The news hit like a nuclear bomb.
The Clown Organization has stolen the CIA's agent archives and is blackmailing the agency.
Unlike their previous chaos—kidnapping cities and blackmailing governments—this was bolder, riskier, and infinitely more devastating. They weren't just embarrassing a country—they had torn out the very heart of the world's largest intelligence agency.
If the agent database was truly compromised, it would mean the complete collapse of the CIA's covert operations—a fatal blow to any espionage network. Once that backbone is gone, a nation loses its shadowy eyes and ears.
And now, that network was under the control of a digital phantom in a clown mask.
Global Reaction
The implications set off alarm bells worldwide. Rival intelligence agencies received the news with a mix of unease and satisfaction.
"I don't trust our intel services, but I'll salute the Clown."
"Karma. The CIA spies on the world, and now they're paying the price."
"This mad clown… I love him! The U.S. thinks it's number one. This is a reality check."
Some even suggested their governments buy the intel from the Clown Organization outright.
On American forums, it was grief, fury, and disbelief. But in corners of the world less friendly to the U.S., there was celebration. The CIA's pain was a public spectacle.
Beneath the surface, cybersecurity fears began to boil. If the Clown Organization had done this once—now even more recklessly than before—what would stop them from going further?
This wasn't just cyberwarfare.
This was open provocation.
Inside Marching Ant Company, Building 1
In the quiet hum of the lab, the ink girl interrupted Chen Mo's thoughts.
"Mer brother, someone just posted on the dark web—five buyers are offering to purchase the full CIA agent archives."
Chen Mo's eyes narrowed. "The dark web?"
This was the digital underworld—an online black market of trafficking, weapons, exploits, and stolen data. Here, anonymity was everything, and betrayal was currency.
"Can you trace their location?" Chen Mo asked.
"Yes. Not easy, but not impossible for me," the ink girl replied casually. "So far, five active accounts: New York, Osaka, Moscow, Donghai, and Tehran. Identities unknown."
Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. "That many already?"
But it wasn't surprising.
With that kind of intelligence up for sale, every nation with a bone to pick with the U.S.—or even allies with curiosity—would want a copy. Buying the CIA's agent list meant dismantling the network they spent decades building, at a fraction of the cost.
"Hold off," Chen Mo said. "For now, just monitor their traffic and keep an eye on the CIA's response. I want to see them sweat."
CIA Headquarters – Late Night
Though it was long past midnight, the CIA's main office remained ablaze with light. Inside Director Linna's office, chaos had broken the dam.
"Damn it—DAMN that goddamned clown!"
Linna slammed a folder against her computer screen. Her once-pristine hair was wild, her face contorted in rage and madness.
They now knew the files had been accessed. And with the ransom message spreading globally—and whispers from the dark web—she could no longer pretend it hadn't happened.
Even if they paid the ransom, there was no guarantee the clown wouldn't still leak or sell the data. The network they spent decades building was disintegrating before her eyes.
In her twenty-plus years as a field agent, Linna had been the definition of control—calm, calculating, lethal. But the Clown Organization had shattered her pride.
Even worse, the President had just contacted her personally—to scold her. She, the ice queen of the CIA, was now being treated like a failure.
If the hacker had been in the room, she would've pulled the trigger herself.
A timid knock broke through the storm.
An assistant stepped in, flinching at the wreckage.
"What? Did we catch them?" Linna barked.
"No, ma'am. The war room meeting is ready…"
"Get out!" she growled, voice like ice.
The assistant fled. Only when outside did he realize his back was soaked in cold sweat.
Two minutes later, Linna emerged. Her appearance was composed, her clothes neat again—but the fire in her eyes burned cold and deadly.
"Let's go," she said.
CIA War Room
The conference room was mostly empty—just two or three senior officers physically present, the rest joining via holographic projection. Each face was tense, eyes locked on Linna as she entered.
These were the leaders of the CIA's global divisions. And now they were under siege.
"Any news from the Clown Organization?" Linna asked, voice sharp.
"We tracked the IPs they used to send the ransom," one man replied. "All spoofed. Belong to regular civilians. They piggybacked on unsecured systems."
Everyone else nodded grimly.
"Clever rats…" Linna muttered. "Any suggestions?"
"We don't know if the data's really been taken," one officer said. "Could be a bluff to extort money."
"Our engineers confirmed files were accessed—some copied," Linna snapped. "We're still auditing how much."
A storm of curses erupted.
"Goddamn it!"
"F***ing hell."
"How did we let this happen?"
One officer growled: "Do we pay the ransom?"
"Absolutely not!" Linna roared. "We do not negotiate with terrorists. Even if we pay, we can't guarantee they won't sell it anyway. Once it's copied, it's out forever."
"And if we don't pay, they'll leak it. Our agents will be exposed. You'll get us all killed!"
Linna slammed the table. "Don't put that on me! Blame the tech department if you want scapegoats. Their firewall was supposed to stop this!"
"And what's your plan then?! Let the CIA burn while you cover your ass?" a field commander snapped back.
The agents in the room were boiling. Many of them had lives on the line—identities to protect. Now they were all under a guillotine, waiting to see if the rope would snap.
Linna took a deep breath.
"We don't give in. Start withdrawal operations immediately. Main agents go dark—those who rely on direct contact and aren't in the files must take over. Cut losses, hide what we can, and rebuild later."
Then—
BANG!
The doors burst open. A pale-faced assistant stumbled in, panicked and trembling.
"You better have a reason for this, or you won't live to regret it," Linna growled.
"T-T-Twitter… The Clown Organization… posted a list…"
The assistant held out a tablet, hands shaking.
Linna grabbed it, eyes scanning rapidly.
A partial list of CIA operatives—names, aliases, locations.
She trembled. Her eyes widened. Her hand clenched the tablet so tightly it cracked.
"That bastard… that monster…!!"
She let out a strangled scream, hurling the device, then suddenly coughed violently—blood splattered across the table.
And then, she collapsed.
Eyes rolled back, Linna slumped to the floor as chaos erupted in the war room.