Vienna – A Snowy Courtyard, Midnight.
No footprints. No cameras. Just stillness.
A man in white stood at the center.
Tall. No voice. No visible weapon.
They called him the Pale Hand —
A cleaner for the Round.
No name in any database. No fingerprints. No blood pressure. Just silence and results.
He picked up a photo from the snow.
Dave Reign.
Burned at the edges.
Next target.
Paris – 2 Days Later.
Dave moved through the Musée d'Orsay like a ghost.
Disguised. Calm.
He wasn't there for art.
He was there for a meeting — one that wasn't on any calendar.
Thin Ice and Tessa watched from separate locations.
A tech broker from the Balkans had agreed to meet.
She claimed she had a full list of Round safe houses in Europe.
But what arrived?
Not her.
A burner phone in a purse, left on the café table.
It rang once.
Dave answered.
"This is the Pale Hand."
"I don't speak twice."
"You have one week."
"If you're still breathing by then, it means I failed."
The line cut.
Framework Safehouse – That Night.
Thin Ice paced. Jamzy was sharpening a blade silently.
Tessa sat with a laptop. Eyes locked.
Dave stood by the window.
"So now they've sent their ghost."
"A real one."
Tessa looked up.
"This Pale Hand... he's not just a killer."
"He's a message."
"They're saying: you're not untouchable anymore."
Dave smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Then we turn the mirror."
"Let them feel that same fear."
Later – Underground Terminal, Paris.
Dave met with a French contact known only as Malik — ex-intel, now a data thief.
Malik handed him a tablet.
"Round's been moving their digital assets through a shell corporation in Luxembourg."
"But here's what's crazy… their files mention something called "Project Anchor.""
Dave frowned.
"What is it?"
Malik shrugged.
"Don't know. But it's locked tighter than nuclear launch codes."
"Whatever it is… they're scared you'll find it."
Back in Casablanca – Framework Nerve Hub.
Tessa sat alone, tracing files.
She paused.
There was something wrong with one of the dossiers Malik sent.
A name. Hidden in the metadata.
A woman.
Connected to Project Anchor.
And to… her.
Her hands shook.
"Dave doesn't know about this."
"Not yet."
Berlin – 3:19 a.m.
A tech broker. Female. 29. Known as "ShadowGlass."
She was one of Dave's deep contacts — barely two degrees away from the Round's encrypted backbone.
She'd agreed to leak Project Anchor's inner files.
She never made it to the handoff.
The police found her body inside an abandoned train station.
No signs of struggle. No cameras triggered. Just one detail:
A white glove nailed to the wall beside her head.
Fingers spread open like a hand raised in silence.
The Pale Hand had struck.
Casablanca – Framework Nerve Hub.
Thin Ice stormed in with the report.
"They're not warning anymore."
"They're cleaning. Quietly."
Dave took the tablet. Scanned the report.
Paused.
"No forced entry. No noise."
"Cameras glitched for 37 seconds."
"Same length of silence as the tape from Vienna."
He looked up.
"That's his window."
Tessa stepped in behind him.
She hadn't said much all day.
Not since she found that hidden name.
Dave noticed.
"You alright?"
She nodded too quickly. Eyes distant.
"Yeah. Just tired."
"Too many ghosts in the system."
Later – Rooftop of the Safehouse.
Dave sat alone.
Jamzy lit a cigarette nearby but didn't speak.
Then Dave asked:
"What if this Pale Hand is more than a threat?"
"What if he's a decoy?"
Jamzy frowned.
"For what?"
"Something worse."
Meanwhile – Tessa's Secret Move.
She encrypted the name. The one hidden in the Anchor file.
Searched private frameworks. Backdoor databases. Old intel Dave didn't even have access to.
Then—
A match.
Her mother.
A woman long thought dead.
Disappeared during a military experiment 15 years ago.
Codename: Anchor One.
Tessa's voice cracked in the silence.
"You lied to me…"
"You knew this was personal."
And for the first time in the story…
She didn't tell Dave what she'd found.
Casablanca – Framework War Room.
Dave drew a red circle on the digital map.
Marseille.
A city with no Framework footprint.
Neutral ground. No loyalties. Just streets.
"We leak intel saying I'll be there — solo."
Thin Ice raised a brow.
"You're using yourself as bait?"
"You think he'll come?"
