Pierce shouted, "He's breached the hull! We have to get off this ship, now!"
The floor of the freighter's bridge tilted alarmingly beneath Kabelo "Shadow" Ndlovu's feet. Damian Wolfe's lips twisted into a bitter smirk even as Shadow pinned him against a bulkhead. Water began flooding the lower decks of the MV Chimera's Fate, the cargo ship Wolfe had chosen as the stage for his illicit auction of Prometheus technology.
Moments ago, Wolfe had pressed a detonator hidden in his palm. Now alarms blared and metal groaned as the ship started to sink by the bow. Over the ship's loudspeakers, a frantic Swahili voice—likely a crewman—shouted mayday calls that would never be answered in time.
Shadow kept a fist twisted in Wolfe's collar. "What else did you rig?!" he snarled, but Wolfe just laughed harshly, coughing from smoke.
Behind Shadow, Naledi and Pierce were helping a limping Dr. Stephen Mbeke and a terrified young boy across the slanting deck of the bridge. They had all fought tooth-and-nail through Wolfe's mercenaries moments earlier, seizing the arms dealer and rescuing Mbeke and the child captive he'd used as a bargaining chip. Now, victory was at risk of turning to disaster as the freighter began to die beneath them.
Reed clutched the metal briefcase of Wolfe's data tightly in one hand, his pistol in the other scanning for threats. "We need an exit, now!" he barked. The normally composed ex-spy was breathing hard; a crease of pain showed on his face where a bullet had grazed his leg earlier, but he pressed on.
Naledi gave Shadow an urgent look. "Kabelo, portal us out of here!"
Shadow grimaced, concentration flickering. He had used his portal ability extensively during the chaotic firefight on the ship. And Wolfe—cunning devil—had briefly activated an electronic jammer that interfered with Shadow's powers until Pierce shot it out moments ago. Though the jammer was destroyed, Kabelo felt drained, and the listing, confined ship was a tricky environment for teleportation. But he had to try.
"Get ready!" Shadow shouted. He pictured a point on the aft deck, the helipad where they'd planned to extract. It was perhaps 50 meters and a couple of decks away—further than he'd ever ported others, but desperation lent him strength. He thrust out his free hand, willing a portal into being. A dark oval shimmered in the air, but sputtered, unstable.
The ship gave another sickening lurch. Naledi lost her footing and slid a few feet, catching a console to steady herself. Dr. Mbeke clung to her; the boy yelped.
Wolfe, still gripped in Shadow's other hand, sneered. "Your tricks won't save you. We all drown together."
Shadow ignored him. Gritting his teeth, he tried again. This time, a portal blossomed fully against the bridge's rear bulkhead. Through it, they could see the open sky and the stern helipad below, tilting but intact.
"Go!" Shadow ordered.
Pierce and Naledi pushed the boy and Mbeke through first, then dove in themselves. Reed backed through, dragging the precious briefcase and covering their six.
Shadow yanked Wolfe off his feet, shoving him toward the swirling gateway. "After you," he growled. For once, Wolfe had lost his arrogant composure. The man stumbled through the portal onto the slanted helipad. Shadow stepped after him, releasing the portal as the bridge behind him filled with seawater.
They emerged on the aft deck, which was rising as the bow sank. The helicopter that had been parked there earlier was a burning husk—Wolfe had preemptively blown it to prevent pursuit or escape. Flames licked the dark sky. The ship's stack spewed black smoke. It was a scene out of a nightmare: the massive freighter groaning as it tipped into the ocean, loose cargo containers crashing into the sea with titanic splashes.
Naledi quickly did a headcount. All team members and assets accounted for. She kept a firm hold on the frightened boy, murmuring calming words. Dr. Mbeke, though weak, braced himself next to her. Wolfe lay sprawled on the deck, coughing and disoriented.
Shadow's heart pounded. They had seconds, maybe minutes, before the ship's final plunge. Far above, he heard the blessed thunder of rotors—a helicopter was on approach, the task force's extraction bird racing to pluck them off the sinking vessel.
Pierce waved the flare he'd prepared, its red-orange sputter cutting through the pre-dawn gloom. The Seahawk helo swooped in, salt spray whipping up as it steadied above them.
"Shadow, get Wolfe on the line first!" Reed shouted over the roar, shoving a rope harness into Kabelo's hands. Shadow looped it around Wolfe, cinching it tight. The arms dealer, finally grasping the slim chance of survival, didn't resist. He was hauled upward by the winch, a special forces crewman securing him as he ascended.
Next went Pierce, who lingered just long enough to pass Naledi the detonator for charges he'd planted in the engine room. "Hit this once we're clear!" he instructed. Naledi clipped it to her vest.
She helped Dr. Mbeke and the boy into the rescue sling together. "Hold on tight," she told them. The two were lifted away, Naledi keeping her rifle trained on the deck around, though most of Wolfe's surviving men were throwing themselves into lifeboats or overboard rather than press any further fight.
Reed insisted Naledi take the next harness, given her slight burn wound and exhausted state, but she refused until Reed himself started up with the briefcase strapped to his back. Only when Reed was safely above did Naledi finally hook herself in.
Shadow stared up at the helicopter, now nearly overloaded with extra passengers. Just one more pickup—him. The ship bucked violently, and the helipad heaved.
The pilot's voice crackled in Shadow's ear, "We're at weight limit! One more, quick!"
