yellow markers near what appeared to be a severed arm, half-covered in ash.
"Detective," a younger officer, Jacobs, jogged up. "We've got a single casualty here. The lab's files are torched—digital and physical."
Cruz kneeled beside a smoldering fragment of metal. "This wasn't just a gas leak. This was a goddamn suicidal blast. What the heck is this anyways."
"Feds are already inbound," Jacobs added. "They're not saying it, but I can feel it—they know something we don't."
He grunted irritatively. " What the heck is the feds job here anyways", Cruz said, standing slowly. "Will you check in please"?
He walked deeper into the wreckage. The silence was eerie here. No sirens. Just the static of radios and the soft clicks of cameras. That's when he saw it—half buried beneath a collapsed pillar—a charred symbol, barely visible. Three concentric circles… and three jagged slashes cutting through them.
Cruz narrowed his eyes. "Get a shot of that," he said. "And don't let anyone touch it."
One of the forensic officers looked up. "You recognize it?"
"I don't," Cruz said as someone came with a call for him.
He took the phone as he moved further away from the chaos.
"Detective Cruz on the line."
"Detective..." the voice on the other end paused, then continued with a low urgency, "This is Special Agent Reeve, SIA. You are to vacate the premises immediately."
Cruz frowned. "Excuse me? On whose authority?"
"On the authority of the United States government," Reeve replied coolly. "A federal operation was compromised tonight. What you're standing in is not just a crime scene—it's a matter of national security. That's all I can say."
Cruz blinked. "Federal? What kind of—"
"You've done your job. Now it's time we do ours. Step back. Reinforcements are en route." He added quickly; running out of patience.
The line went dead.
Before Cruz could fully process the call, a pair of black SUVs rolled in, tires screeching softly to a halt just beyond the tape.
Several men in dark suits and earpieces stepped out, flashing badges before the officers could question them. Their movements were sharp, rehearsed. The kind of precision that screamed government.
One of them approached the NYPD perimeter commander. "We're taking over from here. Please notify your men to stand down."
"Hold on," Cruz said, stepping in. "You can't just waltz in and shut us out."
"We can and we are," said a different agent, taller and grimmer, his badge gleaming under the crime scene floodlights. "This area now falls under federal jurisdiction."
"You don't get to erase a crime scene because it's convenient," Cruz snapped. "I've got a dead body here. Evidence. People to answer to—"
"The body," the agent interrupted, nodding toward the charred remains being carefully lifted onto a stretcher by men in hazmat suits, "belongs to a classified operative. That lab was a government blacksite in which we are ordered to keep for now. "
"A blacksite?" Jacobs echoed from behind him. "What the hell were we standing on?"
Cruz's jaw clenched. "Look, can you at least tell me what's going on."
The agent didn't respond. Instead, he gave a signal. More agents moved in, gently but firmly guiding the NYPD personnel back toward their vehicles.
"This is bullsh—" Jacobs began.
"Enough," Cruz growled. He turned to his team. "Pack up. We're leaving."
The officers hesitated.
"But sir, what about—"
"I said we're leaving!"
The NYPD pulled back, grumbling, the yellow tape being ripped down and tossed aside by the incoming feds. Cruz took one last look at the symbol being sealed into a plastic evidence bag.
"Someone's playing chess while we're still figuring out checkers," he muttered.
As they cleared the perimeter, the street fell into eerie silence again—now guarded by men whose names weren't listed on any database.
Inside a sealed van parked at the edge of the scene, Agent Reeve dialed a secure line.
"This is Reeve. Site's locked down. The body's being extracted."
On the other end, in a dimly lit office somewhere in D.C., a presidential aide glanced toward the Resolute Desk.
"The President will be briefed. What about Red Mars?"
Reeve glanced at the crime scene through the tinted window. "They've been compromised. But no one outside knows it yet. Not even the NYPD. Not even Cruz."
"Then keep it that way."
---------
---------
Somewhere in Brooklyn,
2:12 AM
The apartment was dimly lit, with only a soft desk lamp casting shadows across the living room.
Parker sat on the edge of a rugged leather couch, a secure satellite phone in one hand and an untouched cup of black coffee in the other. His eyes were sunken, haunted—not by sleep, but by the weight of truth.
Across from him, Lena paced the floor, arms crossed, brows drawn tightly together.
"Blake's dead, Parker", she said solemnly, rather sorrowfully. "We can't just sit here: my apartment is more really dangerous than anything right now."
Parker looked unfocused. " Hope the anti-tracker here still working"?
" Always. But are you sure you weren't being tracked when you were coming here"?
" I wasn't." He took a gulp of the cup of coffee on the table.
" Thanks", he said, direction at the table," for this. "
Lena looked anxiously.
