The driver sped down the road with remarkable speed. Within just over ten minutes, our group was standing outside the target hotel. Considering the size of our party, Fletcher Jensen suggested we select only a few key players to avoid alarming the target.

"Pick me!"

"Pick me!"

"Pick me!"

Fletcher raised his hand to calm everyone down, clearing his throat to speak. "Give me a reason to choose you."

The crowd erupted into a commotion—

"Fletcher, you always say I'm sharp and quick on my feet. You can't leave me out of this!"

"Fletcher, I consistently put in extra hours for the company. I've been labeled a workaholic, but I think I deserve this shot, at least for the effort if not the results..."

"I object! We were the first to volunteer. What are these newcomers even doing here?"

"Exactly! If it weren't for us speaking up, everyone would still be on that dull team-building bus ride. Where's your energy coming from now, huh?"

"Is this a guilt trip or what?"

"Come on, folks! Now's the time for meritocracy. Let's let our skills do the talking!"

...

Amidst the buzzing crowd, Fletcher suddenly locked eyes with me in the corner. His expression changed as he quickly got up from his seat.

"We're all here to support Carly Richardson and resolve her issue. Time is short, so let's be considerate."

With decisive clarity, he announced the chosen team: "Santiago from Legal, Alondra from Finance, Annabelle from HR, and that tech-savvy guy with the glasses. You all come with me. The PR team should get their equipment ready, and I want those of you who regularly hit the gym to follow along. And a few from the morale team should come too, but stay in the back and don’t push forward."

Fletcher's knack for rallying spirits kicked in as he addressed the rest, who were visibly disappointed. "For those not chosen, don't lose heart. Being passed over once doesn't mean you're not excellent. There will be other opportunities. Every experience is a chance to grow..."

Azrael Jensen couldn't hold back any longer and interrupted. "Stop talking, Fletcher! Carly's already heading upstairs!"

As I pressed the button to close the elevator doors, Fletcher squeezed in at the last second, bringing a few others with him. He caught my frosty gaze and seemed a bit uncomfortable.

"Come on, what's with the attitude? I had to organize everything down to the last detail," he said with an awkward chuckle.

I kept my eyes on the elevator buttons, ignoring him. Our colleagues, those chosen for this 'mission,' looked excited and eager.

The elevator ascended slowly, the silence almost tangible.

Trying to break the tension, Fletcher fiddled with his nose and pulled something out of his pocket. "Carly, maybe you should tie your hair back."

I glanced over, curious. In his palm was a floral hair tie.

Seeing my interest, Fletcher animatedly explained, "You know, we might get into some scrapes up there. Long hair can be an easy target. I've seen videos where it becomes a problem."

That actually made some sense. I took the hair tie and secured my hair into a bun.

Suddenly, it dawned on me. "Hold on, how did my hair tie end up in your pocket?"

Caught off guard, Fletcher stammered, a suspicious blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"I, uh, well, you see..."

Our colleagues, sensing a whiff of gossip, turned their curious eyes toward Fletcher.

"Ding—"

The elevator doors opened right then.

We had arrived at the 32nd floor.

Fletcher seized the moment, gesturing grandly, his voice filled with a sense of purpose: "Alright, everyone, enough with the distractions. For Carly's sake, let's move!"