The Fall of Olympus

Marcus Kane took a sip of his tea as he scanned the market. So far, so good. If he had it his way, he would have preferred to have the meeting anywhere but central London. Too many eyes, both human and digital. Too many ways it could go wrong.

“Target confirmed, Nyx is alone. Achilles, you’re clear to proceed.” The voice echoed through the nearly imperceptible earpiece.

“Copy that, Hermes. Proceeding to Nyx.” Marcus rose from his seat and took one more sip before tossing the cup in a trash can. He walked casually, joining the flow of people towards the nearest crosswalk, eyes darting left and right beneath his sunglasses.

The call from Nyx had come two days prior. She had told Marcus that she had a lead on Prometheus, which was more than the Olympus team had been able to find in the last six months. With the disappearance of three Olympus agents, all of which were suspected to be the handiwork of Prometheus himself, the team was desperate.

Marcus crossed the street when the green man flashed on the signal and made his way towards the meeting point, a nondescript five story brick building halfway down the block that looked similar to all the rest of the slender buildings lining the street. He stuck to the shadows cast by the late afternoon sun, hopefully an unnecessary precaution.

Scanning the street as he walked, only a group of tourists heading back the way he came and a number of individuals making their way to the nearest train station or bus stop were present. No immediate threats.

One of the advantages of a larger city was the crowds. It was easier to disappear in them, flow with them, become one small piece of the whole system flowing throughout the city. But that advantage hardly outweighed the risks, at least in Marcus’ experience.

It was the first time he had been back in the city since the first of his team disappeared, and only because Nyx had called and asked for a meeting. She was Achilles’ most prolific source, a wallflower in a part of the underworld that provided a near endless supply of information beneficial to Olympus. They had regular check-ins every six months, held throughout Europe depending on where they could get to at the time. But occasionally she called him with more sensitive information that required a more immediate rendezvous. This was one such time. With information on the whereabouts and potentially the next moves for Prometheus, the team couldn’t afford to put it off.

Marcus slowed slightly, waiting for someone to come in or out of the building and timing his arrival just as a man with a briefcase exited onto the street. He made note of his team’s panel van three blocks up the road and slipped inside just before the door closed behind him.

“Hermes, I’m in. Heading up now.”

“Roger that, Achilles. Standing by for extraction. Let’s hear what she has to say then get out of here.”

Marcus made his way up the steps to the third floor, pausing to listen through the first door on his right. He knocked once, paused, then knocked three more times. No response. He drew the Beretta from his waistband, slowly turned the handle, and pushed into the room.

A quick sweep left and right revealed a short hallway containing a bathroom on the left and the small kitchen on the right. But nobody else except for a single female figure sitting in the middle of the room, facing away from him and stifling a series of sobs. He lowered the weapon and approached cautiously.

“Nyx,” he said, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

Nyx sprung up, turning to face him as she retreated into the corner, mascara running down her cheeks.

Marcus’ heart began to race, the knot in his gut that had been there since arriving in the city now giving way to a flood of adrenaline.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Achilles. He made me, I swear.” she whimpered.

Just then, a voice came over the earpiece. “Achilles be advised, three men approaching rapidly.”

Marcus walked briskly to the window and peeked around the curtain just as three large men entered the front door.

Marcus made his way to the window and pulled the shade back slightly just as a voice came over his earpiece.

“Achilles be advised, three hostiles approaching your position.” Three men dressed in black converged on the building from all sides.

“Who are they?” Marcus asked, turning back to Nyx. “Are they with Prometheus?”

“He found me a week ago, said he would kill my family unless I helped him get to you.”

Marcus walked back to Nyx, but she pulled away from his touch. “It’s okay, Nyx. We’ll find a way out of this.”

She looked up to meet his gaze for the first time. “It’s too late for me, there’s no way out of this.”

“Don’t say that, we can still make it out.”

“They’ll kill me either way. You have to leave me.”