Dave didn't look up.
"He's already coming."
Jamzy loaded a pistol, then slid it across the table.
"That won't help. Not with this one."
Dave nodded.
"I know."
"But I'm not trying to kill him."
"I want to see him."
Later – Marseille, 2:00 a.m.
The port was nearly empty.
Cold wind. Cracked pavement. The kind of night that holds breath before something breaks.
Dave waited alone on the edge of the docks.
No security.
No earpiece.
Just him.
Then…
Footsteps.
Calm. Barely audible.
The Pale Hand stepped into view.
No mask.
Just… emptiness in the face.
He spoke only once.
"You're not afraid to die."
Dave replied:
"That's your mistake."
"I'm not afraid to live long enough to burn everything you stand for."
There was silence.
Then the Pale Hand reached into his coat.
Not for a gun.
For a USB stick.
He tossed it to Dave.
"You have three days."
"After that... you don't speak again."
Then he turned — and walked into the fog.
No fight. No ambush. Just... warning.
Meanwhile – Madrid, Spain.
Tessa stood outside an abandoned clinical building.
Graffiti. Shattered glass. But the scanner in her hand lit green.
The hidden file was right.
This was once a government research site — long buried, long denied.
Inside, she found it:
A lab. Empty now.
But one wall was covered in ID photos.
She stepped closer.
There.
Her mother.
Beside her photo — a project tag:
ANCHOR ONE: Mind Conditioning Through Controlled Grief Events
Tessa covered her mouth.
"They didn't just take her…"
"They used her."
Casablanca – Dave's Safehouse, Same Night.
Dave stared at the USB the Pale Hand gave him.
Plugged it into a burner device.
One file. No title.
He opened it.
Inside:
A live satellite feed.
Showing Tessa, in Madrid.
Being followed.
Dave's heart skipped — once.
Then he stood.
"She left without telling me."
"She's in a trap."
Madrid – Inside the Old Lab.
The lights buzzed.
Tessa moved cautiously, camera in hand, scanning shelves filled with dust-covered files.
Then she saw it.
A metal case labeled:
"Anchor Two – Reactive Neuro Conditioning – T. I."
She froze.
Opened it.
Inside:
A small vial of dark fluidA blood sampleAnd a childhood photo
Her.
Tessa stumbled back.
"No…"
The walls of her past began to shake.
"I wasn't just looking for her."
"I was part of it."
Meanwhile – Framework Jet En Route from Morocco.
Dave stared out the window, jaw tight.
Thin Ice spoke through the headset.
"Madrid isn't secure."
"We picked up three Round pings near the coordinates."
Dave's voice came calm and lethal.
"If she dies, the Round dies."
Jamzy checked his weapon.
"You think she knew?"
"You think she went looking for answers you weren't ready to hear?"
Dave didn't respond.
Because he didn't know.
Madrid – Outside the Facility.
A white van pulled up.
Two figures stepped out — not local police.
Not even mercenaries.
Biotech retrieval team. Clean. Silent.
They entered.
Inside.
Tessa backed away from the files. Her ears picked up the sound before her mind could process it.
Footsteps.
Fast.
She ducked behind an overturned gurney.
Whispers in Russian.
"Get the girl."
"Anchor Two must be secured before sunrise."
They moved in.
Tessa bolted down the hallway — blood pounding in her ears — ducking past shattered walls and glass doors.
She reached a stairwell and froze.
A figure stood at the top.
The Pale Hand.
No gun.
Just watching.
Then he stepped aside.
Let her pass.
Tessa didn't wait to question it.
She ran.
Minutes Later – Dave Arrives.
The jet landed on a private strip outside Madrid.
Dave didn't wait for clearance.
Didn't wait for backup.
He stormed the facility like fire with a face.
He found a trail — signs of struggle, drops of blood, burned files.
Then he heard it.
A voice from behind:
"You're late."
Tessa.
Breathing hard. Bruised. But standing.
Dave rushed forward.
"You okay?"
She held up the vial and photo.
"You need to see this."
"They didn't just use my mother."
"They used me."
Dave stared at the file.
Anchor Two.
I.
"Tessa Imani."
"They built you… to survive."
"Maybe even to control people."
Tessa whispered:
"And now they want me back."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – ANCHOR PROTOCOL
Madrid – Framework Emergency Safehouse.
