After returning to base, Dante stood at the center of the room, a holographic display floating before him. "You guys have to see this," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. With a quick flick of his wrist, the footage expanded.
Captured through SNITCH, the floating surveillance drone, the video played in crisp detail—Maggie's first fight.
The group gathered closer. The scene unfolded—Maggie,first using her technopathy to make sure everyone in Mogadorian base was isolated and blind.
Then her using her vibration manipulation to destroy Mogadorian convoys. Her eyes sharp with determination.
As the final moment played out—a victorious strike that sent her opponent sprawling—Conrad chuckled. With one large hand, he reached over and ruffled Maggie's hair.
Maggie's face lit up in a beaming smile… before she quickly pouted, swatting at his hand. "Come on," she grumbled, though the small grin still tugged at the corner of her lips.
Around them, the energy remained high. Six, Griffin, and Freya launched into recounting the attack on the Mogadorian base, their voices animated as they shared every intense detail—the infiltration, the fight, the chaos, and finally, the victory.
Cheers and murmurs of excitement rippled through the room. A sense of triumph hung in the air.
But amidst the celebration, Six paused.
Her eyes flicked across the room, catching on Alexander.
Unlike the others, he wasn't caught up in the excitement. He was focused. Intensely.
Alexander was carrying a large, black slab, its surface smooth and matte, interrupted only by subtle seams hinting at its hidden mechanics. As he carried it, the weight shifts slightly in his grip—a testament to its density, to the technology housed within.
Alexander takes the device with a practiced touch, fingers finding the long edges. With a deliberate motion, he pulls in opposite directions. A faint hiss of air accompanies the movement as the slab splits apart.
One section transforms—a thin, translucent screen gliding free, its surface catching ambient light as it reflects a soft amber sheen. The second section, now clearly a base unit, reveals an angled slot, waiting.
Without hesitation, Alexander slots the screen into place. It settles in with a muted click, forming a sleek, laptop-like configuration. A built-in keyboard glows faintly beneath his fingers, its design seamlessly integrated into the base.
The grip edge of the screen is subtly thicker than the display itself, an intuitive detail that provides a clear physical affordance—one part meant to be gripped, the other designed to slide securely into its housing.
Then the screen hums to life with a soft boop as Alexander lifts the display from its base. Amber arcs swirl across the dark interface, forming an intricate dance of light before settling into a rectangular login panel on the right. The screen's glow flickers against his face as he presses four fingers against the biometric scanner and drags down. A crisp chime follows—a confirmation. The interface shifts, unfurling a sleek, grayed-out WIMP display with sharp amber highlights.
A keypad materializes on the left. Alexander swiftly enters 1-8-5-4. The digits vanish, replaced by a cascade of shifting thumbnails—portraits of Number Five, Ethan, Cepan Rey, and Cepan Reynolds. Their faces hover in midair, semi-translucent but vividly detailed.
From behind, Six steps forward, her eyes narrowing. "What is all this?"
Alexander exhales. "This is, uh—" Without finishing, he spreads his hands wide, fingertips grazing the floating images before flicking them outward.
The effect is instantaneous. The thumbnails burst from the screen, expanding into towering volumetric projections that consume the room. Suddenly, they're surrounded—holographic dossiers flare to life, stretching from floor to ceiling. Number Five, his Cepan Rey, Ethan, Number Eight (Naveen), and Cepan Reynolds—each profile displayed in rotating grids of video reels, schematics, tactical reports, and surveillance footage.
A life-sized projection of Number Five forms at the center of the room. His solid, stocky build contrasts with his military-short buzz cut. Though young, his features are hardened—not overweight, but barrel-like in strength.
Another shift—the image of Number Eight materializes. Tall, athletic, his copper-toned skin illuminated in soft amber hues. His long, dark curls frame his face, green eyes shimmering with depth.
More faces emerge. Ethan. Rey. Reynolds.
Slowly everyone noticed it, Freya, Griffin, Maggie, Hilde, Katrina, Dante, Hannu, Sandor and Nine all of them came to see.
A murmur breaks the silence. Dante, arms crossed, tilts his head. "That's old man Rey and Reynolds."
Alexander's voice tightens. "They're dead."
A heavy stillness takes over the room. Then, Katrina speaks, hesitant. "What about the Garde?"
Alexander scans the interface, fingers moving across the control panel. "Alive," he replies. "At least… they're not captured by the Mogadorians."
A collective exhale. A moment of relief. But Six latches onto his words. Her tone sharpens. "What do you mean 'at least'?"
Alexander swipes across the panel. A new holographic projection bursts into view—grainy, security footage of Number Five and Ethan standing in a dimly lit office. The FBI headquarters.