Blake heaved a sigh, struggling to say the word.
" I am calling the white house." He announced, rather coldly.
"You're really doing this?" she asked, stopping to face him. "You're going to report this to them? After what they did last time?"
"Look, Lena", Parker said without looking at her. "This is different this time. There are the only one we can trusted now. Whereas, Blake is dead now, and I think you could remember what I told you guys about the contract in the first conference."
The first conference meeting on the project SOLACE held in Red Mars Conference Room
Members were seated as the conference was about to began.
A plump short woman stepped in—quietly, dressed in a crisp navy skirt-suit, her dark hair neatly tucked into a bun. She carried a tray with two cups of steaming coffee, her steps measured, precise.
She passed Parker who had gone to hang his coat. Blake was sitted beside Parker's seat, hence, received the coffee from her.
She hurried back as she passed Parker on the way, telling him to have his coffee why was hot.
Parker's eyes flicked up. The others barely noticed her. But something in the way she moved—too clean, too rehearsed—struck a chord in his instincts. She smiled at him gently as she passed him, with Parker seeing a symbol he was very familiar with; barely visible.
His smile remained calm. But his mind flared.
SIA.
She turned and exited just as quickly as she entered.
No one said a word.
---
Later That Night – Anglican Church, Brooklyn
Rain ticked against the arched stained-glass windows of a forgotten church, swallowed by the industrial shadow of Brooklyn. The front doors creaked open as Parker stepped in, coat soaked, eyes sharp.
She was already waiting—standing at the altar, cloak pulled over her shoulders, the chapel lit only by a few candle-like LEDs mounted on the cracked columns.
"I wasn't sure you'd come," she said, her voice low, composed.
Parker walked down the aisle slowly. "I knew that insignia. Nobody outside top-tier national intelligence wears it openly. You wanted me to notice."
She smiled slightly. "You're sharper than the files said."
"Who are you really?"
She stepped closer, voice now grave. "Agent Miriam Kay. Strategic Intelligence Agency. I report directly to the White House."
Parker inhaled, processing. "So why the coffee? Why now?"
"Because Red Mars is lying," she said simply. "And we knew you'd notice. You're the only one among them who still listens to his conscience."
His jaw tightened. "You're watching us."
"We've always been watching," Miriam said, tone soft but firm. "The moment the weapon was discovered, the game changed. What you think Red Mars is doing... is not what they're doing."
Parker's voice lowered. "Then why not expose them?"
"Because we need them to believe they're still in control. But we need you to report directly to us—from now on. You're in, Parker. And your family will be protected, no matter what."
He looked away, breathing hard. "Why me?"
"Because we need the key," she said carefully. "The human host. It would be locked, but the host would be needed to unlocked it; that's after we had been under control. You know the access key already"?
Parker looked her in the eyes. "I don't know yet."
A pause.
"Will you tell me what you guys have on us that I don't know yet?"
She didn't answer
He read the silence
"So you won't tell me."
Miriam stepped back. "This meeting never happened. When the time comes, you'll deliver the key. And trust—despite how it seems—we are not the enemy."
She turned to go, her figure fading into the candlelight as the back doors creaked open. But before she stepped out, she stopped, head half-turned.
"Don't trust Blake."
Then she vanished into the storm
----------------------
---------------------
Of course that's how Parker got on with the government. Not anymore through his company. He could have released his son out. But he could not trust them. He is just like a pawn; they knew all what's happening all along; they even knew about Blake and the dummy; he's being played all along.
All this ends when his child would be born. He would be protected by the C.O.D.E.S
Right now he needed the protection of the government and had to play along.
Lena sighed, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I remembered all what that god-damned-lady told you about—, Parker shooked his head in irritation—,Blake is dead, This is about who you're telling. You don't think the same people who authorized Red Mars wouldn't burn you alive to keep their secrets buried?"
Parker set the coffee down and stood. "And what's the alternative? Let Three Eyes build whatever the hell they're building with that stolen weapon and sit on our hands while more of our people die?"
"Parker…" she hesitated. "They won't just listen. They'll twist it. You know that. You always knew that. Remember, you don't trust them too."
Parker whispered softly, struggling hard to control his voice. " Yeah, I don't trust them. But does that matter now?" People I trusted keeps dying; I could not help when it matters the most. His voice broke down.
Lena moved closer to comfort him. " Parker, you're always a trustworthy guy. I want to you to know that Blake's death isn't your fault. You trusted him, and that's enough."
He looked passive, struggling to find his words. "I had to trust them now at least", he said softly. "Though there would still be my reservations; But I had to now. Remember the agreement I had with them on the first conference day?—, that's why I had to; mainly to protect my family."
