As Loe Halloway and Mark Fletcher made their way to the lower levels of the building, the cold, dimly lit corridors added tension to their already heightened senses. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioning system, and the occasional quiet tap of their footsteps. They were guided by Mindy, who, using her telepathy, directed them to where Gustav was.
"Where did that idiot go?" Loe muttered irritably into his ear communication device.
"He's to the right, near the storage rooms//" Mindy's voice came through clearly.
"Loe, keep it down," Mark said in a hushed tone, his eyes scanning their surroundings. "People will hear us."
Loe hissed back "Gustav's probably already messed this up, that's why I'm impatient. He has a way of making things worse." His impatience showed in his hurried steps, but there was also concern hidden beneath his sharp words.
Mark sighed but didn't respond, his focus on the task ahead. He gripped the journal tightly under his arm—the one they had stolen from the top floor just minutes ago. The journal, hidden by Alphonse Capone himself, contained information they couldn't let fall into the wrong hands. Now that they had it, their mission had shifted from infiltration to escape.
...
Meanwhile, Alphonse Capone stormed through the building, his once calm demeanor now shattered. His footsteps echoed as he approached the secret room where the journal had been stored. The guards who were supposed to be stationed there had vanished.
"Where did the guards go?" Alphonse muttered to himself, his deep voice dripping with frustration. His mind raced as he reached the hidden compartment, praying that his worst fears weren't realized.
But when his eyes fell on the empty space where the journal should have been, his heart sank. For a brief moment, his world seemed to freeze.
Then, anger overtook him.
"Those motherfucking guards!" Alphonse's voice boomed as he slammed his fist against the nearest wall, the force causing a slight tremor in the room. His mind flashed with thoughts of betrayal. How could anyone have found the journal? The guards, he assumed, had failed him in a moment of sheer incompetence—or worse, cowardice.
The guards, who had earlier fled in fear of what they thought was a ghost—thanks to Loe's mischievous antics—were nowhere to be found. Alphonse could feel his rage building, and his mind raced as he tried to figure out who could've gotten their hands on the journal.
Unbeknownst to him, the culprits were not far. Mark and Loe, already knowing about the journal thanks to Mindy's abilities, had taken it and were now on their way to meet Gustav. But with Alphonse on the move and the guards possibly regrouping, they would need to get out fast.
In the underground levels, Loe and Mark were getting closer to where Gustav was hiding. The tension between them was palpable, as they both knew that any wrong move could jeopardize their mission.
"Loe," Mindy's voice crackled again through the earpiece, "Gustav's just reached the service shaft. He's still moving, trying to avoid being seen."
Loe clenched his teeth. "Great. He's probably already gotten into trouble."
Mark, still composed, nodded. "We need to grab him and get out of here. Capone's going to find out soon that the journal's missing, if he hasn't already. We don't have much time."
As they approached the service shaft where Gustav was hiding, Loe spotted movement ahead—a faint glimmer of Gustav's tiny form, thanks to his ant-sized abilities. But something wasn't right.
"Loe, Mark," Mindy's voice came through again, this time more urgent. "Alphonse is on the move. He's furious. I can sense him coming down toward you."
"Shit," Loe muttered, turning to Mark. "We need to get Gustav out of here before they finds him."
Mark's eyes narrowed as he considered their options. "We've got the journal. If Capone finds us, we'll have to fight our way out."
Just as they reached Gustav, who had grown back to normal size, they could hear the distant sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. Capone was getting closer.
"I found something," Gustav whispered, holding up a small, worn-out photograph. "It's her. It's Vivian."
Loe glanced at the photo, then back at Gustav. "Oh That's great, but we need to move now."
The urgency in Loe's voice was mirrored in Mark's gaze. The sound of Capone's rage-fueled pursuit grew louder by the second. They had only a narrow window to escape before the entire building would be locked down.
"Let's get the hell out of here.." Mark said, gripping the journal tightly.
The trio moved quickly, using every ounce of their stealth training to navigate the underground maze. Mindy kept them informed of Capone's movements as they made their way toward the exit.
Time was running out.
Loe shot a glare at Gustav, now at his normal height, and said with an exasperated tone, "Just shrink already! You forgot that you didn't use the invisible flashlight, didn't you?"
Gustav sheepishly scratched his head. "Shoot, I totally forgot."
Loe groaned, frustration evident in his voice. "Idiot."
Mark, walking beside them, sighed deeply, rolling his eyes as they continued to bicker. He muttered under his breath, "I swear, I feel like a mother watching my kids argue behind my back."
Despite the tense situation, Mark's comment lightened the mood for a second. But there wasn't much time to enjoy the moment. The thudding footsteps of Alphonse Capone's approach were growing louder. They had to act fast.
"Shrink, now!" Loe barked, as they prepared for their escape, urgency pushing them forward.
..........
Mindy Williams, focusing her telepathy to its limits, could feel the mental energy stretching thin. "I need to push through." she thought, her brow furrowing as she scanned the minds of Alphonse Capone's men. They were swarming the building, searching for intruders, but none of them seemed to have a clear idea of who they were after. They had suspicions, though, and those suspicions pointed toward the mysterious old man who was always a step ahead.
"Alphonse is sending everyone he's got...." Mindy muttered to herself as she continued telepathically sensing the area. She could feel the rush of their footsteps, the anxious thoughts of the guards who didn't dare disobey their orders, even though they were unnerved by the strange events. The men knew someone—or something—was here, but their fear of Alphonse kept them moving.
