Chapter Text
INT. VALORANT HQ – COMMAND ROOM – NIGHT
The doors slide open. Sova strides in, still breathless, no shirt on—fresh stitches and stark bandages visible across his shoulder and chest.
SOVA
(out of breath)
What’s the matter?
Cypher doesn’t turn immediately. He’s hunched over the console, feeds running across a wall of monitors—global news, satellite relays, encrypted channels all flickering in chaos. He adjusts the dials, speaking into a live channel.
CYPHER
Copy. Keep me updated on ground…
He cuts the line, pulls his hand back from the mic, then finally looks over his.
CYPHER
Ah. You’re here. Take a look.
With a push, he pushes a slider forward—the main screen’s volume surges.
On-screen, a NEWS ANCHOR speaks with the practiced calm of broadcast.
NEWS ANCHOR (V.O.)
Just an hour ago, reports confirm a massive explosion at a radianite processing facility in France. Eyewitnesses describe a sudden flash of light turning night into day, followed by a devastating blast. Entire reserves of radianite have disappeared without a trace. At the time of the report, no casualties have been reported.
The footage cuts to shaky phone recordings—crowds staring at a glowing dome of light before it ruptures into fire. Then to aerial shots of smoking craters where warehouses once stood.
NEWS ANCHOR (V.O.)
Kingdom Corporation jointly operated the facility in partnership with ATLAS. No official statement has been made regarding the cause of the incident. However, early estimates suggest the plant contained up to eight hundred tons of radianite at the time of the incident.
Cypher mutes the screen with a flick. He leans back in his chair, mask glowing faintly in the low light.
CYPHER
(smooth, but heavy)
The entire stock… gone. Just like that.
Sova’s jaw tightens. His voice drops into Russian, guttural and sharp.
SOVA
(Russian, low growl)
те ублюдки…
Those bastards…
SOVA
Kingdom has always been incompetent—but this? This scale? Even a spike detonation couldn’t transport that much. What’s the preliminary report?
Cypher doesn’t turn, his fingers already flying across the console, pulling files onto another screen.
CYPHER
Our channels confirm no spike activity. No dimensional tears at the time of the blast. We can rule that out.
Sova’s voice hardens, almost cracking under its own pressure.
SOVA
So what are you saying? That much radianite just vanished into thin air? Don’t be ridiculous.
He turns away, storming toward the door.
SOVA
I’ll check it myself.
CYPHER
(quiet, firm, without looking up)
No, Sasha. You won’t.
Sova stops only to throw back his warning, sharp as an arrow loosed.
SOVA
And who is going to stop me?
Cypher’s head tilts ever so slightly, the glow of his mask unreadable.
CYPHER
Oh… it won’t be me.
Before Sova can take another step, the door hisses open.
Breach fills the frame, broad shoulders casting a shadow across the corridor. His mechanical arms flex with a low hiss of hydraulics as he blocks the way.
BREACH
(low, menacing)
You’re under arrest, Hunter.
Sova’s eyes narrow, voice steady but bitter.
SOVA
On whose authority?
From behind Breach, a calm but unyielding voice cuts through.
SAGE
Mine.
She steps into view, mask lowered, gloves pulled free, her face showing both concern and strong presence. Sova doesn’t raise his eyes to meet hers—he looks down instead, the weight of his own shame pins him.
SOVA
(soft, breaking)
How’s Ollie?
Sage’s expression softens for only a flicker before steel returns to her tone.
SAGE
Out of immediate danger. But you are not going anywhere. You know the standing procedure after an operation.
Sova breathes sharply, as if struck by his own arrows.
SOVA
Mandatory forty-eight hours of rest… and a full debrief to Command.
SAGE
Correct. And in your case, I’m elevating it. Effective immediately, you are declared combat-unfit and placed under Level Three Operational Confinement. No missions. No field access. Not until cleared.
Her tone sharpens as she turns to Breach.
SAGE
Escort him back to quarters. See that he stays there.
Breach nods as he urges Sova to move along.
Sage moves past them, her calm voice rising again.
SAGE
Update me on France. Every channel, every source.
INT. VALORANT HQ – ARMOURY – NIGHT
Metal clatters and echoes as weapons are prepped under white light. Deadlock snaps a mag into her Phantom with mechanical precision. KAY/O sits on a crate, methodically loading shells into a Bucky. Omen lingers in the shadow, looking at something in his hand.
At the bench, Reyna slams a fresh mag into Spectre, her eyes burning. She mutters under her breath, venom dripping.
Neon catches it. She frowns.
NEON
Hey… what’s wrong?
Reyna freezes, surprised she let her voice slip aloud. She lifts her gaze, sharp, but not at Neon.