She hold his face with the palm of her hands; his face cold to her touch. " I knew all that; I also knew the US government, under the verbal agreement you had with them: arranged for your family to be in Finland—not with your in-laws or whatsoever", she said, so confident of her words.
Parker looked unsurprised; he had told her the day very Blake died. When Blake had suggested Finland, the first thought that came to his mind was the coincidence of his family going there on security pact signed by him.
With top educational system, conducive environment, coupled with the very presence of the US government security base, Parker couldn't not agree more that Finland is the best place for now. The US government were even kind enough to let Rose, Blake's daughter be with Parker's family. Maybe they had known Blake would soon die anyway.
"But", she continued, "they had their own research. They didn't tell you the truth about the weapon because they couldn't trust you. You got to know about that yourself. Now, tell me, what guarantee do you have that they do not know about the baby yet?"
He looked over, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "That's why I'm not walking into this with trust. Just clarity. And caution. We contact them on our terms."
Lena studied him for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. "Then we go dark. You can come in through the Night Agent She turned and opened her laptop on the kitchen counter, her fingers moving like a pianist. "I'll reroute it through the Night Agent Protocol—Level 7 masking, bounces through Finland, Cairo, Cape Town, then up through Quebec."
"Sounds like a road trip," Parker muttered, forcing a smile.
She glanced at him. "This is serious.Once this call is made, there's no going back. You understand that, right?"
"I crossed that line the moment I stepped into that lab tonight."
The laptop beeped. A small encrypted window opened. A secure connection sparked into life. For several seconds, there was nothing but static. Then a voice—deep, composed, and unmistakably presidential.
"Mr. Parker," said the President of the United States. "We were expecting your call."
Parker didn't blink. "I wasn't expecting you to answer it yourself."
"This wasn't something I could afford to delegate," the President replied. "The moment the blast was confirmed, we suspected Red Mars would surface. I'm sorry about Blake."
Parker's jaw tightened. "He died because we stayed in the shadows too long. That ends now."
A pause.
"I couldn't agree more," said the President. "Which is why I'm prepared to offer you and your team full operational jurisdiction. A contract—off the books, just like before. But this time, you call the plays."
Parker looked lost in thought. "I would just end the game by providing you the access—,the president sighed on the phone—, but am done after that."
Lena folded her arms beside the screen. Repeatedly blinking at Parker.
"No we can't end it that way Mr. Brooks Parker",the President said. "But there is something you need to know. Something... we haven't shared with anyone outside the Pentagon and Level Five Joint Intelligence."
Parker stepped closer to the screen. "About the weapon?" Lena leaned in.
The President leaned forward, face tense. "That weapon wasn't just designed. It was resurrected. Something abandoned during the Cold War. Soviet origin. Project Icarus. It was supposed to be destroyed—until Three Eyes got their hands on the blueprint."
Parker's blood ran cold. "What the hell does it do?" He pretended to have not heard of it before. Of course he had known; not long after the meeting with server at the first conference on the project.
"It doesn't just target coordinates," the President said grimly. "It rewrites them. Icarus isn't a missile. It's a reprogrammer. Nuclear, biological, psychological. One launch, and you don't just destroy cities—you erase minds, memories, entire identities."
Lena's eyes widened. Parker looked cool.
He had only told Lena that The US government seems to be hiding more to what they offered him.
After he met the strange woman at the first conference of the Red Mars on the this particular project, he was offered an exclusive pact of agreement to report directly to the White House over the work. Of course the White House would provide exclusive security for his family. He couldn't reject the offer.
"And if Three Eyes activates it?" Parker asked.
The President nodded solemnly. "Then we lose the meaning of war. And peace. Forever."
Silence fell like a curtain.
The president voice rang over the other side of the phone. A little tensed this time.
"Look Mr. Parker, we cannot avoid this to get into the wrong hand. We need to let it remained locked while we get the suitable configuration to activate the access to the program. I mean the biological host that complied with the configurations of the program."
Parker glanced at Lena, her eyes urging him to go on.
"Alright; we already had an agreement: I need to be assured of my security with my family also. I also need you people to not breached your agreement with the Red Mars; it is very important."
The president chuckled over the phone, his voice clearly lanced with amusement.
" All that, would be taken care of, Mr. Brooks Parker. But you need to get us the final security for now which is the access to unlock the weapon which now would allowed it to be entirely under our domain."
" Okay, I need the data on it."
The President didn't smile. "It's already on your system. And don't worry about Nathan", he added. "He's being taken care of." Not to be a disturbance now."
" The message is coded in black; Good luck at your assignment."
The line went dead.
The screen flickered.
