The luxury suite at the hotel looked as if time had frozen. A half-finished glass of scotch sat on the obsidian coffee table, and the silk sheets were perfectly pressed, undisturbed.
A shadow detached itself from the doorway. Then another. Six operatives clad in the light-absorbing tactical gear of the Black Skull moved through the room with the silence of ghosts. Their leader tapped his throat-mic, his voice a distorted rasp.
"Command, the nest is cold. I repeat: Target Alpha and the Matriarch are gone. No heat signatures, no lingering mana-traces. It looks like they never even sat down."
Through the earpiece, a frustrated growl responded. "Impossible. Our perimeter teams saw them enter the lobby ten minutes ago! They couldn't have vanished into thin air!"
