After parting ways with Dylan, a sly grin tugged at the corners of Ryan's mouth.
What he hadn't told Dylan was this—His plan to infiltrate Prometheus was to do it loud and proud.
No sneaky identities.No shady aliases.He was going to walk right in and tell their leader Killian Anderson:
"Hey, I'm DHS undercover."
Why? Because that was just the beginning of his performance.
Let the acting begin.
Returning to the Beverly Hills estate, Ryan and Olsen shared one last fiery night together.After several rounds, Olsen lay limp in his arms, completely drained.
"I have a mission. I won't be back for a while," Ryan said calmly, deliberately keeping it light—he didn't want her to worry.
"Wait, what? Aren't you just a regular patrol cop? Why would you have a mission? What kind of mission?" Olsen jolted upright, concern flashing in her eyes.
Ryan smiled. "Just undercover in a small-time gang. Nothing dangerous."
That reassured her. She trusted Ryan's combat skills—if it was just a gang, it was nothing to worry about.
"Okay then. I'm starting a new shoot soon anyway."
"It's a Marvel movie this time. Do you have a favorite female character?"
She playfully traced circles on Ryan's chest.
"Black Widow? Pepper? Captain Marvel? Wasp? Maybe Captain Carter?"
Ryan's mind flicked through each name. He swallowed.
"I like them all... but Captain Carter's my top pick."
Marvel's strongest curves. Haley Atwell. Enough said.
Olsen pouted, but she knew now exactly what kind of women Ryan liked.
"Fine. When the shoot's over, I'll bring her back for you."
Ryan gave her one more round of "motivation" before heading off refreshed the next morning.
He drove her Dodge Hellcat straight to the Rosewood Apartments—his temporary base.
His two beloved Vipers, previously confiscated, had been returned thanks to Dylan.From now on, no more paperwork or turn-ins after every mission.
One he stored in his dimensional space, the other he kept holstered.
He stopped by an electronics shop and picked up several fully charged phones and satellite devices—backup in case of signal blackouts.
And then, he headed straight for the Prometheus hangout: Blazing Bar in the port district.
The roar of the Hellcat's engine drew the eyes of everyone outside.
Ryan stepped out in a tailored black Italian suit, showing off his perfect build.
A few scantily clad ladies approached, and he casually wrapped an arm around two of them, strutting confidently into the bar.
With a glance, he scanned the crowd—and locked eyes with the man seated at the back.
A middle-aged white guy with slicked-back hair and a cigar. A real Nick Cage vibe.
That was Killian Anderson, leader of Prometheus's LA division.
Killian was deep in conversation with another man, but Ryan's enhanced hearing caught every word.
"How's the cargo?"
"Already crossed the Bering Strait. Should hit port in a week."
"Are the import papers solid?"
"Relax. No issues. The fireseed's hidden among standard goods—no one will find it."
"Good. DHS keeps trying to plant moles. I don't know how much they've learned, so don't slip up."
"Got it."
As the unknown man stood and left through the back, Ryan discreetly tossed a tracking talisman on him.
Approaching Killian, Ryan was blocked by a few burly guards.
But with 16 points in strength, Ryan was like a damn mythic warrior.He bulldozed through them with a shoulder charge, sending the men stumbling in pain.
As they reached for their guns, Ryan already had a Viper pistol pressed against one of their temples.
He stared straight at Killian.
"What? This how you treat your guests in Prometheus?"
At that moment, 70% of the patrons inside drew their weapons and aimed at Ryan.
"F—k! Drop the gun!"
"Where the hell did this guy come from?"
"Get on your knees, bastard!"
But Ryan didn't flinch.He was calm.Cool.Unshaken.
Killian's eyes lit up with something close to admiration.
Haven't seen a man who doesn't blink at death in a long time.
"Stand down," Killian ordered.Everyone lowered their weapons—but didn't holster them.
Ryan raised an eyebrow and tucked his own weapon away.
Then he swaggered over, plopped down across from Killian, and casually said:
"You're Killian, right? Listen up—I'm DHS. Undercover."
The admiration vanished.
Killian froze mid-cigar puff.
Around them, every Prometheus operative tensed, weapons rising once more.
Ryan just smiled.This was only the beginning.