The hum of the RV's engine was the only sound keeping Zughaib grounded as he drove through the narrow streets, his eyes sharp on the road ahead. The events of the last few days swirled in his mind, but right now, he had one focus: Cornel Madriv. Leandra's latest order was clear. Madriv had to be taken out, and Zughaib was running out of time.
The target car, an armored SUV, was still in sight, making its way through the outskirts of the city with a small convoy of protective vehicles flanking it. Zughaib kept a careful distance, far enough to avoid drawing attention but close enough to watch as the escort vehicles maneuvered through traffic. His thoughts, however, kept drifting back to Leandra.
How did she know the situation had escalated so quickly? Zughaib hadn't even reported the ambush at the luxury dinner yet, and yet Leandra had somehow known the exact details. The whole thing felt... off. She was always steps ahead, but this time, it felt like more than just foresight. It was as if she was connected to something bigger, something more dangerous than even he realized.
The convoy moved swiftly through the winding roads, and Zughaib noticed something unusual. A pair of DARKCON wagons had appeared, stealthy but unmistakable, weaving through traffic to close in on the target car. A gunfight seemed inevitable, and Zughaib felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He knew better than to get involved in these firefights—his role was to watch and wait. That had always been his advantage.
The DARKCON wagons sped up, and in a sudden burst of chaos, the SUV convoy protecting Madriv's vehicle broke into action. Gunfire erupted, the sharp crack of bullets piercing the air as the SUVs returned fire, their protective formation tightening. Zughaib kept a safe distance, his eyes darting between the speeding vehicles. Then, with a deafening explosion, one of the DARKCON wagons burst into flames, sending shards of metal and fire into the early night sky.
"What the hell?" Zughaib muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tightly as he watched the scene unfold. The remaining DARKCON wagon swerved to avoid the debris and quickly veered off, abandoning the pursuit. Zughaib squinted, his mind racing. Something wasn't right. Why did DARKCON retreat after losing just one wagon? Their reputation was for relentless pursuit, especially when it came to high-value targets like Madriv.
The target SUV was now alone on the road, the convoy scattered and in disarray. Zughaib tailed them cautiously, wondering what had caused such an abrupt end to the chase. But then, just as he was beginning to piece it together, a pair of sleek,violet Euro sports cars appeared out of nowhere, skidding to a sudden stop in front of the target car.
Zughaib's eyes widened as the shootout began. The SUV's guards opened fire, but the precision and speed of the attackers were unlike anything he had seen before. Within seconds, one of the SUVs exploded, the force of the blast shaking the ground as flames engulfed the vehicle. The violet cars moved with mechanical precision, cornering the target car with ease.
A group of women, dressed in matching violet outfits, emerged from the cars. Their movements were swift and efficient, no wasted motion as they approached the target car. Cornel Madriv was dragged from the backseat, his shouts muffled as they threw him into one of the sports cars. The whole thing lasted less than a minute.
Zughaib exhaled a long, steady breath as he watched the women drive off with Madriv in tow. He didn't intervene. It wasn't part of the job, and besides, whatever was happening, it was far beyond his pay grade. He wondered briefly who the women were. They moved like trained mercenaries, but their appearance, those violet outfits—it felt strange. But he didn't have time to dwell on it.
His PDA buzzed again, pulling him from his thoughts. This time, the message wasn't from Leandra. It was from Orwen.
"Meet me at Painsbury. Now."
Zughaib sighed, leaning back in his seat. Of course, Orwen would show up when things were already spiraling out of control. With a grim expression, he turned the RV around and headed toward **Painsbury Heights**, the unease in his gut growing stronger with every mile.
---
Painsbury Heights was quiet as ever when Zughaib arrived. The eerie stillness of the area always unsettled him. As he pulled into the lot, something caught his attention in the rearview mirror—three black BIF cruisers, their lights off but unmistakable in their silent, predatory formation. Zughaib parked the RV and stepped out cautiously, his instincts telling him something wasn't right.
