23:00
Block 17C Linerow Complex
Southwestern Slums of Bales City
The radio buzzed to life.
"All units in position. Eyes on the apartment complex."
The operator's voice was crisp and professional, echoing through the communications channel in the convoy.
"Visual confirmation on the guards. At least a dozen on perimeter. Weapons visible."
"Confirming police presence, two patrol cars arriving at the west end. Contact within command confirmed. They'll keep their distance for now."
"All teams, this is Phantom One. You are green. Initiate breach."
The wind was rough tonight in the slums. The streetlights flickered like they didn't want to be here, same as everyone else.
Four black vans rolled to a stop across from a crumbling apartment complex that reeked of stale smoke and chemical rot.
A towering brick wall lined with barbed wire fenced in the perimeter, cracked windows glowing dim orange from inside. A thin trail of smoke was already leaking out the second-floor vents.
Three squads of men in dark gear spilled out from the vans. No words, just swift movement, like they'd done this before. Because they had.
"Alpha team, breach south gate. Bravo, position rear. Charlie, hold perimeter for extraction."
With a soft metallic clink, the teams hooked chains to the corroded iron gate and yanked it open with a vehicle pull.
Three guards loitering near the corner barely had time to blink.
Phffft. Phffft.
Silenced shots. All three dropped before the fourth could even stand up from the crate he was sitting on.
"Perimeter clear. Alpha, proceed to first floor. Watch for stairwell ambush."
Inside, it was worse. Cracked walls smeared with graffiti. Broken tiles. A hallway full of flickering overhead lights that made everything feel like a horror flick.
And then there was the stench.
A chemical soup of cooking drugs, blood, mold, and sweat. The deeper the teams pushed, the stronger it got.
Voices on the radio continued to sound. "Bravo in. Rear stairwell compromised. Two injuries, non-fatal. We're rerouting through the side hall."
"Copy. Move fast. We've got heat from second floor, expect heavy resistance."
BANG.
A flashbang lit up the hallway ahead. Then came the yelling. Gunfire. Glass shattering. Screams echoes through the whole complex, awakening everyone.
Then another explosion. From upstairs, a fire burst out the stairwell.
BOOM!
The blast echoed through the entire complex.
Now is the time for the real war. Because everybody is aware.
…..
Inside a car, far removed from the chaos, Nova leaned back in the passenger seat, one leg crossed over the other. The city lights smeared like paint across the tinted windows as they cruised down the roads of the city.
Vincent was behind the wheel, his hands casually resting in the steering wheel.
BOOM!
"Report! What was that explosion?"
The operator's voice continued, relayed from the hidden earpiece both men wore.
Nova glanced sideways, pulling his coat tighter. "Sounds lively," he muttered.
Vincent didn't respond. His eyes were fixated on the road.
"Requesting teams to put out the fire, we need evidence."
Static crackled.
Nova smirked. "Ah, our friends in blue going to play their part."
A loud crash sounded over the radio, followed by the thundering echo of boots, barking orders, and scuffles.
"Target subdued. Chemist is alive. Repeat, chemist is alive."
The second floor groaned under the weight of the chaos. Broken furniture. Scrapped metal. A makeshift pill press half-melted from the heat.
It was a den built to be forgotten. It was about to be burned out of existence.
"Law enforcement alert: one unmarked police vehicle circling the next block. Officer Harren's signal confirmed. No interference expected."
Silence in the car.
Vincent turned the wheel smoothly, making a turn away from the city edge.
"We've located documents and shipment logs, pulling files now. Suspects trying to burn them. Fire starting in east hallway."
"Copy that. Alert Command Unit Alpha. They'll handle cleanup."
"Perimeter secure. First and second floors are under control."
Vincent's gaze stayed forward. His voice went through the comms.
"Good. Let it play out. Maintain control. Don't chase ghosts."
The line paused.
Commander Andreno Montagua, Sophia's father, finally came through the main line, voice composed and grounded.
"Understood. Operation continues. We'll sweep the rest of the blocks. Pulling every rat out of the sewers."
The transmission continued, filling the luxury vehicle with voices of gunfire and chaos.
Outside the windows, there was no trace of the slums. No burning buildings. No echoing footsteps. Just silence. A narrow road, lit only by-passing streetlights.
Nova sat in the passenger seat, elbows resting on the console, eyes focused forward.
Vincent, behind the wheel, remained composed. One hand on the wheel. The other resting loosely over the volume dial of the in-car comms system.
Neither of them had moved.
"Sounds like it's going well," Nova muttered, almost bored.
Vincent didn't smile. "It's supposed to. We won't expect nothing more."
The raid continued to echo through the communications. Screams, orders, heavy boots stomping through rusted corridors.
Nova yawning so carelessly tilted his head slightly, glancing at his uncle.
"…Are we there yet? "
Vincent's lips curved faintly, just barely but he hid it so fast.
"No," he said. "And stop acting like a child, you've asked that a couple of times now."
Nova closed the tablet and glanced at Vincent. "So… all eyes on the fire, while we take the match away."
Vincent took a glance at Nova. His face covered by moving shades but his eyes were sharp.
"No. We're going to burn the hand that struck the match."
The car drove on, away from the flashing lights and sirens, headed deeper into the outskirts toward a different kind of battle.