Rogue Nation

Krist stood in an open field surrounded by vibrant flowers and neatly trimmed grass. The flowers varied in color, creating a picturesque view bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. The scene looked like something out of a fairy tale, with the golden light casting a serene glow over the landscape. The field stretched endlessly before him, a calming sight that momentarily eased the turmoil in his mind.

As he scanned the horizon, Krist noticed two familiar silhouettes in the distance. His heart quickened, and he instinctively began walking toward them. The closer he got, the clearer the figures became. It was them. His parents stood side by side, watching the sunset in peaceful silence. His mother's head rested on his father's shoulder, a tender moment frozen in time. The sight overwhelmed Krist, stirring a flood of emotions he could barely contain.

Tears streamed down his face as he broke into a run, desperate to reach them. But before he could close the distance, a figure stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Krist skidded to a halt and looked up, his tear-filled eyes meeting a familiar face—Uncle Blake.

Blake regarded him with calm eyes, his expression tinged with sadness. "You can't see them yet, Krist," he said, his voice steady but pleading.

"What do you mean I can't see them?!" Krist shouted, struggling to suppress the storm of emotions raging within him. "I want to see them, Uncle Blake. Please, let me."

Blake shook his head gently, his gaze unwavering. "You're not ready," he said, his tone firm but laced with care. "It's too dangerous—for them and for you. Even they know that."

What do you mean I can't see them?" Krist's voice rose in frustration, his chest heaving. "They're right there! Please, Uncle Blake, let me go to them!"

Krist's shoulders slumped in frustration. He looked past his uncle to where his parents stood, still gazing at the sunset, seemingly unaware of the conversation. It was as if they were beyond his reach, separated by more than just distance.

"Please, Uncle Blake," Krist whispered, his voice breaking.

Blake placed a comforting hand on Krist's shoulder. "You know I would do anything for you," he said softly. "But this is something I can't allow. Not yet. You'll see them one day, when you're strong enough. When that time comes, you won't have to find them—they'll come to you."

Blake's gaze softened, but his resolve remained unshaken. "One day, Krist, when the time is right, they'll come to you. But until then, I can't let you get close. It's for your own good."

Before Krist could protest further, Blake stepped back and stretched out his hand. A dark aura erupted around him, enveloping the field. The world dimmed until everything faded into blackness.

Krist woke with a start, his heart pounding it just another dream he say to his self. He glanced at the clock. 5:50 AM. The house was still quiet, the world outside wrapped in early morning stillness. Sleep was out of the question now. He swung his legs off the couch and rubbed his face, trying to shake off the lingering emotions from the dream.

Krist rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his mind replaying the dream—the field, the flowers, his parents. It had been vivid, too vivid, and his uncle's words echoed in his head: "You're not ready."

"Not ready for what?" he muttered under his breath, frustration flickering across his features.

But there was no time to dwell on dreams. He needed answers, and there was only one person who could help him now—Uncle Blake.

It had been two years since Krist had put both Bellatrix and Mr. Adams behind bars, but his mind wasn't at ease. Bellatrix was no longer a concern—her connections had been severed, and her influence waned. Adams, however, was a different story.Unlike Bellatrix, Adams was elusive—his crimes had buried themselves deeply, and every time Krist dug deeper, the labyrinth grew more complex. The evidence was scarce, the web of corruption too intricately woven. Every thread Krist pulled on only revealed more of the lawyer's vast web of crimes. Though he'd managed to dismantle much of Adams' empire, solid evidence directly tying him to those crimes remained elusive. Everyone knew Adams was the mastermind, but knowing and proving it in court were two different things.

Krist had partnered with Evelyn's law firm, Blackwell Justice & Co., to prosecute Adams' associates. While Evelyn's firm reaped the reputation boost for taking down high-profile criminals, Krist worked quietly in the shadows, chasing the elusive truth about Adams.

Krist glanced around and realized he was still in the basement. His study table was buried under piles of documents and files. The wall above it was a chaotic collage of newspaper clippings, printed reports, and handwritten notes pinned together with red string connecting various names and faces. Some photos had been crossed out, marking those already in prison. But one photo stood out—isolated from the others, uncrossed. It was the image of an elderly woman.

Krist pulled the pin from the woman's photo, staring at it intently. "Two years," he muttered to himself. "Two years, and I still can't find anything solid to extend that bastard's sentence."

He frowned, placing the photo on the desk. Krist stared at her photo, a gnawing sense of urgency in his chest. He knew this was significant. Two years of speculation, analysis, and frustration had led him here. Despite all his efforts, no leads had come to fruition. The woman in the picture was the only one alive with vital information—information that could extend Adams' sentence or expose the person responsible for erasing the loose ends of his operations. "I have three theories. But the third one… it feels right. Someone killed her to protect him. She was harmless, but she knew something—something vital." His frown softened into a faint smile. "I have done my best I think It's time to ask for help. Uncle Blake always did say I was stubborn. Let's see if he can help me unravel this."

he knew his uncle was his best shot. Blake had resources, experience, and, more importantly, influence that Krist didn't have. If anyone could help unravel the mystery of Adams or the woman's connection, it was Blake.

Krist left the study, stepping into a long corridor lined with doors on both sides. At the end of the hall, he placed his palm against an unmarked section of the wall. A black screen lit up, scanning his hand. Moments later, the wall slid away, revealing an elevator.

In the library of Krist's mansion, known as Black's Manor, The air was crisp here, cool, and the space felt like a hidden sanctuary. The table in the center of the library seemed to extended upward as though alive. With a rumble, it split apart, revealing an elevator door. They slid open, and Krist stepped out, making his way toward his room to freshen up. Today, he was paying his uncle a visit—and he had a favor to ask.