Chapter Text
“Ela, Timur, thank you for coming this morning!” Dr. Harry Pandey, a.k.a. Six, the director of Rainbow, stood up from his desk and ushered Glaz and Ela into his office. The director’s office was spacious, yet had a cozy, welcoming feel. Natural light from the rising sun poured in from a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows—light that the numerous plants interspersed between books on shelves and on tables were happy to soak up. It was the complete opposite of anything Glaz had encountered in his time with the military. Even though it wasn’t his first time in Harry’s office—all operators were required to partake in regular psych evals with the doctor—Glaz was still in awe. His fingers itched for his brushes and paints with which he could capture that magnificent orange sunrise.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Harry said, following Glaz’s gaze. “Watching the sun rise always puts me in a better mood for the day. I find that it’s always those little moments that make a difference in our lives. The sunrise—it fills me with hope. The hope that Rainbow can strive to help make the world a better place than it was yesterday.
“The two of you will be vital in our continued efforts against the threat of terrorism the world over.” Harry sat down and adjusted his glasses. His joyous personality seemed to deflate a bit as weariness creased his brow. "We have intel that the international terrorist organization ‘The White Masks’ is planning to launch a coordinated attack on a prominent British museum in two weeks’ time.”
Glaz—who had most definitely been listening very attentively and not imagining how he would mix the burnished yellow colour of the cloud above Harry’s left shoulder—suddenly sat up at attention. “A British museum—two week’s time?!”
“Correct,” said Harry.
“But that’s when filming for the next season of Portrait Artist of the Year starts!”
Harry sighed. “Which makes this situation even more difficult.”
“Wait, hold on,” interjected Ela, jotting down notes. “Portrait Artist of the Year, as in, that art competition show Timmy watches on Sundays?”
“That’s the one,” said Harry. “Not only will we need to protect the museum guests and staff, but also a hundred or more spectators of the event, plus the competitors themselves, the crew members, and the high-profile guest sitters and hosts of the show. It will be a massive undertaking.”
“Sir, with all due respect,” began Ela, “why not evacuate all the civilians ahead of the attack? Or better yet, close the museum and postpone the filming until the threat subsides?”
“Under normal circumstances, I would suggest the same. However, the White Masks are not a normal threat. We have risked and lost a great deal of resources to obtain this intel. Right now, they don’t know that we are aware of their plans. If we were to forewarn any parties involved, the White Masks would likely stall or relocate their attack. We would lose any advantage this intel gives us, and we’d be back to square one.”
“If I may, what is the source of the intel?” Glaz asked.
“I’m afraid that’s confidential,” Harry said with a tired smile. “But I can tell you that there is one more unfortunate detail,” his tone dropped to a grave level. “Last night at 1:37 am, the Rainbow security system experienced a data breach. All Rainbow operator names, affiliations, and capabilities were leaked to the dark web. I have Grace “Dokkaebi” and her team already working to contain the information, but the damage has likely already been done. It’s only a matter of time before this becomes front page news.”
Harry took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “To make matters worse, this data was not stored on the cloud, but exclusively on physical drives housed in the Hereford archives, which means that whoever stole the files knew exactly where they were and how to access them. The security records—cameras, key card swipes—were scrubbed clean, and the Recruits on duty guarding the archives were tranquilized before they could get a good look at the assailant.
“All this evidence points to a… harrowing conclusion. One of our own has been compromised by the White Masks. There is a spy in Rainbow’s midst.”
Shocked silence fell over the room. The scratching of pen from Ela’s note taking abruptly stopped. Glaz found himself worrying at the old scar underneath his right eye, but forced himself to still his hands, even as his mind was spinning. A spy? No—no, none of us would betray everything and join those… those monsters. Glaz blinked a few times, trying to ground his thoughts. But clearly someone has—who? A name danced at the edge of his consciousness—it would make sense, with the sneaking, but no, no, no, that’s just how he is sometimes, he wouldn’t do this he couldn’t do this not to us not to me but—
“Well, shit,” breathed Ela.
“Shit indeed,” said Harry.
“So, it’s a catch-22,” said Glaz. “If we warn the museum, we lose the intel. If we do any kind of planning on our own, the spy informs the White Masks, and we lose the intel. Even if our source can get us new intel, we’re still back to where we started.”
“This will be the most delicate operation we have ever embarked upon,” said Harry. “Almost certainly a hostage situation, and more likely than not explosive devices. And we must train so covertly that not even our own Rainbow operatives know what it is they are training for.”
“That’s impossible!” Ela exclaimed.
“Not necessarily,” Harry said, his tone lighter. “The current plan is for you two, and other select Rainbow operators, to go undercover as contestants on the show.”
Harry pulled up a dossier on his computer and flipped the monitor around so Glaz and Ela could see. “We will, of course, have large back-up teams interspersed in the crowd, but it is imperative that we have someone immediately in position to defend the contestants and sitters, as they’re the most likely hostage targets. We suspect that the optimal time for the White Masks to strike is after the halfway point of the round, around the two-and-a-half- or three-hour mark.
“Unfortunately, this means whoever we send undercover needs to be a genuinely good artist. Timur is an obvious choice, as he is our only attendee of art school, and Ela, well, I’ve seen your sketches! But we’re going to need at least eight ‘artists’ to cover all eight rounds. That’s where you two come in. Under the pretense of ‘needing something to do during downtime,’ I would like you to give the rest of the team—” Harry chuckled, and his eyes flicked upwards, likely thinking something along the lines of oh God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but regained his composure. “—I would like you to give them art lessons. Any and all means are at your disposal, as long as they’re effective. I need your shortlist of candidates in one week. Don’t give any indication on what this training is really for but be on the lookout for suspicious behaviour. The sooner we can catch this spy, the better.
“Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Glaz and Ela said in unison.
“Dismissed.”