Zughaib sat in the corner of the RV, his hands leafing through the stack of documents Leandra had given him. Every page revealed a piece of the puzzle that was Cornel Madriv—his meetings, his associates, his private affairs. Madriv was no ordinary businessman; his ties ran deep, tangled in both legitimate and shadowy dealings that extended far beyond Madriv Industries. Zughaib's mission was clear: gather enough intel to unmask Madriv, and when the time came, kidnap him for Leandra. It was just another job, another step in the dangerous dance he had been pulled into.
He stuffed the documents into his jacket, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead. As he left the penthouse, heading for the elevator, the air felt thick, heavier than usual. The lights in the hallway flickered slightly, casting long, distorted shadows across the marble floor. The click of his shoes echoed as he approached the elevator doors.
Once inside, Zughaib pressed the button for the ground floor and leaned against the wall, his eyes closing for a brief moment. The hum of the elevator provided a brief respite, but something was off. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed a figure in the corner—a man, crouched in a fetal position, his skin pale and almost translucent, as though the life had been drained from him. The man looked fragile, anemic, his breathing shallow. His presence sent a chill down Zughaib's spine.
Zughaib glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye, his fingers twitching slightly toward the pistol at his waist. But the man remained silent, unmoving. The elevator pinged, signaling their arrival at the ground floor. Just as Zughaib stepped out, he heard a faint whisper—his own name, softly spoken as if carried by a breeze.
"Zughaib..."
He spun around, eyes wide, but the elevator was empty. The pale man had vanished without a trace. Zughaib's hand hovered over his gun, a deep sense of unease settling in his chest. He shook it off, chalking it up to exhaustion, and headed for the RV parked outside.
Once inside, he locked the door and slumped into the driver's seat. The weight of the day, the growing tension between him and Leandra, and the shadow that loomed over everything—it was beginning to take its toll. He rubbed his eyes, exhaustion overtaking him as the hum of the RV's engine lulled him into a restless sleep.
---
As Zughaib drifted off, across the city, in Asiatown, the Chinglish man—the one whose bicycle Zughaib had stolen—was walking down the cracked sidewalk with his casted cousin, limping slightly from their previous encounter with Zughaib. They spoke in hushed voices, their eyes glancing nervously around, as if expecting something to jump out at them from the shadows.
"You hear about the community hospital?" the cousin asked, his voice low and wary. "The deaths? They say everyone in that room just… stopped breathing. Even the machines couldn't save them."
The Chinglish man nodded, his expression grim. "Yeah, I heard. And they say it was no accident. Some say it was the Cleaner. You know how he operates… silent, efficient."
His cousin shuddered, casting a wary glance around the street. "Man, I'm telling you, something's going on. First, we get roughed up by that guy, then this? It's like we're being hunted."
They walked on, their conversation swallowed by the sounds of the bustling street, but the tension between them was palpable. Something dark was at play, and they knew it.
---
Meanwhile, Zughaib had parked the RV in a discreet spot behind a thick line of bushes in Willow Heights, one of the city's wealthiest neighborhoods. This was where Cornel Madriv was attending a private event—a luxurious dinner for high-society elites, complete with heavy security and the quiet whispers of backroom deals. Zughaib had scouted the location earlier, noting the various points of entry and the routines of the guards.
As night fell, the mansion where the dinner was taking place glowed with soft lights, the buzz of chatter and laughter drifting out through the open windows. Guests dressed in expensive suits and dresses mingled, sipping champagne and talking in hushed tones. Zughaib slipped out of the RV and made his way toward the back entrance, using the shadows to cloak his movements.
He found a back door, tucked away from the main security posts, and slipped inside undetected. The mansion was a maze of ornate corridors, but Zughaib moved with purpose, his steps silent. He quickly made his way to the backstage area, where he crouched behind heavy curtains, waiting for the right moment to strike. The murmur of voices from the dining hall filtered through, and Zughaib carefully pulled out his camera, snapping discreet photos through the crack in the curtains.
There, at the head of the table, sat Cornel Madriv. The man was just as Leandra had described him—charismatic, well-dressed, but with a cold, calculating look in his eyes. He was surrounded by other powerful figures, none of whom were likely aware of just how deep his criminal connections ran. Zughaib continued to take pictures, capturing Madriv in conversation with several notable guests.
Satisfied, he sent the evidence to Leandra via his PDA. The response came quickly—just a single heart icon, nothing more. Zughaib stared at the screen for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. Something about Leandra's lack of detail unsettled him, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He had a job to do.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the dining hall, followed by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. DARKCON forces stormed the room, their dark tactical gear blending into the shadows as they moved with lethal precision. The guests screamed, ducking for cover as security forces scrambled to return fire. The sudden ambush sent the hall into chaos, with Angel Creeks gang members also caught in the crossfire, joining the fight against DARKCON's assault team.
Zughaib ducked behind a pillar, his eyes scanning the room for an escape route. He couldn't afford to get caught in this firefight. As he peeked around the corner, he saw Madriv moving toward an emergency exit at the far end of the hall, his personal guards flanking him as they made a break for it.
The hostages were being evacuated through the main entrance, but Zughaib knew that route would be suicide—the DARKCON operatives had already secured the main hall. He had to find another way out. He scanned the room once more, spotting a ventilation grate high on the wall, just within reach if he could climb onto the nearby table.
Moving quickly, he scaled the table and pried the grate loose, slipping inside the tight space just as a hail of bullets ricocheted off the walls behind him. The vent was cramped and suffocating, but it provided a safe path out of the chaos below.
As he crawled through the ventilation system, the sounds of the firefight grew distant, the gunfire and screams fading to a dull roar. Zughaib reached an opening at the far end of the building, where he saw Cornel Madriv and his guards exiting the mansion and heading for a waiting car.
Zughaib made a mental note of Madriv's direction but didn't engage. He needed to get back to the RV, regroup, and plan his next move. The ambush had thrown everything into disarray, and now DARKCON was clearly onto Madriv as well. This wasn't going to be as simple as tailing a businessman anymore.
---
Zughaib reached the RV, his breath steady despite the chaos he had just escaped. He climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine, and navigated the streets away from Willow Heights. The night was darker now, the shadows longer, and everything seemed to have taken on a more sinister edge.
His PDA buzzed again—another memo from Leandra. This time, the message was longer, more direct.
"The situation has escalated. I need you to take Madriv down as soon as possible. No more surveillance. Find him, and finish this."
Zughaib read the message, his face illuminated by the pale glow of the screen. He felt the familiar weight settle over him. The hunt was on, and this time, there would be no hesitation. He was being pushed deeper into the shadows, but he knew what had to be done.
As the RV sped down the dark, empty roads, the city looming in the distance, Zughaib prepared himself for the hunt. Madriv's time was running out, and now, it was Zughaib's turn to make his move.