As the dust settled from his latest strike, Silas leaned back in his chair within the glowing confines of the underground facility's control room.
The dim light from the holographic screens illuminated his sharp features as he studied Luna's latest analysis.
The once-daunting web of the Black Hand was fraying, its network of influence shrinking under his relentless pressure.
Where the map had once been overwhelmed with red points marking their strongholds and operations, now only a scattered few remained. For the first time in decades, the organization was on the defensive.
"They're still dangerous," Silas murmured, his eyes narrowing as he traced the remaining strongholds with a gloved finger. "But they're panicking. That's when people make mistakes."