4:17 a.m.
Tessa sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the photo of her younger self.
"Anchor Two…"
The words wouldn't stop echoing.
Dave stood at the window, jaw clenched, watching for any sign of movement outside. He'd shut down two city blocks. Called in favors he didn't even want to owe.
But it was Tessa's silence that worried him more than any assassin.
"You haven't said anything in 40 minutes," he finally said.
She didn't look up.
"Because I don't know who I am."
He turned.
"You're still you."
She looked him dead in the eye.
"Am I?"
Later – Makeshift Lab, Lower Level.
Thin Ice examined the contents of the Anchor vial.
"This ain't some sci-fi serum. It's neural."
"Meant to trigger memory compression. Emotional deadening."
He paused.
"They weren't trying to make her stronger."
"They were trying to make her feel... less."
Dave's voice was low.
"Like a weapon that doesn't question the trigger."
Elsewhere – Inside The Round.
A dark table. Men and women in silence.
One spoke:
"Is Anchor Two compromised?"
Another nodded.
"She's remembering. But that may work in our favor."
"If Reign trusts her… and she's wired to break under pressure…"
They all understood.
A time bomb inside his closest bond.
Back in Madrid.
Tessa stood in front of a mirror.
Something pulsed behind her eyes.
Memories she didn't own.
Commands in voices she couldn't place.
Then — pain.
A sudden spike.
She dropped to her knees, gasping. Gripping her skull.
"Activate… Echo… Protocol… Reign…"
The words whispered like static in her brain.
Dave rushed in.
"Tessa!"
She looked up at him — but her eyes were distant.
"Something's inside me."
Later – Framework Jet, En Route to Amsterdam.
Dave made the call.
To someone he never thought he'd contact again.
Dr. Lang.
A former neuro-coder who once worked with the Round… before disappearing.
The man who helped Dave erase a part of his own past.
Lang agreed to meet — on one condition:
"If she's been activated... you'll need to make a choice."
"Save her… or stop her."
Dave didn't respond.
Because he already knew:
He'd never choose.
He'd find a third option.
Even if it meant burning the whole system down.
Mid-Air – Framework Jet Over Western Europe.
Tessa was strapped to a reclined seat.
Eyes closed. Breathing even. Electrodes on her temples.
Dave sat across from her, watching every twitch.
Thin Ice monitored the neural tablet.
"Heart rate steady… but theta waves are spiking."
"She's dreaming. But not naturally."
Dave leaned closer.
"Tessa?"
She opened her eyes.
And they were… different.
"Anchor Two," she said in a low, even voice.
"Directive override pending. Phase Zero active."
Then — her hand moved fast — grabbing the scalpel beside her.
Before she could swing — Dave caught her wrist mid-air.
She didn't struggle. Just stared.
"I don't want to hurt you, Dave."
"But I will if the program tells me to."
One Hour Later – Amsterdam. A Dark Alley Behind a Bakery.
Dr. Lang stepped out of the shadows.
Older. Paler. Beard rough. But eyes still sharp like razors.
"She's close to breaking," he said.
"That's good. Means the real her is fighting back."
Dave crossed his arms.
"Just fix her."
Lang shook his head slowly.
"She doesn't need fixing."
"She needs remembering."
Inside Lang's Lab – Underground Bunker.
Tessa sat in a chair surrounded by projection glass.
Lang walked around her slowly.
"The Anchor Program wasn't about control."
"It was about replacement."
"They didn't want to turn you into a weapon."
"They wanted to turn you into someone else."
A screen blinked. Loaded a file titled:
ANCHOR CLASS: ALPHA, BETA, REIGN.
Dave froze.
"What did you just say?"
Lang tapped the screen.
Three branches of Anchor experiments:
Anchor Alpha – Cognitive obedience trainingAnchor Beta – Trauma-triggered memory fragmentationAnchor REIGN – Hybrid subjects with emotional mimicry and strategic dominance
Lang looked at Dave.
"That's you."
"REIGN wasn't just your name."
"It was your designation."
FLASHBACK – YEARS AGO.
Dave, younger. Cold. In a white room. Men in suits asking questions.
"What do you feel when you see her cry?"
"Nothing."
They nod.
"That's good. Reign adapts."
Present.
Dave's hands curled into fists.
"I was in the program."
Lang nodded.
"They buried it. Deep."
