The building rises high above the city, its upper floors sealed from the world below. Near the top, a conference hall exists in isolation.

  Eleven people sit around an oval table – ten men and one woman. The men wear gray suits, identical in cut and tone. Their faces are indistinct, easily forgotten. Even those seated at the head of the table differ in nothing from the rest. Only one figure disrupts the uniformity.

  The Lord sits closer to the center. He wears a white suit and a black shirt. Beside him is the woman who remains at his side – the same one seen before, his right hand. Her name is Giselle. Today she wears a tight black dress and records the discussion on her tablet, capturing every word spoken around the table.

  The Lord listens. He does not interrupt.

  The discussion proceeds in restrained voices. Reports, arguments, numbers. Nothing in the room suggests urgency.

  A message appears on Giselle’s phone.

  She reads it once, then slides the device across the table toward the Lord, the movement smooth and unremarkable. He lowers his gaze.

  Christophe is dead. His heart was torn from his chest. Ulrich and Vann failed.

  The Lord remains still.

  The air around him begins to change. Heat gathers slowly, thickening the space. The voices continue. No one stops speaking.

  Giselle notices. She raises her hand and snaps her fingers.

  Silence falls at once.

  Movement ceases. No one turns. No one shifts. All eyes, including Giselle’s, remain fixed on the same point on the table. The heat continues to build.

  The man seated to the Lord’s right begins to sweat. Drops fall from his face onto the tabletop. His posture does not change.

  Time passes.

  The Lord unlocks his phone and types.

  Targets: Heart Reaver, Ulrich, Vann. Task: Eliminate. Resources: Unlimited

  When the message is sent, the pressure withdraws. The air cools. Giselle senses the change and snaps her fingers once more.

  Sound returns. Movement resumes. The men continue speaking from the exact moment they stopped, as if nothing had occurred.

  Nothing appears different on the surface.

  Deep underground, Cerberus disassembles a flamethrower in silence. He cleans each component, arranges them in order, inspects them again.

  A pager vibrates.

  He reads the message, then presses a button embedded in the wall.

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  Sirens tear through the base. Red light floods every corridor and room. Activity stops instantly. Soldiers abandon their tasks and move toward assembly. Nine in total – two hackers stepping away from their terminals, seven fighters forming up without a word. Armored tactical masks rest on their foreheads, ready to be lowered.

  Cerberus gives the briefing.

  – No restrictions.

  The fighters pull their masks into place. Some of them smile. Moments later, they are already moving toward the van.

  Far from the city, a small house stands alone in the forest.

  Inside, Vann cooks in the kitchen, humming softly. The tune breaks off. He listens. Nothing moves, but the certainty arrives all the same.

  He sets the pan on the stove and turns off the gas. Still humming, quieter now, he walks to the cupboard and takes out a blowgun. He draws a breath, raises it toward the door, and waits.

  The door is forced inward.

  The first soldier through the entrance takes the dart in the neck. The dart tears through tissue. He clutches the wound as his other hand tightens on the trigger, spraying bullets across the room.

  The soldier behind him drags him back outside.

  – Third is hit. Need support.

  Cerberus’ voice answers immediately.

  – Reposition. Surround the house.

  The soldiers retreat, drop to one knee, and seal the perimeter. Weapons are trained on every opening.

  Cerberus straps on the flamethrower and approaches the house. Fire spreads over the walls and roof, methodical, inescapable.

  Smoke reaches Vann before the fire does. He stays behind the corner, breathing it in. He takes his phone from his pocket and types a single letter to Ulrich.

  d

  The phone falls to the floor. He crushes it under his heel.

  Vann moves through the house toward the back door. He turns the key, opens it, and stops. Smoke rolls in behind him, filling the rooms, pressing into his lungs. He draws in air and runs outside.

  He raises the blowgun.

  The shot comes first.

  It hits him between the eyes.

  – Target eliminated.

  Cerberus approaches the body while one of the fighters keeps his weapon trained on it. He kneels, draws a knife, and removes Vann’s head. He lifts it, looks into the eyes, then places it into a bag held open beside him.

  – Seven, eight, nine. Clean up.

  He straightens and looks at one of the remaining fighters.

  – You. Take position. Watch the house. Wait for further orders.

  The body and the bag are loaded into the van. The vehicle leaves the forest without delay.

  Inside a small neighborhood shop, Ulrich stands with his phone in his hand. Tears run down his face without interruption. Children cling to him, tugging at his clothes, asking questions he does not answer. He remains where he is.

  Later, the remains of Vann’s house still smoke. One soldier watches from the trees, waiting.

  A branch cracks.

  He turns.

  Ulrich is already there.

  Tendons are cut in a single sequence – arms, then legs. The body collapses. The weapon slips from fingers that no longer respond. The soldier smiles.

  Ulrich steps closer.

  – What was the reason?

  The smile stays. No answer follows.

  Ulrich grips him by the vest and drags him toward the vehicle.

  – You’ll tell me everything.

  Police channels fill with reports. A possible location. A possible suspect. The name Heart Reaver moves through the system. Units are dispatched.

  Cerberus’ hackers intercept the signal.

  One of them calls out to him, pulling off his headset and gesturing for him to listen.

  Cerberus listens in silence as the transmission plays through his channel.

  – Change of route.

  The order is short. Final.

  Police arrive first and establish a perimeter. As they prepare to advance, a van drives straight through the blockade. Weapons are raised. Orders are shouted. The van stops only when surrounded.

  The side door opens. Soldiers step out and move toward the house without acknowledging the police. Officers look to their commander. He hesitates.

  Cerberus steps forward, breathes in, and speaks.

  – Secure the perimeter. No civilians within five hundred meters. Execute.

  The order is repeated.

  Gunfire follows.

  An ambulance approaches the cordon. Documents are checked. A door opens.

  Ulrich sits inside, dressed as a medic.

  The ambulance is waved through.

  Gobby and German are loaded inside. The doors close. The vehicle leaves the area the same way it entered.

  The perimeter holds. Life resumes its course.