Agent Secret Fx 18 - (1964) 01:33:13 Access

FX-18 didn't wait for a reply. He pivoted, firing two suppressed shots that sent a guard tumbling into a stack of empty oil drums. The clang echoed like a funeral bell.

He broke into a sprint, his trench coat snapping behind him. He reached the central control hub—a wall of spinning magnetic tapes and glowing vacuum tubes. At the heart of it sat a mahogany briefcase, wired directly into the warehouse’s power grid. Agent Secret FX 18 - (1964) 01:33:13

"Loud and clear," he whispered, his eyes tracking a shadow moving on the catwalk above. "But I have company. They’ve brought in the Corsican mercenaries." FX-18 didn't wait for a reply