False Gods | The Prime Archives #3 ✓

twenty-seven

"We've got your back, Chase," Emily told him.

Andre placed a large hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring nod. "Always."

He smiled at them. "I appreciate it, guys. Honestly. I'd have lost my mind a long time ago if it weren't for you two."

"Oh, I know," Emily replied with a smug grin. "Someone's gotta keep you in check."

Andre snorted. "You're literally insane."

"Me?" Emily rolled her eyes. "If anyone's insane, it's Victor? I mean, come on. He's been practicing his Samurai skills in the basement for the past four hours. Alone. With no breaks. Who does he think he is?"

"Someone committed to the mission," Chase answered.

Both Emily and Andre shared a look before chuckling.

"Anyways," she began, "it's almost time to get going. We don't have much time until Atlas sends our friends to The Vault."

"I'll be right there," Chase told her. "Just...give me a minute, yeah?"

"Whatever you say, Sentinel." Emily made her way off the dock and back to the lakehouse. Before following behind her, Andre gave his leader one last look.

"We're gonna get them back."

Chase nodded. "I know we are."

Andre then jogged after Emily.

Releasing a deep breath, Chase let his gaze linger over the horizon for a few more blissful seconds. For a moment, everything was perfect. Still. Peaceful. In the back of his mind, he knew it was temporary. The peace wouldn't last.

They would be going to battle soon.

A battle they had to win.

His hands curled into fists at his side.

A battle he would make sure they would win.

#

About an hour later, Chase and his team found themselves convened in Pearce's basement once again. This time, they were all geared up in the equipment the man had crafted specifically for them. Archie had even been gifted a fully mechanized wheelchair that could be controlled via a headband that computed his brain's synapses. He had it tucked beneath the curls of his sandy afro.

They were stood around a table projecting a holographic schematic of The Acropolis. Pearce Shaw helmed one end of the image while Chase held point at the other. The rest of the crew filled in between them, forming a tight circle.

Victor lingered on the outskirts, his blue eyes narrowed and his arms folded as he listened to the two men speak.

"Everyone got the plan?" Chase asked.

"For the millionth time," Isra said, exasperated, "yes! We get the plan."

"Just making sure. We have no room for error. Everything has to go perfectly if we want this to work."

"It'll work," Archie said. "Atlas likely aren't expecting us. And even if they are, they won't know what hit them."

The group high-fived as they gushed over their plan. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Victor even looked slightly less peeved than he usually did.

Chase didn't let himself celebrate. He didn't even let himself smile. The time for that would come after—after they rescued their friends and safely escaped The Acropolis. Not before. Not a moment before.

He clapped his hands together, the booming sound recapturing everyone's attention.

"Thank you," he said. "Make sure you've got all your stuff. Hit the bathroom now before we board the ship."