"Hey—don't panic. Slow down. What happened?"
"It's her birthday. We were supposed to have dinner there! Then they rushed in and took her! Cole, you have to save her! Aren't you the best bomb tech?"
Sirens screamed through the line. People yelling in the background.
***
Third-Person POV
At the temporary command post downtown, the pressure in the air felt crushing.
Jacob stared at the bomb schematic on the screen, his face drained.
He'd never seen anything like it—some twisted, linked explosive. The red timer kept ticking, cold and steady.
Ryan stood next to him, gripping a tablet, sweat dripping down his forehead. His "standard procedures" were a total joke now.
Trying to dodge the blame, Jacob angled toward the commander.
"This setup's way off-book. Lieutenant Cole Chadwick's handled weird devices before. Maybe... Though, he works solo, keeps things to himself, doesn't exactly file reports—"
He didn't get to finish.
An urgent report cut him off.
"Commander Rowan! A second linked bomb just got found in the mall's central ventilation! It's synced with the one on the hostage!"
Everyone froze, breath catching.
Disable one, the other blows.
Ryan stepped up fast, eyes locked in. "I've got it. I'll use standard procedure to jam the secondary bomb's signal."
Ignoring the longtime guys' warnings, he jumped in anyway—reckless, confident.
Then it blew up in his face.
He tripped a trap the bomber had planted.
The main bomb's timer jumped. The countdown sped up—twice as fast.
Ryan went pale.
Silence swallowed the command post.
Then a young tech snapped his fingers. "Wait—I remember. Lieutenant Chadwick built something called the Phantom. It cuts complex signal links—like, straight up severs the logic between devices. It's in the equipment truck!"
Their last shot.
Ryan grabbed it and bolted to the truck, yanking out a silver case.
No hesitation. No guidance.
He activated the Phantom himself. "These interfaces don't match the latest standards. The frequency should be set here."
He punched in what he thought was the "right" frequency.
Zzzzt...
Smoke curled out of the case. The core chip fried instantly.
Their last shot—gone.
Time was almost up. The link was still live. The only tool they had was wrecked.
The command post dropped into full-on despair.
Commander Rowan didn't hesitate. He grabbed a secure line and called the district's top bomb expert—the "Master Defuser," Clark Wayne—for remote guidance.
The call connected. They ran it down fast.
Clark stayed quiet for a beat.
"With standard methods, the hostage dies. No question. The technique to break that trigger chain—I taught it to one person. He should be in your unit."
A pause.
"Cole Chadwick."
