Shadows and Stardust: A Tale of Ambition & Quest for Recognition

Unveiling the genuine extent of your intelligence seldom yields benefits; hence, the goal is to make your target feel smart. They will remain unsuspecting of your actual intentions – Garden of Bitter Roses

Operation Menu: Phase Lunch (D+9.8 hours)

"Are you okay?" D.T. Jones inquired with a hint of disbelief as she descended the stairs.

"Couldn't we have possibly made use of the elevator?" Estelle panted, pausing to regain her composure.

D.T. let out an amused snort and placed her hand on Estelle's back, and said, "Unfortunately, that's beyond the elevator's capabilities—it doesn't extend to the basement sublevels."

As they ventured down the stairwell, Estelle's pace noticeably slowed, her breaks to catch her breath becoming more frequent.

Jones leaned casually against the railing, all the while casting pointed glances at her watch.

"Just twelve more levels to go," Jones stated with a patronizing tone. “You really should do more cardio.”

Estelle sighed in exasperation and begrudgingly resumed her descent. They descended further until they reached the lowest point. Progressing beyond a door painted in deep crimson, they advanced down the corridor until they arrived at a black steel door, distinguished by the bold engraving, 'Vault 47,' accompanied by the inscription, 'Devotion & Toil pave the path to Betterment.'

D.T. Jones unclipped a set of keys from her belt, fitting one into the intricate lock of the armory door. Behind this barrier stood another barrier, a door of nickel-alloy steel. With practiced ease, Jones turned the key and the door's mechanism yielded, granting access to the inner sanctum.

Stepping through, Estelle and Jones at last entered the armory. As Estelle crossed into the room, her gaze swept upwards, revealing the presence of a camera positioned in each corner of the ceiling.

The walls were adorned with a display of weaponry, arranged in precise order along racks that stretched the length of the room. Blades of polished steel glinted under the stark lighting, and firearms stood sentinel, their barrels pointing towards the room's ceiling.

At the heart of this arsenal sprawled more racks, an intricate mosaic of destructive potential. Firearms of various calibers lay side by side with an assortment of bladed instruments, their edges honed to gleaming from the light.

With cautious steps, Estelle navigated through this tableau of weaponry, her fingers tracing the cool metal surfaces. Her attention was eventually drawn to a cluster of radios, their batteries sitting in a charging station. Selecting one from the array, she delicately inserted a micro earpiece into her ear, her brows furrowing slightly as she fine-tuned the volume.

“If you want to know about your team you can try Channel Z,” D.T. Jones said fighting back a smile. “But last I heard from our scouts your crew ran into Harvy and Bun-Bun. Don’t worry, we should be finished with this in a few hours, and you can help them out. I bet they are doing fine.”

Estelle ignored her and continued flipping through the stations.

“Are you aware the 768G encryption has been cracked, right?” Estelle asked, slipping a radio on the belt by the clip.

Jones rolled her eyes and said, “Unsubstantiated rumor, you can’t believe every crazy conspiracy theory you hear these days.”

Jones moved directly in from of Estelle and locked eyes. Estelle looked back at the radio as Jones continued to advance and move closer.

“So, what happens after we are done here?” asked Estelle, lowering her voice.

“After? Well, you will be working directly for me as a guard for a shift or two,” Jones said in a harsh tone. “Let’s get you out of those old things and into a proper uniform.”

Estelle rolled her eyes and placed her bag down by her side.

“That scratch thing?” Might as well ask me to wear a potato sack,” Estelle said haughtily as she adjusted the sound on the radio. “Besides magenta is in season not black.”

“Excuse me? I’m getting sick of your elitist attitude missy. You think you are so much better than everyone else, don’t you?” D.T. said blocking the view of the cameras.

Estelle nodded.

“Just because you where top shit the last few season doesn’t make you top anything this season,” Jones continued.

Estelle continued to nod and brushed a lock of hair from her face.

“Who do you think you are, probably some piece of shit first born Royalie who had it good all her life. No, you are too shallow to be first or even second born, I bet you were some third born who’s been begging for attention from mommy and daddy all her life…aren’t you?”

Estelle nodded again and frowned.

“Always sucking off the success of anyone better than you. How did you even make it to top ‘sin spot, did mommy’s gold pay off the judges or something?” D.T. said as Estelle remained silent. “What’s the matter, ran out of smart-ass comments, bitch?”

Estelle unclipped the radio from her belt and adjusted the volume.

“Oh, that was me who was hot micing*, won’t happen again.” Estelle said as she clicked her thumb on the side button a few times. “The features on these new models can be so tricky. Now what were you saying I was listening to the radio traffic.”

Jones narrowed her eyes and face turned red. She pressed her lips together tightly.

“Was it important?” Estelle asked, turning down the volume again.

D.T. opened her hand and slapped Estelle across the face. The sound of the smack echoed off the walls of the armory.

As the side of Estelle’s face turned red, she covered her face with her hand, picked up her bag and stomped out.

“I’m..going to HR,” Estelle said as a stream of tears ran down her cheeks.

D.T. stood silent as Estelle stormed out.

***