Elias was a "fixer" for the kind of people who didn’t exist on tax forms. He’d spent fifteen years in the gray zone, a career built on mid-level stakes and high-speed escapes. He wasn't the legendary assassin people whispered about; he was the guy you called when the legend messed up.

He smirked. A 6.9. Not quite a classic, but just good enough to keep you in your seat. Much like his own life.

Instead of a confrontation, Elias utilized the heavy fog and a nearby crane control to create a sudden, loud distraction. In the confusion, he didn't aim for a final standoff. He chose a path that allowed him to disappear, leaving the briefcase where it could be found, but with the data secured in a way that rendered the immediate conflict moot.

"The situation has changed, Elias," she said, her voice cutting through the sound of the waves. "The drive isn't leaving this port."

Before Elias could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed against the metal containers. He pulled the man behind the cover of a rusted crate just as a flurry of activity erupted at the end of the pier. Shadowy figures moved through the mist, closing in on their position.