The moment his boots hit the ground, the *
suitmen from the cruisers moved into position, flanking him on all sides, their hands hovering near their holstered weapons. In front of him, Orwen stepped out of one of the cruisers, a thin smile on his lips. He approached Zughaib casually, like an old friend meeting for a chat, but there was something off in his posture, something dangerous.
"Zughaib," Orwen greeted him, his voice light and almost jovial. "It's been a while, hasn't it? How's the... freelance life treating you?"
Zughaib remained silent, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He knew Orwen well enough to sense when things were about to go south. Orwen wasn't here for a chat.
Orwen chuckled softly, circling Zughaib like a predator. "You've been busy, haven't you? you've managed to get yourself tangled up in quite the mess."
Zughaib said nothing, his muscles tense, waiting for the inevitable.
"You see, after doing some research through criminal documents, your photographs at the mall and forensics... I've discovered that... Rex was responsible for everything that happened... huh... he was in your platoon, right Zughaib. I've felt such connections ever since I brought you intk my operation... but it seems like you and Rex aren't that close... that's good... that's explicit." Orwen continued, his tone growing sharper, "But there's one little problem. Your PDA." He pulled out his PDA from his jacket pocket, dangling it in front of Zughaib's face. "It's full of messages. Some of them very... sketchy, shall we say. You do realise I did not just give you some hightech BIF processed PDA for free, right?"
Zughaib's jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. Orwen smirked, his eyes glinting with malice.
"You've been running around, taking orders from anyone without so much as a second thought. But you've got no idea what you've really stepped into, do you?" Orwen's voice lowered, his hand sliding to the pistol holstered at his side. "I can't have you screwing this up any more than you already have."
Zughaib's eyes flicked to the gun. He knew Orwen was about to make his move. His mind raced, searching for a way out. But before Orwen could pull the trigger, the sound of screeching tires filled the air.
A sports hatchback—one of the Angel Creek gang's signature vehicles—came roaring into the lot, skidding to a halt. The doors flew open, and gunfire erupted as the Angel Creek gang members opened fire on the BIF agents.
Orwen ducked behind a nearby cruiser, shouting orders as his men returned fire. Zughaib took advantage of the chaos, darting toward the nearest alleyway, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't waste any time looking back—he knew better than to stay in a firefight he couldn't control.
The alley was narrow, lined with dumpsters and broken crates. Zughaib's feet pounded against the pavement as he sprinted away from the gunfight. Bullets ricocheted off the brick walls behind him, but he didn't slow down. His mind was already racing through his next steps. He needed to get out of Painsbury, regroup, and figure out who was pulling the strings behind all this.
He darted down a side street, finally coming to a stop behind an old warehouse. His breath came in ragged gasps as he pressed his back against the wall, his gun still clutched tightly in his hand. He could hear the distant sounds of gunfire still echoing from the lot, but for now, he was safe.
---
As Zughaib caught his breath, he pulled out his PDA, his fingers trembling slightly as he dialed a familiar number. After a few rings, the line clicked, and Leandra's voice came through, calm and unbothered as always.
"Zughaib," she said, her tone soft but knowing. "I trust you've handled things?"
Zughaib gritted his teeth. There was a brief pause, and then Leandra's voice came through, cold and calculating. "I suppose you've disappointed me, Zughaib. Perhaps you never get to Madriv and decided to play out as a spectator... huh?"
Leandra's soft chuckle was all the confirmation he needed. "You've broken the code, Zughaib. Your penalty will be obligeda"
The line went dead, leaving Zughaib standing alone in the dark alley, his mind spinning with unanswered questions and a growing sense of dread. He pocketed the PDA, his eyes narrowing as he made his way back to the RV. The hunt was far from over, and now, more than ever, he needed to stay ahead of the game.
But one thing was certain: he couldn't trust anyone. Not Orwen. Not Leandra. No one.