Controlled chaos.

Or at least a thin veil between the calm, orderly search for Mira, and what Jackson really wanted to do: scurry from room to room in a desperate, frantic rush.

“Slow down,” Matthias had told him when he noticed his boss was about to take the latter approach. “We can’t afford to attract any more attention.” But Jackson knew he could only keep it bottled up for so long. As time wore on, and as they cleared room after empty room, the leader of DARC Ops was dangerously close to screaming Mira’s name at the top of his lungs.

Throughout their search, they were yet to come across either Langhorne or his assistant—which bugged the shit out of him. Maybe it was normal for her to be rushed off with them somewhere, for some official business perhaps. An emergency translation. But no amount of hopeful rationalizing could take away the sight of her purposely crushed earrings. Nor the immediate impression they gave him, a nausea that seemed to grow and rot in his stomach even as he hustled down the ballroom stairs.

In the banquet hall, the party was in full swing. The lights were dimmed. The music and the chatter were equally loud. Everywhere he looked, happy couples were dancing, laughing. His eyes stopped on every woman in a short, black dress, wanting so badly for each of them to be Mira. But when they finally turned around to reveal their faces, or when he noticed their hair was a different color or cut, he'd feel his heart sinking deeper and deeper. With each non-Mira, a new level of anxiety bloomed in his gut. At this point, he'd be perfectly fine if he'd suddenly caught her making out with Chuck on the dance floor. He'd be overjoyed with that if it meant she was safe and unharmed.

Jackson, along with Tansy and Matthias, left the ball to circle back to the storage rooms. It was where their search had begun, the site of Mira's earrings. They retraced their steps, ending up in some dark little room full of empty cardboard boxes. Jackson had Tansy pull out his computer to try to find a signal again, any signal at all. They huddled around its glowing screen as Tansy worked his magic.

“If she's still got her phone, we might be in business,” said Tansy. “I told her about the ping-back trick.”

“So maybe you should stay here and set up a command post. You can help guide the search while monitoring for any incoming pings or contact.”

“Can you try pinging her phone the other way?” Matthias asked.

“There's no response,” said Tansy.

Fuck... Even if her phone was out of battery power, it should still register and show its physical location to Tansy. The fact that it was a complete no-show meant it was either a dozen miles away or destroyed like her earrings. Jackson wasn’t comfortable with either scenario.

“What else does she have on her?” asked Matthias.

Tansy shook his head. “Just those fucking earrings. Well, she did have them.”

“Try her phone again,” said Jackson.

“There's nothing. It’s vanished.”

“I know,” The distinct lack of options left closed down around Jackson like prison walls. “But sometimes”—damn, he was grasping at straws now—“Maybe it's a glitch.”

“It's no glitch, Jack.”

“Just try it.”

Tansy sighed and pinged her phone again.

Please, please, fucking please... Jackson watched impatiently as the dots moved across the screen:

….........................................................................PING ENDED.

“Fuck it. Alright, Matthias, let's go.” Jackson said, and the two men walked to the door. “I'll check the top floors and the roof. You head down for a perimeter check. And while you're doing that, look out for Team Charlie and give them orders to sweep the building from the ground up. I don't care if that means we have to put a damper on this little—”

“Jackson!” Tansy shouted. “I got something!”

He rushed back to the computer, where a glowing dot pulsated on the screen.

“Is that her?”

“I don't know, I need to access it. Hold on.” Tansy typed furiously through a few different screens and interfaces. “We can't go all gung-ho just yet. It might be someone on Langhorne's team trying to figure us out or lure us in.”

Without looking, Jackson ran his hand along the compartments of his utility belt, taking a mental inventory of his weapon and magazines. In his head, he went through the rudiments and the checklists of close-quarters contact. He was ready for contact. He wanted it.

“I can gain access through my backdoor if it’s one of their infected computers,” said Tansy. “Yep, see? We've got their IP now and I think we're close enough for a wireless signal.”

“Can you access the webcam?” asked Jackson.

Tansy didn’t reply, his hands moving faster than his mouth. The computer screen suddenly flipped to someone else's desktop. Remote access. They now had access to the computer that had just pinged them.

“Just a warning,” said Tansy. “Depending on how good this guy is, he might be able to tell our location.”

“What if it's Mira?” asked Matthias.

His question was answered when the webcam flicked on.

At first, Jackson was elated.

It was Mira.

But the way she looked almost made him wish it wasn’t.