Marcus took her hand and placed the Beretta inside, closing her own hand around it. Without another word, he backed up and made his way to the door.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I wish things could have gone differently.”

Marcus froze. He had never told her his name, nor did anybody on the team know his real name. It was long dead and buried, stripped from him when he had joined Olympus. Which meant either someone had told Prometheus, or he had gotten into their system without anyone realizing. Either way, Marcus thought, we’re screwed.

“Me too, Nyx.” Marcus said as he fled out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time up towards the roof. He burst out the door and surveyed his surroundings.

The red light of the setting sun cast an ominous glow across the rooftops. Marcus knew it was likely not a good idea to head back towards the market, which left only one direction.

Faint shots rang out in the building below. Nyx, thought Marcus. He took a sharp breath and pressed a finger to his ear.

“Hermes, we’re burned. Consider this channel compromised, we march with Sherman.” Without waiting for a response Marcus took the earpiece out, threw it on the ground and smashed it with his boot. Hermes would know what to do, and now he had to figure a way out for himself.

The door to the roof burst open and two of the men emerged. They were both at least six feet, with buzzed hair and athletic physiques. They looked in his direction and made brief eye contact.

“Nowhere to go, Kane,” one shouted. But Marcus was already on the move. He climbed up a utility box and leaped to the next rooftop, striding across the glass skylights as the first shot rang out. The bullet whizzed by and buried itself in the masonry wall to his right. Marcus ducked around a section of the wall just as the volley of shots continued. As soon as they stopped, he continued up the pitched section of roof he was leaning against.

When Marcus reached the top he straightened, glancing back at the two assailants. The two men had closed half the distance between them and were still moving with an athletic grace not usually befitting of men their size. Without hesitation, Marcus took off running in the opposite direction.

Metallic clanging rang out through the air as the two men behind him clambered over the large vents. Marcus vaulted over mechanical equipment of his own and climbed two more rooftops, willing his body to push through the fatigue. To his right, a series of balconies came into view from the back of a building, and, picking up speed in their direction, leapt towards the rooftop below, rolling out of the impact in stride.

Marcus vaults the edge of the roof and sticks himself to the outside of the balcony. With the precision of a metronome, he drops from balcony to balcony, finally landing on the roof below. Only then does he pause to look back from where he came.

The two pursuers popped their heads over the roof and slowly began to climb over to follow his perilous descent. Marcus took off running once more, climbing carefully over the edge and dropping to the concrete below.

Glancing around, he noted the padlocked gate to his left and took off running down the alley to his right, squeezing past electric meters and trash bins until he found another gate leading to the street. Marcus flung it open and took off running down the road.

Prometheus knows my name; the thought sent a chill down his spine. If that were true, then what else might he know? He had already taken multiple agents, and if he was getting access to their records then it began to make sense as to how. But was he working alone, or did he have help within the organization?

Unsure if he was still being followed, Marcus made for an open storefront selling clothing and accessories. He swiped a hat and a jacket, quickly exchanging them for his own before discarding the excess and heading for a bookstore next door.

Marcus walked briskly towards a bookshelf on the far wall and watched as the two men in pursuit slowed down at the intersection outside, looked around for a moment, and took off down one of the streets. He gave it another minute before casually exiting the store and heading in the opposite direction. He didn't have to go far until he saw the familiar red ring indicating a tube station.

Approaching the entrance, a distracted man talking on the phone bumped into Marcus.

“Pardon me,” Marcus held a hand up in an apology. The man turned and continued walking, and Marcus continued towards the station entrance, producing a transit card from his other hand and swiping into the station.

A train arrived at the platform just as he reached the bottom of the steps, and he nimbly slipped inside just as the doors were closing. He found a seat in a corner of the car and collapsed into it, pulling the hat down over his face.

As the train pulled out of the station, Marcus was already thinking of what his ever-slimming options were. With the Olympus program compromised, how was he to contact the team? And more importantly, could he still trust them?