The doorbell split the room's tension.
Jason startled, then looked at Cole. "Who—who is it?" he whispered.
"Probably the courier," Cole said, though his hand moved toward the door. "Don't sound like anything you know."
Cole opened the door. Two kids stood there—Dade and Kate—eyes sharp, expressions that belonged to people who lived in networks.
"Come in," Cole said.
Dade and Kate stepped inside and shut the door behind them. Dade scanned the room, then fixed on Jason. "Who's this?" he asked, tone wary.
Cole smiled and opened a drawer, producing two laptops. The machines gleamed—top-tier rigs, the kind of hardware that cost six figures and had no retail market for ordinary buyers. Both Dade and Kate's eyes widened.
"You want us to work for you? Who the hell are you?" Dade asked, voice sudden and serious.
Cole set the machines on the table. "I'm Cole Shaw," he said. "I lead a mercenary team. I want to invite you to join it. I can fix your problems, and you'll still be able to do your work. No coercion—work on your terms."
Jason gaped. Dade and Kate exchanged a glance. They hadn't expected Cole to be a mercenary, much less a leader.
"When did you become a merc?" Jason asked, bewildered.
"After uni," Cole said casually.
Dade folded his arms. "Why join you? Prager's offer isn't bad. He's got pull. Why jump ship?"
Cole's face sharpened. "Prager built the Da Vinci worm to bait you. He wanted you to surface so he could control you. He's been skimming huge sums with that virus."
"You know what Da Vinci does," Cole continued. "You know how it moves money in small pieces so no one notices. If you join Prager, you become complicit. I can help you get Joey out. I can get your CIA file scrubbed. You won't be forced to work for them, and you'll be free."
Dade's eyes flickered—Joey's imprisonment was the rawest wound of all. "You can get Joey out?" he asked.
"If you accept, I guarantee Joey is safe. Your family is safe," Cole said without flinching.
Dade considered it. He had few options; the alternative was making deals with Prager that would cost him his soul. "All right," he said finally. "But I have one condition—if you make me do something I can't live with, I won't do it."
"Fair," Cole replied.
He turned to Kate. "You in?"
Kate's face gave nothing away. She'd done unsavory work online to survive. "Do I have a choice?" she asked flatly.
"You do. But yes, I want you." Cole offered the same terms: freedom, resources, the chance to put a dent in Prager's operation.
Kate folded her hands and nodded. "Smart. I'll do it."
Cole handed them their laptops and issued the first task. "Your first job is to pull every transaction and account record tied to Ellingson. That's why Joey was grabbed—something's leaking in the middle of the transfers. Find every trail."
Dade's fingers flew as he logged in and launched tools. Kate cracked passwords like knuckles. Within minutes a screen filled with feeds; lines of encrypted traffic began to yield.
"Hang on," Dade muttered. He froze, then tapped keys faster. Cole leaned in.
A live camera feed popped—an image of a young man sitting in a car, headphones on, eating a burger. Dade frowned. "Small mouse on my network," he muttered. "Let me see who that is."
Cole's eyes narrowed. "Looks like Ross is watching," he said. He pointed to the image. Jason's face went a shade white.
Cole flicked his wrist and smiled. "Help me clean this little mouse up."
"No problem," Dade said, and within seconds the feed was scrambled, rerouted, then vanished.
Outside the apartment, Toll Road's attempt to piggyback on Cole's phone faltered. The harsh beeping of an alarm forced him to rip earbuds off and drive away. The surveillance attempt had failed; someone—Cole, Dade, or Kate—had detected and neutralized the tap.
Back inside, Kate and Dade poured over Ellingson's systems. Files printed. Bank statements bled out across the screen like revealed veins. Jason sorted figures in that peculiarly calm way of a materials scientist who loved numbers.
"I'll run the sums," Jason said, fingers tapping. "Patterns are my thing."
Cole glanced at his phone. The system chimed, crisp and clinical.
Ding—Congratulations, host. S-level hacker genius recruited. Rewards issuing.
Ding—Congratulations, host. A-level hacker recruited. Rewards issuing.
Ding—Congratulations, host. Eye of True Seeing obtained.
Ding—Congratulations, host. Intermediate combat integrated.
Ding—Congratulations, host. Special-agent equipment acquired (Mission: Impossible series module).
The messages stacked in Cole's awareness: the team's nucleus had just formed, and the system had acknowledged it. He let the moment pass and watched his new teammates work, each keystroke a quiet promise of the war to come.