Billions of stars glittered as if they were crumbs of hope; the shooting stars floating among them seemed to whisper wishes that fell into the depths of this endless darkness. The brilliant shades of blue seemed to sprinkle the firmament with a magic dust, washing and purifying the soul with every breath.
The mountains stood tall as if proving that they had been here for thousands of years. Their peaks were sharp and proud as they reached for the sky, as if reaching for the stars. Beneath them, the pine forests, shrouded in darkness, moved as if breathing deeply; the glow among the branches whispered that dim fireflies were performing a nightly ritual. There was a strange peace in this silence.
The first rays of the day met the cold, angular architecture of Ankara, once known for its historic fabric, now renovated. Ahmet glanced briefly at the gray clouds in the sky as he walked out of the embassy's high-security gate. He clutched his briefcase tightly in his hands and bowed his head thoughtfully. The stern expression on his face was the result of the stress of the last few days and the sleepless nights.
He looked at the military jeep parked in front of the embassy, at the carefully selected driver and the armed guard team, and glanced around before opening the door. The stillness of the soldiers in the watchtowers combined with the surrounding silence to make the atmosphere even more oppressive. After opening the door of the Jeep, he cuffed the bag to his arm and sat in the back seat.
"We're going to the governorship," he told the driver, his voice low but determined. When the vehicle started moving, Ahmet leaned his left arm against the door and looked out the window.
The new order established by the United World Government after the "Great Offensive" seemed to unite humanity on paper, but deep down, whispers of corruption and power struggles were everywhere. The document in Ahmet's hands clearly showed the corrupt face of this system. It revealed that the Vice Governor of Ankara, once a man known for his ideals, was involved in crimes such as illegal arms trafficking and smuggling people to Paradise.
"To think that such a patriotic man was involved in such dirty business..." he muttered to himself. The contents of this file were enough to unmask not only the deputy governor, but many others. Therefore, getting the documents to the governor was a vital matter for Ankara.
As the jeep drove along the city's newly built wide boulevards, Ahmet wanted to check the file in his briefcase again, but stopped himself. Everything was in its place, he was sure of it. Yet there was an uneasiness inside him. No matter how meticulously the mission was planned, secrecy was the most fragile part of such a job.
But then another thought clouded his mind: If someone in such a high position was dirty, would he know who was with him on this mission?
The driver took a quick glance in the rearview mirror, as if sensing Ahmet's anxiety.
"Be assured that we will evacuate you safely if there are any problems, Sir," he said in a calm voice.
Ahmet nodded and smiled slightly. "Thank you, Lieutenant. But if our mission is interrupted, we won't have a chance to evacuate."
As the car drove towards Ankara's newly constructed governor's office, Ahmet had only one thing on his mind: These hands had to reach the right hands. Betrayal and corruption had become the most dangerous enemy of the new world. And he would not hesitate to risk his life to change it.
The driver was focused on the road, not daring to say a single word to disturb the tense atmosphere inside the vehicle. Ahmet, on the other hand, was holding the bag tightly in his hand, imagining in his mind the moment when the documents would safely reach the governor.
As they crossed the Gökdoğan Bridge, the first thing to break the silence was the sound of a metallic crash. Ahmet did not fully understand the sound when he heard it, but the powerful impact on the right side of the vehicle was strong enough to jolt him out of his seat. The Jeep spun out of control and skidded towards the barriers at the edge of the bridge.
"Ambush!" the driver shouted as he tried to recover the steering wheel.
Ahmet immediately crouched down on the seat and clutched his bag to his chest. Only a few seconds later, gunshots rang out across the bridge. Before the policemen in the cars guarding him had a chance to react, they had been riddled with Shading Bullets.
The driver struggled to control the steering wheel while making short radio calls for backup.
"Code Red! Code Red! Attack on the embassy vehicle! Location: Gökdoğan Bridge! Send reinforcements!"
BOOM!
The driver had just finished his sentence when a blow to the side of the car sent it over the railing and into a space lined with jagged stones.
"Fuck!" said Ahmet, his eyes taking a vertical form like a cat's eyes while the car was in the air. He jumped down from the vehicle, the door of which he had opened.
