the obsidian proxy

The air in the room was the only thing colder than I was. It was a private office, thirty stories above the churning, indifferent city, minimalist to the point of menace. No clutter, no personality—only the necessary tools for control. And I was one of them.

I stood before The Director, the only man whose voice could make the iron cage around my heart tremble, not with fear, but with the memory of the discipline that built it.

“Operation Obsidian Proxy,” he stated, his voice a low, melodic baritone that always sounded more like a promise than an order. He tapped a single, black file folder on the polished obsidian desk. “Thorne Corp. The target is Julian Thorne.”

My hands remained still at my sides. My expression was a blank slate, the face of Elias—no, the face of the weapon The Syndicate had spent two decades perfecting. I had a single, all-consuming purpose: infiltration, exploitation, and destruction. I was the poison sent to dismantle kingdoms.

“Thorne Corp is too big, Director,” I stated, my voice calm, analytical. My job was not to question, but to offer the most precise assessment. “Market capitalization alone makes them resilient. Their internal systems are proprietary and highly decentralized. They are a fortress.”

The Director smiled, a slight curl of the lip that didn't reach the cool intelligence in his grey eyes. “Fortresses are built by men, Elias. And men, no matter how clever, always leave a cornerstone weak enough to pry open. Julian Thorne is that cornerstone. He is brilliant, yes. But he carries a legacy he cannot afford, and he trusts too easily when he believes he is alone.”

He pushed the file across the desk. It felt heavy, not with paper, but with the immense pressure of the mission. It detailed Julian Thorne's life: his birth into corporate royalty, his staggering academic achievements in advanced cryptography, his ascension to CEO at an unnervingly young age. It was a biography of a king, complete with every potential vulnerability.

“We don’t want the company, Elias,” The Director continued, leaning back, the power radiating from him like heat off a furnace. “We want what Julian Thorne is protecting: Project Echo. It is the nexus of their future, a true quantum leap in secure networking, and it is a threat to our other interests. We don't acquire it; we break it and bury it. We want a collapse. Total, irreversible structural failure.”

Total, irreversible structural failure. That was my specialty. I had orchestrated three such failures in the last five years, each one executed with surgical precision, leaving only smoke and confusion in my wake. Each time, I walked away unscathed, unchanged, ready for the next job.

“I need an entry point. Thorne Corp’s security is layered. I can’t go in as low-level data analyst,” I said, opening the file. I scanned the initial analysis of their internal structure. My mind was already running simulations, calculating the risk-to-reward ratio of every angle.

“You won’t,” The Director said, his tone shifting to pride. “You are going in at the executive level. They recently lost their head of physical and digital defense in a rather unfortunate, abrupt accident. You will replace him. Your new identity, Elias Vance, is a highly-touted independent security consultant who specializes in corporate restructuring after hostile foreign incursions. You are expensive, elusive, and utterly trustworthy. They will be desperate enough to hire you.”

My jaw tightened imperceptibly. Trustworthy. The single word was the ultimate irony, the ultimate lie. It was the core component of my weaponization.

The Director stood, walking around the desk. His hand rested lightly on my shoulder—a rare, intimate gesture that served as a subtle reminder of who owned me.

“Your objective is dual: first, gain Julian Thorne’s complete professional trust and system access. Second, trigger the internal collapse of the Echo project. The timeline is tight, Elias. We need this done before the Q3 financials are released.”

I closed the file, the weight of the task settling perfectly into the compartment reserved for my missions. I had no family, no friends, no life outside of The Syndicate’s work. There was no hesitation, no doubt. Just the elegant clarity of a deadly assignment.

“And if he becomes a problem?” I asked, meeting The Director’s gaze. It was a necessary formality.

The Director smiled again, colder this time, a flash of pure calculation. “He is not a target for elimination, Elias. Julian Thorne is too valuable to be a martyr. We leave him with nothing but his shame and the ashes of his empire. But should he discover the truth before the collapse… well, you know the protocols. Protection of the Proxy is paramount.”

It meant if Julian found out, I had carte blanche to neutralize the threat—any way necessary. I took a deep, silent breath, the air filling my lungs but doing nothing to warm the emptiness inside.

“Understood, Director.”

I turned, the file clutched in my hand. I walked out of the cold, silent office, leaving the city lights twinkling below. In three days, Elias Vance would be born, ready to walk into the life of Julian Thorne and tear it apart, brick by careful brick. The mission was all that mattered. Anything else—any crack in the armor, any momentary lapse of discipline—was unacceptable. I was Obsidian Proxy, and the destruction of Thorne Corp was now a foregone conclusion. The only variable was the emotional damage required to achieve it.