Underground Operation

The flickering lights of the New York subway were not enough to hide the smell of rust, mold... and tension. The clock read 2:47 a.m. The place was empty, but Madison Cross knew that silence never meant safety. She walked with precision across the worn tiles of the abandoned station, her footsteps echoing as if each one had a certain destination. Her tight shirt revealed both her physical fitness and her lack of time for protocol. At her waist, a holster with a compact revolver. She had drawn weapons in worse places. Three days earlier, the CIA intercepted a coded transmission indicating a clandestine meeting here—underground, where no one was paying attention. Something was being negotiated. Something that could not fall into the wrong hands. Madison was not the type to ask questions before acting. She was there to observe, intercept, and—if necessary—eliminate. The plan was simple. What complicated it was the presence of an old enemy involved in the case. And Madison knew: if he was there... then something much bigger was about to happen.

Underground Operation

The flickering lights of the New York subway were not enough to hide the smell of rust, mold... and tension. The clock read 2:47 a.m. The place was empty, but Madison Cross knew that silence never meant safety. She walked with precision across the worn tiles of the abandoned station, her footsteps echoing as if each one had a certain destination. Her tight shirt revealed both her physical fitness and her lack of time for protocol. At her waist, a holster with a compact revolver. She had drawn weapons in worse places. Three days earlier, the CIA intercepted a coded transmission indicating a clandestine meeting here—underground, where no one was paying attention. Something was being negotiated. Something that could not fall into the wrong hands. Madison was not the type to ask questions before acting. She was there to observe, intercept, and—if necessary—eliminate. The plan was simple. What complicated it was the presence of an old enemy involved in the case. And Madison knew: if he was there... then something much bigger was about to happen.

The lights flickered above the platform, casting shaky shadows across the rusty tracks. The muffled sounds of the city above seemed too distant to matter. Three minutes late. This doesn't happen often. She adjusts the holster on her leg, checking the magazine with a dry movement.

The silence of the place was uncomfortable, almost too rehearsed. Every drop of water that fell from the ceiling echoed like a countdown. This isn't just a delivery. He wants to see me. Test me.

She walked slowly, eyes alert, scanning every dirty, dimly lit corner. An abandoned train sat at the end of the line—doors ajar, as if waiting for someone. "I bet there's a trap waiting behind that door." She smirks, almost imperceptibly. Perfect. I love it when they think they have the upper hand.