With superhuman agility, he kicked the car door and managed to land safely on the branch of a pine tree under the bridge. Unfortunately, the lieutenant who was driving was not as lucky. Immediately after the jeep hit the sharp stones, it exploded with a huge thud.
Ahmed was not too worried about the driver. A Lieutenant-level Overhuman would not have suffered much damage from this explosion. Unless, of course, a Shading Bullet had penetrated his body. Other than that, this explosion wouldn't have been a problem.
"I don't seem to have time to worry about him..."
Ahmet looked up at the man in the owl mask standing on the railing of the bridge. The details of the owl mask revealed his identity. He was the Nighthawk, the mercenary that even a Military Attaché like Ahmet had heard rumors about.
Nighthawk moved with superhuman speed. As soon as his feet touched the iron railing, he slid like a shadow and lunged to Ahmet's right. His curved machete whipped through the air with a sharp whistle. Ahmet ducked to avoid the attack with his shield reflexes, but Nighthawk's movement continued; his machete swerved to the left in a second arc and landed like a sledgehammer on Ahmet's shoulder.
BOOM!
Ahmet was unable to react in time and flew like a blind bullet towards the jagged rocks. Fortunately, at the last moment he swung his legs to stabilize himself in mid-air and landed on the sharp rocks without being fatally hit.
Still, the Nighthawk did not give him a chance to catch his breath. As soon as he landed, Ahmet had to meet a second attack to the face. With his bayonet, he stopped the Nighthawk's machete.
"What do you want?!"
Nighthawk ignored Ahmet's roar. He attacked with a hand resembling a crow's claw and with a few thrusts he knocked Ahmet off balance. Even Ahmet, an experienced soldier when it came to close combat, was no match for these agile and deadly moves.
Ahmet fell to the ground.
He tried to get up but a kick to the chest nailed him to the ground.
"Stop, please!"
As Ahmet writhed on the ground, screaming in agony, Nighthawk's machete glinted in the sunlight. He swung his machete with subtle, near-perfect precision. The steel cut cleanly through Ahmet's wrist holding the bag.
"AHHHHHHH!"
Ahmet groaned with eyes full of hatred. The bag fell from his hand and landed in Nighthawk's hand. Nighthawk's eyes did not flicker for a moment. Instead of watching his opponent writhe in pain, he raised his machete to swing it again. But for some reason he paused.
"I will not kill you."
Nighthawk turned his machete over and sheathed it. Then he took the bag and Ahmet's severed hand and walked away. All that remained were the red stains and curses that stained the sharp rocks beneath the bridge.
Late afternoon, Ankara Province, Shantytown.
It was getting dark. One of the old one-story houses in the city looked no different from the others. Faded yellow walls, time-worn balcony bars and a few tiles hanging from the roof... But the inside was much more organized than the outside. Secrets unknown to many in the city were kept in this modest house.
Yakup struggled to get his little daughter Leyla, who had just turned one year old, to sleep. Leyla seemed to have been born in response to this harsh world. With her soft wheat skin and chubby cheeks, the one-year-old girl had a smile that would warm anyone who saw her. Her eyelashes were long and slightly curled, making her large, bright blue eyes even more innocent and awe-inspiring. Her hair was thin, slightly wavy and a soft shade of brown, gathered in a tiny bow on top of her head. With her two tiny dimples that appeared when she smiled and her milk tooth that was just emerging, she looked so sweet that she could make you forget all the troubles of the world. She was wearing a pastel-toned jumpsuit with a pattern of tiny teddy bears.
Yakup left the room with silent steps. He went to the small living room at the end of the hall. The floor was wooden and the old rug on it muffled the footsteps. The pale yellow light of the table lamp spread around without disturbing the dim atmosphere of the room.
With a gentle knock on the door, Yakup's gaze shifted from the lamp to the door for a moment. The person he was waiting for had finally arrived. He took a calm breath and headed for the door. When he turned the lock, the figure emerging from the dark alley was familiar.
Nighthawk was waiting silently at the doorstep. Except for a long, dark bag in his hand, his silhouette seemed completely integrated with the darkness. The weak light obscured his facial features. But Yakup could sense its presence.
