“Good luck,” Rose said from beside him.
“Can I see your hair?” he pleaded, hands clasped together as though praying Scar would say yes.
“No.”
“Then can I get you to come by later tonight for some measurements? The sooner the better.”
If I’m still here after this meeting.
“Fine,” he shrugged.
Elias lifted a hand for a high-five, then dropped it at Scar’s indignant expression.
“Whew. Love that energy!” Elias snapped his fingers rapidly. “We’ll create magic, you and me. We got chemistry…I feel it!”
Scar shook his head as the guy speed-walked away, his long white duster swishing behind him.
“Everyones really enthusiastic that you and Gage are finally home.” Rose smiled.
Scar grunted.
“And for what it’s worth,” she added, “we were all outraged at what the old director did to you. I only wish Meridian had killed him more slowly.”
Scar frowned. “Meridian?”
Her cheeks flushed. “The Black Raven. The first of you. He’s amazing. He and his partner, Ex, have stopped genocides, taken down countless drug and human traffickers, erased illegal weapons distributions before they reached urban city streets, shutdown warlord territories, you name it.”
Scar absorbed that.
“And who decides all this?” he asked.
“Jo,” she said easily. “Missions are sanctioned, carefully, but ultimately decided by her and her team.”
They stopped at a set of double doors labeled: STRATEGIC OPERATIONS COMMAND.
“They’re waiting for you.”
He walked in with his head high and his hood low.
Slowly, the conversations fell silent.
The first thing he noticed in the large room was the color-coded sections. Black. Brown. Green…and White.
The massive department was overloaded with mounted screens—showing everything from live satellite feeds to world news—tactical tables with holographic rotating maps, comms panels, and rows of headsets along the wall.
Each section had multiple members sitting within it, wearing the corresponding color. At the front of each one sat two figures. Scar didn’t know any of them by name, but their presence radiated power.
In front of the Blacks was a man dressed in layers of darkness. He was controlled stillness, emanating something dangerous. Beside him was another man—he assumed his partner—he was a little shorter but appeared no less deadly.
At the head of the Browns’ section were two men who seemed…grounded, solid.
One radiated a dense strength, heavy and serious, his expression hard as bedrock. His partner—all coiled intent—wasleaning close to him with his mouth near his ear as if murmuring secrets, all with his eyes never leaving Scars’.
They were draped in shades of brown—suede, caramel, deep umber, and earth tones. Nothing sharp or flashy, but still impressive.
The Greens looked less like assassins and more like hunters paused mid-prowl. They didn’t fidget or posture. They observed and waited.
And then Scar saw him. Gage sitting comfortably in a room full of killers as if he too belonged there.
