Ethan pulled the Range Rover to a halt in the overgrown driveway of the secluded farmhouse. The evening silence of the Venezuelan countryside pressed in around him, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the distant croaking of frogs. He switched off the engine, the sudden quiet amplifying the rhythmic breathing of the unconscious woman in the back seat.
He climbed out, his movements stiff from the adrenaline-fueled drive and the lingering aches from his recent ordeals. He opened the back door and gently lifted the woman, cradling her fragile form in his arms. Her skin was clammy, her breathing shallow, but the bleeding had stopped, and the bio-regenerative bandages were doing their work, knitting together the wounds beneath her torn clothing.
He carried her into the house, navigating the dimly lit hallway with practiced ease. He found a bedroom, its furnishings covered in dust sheets. He then peeled back the sheet, revealing a surprisingly clean mattress where he gently laid her.
"Iris," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "who is she?"
"Her name is Isabella Márquez. She is 25 years old and a school teacher originally from Caracas. She was recently assigned to a teaching post in La Vela." Iris replied.
Ethan frowned. "A teacher? What was she doing in that situation?"
"It appears she became the unfortunate target of unwanted attention from the son of a local gang leader, Sir," Iris explained. "He attempted to court her, but she rejected his advances. This led to her being ostracized by the community and ultimately culminated in the assault you witnessed."
Ethan's jaw tightened. He had seen the fear and desperation in Isabella's eyes, the brutality of the attack. He examined Isabella's injuries, the bruises and cuts a testament to the violence she had endured. He gently cleaned her wounds and applied fresh bandages, ensuring her comfort and safety.
Ethan settled into a chair beside the bed, his gaze lingering on Isabella's peaceful face. "Iris," he said, his voice low, "Give me everything you have on that gang and their leader."
"Immediately, Sir," Iris replied. Her holographic eye swiveled, accessing and processing data from various sources - local news reports, police records, social media chatter, and even the whispers of the dark web.
Within minutes, she had compiled a comprehensive dossier on the Mendoza cartel, a ruthless criminal organization that controlled a significant portion of La Vela's underworld. Their leader, Raul Mendoza, was a notorious figure, known for his brutality, his connections to corrupt officials, and his iron grip on the town.
"Raul Mendoza is a dangerous man, Sir," Iris reported. "He has a reputation for violence and intimidation. He also has a network of informants and enforcers throughout La Vela, making it difficult to operate against him without attracting attention."
"That's not all, Sir," she continued, her voice taking on a more urgent tone. "I've intercepted chatter indicating that Mendoza has mobilized his forces. He's aware of the aftermath of this evening's car chase and is actively searching for you. He seems determined to retaliate for the humiliation you inflicted on his son and his men."
Ethan's expression hardened. He had hoped to avoid a direct confrontation with the gang, but it seemed inevitable now. He couldn't allow them to threaten Gabriela or disrupt his plans for La Vela.
"Iris, locate Mendoza. I'm going to pay him a visit." Ethan ordered, a steely glint in his eyes.
"Tracking his location now, Sir," Iris replied. "He appears to be at his heavily fortified compound on the outskirts of La Vela."
Ethan nodded. He rose from his chair, his gaze lingering on Isabella for a moment. "Rest easy," he whispered. "I'll take care of this."
He stepped out of the farmhouse and into the cool night air. The battered Range Rover sat in the driveway.
Ethan grimaced. "You've served me well, old girl," he said to the Range Rover, "but it's time for an upgrade."
He stored the Range Rover in his inventory and accessed the upgrade options. He began with the repair function, restoring the vehicle to its original condition. Then, he meticulously upgraded each component, enhancing its performance, durability, and security.
He replaced the old engine with a powerful, silent electric motor, capable of reaching incredible speeds while leaving no trace. He reinforced the chassis and body panels with a heavyweight, bulletproof alloy, making it impervious to large arms fire. He upgraded the suspension, adding adaptive dampeners that could handle any terrain with ease. He installed a state-of-the-art security system, complete with biometric locks, anti-theft tracking, and a self-destruct mechanism. And for good measure, he added a concealed compartment for weaponry, just in case.
Satisfied with his work, he materialized the upgraded Range Rover. It stood before him, gleaming under the moonlight, its sleek lines and powerful stance a far cry from its previous dilapidated state. The faded paint had been replaced with a deep, pearlescent black, and the interior was now a luxurious haven of soft leather and advanced technology.
Ethan grinned, impressed. He climbed into the driver's seat, the electric motor humming softly as he turned the key. He pulled away from the farmhouse, the upgraded Range Rover gliding effortlessly over the rough terrain.
"Iris," he said, "I'm ready. Give me the coordinates."
"Mendoza's compound is located 15 kilometers north of here, Sir," Iris reported. "It's a heavily fortified mansion with multiple guards and surveillance systems. I am accessing their security cameras now and will guide you through any blind spots."
Ethan nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Let's go pay Mr. Mendoza a visit."
