SSS-Rank Corporate Predator System

The storm hit the city like a fist.

A violent, angry tempest of wind and rain that seemed to be trying to wash the glittering, arrogant towers of Northwood from the face of the earth.

Lightning tore across the black sky, each flash a brilliant, stark, and deeply ominous photograph of the coming war.

The city held its breath.

Team Alpha was a silent, grim-faced ghost in a stolen, unassuming delivery van.

The vehicle moved through the flooded streets, its headlights cutting a weak, yellow path through the downpour.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of wet gear and the low, humming tension of soldiers before a battle.

Kael sat in the passenger seat, his face a stoic, unreadable mask.

He wasn't looking at the storm outside.

He was looking at a small, handheld data tablet, his eyes scanning the real-time tactical feed from Miles's clone.

He was a soldier.

And he was trusting his command to a boy he had met less than a week ago.

The thought was a strange, unfamiliar, and deeply unsettling one.

But he had seen the simulation.

He had seen the ghost in action.

And a good soldier knows a superior weapon when he sees one.

He did a final check of his own gear, his movements the economical, practiced motions of a man who had done this a thousand times before.

His face was calm.

His hands were steady.

He was ready.

Team Beta was a trio of wet, miserable rats in the belly of the beast.

They moved through the city's sewer system, the darkness absolute, the air thick with a smell that Leo was pretty sure would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his very short, and probably very tragic, life.

"Okay, just for the record," his voice whispered over their private, short-range comms, his tone a high-pitched, frantic buzz. "I am officially not a fan of this part of the plan."

"This is disgusting."

"I think I just stepped on a rat."

"Or a very small, very hairy hobo."

"Either way, I am deeply traumatized."

The two climbers with him, Kael's hand-picked elites, didn't say a word.

They just moved, their feet sure and silent on the slick, narrow walkway, their progress a steady, relentless march toward their impossible objective.

"You guys are no fun," Leo grumbled, his flashlight beam cutting a shaky path through the oppressive darkness. "You know that, right?"

"A little witty banter would really help with the whole 'crawling through a river of human filth to our probable deaths' vibe we've got going on right now."

They finally reached a rusted, iron ladder that led up into the darkness.

Their exit point.

A maintenance grate in a deserted alley at the base of the Cross Corp tower.

Leo looked up at the ladder, at the faint, distant sound of the raging storm above.

His heart was a frantic, hammering drum against his ribs.

He was terrified.

But he was also ready.

He started to climb.

Team Gamma was in the eye of the storm.

Miles and Clara stood on a rooftop across the street from the tower, the wind and the rain a physical, living thing, whipping at them, trying to tear them from their perch.

The Cross Corp tower was a monster of black glass and steel, a jagged, arrogant finger pointing up into the heart of the angry, churning sky.

It looked like a tomb.

Miles stood at the edge of the roof, a silent, unmoving gargoyle in a black hoodie.

He wasn't feeling the wind.

He wasn't feeling the rain.

He was somewhere else.

He was everywhere else.

Through the eyes of his clone, perched on a skyscraper three blocks away, he had a god's-eye view of the entire city.

He saw the delivery van of Team Alpha, a small, dark shape moving into its final position near the tower's main entrance.

He saw the faint, flickering light of Team Beta's flashlight as they emerged from the sewer grate into the alley below.

He saw the security patrols, the hidden sentry drones, the entire, complex, and deeply lethal web of Silas Cross's defenses.

He was the ghost, and he was seeing everything.

He felt a surge of cold, clear, and deeply satisfying power.

This was his element.

This was his game.

He was about to play chess with a king, and he could see the entire board.

He felt a presence at his side, a quiet, steady warmth in the middle of the raging storm.

Clara.

She stood unflinching beside him, her face set, her eyes fixed on the monstrous tower, a general surveying the battlefield alongside her king.

He felt a sudden, fierce, and deeply unfamiliar surge of protectiveness.

This was real.

The data, the plans, the simulations… they were just ghosts.

But the girl standing beside him, the rain plastering her hair to her face, her eyes burning with a quiet, unwavering fire… she was real.

The danger to her was real.

And the thought of anything happening to her was a cold, sharp, and deeply unacceptable thing.

He looked at her, at his anchor, at the one person who had seen the monster inside him and had not run away.

He had to get her through this.

He had to get them all through this.

He took a deep, steadying breath, the cold, wet air a welcome shock to his system.

He brought his attention back to the mission, the cold logic of the ghost reasserting itself.

He gave the signal over their encrypted comms channel, his voice a calm, steady, and unwavering anchor in the middle of the storm.

"All teams, Ghostlight is a go."

He paused, a final, silent moment of calm before the chaos.

He could feel the entire city holding its breath with him.

"Engage on my mark."

He took one last look at the monstrous, arrogant tower, at the symbol of the man who had taken everything from him.

"Three…"

He could feel the tension in Kael's van, the silent, professional readiness.

"Two…"

He could feel Leo's frantic, hammering heartbeat as he stood in the alley, his eyes fixed on the impossibly high spire above him.

"One…"

He could feel Clara's quiet, steady presence at his side, a silent promise.

"Mark."