The underground bunker still smelled of rust and ash.
We were gathered around a flickering holomap, the image above it showing a three-dimensional schematic of a Genze convoy route across Eastern Europe.
"Alright," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "This is it. The relay point in Siberia. Thirty minutes of vulnerability. That's all we've got."
Color crossed his arms. "We'll need EMPs, high-powered pulse rifles, and something to jam their satellite surveillance."
"I know a guy," Zola said. "Still runs arms out of the old Prague tunnels. But his stuff's not cheap."
"We'll need a jammer drone with at least 5 km radius. Portable," Ken added, eyes flicking across his cracked tablet.
I nodded. "I'll handle the funds. We'll use clean accounts from the vault. Nick, you scout the site."
Nick just grunted, adjusting the strap on his sidearm. "Five mil. Up front. No delays."
I gave a tight nod. "Done."
Color leaned forward. "We'll need a getaway plan. No aircraft—we'll be tracked. Ground only. I suggest an underground magrail segment near Novosibirsk. I can reprogram the path for a single ride."
"How do we split after the mission?" Mara asked, her arms folded, voice calm.
"Ten percent to each member after success. The rest is mine. I need it to complete... something," I said, avoiding their eyes.
Oriana, quiet until now, finally spoke. "I'll supply overwatch. From above. One bullet from me if anything goes wrong."
Everyone turned to look at her.
"And who exactly are you?" Zola asked.
"A friend. For now."
I smiled. It wasn't much. But it was something.
"Get ready. In four days, we steal from the gods."
And for the first time in a long while, I believed we might actually pull this off.