Chapter 4

The rain-slicked night hung over the outskirts of Cold Harbor’s industrial sector. Moretti’s "final solution" was a convoy of twelve armored heavy trucks laden with bio-hazardous samples—enough to turn half the city into a purgatory. He believed this was his ultimate checkmate, unaware that as long as I remained in the city, every byte of data leaving his perimeter was under my surveillance.

I hacked the logistics satellite link, marking every tire track the convoy made. "Viper, kill the power to the bridge ahead," I ordered, my hands steady on the wheel of the modified Humvee as I accelerated into the dark.

As the convoy hit the mountain pass, I engaged the stealth fire-control suite. No warnings, no political theater. I simply rammed the tail escort vehicle, the sound of tearing metal echoing through the pass as the convoy ground to a halt on the high-arch bridge.

"Is this your trump card, Moretti?" I stepped out, my voice cutting through the wind. Each step I took toward them felt like a hammer blow to their sanity.

The lead commander’s voice cracked over the radio, high-pitched with terror: "Boss! The monster is here! Requesting permission to trigger the detonation protocol!"

In his high-rise office, Moretti’s bloated face was drained of blood. He roared, his finger hovering over the red button labeled "Annihilation." "Blow it all to hell! If I can't have this city, no one can! Burn it all!"

In an instant, the electronic fuses inside the cargo trucks let out a piercing, high-pitched whine. These were molecular-fission triggers; once detonated, everything within a five-mile radius would be reduced to genetic sludge.

But they were facing me.

In the final microsecond of the countdown, I didn't engage in a firefight. I activated the "High-Output EMP Generator" I’d scavenged during my time in the Abyss. It was military-grade gear capable of dumping thirty thousand volts into any precision circuitry within a hundred meters, instantly carbonizing it.

ZZZT—!

A leaden, low-frequency hum swept across the bridge. A bizarre, vacuum-like silence followed. All the red-blinking lights on the detonators flickered and died. The entire logic-circuitry loop, hit by the crushing surge of high-voltage current, turned to ash. Moretti’s "mutual destruction" plan ended as nothing more than a pathetic display of rusted iron.

I walked to the lead truck and ripped the blast wires free. The cheap fuses disintegrated in my hands like dead skin.

"Game over," I said into the microphone.

I dragged the commander from his cab like a sack of dead weight. No interrogation necessary. I pressed his forehead against the cold edge of the vehicle, the metallic air making him shake uncontrollably. "Your boss must be quite frantic right now, wouldn't you say?"

Without hesitation, I took control of the convoy. The power dynamic of the battlefield shifted from a high-stakes standoff to absolute, one-sided slaughter. I drove the trucks directly toward Moretti’s private power hub—his skyscraper’s heart and his fortress for his personal guards.

When I breached the reinforced blast doors, his elite mercenaries didn't even have time to blink. I moved like a predator in a slaughterhouse. My pistol barked—precision, efficiency, deadliness. His "impenetrable" tactical armor did nothing against my rounds; it was like clearing plastic blocks.

Minutes later, the power center was a tomb. I stepped over the final body and stood before the main monitor. Moretti sat in his chair on the screen, paralyzed as he watched me dismantle his elite force as easily as cleaning a room.

He stared at me. My gaze felt like an iron hammer, shattering his last shred of confidence.

He began to tremble. He hammered at every panic button on his desk—the direct lines to the city’s highest authorities, the "backers" who symbolized his absolute power.

"Call for help, Moretti," I said, a hollow, raspy laugh escaping me. "But in this city, there isn't a spine of power strong enough to withstand the judgment I'm bringing."

He didn't know that the evidence chain I’d built regarding his secret operations was already set. With one keystroke, not just his backers, but even the mayor would find themselves as defendants in tomorrow’s headlines.

He was a rat in a cage, and I’d already nailed it shut.