**Chapter 33: Mission Possible**

**The Heist**

The hum of the van's engine was the only sound cutting through the quiet night as they neared the military base. Inside the van, tension hung thick in the air. Karen sat in the back, nerves on edge. Kris and Biscuit were up front, scanning the road ahead, while Tengyi kept watch from the side window.

As they approached the rendezvous point, a shadowy figure emerged at the roadside—Bishop. Motionless, he waited for them. Kris brought the van to a stop, and the door slid open. Without a word, Bishop climbed inside, his mechanical eyes locking onto Kris.

"Ready?" Kris asked in a low voice.

Bishop nodded, his reply short. "Always."

Kris pulled out a small pill from his pocket, glowing faintly orange in the dim light. "This'll give me five hours, max. After that… well, you know what happens."

"Cravings, right?" Karen asked, her voice quiet but curious.

Kris nodded grimly. "Yeah. But we'll be out of there long before then."

With one final glance at the group, Kris twisted the pill and swallowed it. His body stiffened momentarily, eyes widening as the power coursed through him. Then, he shook his head and exhaled slowly. "Alright. Let's do this."

He stepped out of the van, gesturing for Karen and Bishop to follow. Once outside, Kris closed his eyes, focusing. A transparent shimmer began to form in the air around him, spreading out like a cloak of light. Karen and Bishop watched in silent awe as the veil enveloped them, making them nearly invisible against the night.

"Stay close," Kris whispered. "The cloak holds as long as we're touching."

Karen quickly grasped his arm, while Bishop's synthetic hand rested on Kris's shoulder. With a subtle nod, Kris bent his knees and launched them into the air using *geppo*, a movement technique that let him step on air itself.

---

**Navigating the Base**

They soared silently over the base's high walls, landing softly inside the compound. The night was still, but tension thrummed in the air. The base was not fully asleep—occasional spotlights swept the ground, and the low hum of distant activity reached their ears.

Kris gestured for them to move, and they crept forward, staying in the shadows. Karen's heart pounded in her chest, but Kris's calm demeanor grounded her. She tightened her grip on his arm as they approached the first checkpoint.

Ahead, a guard lazily patrolled near the control gate, his attention fixed on a distant point. The steel door blocking their path was reinforced, with no visible way to bypass it without tripping an alarm.

"Leave it to me," Bishop said, his voice an emotionless whisper. His mechanical eyes flashed briefly as he scanned the gate, calculating every possible point of entry. With a subtle click from his wrist, a small interface emerged from his forearm, extending a thin wire-like probe. He approached the side of the control panel, where a small access port was hidden beneath the surface.

Karen watched as Bishop inserted the probe, his fingers dancing over the holographic display that flickered to life. Data streamed across the interface, and within seconds, the screen blinked green. With a faint hiss, the gate unlocked, sliding open quietly.

"Done. Move," Bishop said, retracting his probe without leaving a trace of tampering.

They slipped through the gate, careful to stay out of sight. A few paces ahead, Kris suddenly raised a hand, halting them in their tracks.

"Camera," he muttered, nodding toward a mounted security camera rotating in a slow, methodical sweep across the compound.

Bishop stepped forward, assessing the camera's range of motion. "Wait here," he said, pulling out another small device from his gear. Karen watched as he crouched near a control box hidden under a nearby vent. With steady, precise hands, he removed the panel, revealing a maze of wires and circuits.

The air was thick with tension as Bishop deftly rerouted a few cables and attached his device to the circuitry. A soft click echoed in the silence. The red light on the camera blinked off, freezing it in its last position, effectively rendering it blind.

"All clear," Bishop said, nodding for them to proceed.

They made their way deeper into the base, the hangars now in sight. Karen felt her pulse quicken. She had been here before, but sneaking in like this was another world entirely. The dark, towering hangars loomed ahead, shadows casting long lines across the concrete as they approached.

At the hangar doors, Kris gave her a questioning glance. "This the one?"

Karen nodded. "Yeah, this is it."

Bishop scanned the area quickly. "Two more cameras covering the entrance. Internal security likely routed to a central hub, possibly remote. I'll disable them momentarily."

Without waiting for a response, Bishop moved swiftly to the nearest control panel beside the hangar entrance. Unlike before, this one was more sophisticated, designed to lock down the hangar in case of intrusion. Karen held her breath as Bishop accessed the system, his movements faster this time—seconds ticking by as the tension thickened.

"Access granted," Bishop said, a faint click confirming the door's unlock. He carefully pushed it open just enough for them to slip through, then disabled the security cameras monitoring the interior.

