Billy leaned forward, resting his forearms on the steel table, his eyes dropping to the concrete floor for a second before locking back onto mine. The easy, street-kid grin was completely gone, replaced by the heavy, exhausted expression of a man carrying institutional weight that was slowly crushing him. "Listen to me, Daniel," Billy said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly hum. "I didn't bring you down here just to reminisce. And I didn't pull you off your mountain for a standard domestic contractor detail." I kept my boots propped on the table, studying him. "Then cut the red tape, dog. What am I looking at?" Billy slid a manila folder across the metal surface. It didn't bear any formal classification stamps, barcodes, or serial numbers—just blank brown cardstock, completely off the books. "I managed to ascend through the command structure, yes," Billy continued, tapping a finger against the folder. "Directorate level. I'm currently sitting in briefing rooms with individuals who dictate operational parameters, brief the oversight committees, and authorize black-project incursions that legally never occurred. But the higher up you climb, the more compromised the infrastructure becomes. Over the past two quarters... the operational security anomalies have reached critical thresholds." "Define critical," I said, narrowing my eyes. "We are bleeding personnel, Daniel," Billy stated, his jaw clenching. "Three tier-one reconnaissance detachments in the last six months alone. Terminated with extreme prejudice down to the last operator. Dead drops compromised, encrypted comms intercepted, and exfiltration vectors ambushed before the teams even crossed the LZ. Someone within our inner circle—someone with high-level clearance and compartmentalized access—is actively leaking classified black-ops movements to an outside transnational syndicate." I let out a slow breath, sliding my feet off the table and leaning forward. "You suspect a security leak at the executive command level." "It's not a suspicion, it's a confirmed hostile penetration," Billy corrected grimly. "However, I cannot initiate an internal counter-intelligence sweep through official channels. Every time I attempt to audit the asset tracking or pull communication logs, procedural roadblocks appear, or my own protective detail gets audited. If I try to dig using standard agency protocols, I'll be neutralized for insubordination before I even identify the target." Billy locked his eyes directly onto mine, his tone absolute. "That is why I require an independent vector, Quezada. You do not exist within the active registry. You haven't touched a Department of Defense database in a decade. You are a complete phantom. I need you to bypass the bureaucracy, infiltrate the operational chain, and locate this asset." I stood up from the metal chair, rolling my shoulders as the old, lethal rhythm started kicking back into my veins. I leaned over the table, locked my eyes dead onto Billy’s, and kept it real. "What you do know that with me—and I ain't fucking bullshitting you—I am not going to report him in," I said, my voice dropping to a hard, stone-cold flatline. "As soon as I find him and I have the ability to, I am going to eliminate him whether you want me to or not. Because once you start jeopardizing civilian lives, that's where in my logic, you get terminated. So, do you still want to continue with using me? I'm warning you, little Billy. I don't change my mind on what I'm going to do. And you know this." Billy didn't flinch. He just sat there, looking up at me, studying the eyes of the guy he’d run streets with a lifetime ago. A heavy, tense silence hung in the concrete room for three long seconds before a slow, knowing smirk finally broke across Billy’s face. He let out a quiet breath, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah... I figured you'd say that," Billy replied, his voice steady. "And to be completely honest with you, Daniel? That's exactly why I asked for your help in the first place."

Shadows and Snitches