White House — Situation Room
Time: 3:47 AM
The room was dimly lit, save for the glowing maps and surveillance feeds across the digital wall displays. A heavy silence blanketed the air as the President of the United States sat at the head of the long oak table, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
Around him were five individuals: the National Security Adviser, the Director of the SIA, the Secretary of Defense, and two intelligence analysts. A large screen at the far end of the room displayed a paused satellite image with heat signatures marked in red and yellow.
President McKenna leaned forward. "Tell me again. From the beginning."
Director Hannah Greene, SIA, tapped her tablet. "The weapon was never destroyed, Mr. President. Red Mars falsified the report."
She flicked her wrist. The image on the screen zoomed in—an arid testing field from two weeks ago. A small blinking dot glowed faintly in the lower corner.
Hannah: "We embedded a second-generation Argus Tracker within the weapon's power core. Untraceable. Unstoppable. It transmits a unique photon signature every seventy-two hours."
NSA Director Travis: "And the signal is still active. Thousands of miles away from the supposed detonation zone. Hidden, but alive."
The President exhaled, slow and sharp. "So they lied."
Defense Secretary Lott: "With due respect, sir, it wasn't just a lie. It was a test—and they failed it."
McKenna: "I gave them trust. Clearance. Funding. And they spit in our face. That's why we had to met with Brooks Parker secretly at the onset of this project. Seems like he's the only one that could be trusted."
Everyone nodded; agreeing to the president's words.
Gate: "Worse, sir—if that weapon is still out there, it means whoever attacked the lab didn't just know about the device… they may be after it."
The President's eyes darkened. "We underestimated their ambition. Or maybe their desperation."
He turned to Hannah.
McKenna: "Activate Silent Protocol. I want Red Mars monitored twenty-four-seven. I want every agent, every mole, every listening post active. No more secrets. If Parker or anyone on his team tries anything shady, I want to know before they finish blinking."
Hannah: "And if they find out?"
McKenna: (coldly) "They won't. But if they do... remind them who they're playing with."
A heavy silence settled.
Then the President stood, fixing his tie.
McKenna: "I have spoken with Parker personally. He's still in. He's going to get us the access key."
Defense Secretary Lots: " But sir, can't we change the path of the program ? That way, we would need any host or something relating us to them."
McKenna: "The entity was designed to self destruct if any alternations was to the least detected."
He sighed. " Rare sight for that kind of program to occurred;dating back to the Cold War. That's weird."
Hannah looked intently at the files before her. It contains informations about Parker and his blueprints. She was amazed—like everybody— how the weapon could be locked effectively within that short period of time.
The entity aligned with a particular selective genetic replication in form of a person; who would be the host. The host would be the one to unlocked the program.
That would make the host a very powerful entity. A prized national security. They had recently discovered this in a recent research they conducted. The opened weapon is a unrivaled clear shot which would be a game changer. Any nation in possession of this would be definitely in control of every single entity in the world.
"Sir, we would make Parker get the access in that case." Hannah said affirmatively.
Gate: "Then what about his child?"
The room froze.
President McKenna: "You mean... his unborn child?"
Gate: "Maybe unborn. Maybe already born. We don't have confirmed intel on that. But if Parker used a biometric genetic-lock algorithm tied to familial DNA, then his child is the only possible access key."
"That's a stretch, Gate. He would not want to put his innocent unborn child into a war from birth."
President McKenna looked tense. "Are you telling me we've missed a biological link this entire time?"
Hannah: "Even if he wanted to, there's no guarantee the AI chose him. Genetic coding isn't that simple. It would take neural matching, compatibility overlays, advanced bonding—"
Gate (cutting in): "Parker designed the bonding algorithm. He knew what would happen. He didn't leave it to chance."
" Parker might designed the bonding algorithm, but according to the obvious research we conducted, it's the AI that would generate its own genetic information which is now up to the person who replicate it. Any attempt to alter the generated genetic material would completely annihilate the AI."
It was Defense Secretary Lott this time.
Travis: "Still, even if the child is the key, we're talking about a ticking bomb inside a boy's brain. What if the AI rejects any attempt to extract the code?"
Defense Secretary Lott: "Or worse—what if the AI starts protecting itself? If the child is threatened, it might activate."
President McKenna looked sternly. "We are not threatening a child. We secure him. Quietly. Peacefully. Under full protective custody."
Hannah: "Assuming the child even knows what he is."
Gate muttered quietly. "He doesn't need to know. The weapon might already be active inside him—dormant, waiting."
President McKenna walked to the window and gaze for a long time; deep in thought
After a long pause. "If that's true... then that boy is no longer just Parker's son. He's a national asset. A living weapon. And the future of global warfare."
He looked up, eyes sharp.
McKenna: "Find the child. Secure him. No one—not even Parker—can know."