The wind howled against the peaks of the Carpathians, but inside the safehouse, the silence was heavier than the storm. Nam sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, eyes fixed on the laptop screen where layers of encrypted data began to unravel, one horrifying truth at a time.
Alina placed a steaming mug of coffee beside him, her voice tight. "This is bigger than I thought."
"It's not just a protocol," Nam muttered. "It's a blueprint for global control—economics, politics, even thought."
He clicked open a series of names linked to Project Siren. Politicians. CEOs. Military leaders. A shadow network stretching across continents. And at the center: a name neither of them expected.
Dr. Lucien Kaas.
Alina froze. "He's supposed to be dead. Berlin, two years ago."
Nam shook his head. "That was a decoy. The man faked his death and went underground. And now... he's building something called the Black Veil."
The screen glitched momentarily as the data reconstructed—a visual schematic of satellite nodes, each armed with real-time neural frequency modulators. If Siren was surveillance, Black Veil was domination.
"Mind control?" Alina whispered.
"Behavior influence at scale," Nam said. "Think riots sparked in minutes. Leaders turned into puppets. Populations conditioned without knowing it."
Alina stepped back. "This isn't just a mission anymore. This is war."
Nam unplugged the drive, tucked it into a lead-lined pouch, and stood. "Then we'll fight it like one."
Twelve Hours Later – Vienna
A secret council met in the basement of an abandoned opera house. Twelve figures. Twelve agendas. But tonight, their fates aligned.
"The hard drive exists," said one.
"And the agent?" asked another.
"Still breathing," came the grim reply. "But not for long."
Outside, a sniper adjusted his scope. Inside, Nam Ford and Alina watched from the shadows—listening, waiting.
The next move wouldn't be a heist.
It would be an uprising.