Kabelo didn't hesitate. He backed up a few paces, then sprinted and leapt off the tilting deck just as the tether dropped past him. He snatched it mid-air, grip like iron, and felt the line spool him upward. Below, the MV Chimera's Fate gave a final metallic shriek and split, the bow sinking beneath the waves. The sudden change in mass yanked the stern down like a trapdoor; flame and water and darkness consumed the ship at once.
Shadow dangled in open air as the chopper veered hard to avoid the vortex of the sinking freighter. Cold ocean spray drenched him. He tightened his grip, forearms burning. Two crewmen reeled him in, and strong hands dragged him into the safety of the cabin.
He collapsed on the deck, chest heaving, tasting salt and smoke on his tongue. Naledi was immediately at his side, helping unclip the harness. "Shadow, you okay?" she asked, eyes wide with concern.
He coughed and nodded, spitting out a mouthful of seawater he'd caught during the ascent. "I'll live."
Pierce crouched next to them, running a hand through his wet hair. "Remind me," he panted, "never to take a cruise with you lot."
Despite the adrenaline and exhaustion, Kabelo let out a hoarse laugh. "No promises."
Across the cabin, two commandos secured Wolfe to a bench in handcuffs. The arms dealer was shivering, either from cold or fury. Maybe both. He caught Shadow's eye across the helicopter's interior. For a heartbeat, neither looked away. Wolfe's icy demeanor faltered, unable to mask a glimmer of fear—and respect—for the team that had undone him.
Reed sat against the bulkhead, eyes closed, clutching the briefcase of data to his chest as if it were a newborn. He'd refused medical attention for his leg until he was sure the data was intact. Now that they were safely away, the adrenaline subsided and pain creased his features.
Naledi stood and moved to Reed, kneeling to examine his bleeding calf despite his half-hearted protests. She applied a pressure bandage with practiced efficiency. "It's through and through," she told him, relief in her tone. "You were lucky."
Reed managed a wry smirk. "Seems to be a habit, lately."
Meanwhile, Dr. Mbeke sat huddled under a blanket a crewman had given him. The Congolese doctor looked from Naledi to Kabelo to the others, comprehension dawning that his nightmare was over. "I don't know how to thank you," he said quietly, voice raw.
Naledi gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "You already did—by surviving." They shared a profound glance, years of sorrow and relief passing between old colleagues who never thought they'd meet again.
The rescued boy—no more than twelve—was wrapped in another blanket, dozing from sheer exhaustion against Naledi's side. She stroked his hair absentmindedly, offering what maternal comfort she could.
Shadow looked around at his team in the red glow of the cabin lights. They were battered, soaked, bruised—but alive. And they had accomplished what they set out to do. Damian Wolfe's scheme to auction Prometheus technology had been sunk along with his ship, quite literally. The world would never know how close it came to a cascade of nightmare weapons spreading to every corner. But Shadow knew, and that was enough.
He leaned back against the vibrating wall, shutting his eyes for a moment as the helicopter beat steadily toward the African coast where a friendly base awaited. In his mind flashed the final image of the Chimera's Fate slipping under the waves, dragging Wolfe's ambitions with it. A dramatic end for a dangerous man's enterprise.
After a minute's rest, Kabelo pushed himself up and limped over to Wolfe. The older man glared up at him, defiant despite his soaked, bedraggled state.
Shadow removed his balaclava, face-to-face now with the infamous Phantom Sniper's true visage. "It's over, Wolfe."
Damian Wolfe, ever prideful, curled his lip. "This act, perhaps," he said in a low growl. "You think you've saved the world? Project Prometheus opened Pandora's box. There are others like me… you've only delayed the inevitable."
Kabelo studied Wolfe's eyes—hard, calculating, yet tinged with something like desperation. "Maybe," Shadow allowed. "But we'll be there, in the shadows, to delay it again. And again. However long it takes."
Wolfe's jaw clenched. He looked away first, opting to stare out at the brightening horizon through the open side-door.
Sunrise was streaking the sky with pink and gold. A new day, literally. Shadow took a deep breath of the cool morning air. It tasted of hope.
Naledi moved beside him, her hand briefly touching his in quiet solidarity as they watched the sun come up. Pierce ambled over, offering up a pack of emergency foil blankets as makeshift celebratory capes for them all, eliciting tired chuckles.
Reed opened his eyes and glanced between his teammates, a hint of a smile ghosting across his usually stoic face. "Hell of a morning," he remarked quietly.
Shadow nodded. "Hell of a team."
Below, the endless expanse of ocean gave way to the outlines of land—southern Africa's coast. Home for some of them. A safe harbor, for now.
They had done it. Against all odds, they had done it. The remnants of Project Prometheus's legacy that had threatened to spiral into global chaos were contained, at least for the moment. The war wasn't over, Shadow knew, but this battle was won.
Naledi gently took Kabelo's hand and squeezed it, just for a second. The simple gesture spoke volumes: gratitude, camaraderie, and a fierce pride at what they'd achieved together. Kabelo returned the squeeze, offering a small, weary smile.
Pierce cleared his throat dramatically. "So, Shadow, how exactly do we file the expense report for 'one cargo ship: sunk'?"
A round of laughter, genuine and cathartic, filled the helicopter's cabin. Even Reed chuckled softly. Wolfe scowled, but he was effectively irrelevant now.
In the golden light of dawn, as the helicopter bore them toward whatever came next, Kabelo "Shadow" Ndlovu allowed himself to finally exhale the weight he'd been carrying. They had stepped into the abyss and emerged victorious.
The Phantom Sniper and his team had struck from the shadows and stopped a war before it could begin. And as long as new threats loomed, they would be ready to do it again.