A Mogadorian official looms over them, his pale, angular face unreadable. "Rule over North America," he offers, his voice an eerie calm. "In exchange for your loyalty."
The room tenses. Five hesitates. Then… he nods.
A new order flashes across the screen. Five's first mission: assassinate Six and Nine.
The weight of the betrayal crashes into the room. Fists clench. Breaths hitch.
Freya's teeth grit. Her voice is a whisper, sharp as glass. "He betrayed us."
Alexander meets her gaze. "Five's Cepan, Rey… he didn't have a great life here. He was sick. Too old to keep running. When Five was six, they fled Canada, lived off the land, hiding in the Appalachians. Eventually, they made it to Martinique, hoping the heat would help Rey's health."
The projection shifts—grainy footage of a makeshift shack on a remote island.
Alexander continues, his voice heavy. "But
after the loric charm of Number One was set off, Rey set off to find the most deserted island he could and set up a small shack where they lived, isolated, for years."
Alexanded added."Rey's health got worse. He coughed blood. Five—just a kid—was out, practicing his new Telekinesis. When he returned… Rey was dying in the sand. His last words? Survive. At any cost."
The room is silent. Hilde's expression darkens—she had known Rey well. After Rey was the oldest Cepan among them, there senior.
Alexander moves the projection again. Ethan's portrait enlarges.
"This man," Alexander states coldly, "is responsible for Five's turn."
The digital dossier unfurls—Ethan, a former Greeter, defected to the Mogadorians.
"When Five was at his lowest, Ethan gave him shelter—Mogadorian shelter. He gained Five's trust. Helped him suppress his abilities. And turned him against Loric cause."
The tension thickens. Griffin grips Freya's hand. Maggie leans into Conrad's reassuring presence. Around them, Katrina, Dante, and Hannu wear mirrored expressions of grief and anger.
Across the room, Sandor watches Nine. His usual cocky demeanor is absent. He knows Nine is seething.
Six stands beside Alexander. A flicker of blue energy flashes through her irises.
Then—Conrad speaks. His voice low. "And what about Number Eight and Reynolds?"
Alexander glances at Sandor and Nine before answering. "They used the same trick on him… that they used on Nine."
Nine stills. Sandor frowns.
Slowly, it sinks in.
Maddy.
Nine's mind flashes back—the betrayal, the manipulation, the truth he forced himself to accept. That Maddy had never truly loved him, it was just self preservation for her. That, given the chance, she would betray him again.
He had made the decision. He had gone to Alexander. Asked him to wipe Maddy and her father's memories. To erase their pasts. To send them away with new identities.
Alexander had done it. And he hadn't regretted it.
Now, Sandor let out a long breath. "Their target here was Reynolds."
Alexander nodded. His fingers swiped across the interface, and a new holographic projection flared to life.
A flickering image of Reynolds appeared—tall, broad-shouldered, his sharp features illuminated in soft amber hues. Beside him, a woman materialized. Lola.
Alexander's voice was low. "Reynolds and Eight settled in India. At first, Reynolds did his job well. He trained Eight. Kept him hidden. Kept him safe."
The image shifted, playing old surveillance snippets. Reynolds and Eight moving through crowded streets. The quiet rhythm of a life on the run.
"But then he met her."
Lola's image expanded. Dark hair, piercing eyes—an air of quiet intensity.
"Lola," Alexander said. "At first, it seemed like love. But there were signs it seems Eight picked up on jt. She was too interested in Eight's Loric Chest. Kept asking about it. Pushing for details. But even with Eight's warning Reynolds was to blinded by love, he ignored everything Eight said."
Dante, Conrad and Sandor cursed."Idiot."
Katrina, Hilde, Lexa and others agreed.
"The relationship between Reynolds and Eight became strained," Alexander continued. "She convinced them to go on a trip to the mountains," Alexander said. "Said it would help. Help them reconnect. Fix things."
But the scene shifted.
The hologram glitched. Replayed itself.
Then—an ambush.
Mogadorians emerging from the shadows. Weapons raised.
"She tried to separate them," Alexander muttered. "When that failed, she went to the Mogs herself. Sold them out. For gold."
The image zoomed in—Lola kneeling, reaching for her payment.
Then—a single shot.
She collapsed.
Eyes still open.
The Mogadorians had no more use for her.
Silence clung to the room. No one spoke.
Alexander let the footage play.
Reynolds and Eight, realizing too late.
The Mogadorians closed in.
"Eight was protected by the Loric Charm," Alexander explained. "But Reynolds wasn't."
The final moment froze in midair.
Reynolds falling.
Eight teleporting away.
The image faded, leaving only empty air.
A quiet grief settled over the group.
Sandor ran a hand through his hair. "They really did it again."
Alexander nodded.