**Hamburg, Germany, 21:17 local time.** The CEO of the ARC-HIVE Foundation was giving what seemed to be a seminar in the amphitheater of a university. The young CEO was only 28 years old, and at first glance, he seemed inexperienced. But as Victor Stracken spoke with such confidence and in such a relaxed manner, the young people were absorbed by his words. Victor spoke with a lot of passion, and it was evident in his eyes. He wore a black coat and pants over a dark gray sweater and leather shoes.
"Well, I think I've covered everything, haven't I?" he said, placing the microphone down. "Any questions?"
A young man in the front raised his hand.
"Yes, Maxwell?"
"You said you founded ARC-HIVE after feeling a sudden inspiration, almost like a divine spark."
"I wouldn't go that far, but yes, that's kind of what happened."
"Could you shed some light on that spark, please?" the young student insisted. "Was it an accident? The loss of a loved one?"
"Oh, come on, Max," said a student next to him, nudging him with an elbow.
"No, no, he's raising a valid point. Indeed, I experienced a tragic event in my life, and it made me reassess things."
Such confessions cast a somber mood over the amphitheater, but Victor continued.
"But if losing a loved one was all it took to become a billionaire, everyone would know about it. No, this event just made me realize I had to do more. I think that was the foundation of everything. What's needed above all is the will—the will to change things, do you understand? Well..."
A man in a black suit entered the room and whispered something in Victor's ear. He glanced at his watch—it was getting late.
"Sorry, kids, for keeping you all this time. It's been two hours since my slot was up, and no one told me."
"It's always a pleasure to have a former student," said the professor.
"Next time, I'll show you something interesting. You'll see."
He flashed a grin and then followed the security team member. The students, still captivated by his seminar, continued to discuss it, especially the young Maxwell.
"He's so cool, Professor Victor," said a girl.
"So young and already so rich."
"Hey, man, you didn't have to go that far," said the guy sitting next to Max.
"You know what, Frank? I think I'm going to apply to work at ARC."
"Haha, you're joking, buddy, with grades as bad as yours?"
Outside, Victor followed his guard, who led him to a convoy of three black sedans. He got into one, and the convoy set off. Not far away, from the roof of a building, a man with a precision rifle was watching them.
"Cipher 03 here. We're on Gertrude."
From his hideout in Japan, Cipher 02 was assisting his ally using the Jubilee "WhiteStar" drone. They had planned a series of code names for each phase of the operation; "Gertrude" meant the convoy was in motion.
"Roger that. Just observe; don't attract attention."
"Cipher 03 going silent."
He stowed his rifle and disappeared into the dark night. Meanwhile, the convoy was en route to Hamburg Airport, where a private jet awaited Stracken. Victor was deep in a conversation through a tablet, smiling the entire time. Sitting in the back with him was a bodyguard who was watching him.
"Yes, yes... Oh really... No, no, I didn't say that... But yes, I promised. You trust me, don't you..."
He ended the call but kept a blissful smile on his face.
"Is it him?" asked the guard.
"It's... Well, you know. He likes when... Do you have kids, Carlos?"
"Between us, sir, I'd prefer if our relationship stayed strictly professional."
"No, but you've been following me everywhere for a while now, and you barely speak to me. Is it because you were assigned to protect me after your injury? Do you see it as a punishment?"
Carlos remained silent and looked away, but Victor placed his hand on his knee.
"I promised to heal your leg," he said with a big smile. "So don't look so glum. Tonight we'll be fine—there'll be sushi in the plane's bar and..."
He didn't get to finish his sentence as the lead car was rammed by a garbage truck, automatically blocking the path of the central vehicle. A large dumpster blocked the way as Stracken's eyes widened in shock.
"What the hell is this..."
Being blocked, they tried to reverse, but the rear vehicle exploded and suddenly burst into flames. A man got out of the dumpster and loaded a light machine gun. Seeing him, Carlos widened his eyes.
"Santa Madre... Get down!"
They ducked inside the vehicle as the man in front unleashed a deadly barrage of bullets. Carlos shielded Victor with his body, but what the attacker didn't anticipate was that Stracken's sedan was armored. Unfazed, the assailant emptied his clip and reloaded his weapon. However, as he was reloading, he was shot in the head and collapsed to the ground. The man driving the dumpster was also eliminated. The team in the vehicle hit by the dumpster had survived, or at least two of them emerged, half-injured. They signaled Stracken's car by tapping on the hood.
"Damn it. Get us out of here!" Carlos shouted at the driver.
The driver reversed out of the street and turned down a new road before speeding off.
"Carlos, what's happening?" Victor asked, panicking.
"Keep your head down, damn it! They had the nerve to do this here in Germany; these guys have guts," he said.
The vehicle resumed its route. From his vantage point, Warner was observing through his sniper rifle.
"02, the target just got attacked."
"Oh, great. I hope you went easy on them," he replied.
"No, Cipher 02, I repeat, the target was attacked by an unknown hostile group."
Gael, who had been lounging in his chair, suddenly straightened up and took on a more serious expression.
