On the edge of New York's industrial district, in an old shipping warehouse, Cara Grants stood in the strategy room of Pantheon. Before her was a map of New York City, and on it, a red line marking the trail of a rather important delivery truck. Around her, some of her most capable fighters and planners. "Alright, people, here's the deal. In two days' time, this truck is going straight down Times Square and heading to the Paradigm building a few streets over. On it, is a new prototype of Prosperity. At least, that's what we've been told. We'll have to be ready. I expect gunners on these rooftops," Cara circled a few areas looking over the streets, "And Harbingers, you'll be on the ground, securing the package and taking out Paradigm officers." Cara looked over the people in the room. Around her sat James Korey, Victor, Syaoran, James Talot, Hephaestus, and Oscar, some of the agents that would be helping make this operation a success.
While a few of them were newer to the group, Cara had high hopes. She didn't recruit just anyone that could shoot shiny things from their fingertips. They had to want, more than anything, to free New York from Paradigm's death grip. At the way things were going, the city would be in ruins, crawling with Shifted, in a matter of years. Cara had a despondent look on her face, if only for a moment, as she thought about what that meant for her; taking down her father and the empire of corpses he'd built. She looked up at her group, looking at each one, before straightening herself. "I want all of you to prepare. Train, gather supplies, get intel, anything. Put your talents to good use. If you have any questions, find me. Dismissed." The leader of Pantheon said in an alto-tone, and raised her hand to release her agents.
Once they began to clear out, Cara left the round strategy room, and entered into the large open space that was Pantheon HQ. Crates filled with armaments, computer instruments, bunks and soldiers were scattered all about. The whir of machines and the training cries of initiates echoed inside the huge space. The strategy room sat on the second floor, positioned so it overlooked the operations of the base. Most likely, it was a foreman's office before the warehouse was abandoned in 2017. Cara was walking along a catwalk, which connected one side of the second floor to the other. In the center was a circle platform, to which Cara made her way. Members began looking up at her, already knowing what was to come, and fell silent.
Cara clicked on her comm, which was an earpiece hidden by her hair, and began speaking. "People of Pantheon! I am sure you are aware of the mission to take place in two days. We will assault a truck in-transit to Paradigm's East Building, located here." She pulled up a map on everyone's handhelds, and pointed to a holoscreen being projected beside her. "We will most likely encounter heavy resistance, as Paradigm has gotten wind of our knowledge. At the moment, it is unknown how, but we do not expect a leak. You all know the drill; Do not hurt innocents." As she said this, the people below echoed her, with a vigorous tone. Cara smiled. "There ya go. If at all possible, draw the opponent onto the rooftops. Of course, this applies to those of you who will deploy. You will be our sword, our shield, and our soul. As long as we stand together, Paradigm will fall. They will rue the day they decided to play God!" Cara thrust her fist into the air, and her comrades followed suit, followed by joyous cries.
"Everyone who will be staying behind...wish us luck. Keep an eye and ear on Paradigm, and be our senses. You are our lifeline, and without you, this will fail. Know that everyone here is important, no matter what. Alright, folks. Let's get to work." Cara turned off her comm, and headed for her office. It was time to send daddy dearest a message.
Meanwhile, at Paradigm...
Office workers scrambled through the cubicles, phones were ringing ceaselessly, and everyone was in a panic. Just a few days ago, Paradigm had gotten wind of Pantheon's move to hijack the Prosperity delivery truck. While Grants was assured that nothing would go wrong, he still wanted his best to stomp the rebels out. Even if the leader of said rebels was his daughter, Cara. The girl needed a lesson in humility, and it was his Harbingers that would be the teachers. Behind him, Alexis sat in a leather chair. She would be the leader of a strike team, which would defend the armored truck at all costs. As Grants looked out over the New York City afternoon skyline, he spoke up.
"Now, Ms. Maddox. I'm assured that you won't pull any punches. If you see my daughter, Cara, don't kill her. Just...rough her up. Teach her a lesson, if you will, from dear old dad. Everyone else, have at it. But this woman," Grants pulled up a picture on the window, a sophisticated screen, which depicted Cara Grants. "She stays alive. Understood?" Grants turned to her, and awaited her answer.