---

**Inside the Hangar**

Once inside, the team crouched low, surrounded by the looming shapes of aircraft and the hum of nearby electronics. The jets sat in neat rows, their sleek forms barely visible in the low light. Karen's eyes darted around, searching for any signs of movement or hidden threats, but everything seemed still.

Bishop made quick work of identifying the missiles, his hands running over the weapons with a kind of efficiency that made Karen uneasy. The android's movements were precise—too precise to be human. Within moments, he began dismantling the first missile.

Kris moved beside him, opening the bag of holding, and whispered, "How much time do we have?"

Bishop's eyes flickered toward the nearest control panel, monitoring for any potential alerts. "Fifteen minutes before the next security sweep. We need to be out of here before then."

Karen watched as Bishop disarmed the missile, taking note of how each piece came apart in his hands like a puzzle. He didn't just know the structure—he understood it in a way that felt unnatural, as if his mind processed the machinery faster than any human could.

Her gaze shifted to the corners of the hangar, half expecting a guard to appear, but the silence held.

One by one, Bishop handed the dismantled components to Kris, who tucked them into the enchanted bag. "Three more to go," Bishop muttered, his hands still moving with mechanical precision.

---

**Close Call**

Just as Bishop disassembled the third missile, a faint beeping echoed from the control panel across the room. Karen's heart lurched.

"Bishop, what is that?" Kris asked, his voice low and urgent.

Bishop's head snapped toward the panel, his eyes narrowing. "Motion sensors are back online," he replied, his fingers moving faster over the final missile. "We've got two minutes before an automatic alert is sent out."

Kris's jaw clenched. "Finish it now. Karen, keep watch by the door."

Karen's pulse raced as she moved to the hangar's entrance, her eyes scanning for any sign of approaching guards. For a moment, the base seemed unnervingly quiet, but then—footsteps. In the distance, a small patrol was heading their way.

"Kris! Someone's coming!" Karen whispered sharply.

"Bishop, now!" Kris barked.

Bishop finished dismantling the last missile, handing the parts to Kris. With swift, practiced movements, Kris stuffed the final pieces into the bag and zipped it shut.

Without wasting a second, they bolted toward the hangar's exit. Kris activated *geppo*, launching them into the air as the patrol neared, their footsteps barely audible beneath the rush of wind. They soared back over the perimeter wall, landing softly near the van, where Biscuit and Tengyi were waiting.

They piled into the van, the invisibility dissolving as they sped away from the base. The adrenaline still coursed through Karen as the city lights blurred past. Against all odds, they had stolen the missiles.

As they neared their apartment, the tension in the van began to ease. Kris glanced back at Karen, a mix of exhaustion and gratitude on his face. "You did good in there. We couldn't have pulled this off without you."

Karen managed a faint smile, still absorbing everything that had happened. For now, they were safe, and they had the tools they needed to fight back.

They arrived at the apartment, pulling into a shadowy alley. Everyone got out, their bodies heavy with fatigue but minds sharp from the thrill of success.

Inside, Kris dropped the bag of holding onto the table. "Rest up," he said gruffly. "We'll need our strength for what's coming next."

---

**Tinkering with bombs**

The next morning, Kris woke up with the unpleasant aftereffects of the power pill—his head throbbing, muscles aching, and stomach churning. Grimacing, he dragged himself out of bed and staggered toward the kitchen, desperate for something solid to steady himself. But as he entered the dining room, he stopped short. Bishop was hunched over the table, surrounded by tools, wires, and a half-assembled contraption that looked both intricate and vaguely ominous.

Kris rubbed his eyes and winced at the brightness. "What are you building now?"

Bishop didn't look up, his hands moving with precise, mechanical efficiency as he connected wires to a small circuit board. "A delivery system for the thermite. We'll need drones—precise, reliable, and tamper-proof. They will carry the payload to the house, release it at the optimal altitude, and ensure complete incineration of the structure."

Kris leaned against the counter, trying to suppress a groan as his body protested the movement. "You sure this will work? We don't have the time for trial-and-error with something like this."

"It is not a question of 'if,'" Bishop replied, his voice steady and unwavering. "This will work. The only limitation is how quickly we can gather the remaining components." His synthetic eyes flickered up briefly. "I require voltage regulators, reinforced propellers, and high-capacity batteries. There's an electronics store two blocks from here. We should be able to get what I need."

Kris ran a hand over his face, feeling the sharp edge of fatigue still clinging to him. "Fine. Anything else? Coffee, maybe? Or is it just wires and explosives on the menu today?"

Bishop paused for a fraction of a second, then replied without hesitation, "Black coffee."

Kris rolled his eyes, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. "Right. Coffee, then *Armageddon*."