"Come in," Yakup said in a low voice, opening the door a little wider. Leyla in his arms welcomed the newcomer with her tiny hands outstretched.
Nighthawk bowed his head slightly and crossed the threshold. Yakup closed the door softly and put the lock in place. The warm air inside the house was very different from the cold on the street. Nighthawk quietly went into the living room. He carefully put the bag on the table and waited in a corner.
"Would you like a drink?"
"No."
"I understand, I'll come back after I put Leyla to bed."
Yakup walked towards the bed set up in a corner of the small room that had not changed for years. He put his daughter on the bed with great care and watched her for a while. Leyla had fallen asleep peacefully with her arms spread wide. No matter how complicated and cruel the world was, he would protect his daughter from all these evils.
He quietly walked into the living room and sat down next to the table. After unlocking the magnetic lock of the bag, he raised his eyebrows. He took out several neatly crafted glass capsules and a file. Before opening the file and examining it, he poured orange juice into glasses on the table. He handed one glass to Nighthawk. Although Nighthawk refused, Yakup placed the orange juice on the table.
"It will take a long time," he said, looking at Nighthawk. "It would be good for both of us if you sat down. A mercenary with blood on his hands staring at me in the corner of the room makes me nervous."
After a few minutes of studying the files, he frowned and took a sip of the orange juice on the table.
"I didn't think they would go this far."
Nighthawk was silent for a while.
"Everything you need is written there. Delivered in full."
Unable to take it any longer, he sat down in one of the chairs at the table and finished his orange juice in one gulp.
"I want you to deposit the agreed amount into the usual account. This time I oppose the United World Government." He poured himself another glass of orange juice from the jug. "Our business last month caused me a lot of trouble. I don't want to make too many enemies. I've been doing business with the Vice Governor since Akdoğan Gate and believe me, if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead already. You're alive because of me. But everything we do together reflects badly on me."
After finishing his orange juice once more, he stood up and said in a cold voice.
"That was the last time we worked together."
Nighthawk stood tall in the center of the room in the pale moonlight filtering through the window. His usual cool composure and dangerous air exerted an almost palpable pressure. Its predatory gaze was fixed on Yakup; in that moment, the invisible difference between a predator and its prey was evident.
Yakup nodded and closed the documents. He carefully placed the metal capsules in the bag. After locking the bag, he turned back to Nighthawk.
"Alright."
Nighthawk involuntarily tensed when he saw Yakup's ease. When he saw Yakup's hands go under the table, he reached for his machete.
"What is this?"
Nighthawk couldn't help smiling when he saw the ShadowTech Specter-9 pistol that Yakup pulled out from under the table.
"Really?"
ShadowTech was one of the weapons giants that emerged after the 'Great Offensive'. It was a weapons manufacturer based in the Rome Province, backed by the United World Government. Although they invented many Hunter Weapons with an aetheric gunpowder, the Specter-9 was not one of them.
The Specter-9 was a gunpowder weapon for law enforcement. It couldn't even make a dent in the skin of a Hunter like Nighthawk.
"You think guns will keep you safe, empty cans..."
Nighthawk took a slight step forward.
Yakup was smiling.
Nighthawk's brow furrowed; he had sensed something unexpected was going on, but it was too late to act. Suddenly the veins on his wrist darkened slightly and he felt a chill spreading through his heart. He gasped and had to lean against the table as the strength left his body.
"What have you done to me?!" hissed Nighthawk, struggling to stand because he could not feel his body.
Yakup got up from the other side of the table and moved towards her with heavy steps. As the sound of his footsteps echoed across the board, the cold smile on his face became clear.
"Peoples should not turn against their leaders."
He took a silencer from his pocket and placed it on the barrel of the Specter-9. As he put the silencer on, he stared with icy eyes at Nighthawk, who had slipped off the table.
"There is no way we can fight normally against those of you who can freely enjoy the fruits of Paradise. Of course, you too, despite your limitless strength, have a great weakness: arrogance. Are you still arrogant?"
Nighthawk lay on his back on the ground, desperately trying to reach for the gun with his hands, using all his strength to change the direction of its barrel.
Yakup looked at Nighthawk's emotionless mask and smiled.
"That's what I thought."