"Say that again."
Warner moved into position while Gael adjusted the drone higher.
"What the hell is going on? Someone's trying to kill Stracken?" Gael asked.
"And they're organized; half the guards are down. What do I do—protect him or help his attackers before extracting him?"
"Hold on, I'm checking the comms."
Meanwhile, Warner's window of opportunity was closing, so he decided to take the initiative. He opened fire. The bullet struck the armored tires of the sedan, but Warner's bullets were more powerful. The car flipped over and crashed in front of a café, right in the middle of an intersection.
"Sorry, but it would annoy me to have to reposition," he said, stowing his rifle.
He descended from the building, jumping from wall to wall.
"You know you were supposed to tail him to lead us to Shraken, right?" Gael reminded him.
"I changed my mind. I'm bringing him in and interrogating him. And Shraken, Stracken—it's the same guy, it's obvious."
"We're not sure about that."
"Please," Warner said, exasperated. "I thought you were smarter than that, Gael."
He got on his motorcycle and headed to the crash site. Meanwhile, Victor was still dazed from the accident but managed to stay on his feet. He reached out to the front to check if the two men were still alive.
"I have a pulse. I have to get them out of here..."
He struggled out of the vehicle, barely able to stand. His glasses were shattered, and he could barely see, but he opened the door and tried to get the driver out. Unfortunately, the seatbelt was stuck, and he couldn't manage it. He stood up to catch his breath, removed his glasses, and with a trembling hand, took out his spare pair from his coat. That's when he saw it: the crash had thrown Carlos out of the vehicle, and he had broken his neck against a pole. Victor looked at him with a saddened expression when a van suddenly pulled up on the street.
"Run," the driver said in a grave voice. "They're after you... Run, boss, we'll be fine."
Men emerged from the van, and one of them, armed with a shotgun, started shooting. The driver's bulletproof door absorbed the impact while Victor, panicking, ran towards the café as another burst narrowly missed him. He took one last look back and saw the masked man finish off the driver. Terrified, he started running with all his might, while half a dozen men chased after him.
"What the hell do they want from me?" he shouted.
The street was deserted; he had just realized this as he desperately looked for someone to help him. It was strange, almost as if someone had arranged for there to be no one around at this hour. No, it was just that the kidnappers had chosen the ambush spot well.
"With a bit of luck, all these gunshots will alert the neighbors," he said, hiding behind a dumpster.
He tried to peek out, but one of the attackers fired a shot that grazed his position, barely missing his face.
"Or maybe they'll just end up killing me first."
As his pursuers closed in, a van pulled up right in front of him. It was the van belonging to the Serb mercenaries chasing him, and one of them got out and pointed an Uzi in his direction.
"Scheisse."
"You really gave us a hard time, jumping around like a squirrel," the mercenary approach Shraken.
Victor raised his hands, trembling with fear. "Please, don't shoot! I'll give you whatever you want money, anything!"
The mercenary smirked. "Oh, we don't want your money, Stracken. We want *you*."
Suddenly, a shot rang out. The mercenary in front of Victor collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from a hole in his head. Victor was in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened. A second shot echoed, taking down another mercenary who had been about to fire at Victor.
Victor's eyes widened as he saw Warner approaching, holding a silenced pistol. The man was wearing a bike suit and his face was masked by his helmet.
"Who... Who are you?" Victor stammered.
"Someone who's here to save your sorry ass," Warner replied coldly. "Now, get moving before more of them show up."
Victor, still trembling, nodded and started running again, following Warner. The two made their way through the back alleys, the sound of gunfire growing fainter behind them.
"Where are we going?" Victor asked, out of breath.
"To a safe place. Just keep moving," Warner answered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
As they ran, Victor couldn't shake the feeling that this "safe place" might not be as safe as Warner claimed.
Victor displayed a look of incomprehension and struggled to stand up. Around him, his assailants were all in a miserable state, most of them shot.
"Well, did you manage to identify these guys?"
"Mercenaries," replied Gael. "Mostly Serbians."
"Do you think it's the Russians?"
"It's always the Russians," Gael replied. "I said they were Serbians, moron," he added, irritated. "Anyway, how is the VIP?"
"He didn't react when I spoke to him. Either he's playing his role well, or he really knows nothing."
"Doesn't matter, we'll make him talk once you bring him back," said Gael. "I'm arranging a flight to Japan right away."
Warner then turned toward Victor and grabbed him by the wrist.
"You're coming with me," he said in English.
"Ah... O... Okay. You're American, right?"
"03, two vehicles are heading toward you from either side of the road," Gael announced.
"Vehicles?"
An armored van, resembling those used by the police, arrived from the right, while a van similar to the one used by the Serbian mercenaries approached from the left. Warner found himself surrounded as men in civilian tactical gear, armed with HK-416 assault rifles, exited the armored van on one side, while on the other side, men in ordinary clothing equipped mostly with FAMAS rifles, Uzis, and a light machine gun, emerged.
"Well, this certainly complicates things," Warner muttered to himself.
*To be continued.*