Mindy tried to connect with Loe and Mark, who were still invisible, hoping to give them the edge they needed. "Loe, Mark," she sent telepathically, "Guards are headed your way, but they can't see you. Stay low. Gustav is safe in your pocket, but you're running out of time."
Loe, moving silently alongside Mark, whispered back in his thoughts, "Understood, Mindy. How many are there?"
Mindy closed her eyes, focusing harder. "At least twenty heading to your floor, but more are coming. I think they're doubling security around the company. They suspect that you all here."
Mark, keeping his calm as usual, thought back, "We'll move quickly. Keep an eye on them If they gets close, let us know."
Gustav, in his ant-sized form, nestled inside Loe's pocket, felt the intensity of the moment but knew he was safer this way. Mindy was right; he hadn't used the invisible flashlight, and now shrinking was the only thing keeping him undetected.
Mindy pushed harder, scanning more minds, her head throbbing from the effort. The swarm of men around Alphonse was growing larger, and they were closing in on Mark and Loe's location. She only had a little time before her powers would be overwhelmed, and the team would have to act fast to escape before Alphonse and his men caught up.
...........
Alphonse Capone's frustration was palpable as he stood in the center of the bustling Chicago Outfit headquarters. His voice echoed through the halls as he shouted, "Search for it!!!" His anger sent ripples of unease through the building, causing even the workers—focused on clothing designs, packaging orders, and making calls to customers—to steal nervous glances his way.
Alphonse's men scrambled, panic in their eyes as they obeyed his commands. His reputation was not one to be tested, and failure in his presence meant dire consequences. The workers, sensing the tension, kept their heads down, returning to their tasks under the weight of his menacing gaze.
Alphonse turned to his guards, his eyes cold with fury. "Bring those stupid idiots who abandoned their duty!" he barked. His voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the headquarters like a knife.
His men, equally frightened of the consequences, snapped to attention and shouted, "Sir, yes sir!" before scattering in every direction, determined to find both the missing journal and the guards who had let it slip from their grasp.
Alphonse clenched his fists, murmuring to himself, "I'm gonna kill those idiots... because of them, my journal is stolen."
He knew the value of what was in that journal. It held secrets—plans that could ruin him if they fell into the wrong hands. His rage simmered beneath the surface, and as he stalked through the corridors, he was determined to get it back, no matter the cost. His sharp mind raced with thoughts of retribution, and he promised himself that whoever was responsible would not live to see another day.
..........
Bill Gregory, a former U.S. Army captain, wandered through the dimly lit streets, his mind clouded with the horrors of his past. Despite the PTSD that clung to him like a shadow, he was driven by a strong sense of justice. He couldn't stand by while innocent people were being killed by some unknown menace. He murmured to himself, "I will find you, whoever you are," but the weight of his own memories began to flood back, vivid and relentless.
The flashes of blood, the faces of those he'd lost, overwhelmed him. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Bill found himself spiraling, the familiar grip of PTSD pulling him back to those days on the battlefield, surrounded by chaos and death.
"Calm down. Calm down..." he whispered urgently to himself, his breathing shallow and rapid. He reached for the silver cross necklace he always wore, a reminder of his faith and the strength that had once seen him through the worst of his days. He kissed the cross, his lips brushing the cold metal, and closed his eyes, hoping for a reprieve from the torment inside.
"God, help me overcome this," he prayed, gripping the necklace tightly. "I need your strength now more than ever."
As his heart rate slowly began to settle, Bill knew he couldn't give in to the fear. There were people out there who needed him—who needed justice. He wasn't just fighting the shadows of his past anymore; he was fighting for the future of innocent lives. With renewed resolve, he took a deep breath and straightened up, determined to push through the pain, one step at a time.
.......
Meanwhile, Litzo Tatum, known as the Soldier of Vengeance, stalked the dimly lit hallways of the Chicago Outfit's headquarters with a grim determination. His mission was clear—given to him by Atlas, the enigmatic leader of the 69 syndicate. Litzo's mind replayed Atlas's words, his voice echoing with a sinister certainty: "Someone will die in your arms. His name is Angel."
Litzo's lips curled into a grim smirk. "Angel." he muttered under his breath, the name feeling heavy with fate. The oracle had foretold it, and Atlas had never been wrong before. This vigilante, whoever he was, had his days numbered, and Litzo was the one destined to deliver the final blow.
As he moved through the corridors, Litzo's hand casually rested on the hilt of the blade strapped to his side, his most trusted weapon. The scent of blood still clung to him from past battles, a reminder of the violent path he'd carved in the name of vengeance. He had never questioned the orders from Atlas, never doubted the visions or the prophecies. Fate, it seemed, always found a way to bend to their will.
"Angel... a fitting name for a man about to meet his death.." Litzo whispered with dark amusement as his boots echoed on the cold, marble floor. He was getting closer now, his senses sharp and his eyes focused. His movements were calculated, almost mechanical, as he approached the room where his prey would soon be.
He paused briefly, leaning against the wall, eyes narrowing as he imagined the moment. His pulse quickened, but his face remained emotionless. This was what he lived for—the thrill of the hunt, the knowledge that someone's fate rested in his hands.
"Angel," Litzo murmured again, a cruel grin spreading across his face. "Your time is coming."
To be continue