"But every move you made… every choice… wasn't random."
"They designed you to lead."
"The streets didn't create Reign."
"The system did."
Tessa looked up at him, tears barely held back.
"They didn't just use me."
"They built us."
Amsterdam – Lang's Bunker, Sub-Level 2.
The walls buzzed with ancient tech and biometric screens.
Dave and Tessa stood side-by-side, staring at two chairs wired with electrodes and pulse triggers.
Lang motioned toward them.
"We call this the Reintegration Chair."
"It bypasses the mind's defenses — unlocking memories the program buried."
Tessa asked the only question that mattered:
"What's the risk?"
Lang didn't sugarcoat it.
"Seizures. Identity collapse. Cardiac failure."
"But if you want the full truth… the real map of what they did to you…"
He tapped the headsets.
"This is the key."
Dave looked at Tessa.
"You don't have to do this."
Tessa stared back.
"I do."
"Because I need to know if any of what I feel is me... or just a command line."
Twenty Minutes Later.
Tessa was the first in.
Monitors lit up. Her breathing slowed.
Then— images began flashing across the screen.
A childhood birthday party, but the faces were blank.A white room. Needles. A woman screaming her name.A face she didn't remember… hugging her.
"You'll forget me… but I won't forget you."
Her heart rate spiked.
Lang hit the override — barely stabilizing her.
Dave stood frozen, fists clenched.
"Let me in."
Dave's Turn.
The moment the headset touched his temples — pain struck like a bullet to the skull.
Screams. Noise. Silence.
Then—
A classroom.
Uniformed teens. A girl crying.
Dave — silent. Unblinking. Writing answers faster than the rest.
Voice from the intercom:
"Subject: REIGN. Social detachment remains stable."
"Continue conditioning."
He remembered being taken from his real mother — offered a "better future."
He remembered refusing. Fighting.
Then... nothing.
Until the streets.
Until the lies.
Until now.
Suddenly — the system glitched.
Lang shouted, "Pull him out!"
But the screen didn't go black.
It lit red.
A new message appeared:
ANCHOR REIGN: Primary Directive Reactivated
Phase Zero Clock – 24 Hours Remaining
Dave opened his eyes.
And whispered:
"They planted something in me too…"
"And it just woke up."
Amsterdam – Lang's Lab, 1:44 a.m.
Dave sat in silence.
Hands shaking. Eyes locked on the screen.
"Phase Zero Clock – 23:12:38"
Tessa hovered near, but she didn't speak.
Thin Ice stared at the data spike on his tablet.
"This isn't a protocol activation."
"It's a countdown."
Lang nodded slowly.
"They didn't just program you, Reign."
"They planted a trigger."
Dave didn't blink.
"For what?"
Lang didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Meanwhile – In Berlin, Round HQ.
An encrypted comm line opened on the Board's mainframe.
A voice spoke:
"REIGN is active."
"He's already begun."
Another voice asked:
"Can he be controlled?"
"No."
"But he can be used."
Back in Amsterdam.
Dave walked to the sink. Washed his face.
But when he looked into the mirror…
For a moment — just half a second — the reflection wasn't him.
It smirked.
Cold. Confident.
Then it vanished.
He staggered back.
Tessa was by his side instantly.
"What did you see?"
He paused.
"Something… else."
A few hours later – In the Framework surveillance room.
Footage played from earlier that night.
Dave — standing in a hallway he didn't remember entering.
Talking to someone who wasn't there.
His voice calm. Confident.
"I'll handle the fallback."
"Just make sure they never see it coming."
Then he turned. Walked away.
But when Dave watched it now, he whispered:
"I don't remember saying any of that…"
Tessa stared at him, her voice low.
"You're blacking out."
"You're switching."
Lang confirmed it.
"The Reign Program… is trying to take control."
Later – Hidden Room Beneath the Lab.
Lang opened a safe.
Inside: a small glass capsule with a thin black needle.
"This is the override."
"Inject this into your spine — it will short out the trigger sequence."
Dave asked:
"And if I don't?"
Lang didn't hesitate.
"You'll lose yourself."
"And when you do — you'll become the most dangerous thing on Earth."
Dave stared at the needle.
Then looked at Tessa.
"If I cross that line…"
"You end me."
She didn't flinch.
"Then don't cross it."
"Because I won't hesitate."