REYNA
(snickering, bitter)
Oh, cariño… It’s nothing. Just… I thought Naomi would finally take this seriously. But her childish trust in that hunter nearly got us all killed. I told her, Let me go. But no… “Sova will handle it.”
Her tone curdles into rage.
REYNA
And look what happened.
That finally drags Omen’s hooded face upward. His voice seeps like smoke, calm but edged.
OMEN
Careful, Reyna. Don’t forget—it was Sova who convinced Brimstone to bring you into the fold at all.
Reyna rounds on him, eyes flaring like amethysts catching fire.
REYNA
So what? Should I bow my head and lick his boots? I was fine before Protocol. The Sanctuary has endured longer than VALORANT ever will. We’ve protected Radiants for generations. What has this place done but bleed us for someone else’s wars?
The room chills. KAY/O halts mid-load, turning toward her.
KAY/O
(voice cutting, robotic)
CONTROL your emotions, Queen. We have a mission. Don’t jeopardize it.
Deadlock finally joins, her voice blunt.
DEADLOCK
The bot’s right. Save the speeches. Loadout’s finished.
Reyna exhales through her nose.
REYNA
Fine. But after this op, I’m leaving for Sanctuary. There’s been… a situation.
Neon stiffens, her tone almost pleading.
NEON
Did you tell Sage?
Reyna’s voice drops, softer, but no less dangerous.
REYNA
She doesn’t need to know…yet. She has enough on her plate
The armoury door hisses open as Reyna storms out, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. Followed by deadlock, KAY/O and neon.
Omen stays behind. He looks down again at the thing in his hand.
A photo—creased and worn, edges fraying. Brimstone and Omen, shoulder to shoulder. A memory before smoke and ruin.
Omen exhales, a guttural grumble barely audible beneath his mask, a sound more ache than words. Slowly, he folds the photo, slipping it into his cloak’s inner pocket.
Without another word, Omen steps out into the corridor, the door sliding shut behind him with a cold hiss.
INT. VALORANT HQ – COMMAND ROOM – NIGHT
The team files in. At the front, Cypher, Sage, and Tejo stand like a tribunal. Deadlock sets her rifle against the table.
DEADLOCK
We’re ready.
TEJO
(nods)
Cypher.
Cypher adjusts the dials on the console. The feed shifts to a high-res schematic of the processing facility. Images of hollow vaults, cracked machines, and storage bays flash in sequence.
CYPHER
As you can see… the facility has been cleaned out beyond precision. Even the secure vaults—emptied. It’s as if radianite was never there.
He pauses, the hand tightening on the console. His voice dips for the first time.
CYPHER
Currently, a perimeter has been set around the site. But our preliminary research suggests that this—
He swallows, eyes flicking toward Sage. She gives him a steady nod.
CYPHER
—this might be an anomaly.
The word hangs.
Reyna’s eyes snap wide.
REYNA
WHAT!? Are you sure?
CYPHER
Yes. Which means… it could carry a variety of effects. Disabling your abilities. Muting them. Or… stripping them entirely.
REYNA
(snapping)
And you’re sending us in knowing that? Don’t tell me we’re your best shot to secure this faculty.
The room tightens. Neon looks away, Omen’s head tilts low.
Sage steps forward, her tone calm but edged with command.
SAGE
Karina. You, more than anyone, know what happens when a normal human is exposed to raw radianite. We cannot risk sending untrained forces into an anomaly field. This—this is the best course of action.
Reyna’s glare burns, but Sage presses on, softer now.
SAGE
And I give you my word. Agree to this, and I’ll honor any condition you place on us.
Reyna exhales through her teeth, chest rising and falling.
REYNA
I don’t trust any of you. Not really. But… your word, I do.
She looks away, lips curling.
DEADLOCK
When do we leave?
All eyes turn to Tejo.
TEJO
(flat, decisive)
Now.
The night air hums as the VTOL engines spin upon the roof in harsh white floodlights. Neon’s streak of blue, Reyna’s purple glow, and others vanish into the cabin as the hatch seals. A low whoomph of thrust, and the craft tilts skyward, shrinking into the dark.
Sova sits alone. His quarters were dim, only the faint static glow of his disabled digital window cutting through. He leans forward, one bandaged hand pressing against the sill as his one good eye tracks the VTOL’s ascent until it becomes no more than a flicker.
His responder, resting on the nightstand, rattles against the wood. Its screen flashes once, then again. He frowns, picks it up—only for the VALORANT crest to warp, glitching into a fractured swirl of static.
The Cypher mask bleeds through the distortion.
No command codes. No briefing text. Just a single message pulsing on the display:
THE HUNT CALLS.