---

**Breaking News**

Kris stepped out of the apartment into the crisp morning air, his muscles protesting with every step as the chill seeped into his bones. He needed real food to recover from the power pill, and there was a diner down the street that always hit the spot. It was small, cozy, and smelled of fresh coffee and pancakes—a sharp contrast to the mechanical hum of Bishop's workshop.

He slid into a booth near the window and ordered eggs, toast, and sausage, alongside a black coffee. As he waited, the low hum of conversation around him blended with the news broadcast on the nearby TV.

"In breaking news," the anchor's voice cut through the noise, her tone grave, "authorities have discovered the bodies of four individuals under mysterious circumstances at a local motel. The victims, all in their twenties, were found late last night."

Kris's eyes narrowed, his stomach tightening, but not from fear. He recognized the signs—the claw-like marks, the contorted bodies, the eerie stillness. The curse had made it's move. Just like he'd expected.

"As of now," the anchor continued, "there are no signs of forced entry or a murder weapon, leaving authorities baffled."

Kris let out a breath through his nose, frustration lacing the exhale. Four more dead. The curse wasn't wasting time. Every minute was more bodies, and every second was dragging them closer to the inevitable. He shoved a bite of food into his mouth, chewing mechanically to suppress the rising tide of anger.

By the time he finished, his mind was racing. He left cash on the table and stormed out of the diner, the weight of the news settling like a stone in his gut.

---

When he returned, the apartment felt oddly tense. Biscuit, Tenyi, and Karen sat in the small living area, each nursing a mug of coffee. Karen's expression was tight, her jaw set, and there was an unusual tension in the air. Tenyi was speaking, his voice low but urgent. Biscuit, of course, looked too comfortable, her second cup of tea already half-finished.

"Zheng said it was definitely them," Tenyi was saying, his hands gesturing animatedly, "the group that broke off after the meeting in the park."

Kris closed the door behind him with a soft click. The group turned toward him, and he tossed the bag of components onto the counter before crossing his arms. "What's this about Zheng?"

Tengyi turned to him, his eyes a little too weary. "Zheng called. The four who died last night? They were part of eight newbies that left."

Kris arched an eyebrow. "The deserters?"

Biscuit nodded. "Yeah. After the first encounter with Kayako. They thought they'd be safer on their own."

Tenyi set his mug down with a sharp clink, frustration flaring in his voice. "Zheng warned them to stick together, but they didn't listen."

Kris let out a low breath. "Surprising. Not." He let the words hang in the air, his tone flat. "They knew the risks. This was going to happen sooner or later."

Karen's eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't seem all that bothered."

Kris's gaze was steady as he met her eyes. "Because I'm not. They made their choices. You can't save everyone, Karen."

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor, and without a word, she walked toward the balcony. Kris watched her leave, confusion flickering across his face. He glanced at Tenyi, Biscuit, and Bishop, but none of them seemed particularly moved—Biscuit was still lounging, his usual nonchalance unchanged, while Tenyi furrowed his brow, likely not processing Karen's shift. Bishop, however, was already back at his table, his focus unbroken.

Kris narrowed his eyes, his stomach tightening again—not from hunger, but from the sudden, inexplicable sense that something had changed.

---

**Survivor's Guilt**

Karen stood on the balcony, her arms crossed tightly, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The morning sun was starting to cast long shadows, but she seemed distant, as though she didn't even notice the warmth of the day. Kris stepped outside, pausing a few feet away. He studied her for a moment before speaking.

"Karen," his voice was even, but there was a gentle tone to it. "You good?"

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she let out a long breath, as if she was trying to find some semblance of composure. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, distant. "I'm fine."

Kris raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Really? Because that looked like more than just coffee frustration back there."

Her eyes stayed on the horizon, her voice softer now, almost raw. "Those people—those people who died last night—they weren't just strangers to me. They were..." She trailed off, her breath hitching for just a moment before she steadied herself. "They were victims like me."

Kris's gaze softened, though he remained still. His usual bluntness faltered just slightly, as he realized what she was saying. "You can't save everyone, Karen. Not everyone who dies is your fault. They didn't even believe the curse was real."

Her eyes finally met his, wet with unspoken guilt. "I know that. But that doesn't make it easier."

For a long moment, Kris said nothing. He wasn't good at comforting people, never had been. But in that moment, he understood the weight she was carrying. She wasn't just mourning the lost. She was questioning herself—could she have saved them? Could she have done more?

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter than usual, almost softer. "We all have a job to do. Right now, that job is to end this. To kill Kayako or burn her house down. We can't dwell on the rest."

Karen nodded, her shoulders dropping slightly, the tension in her body easing just a little. "Yeah. I know."

Kris didn't say anything else, but he placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it briefly before turning back toward the apartment. "Let's get it done, then."