He navigated the winding roads, the Range Rover's powerful electric motor eating up the miles. Iris's voice guided him, alerting him to upcoming patrols and security checkpoints. He bypassed them with ease, utilizing detours provided by Iris and his own honed instincts.
He reached the outskirts of Mendoza's estate, a sprawling complex hidden behind high walls and guarded gates. He slowed the Range Rover, its silent motor barely disturbing the quiet night.
"I'm approaching the compound, Iris," he whispered. "What's the situation?"
"Mendoza is currently in his study, Sir," Iris reported. "He is meeting with several of his lieutenants and an unknown individual. There are multiple guards patrolling the grounds, and the perimeter is heavily fortified. I recommend a stealth approach, utilizing the natural cover and avoiding direct confrontation where possible."
Ethan nodded, his eyes scanning the terrain. He spotted a dense thicket of trees bordering the estate, offering a potential point of entry.
"I see an opening, Iris," Ethan said. "I'm going in."
He steered the Range Rover off the road, its reinforced tires crunching over the uneven terrain. He reached the treeline and brought the vehicle to a halt, its silent motor barely disturbing the quiet night. He stored the vehicle in his inventory.
"I'll proceed on foot from here, Iris," he said. "Guide me through."
He slipped into the shadows, moving with a practiced stealth that belied his size. The cool night air brushed against his skin as he navigated the dense undergrowth, his senses alert to every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs.
"There's a blind spot in the surveillance system just ahead, Sir," Iris informed him. "A small gap between the infrared sensors and the motion detectors. You can slip through there undetected."
Ethan followed Iris's guidance, his movements precise and fluid. He reached the perimeter fence, its barbed wire glinting ominously in the moonlight. He pulled out the laser cutter from his inventory and snipped a hole in the fence, slipping through with practiced ease.
"Two guards patrolling the eastern perimeter, Sir," Iris reported. "They're approaching your position."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. He melted into the shadows of a large tree, his hand instinctively reaching for the silenced Glock in his shoulder holster.
"They're approximately 30 meters out, Sir," Iris whispered. "Moving in a staggered formation."
Ethan waited, his breath held, his senses focused. He could hear the crunch of their footsteps on the gravel path, their muffled voices carrying through the night.
As they drew closer, Ethan stepped out from behind the tree, his movements swift and silent. He raised the Glock, his aim steady and precise. Two quick shots, muffled by the suppressor, echoed through the stillness. The guards crumpled to the ground, their bodies slumping against the fence, their weapons clattering to the ground.
Ethan moved on, his senses alert for any further threats. He reached the mansion, its imposing façade looming before him. He crept along the walls, his eyes scanning for any vulnerabilities.
"There's a lone guard patrolling the west wing, Sir," Iris informed him. "He's armed with an assault rifle and appears to be on high alert."
Ethan nodded. He spotted a small, open window leading to a utility room. He slipped through the window, his movements fluid and silent. He crept through the darkened room, his senses guiding him towards the guard's position.
He found the guard standing at the end of a hallway, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the grounds outside. Ethan moved closer, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He raised the Glock, his aim unwavering. A single, silenced shot echoed through the hallway. The guard's eyes widened in surprise, his body slumping against the wall, his rifle clattering to the floor.
Ethan continued his silent progress, taking down two more guards with swift precision. He reached the study door, its heavy oak panels muffling the voices within.
He pressed his ear against the door, listening intently.
"Señor Cavill," a gruff voice – Raul Mendoza's – said with surprising deference, "I assure you, the package is safe. It arrived at the port in La Vela de Coro this evening. My men are retrieving it as we speak. You'll have it within the hour."
"See that you do, Mendoza," a smooth, accented voice replied. "This is a matter of utmost importance. My employers will not tolerate any delays or mishaps."
Ethan's interest piqued. A smuggling operation? This was more than just a local gang dispute. He strained to hear more, catching snippets of conversation about a "highly valuable asset" and "discreet delivery" to the Venezuelan capital.
"I understand, Señor Cavill," Mendoza said, his voice almost obsequious. "You have my word. Everything will proceed according to plan."
"I certainly hope so, Mendoza," the mysterious Señor Cavill replied, his voice laced with a chilling undertone. "For your sake."
Mendoza cleared his throat. "Pablo," he barked to one of his lieutenants, "go and oversee the retrieval personally. I want that package delivered to Señor Cavill without any complications."
The lieutenant nodded and moved towards the door. Ethan tensed, his Glock held firmly in his grip. As the door swung open, he reacted instantly, stepping into the room and delivering a swift blow to the lieutenant's temple. The man crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He raised his Glock, aiming it at the startled occupants of the room. Mendoza and his remaining lieutenant stared at him, their eyes wide with shock. Señor Cavill, still shrouded in shadows, remained seated, his expression unreadable.
"Gentlemen," Ethan said, his voice a low growl, "I believe we have some unfinished business."