The weight of the encrypted hard drive in Darien's hand felt like a tombstone. In the heavy silence of the penthouse, the only sound was the faint hum of the elegent fans and the distant roar of the naples rain.
Kenzo Mori stood like a statue of salt, his shadow stretching long across the floor, devouring the space where Rico had just been.
"Two hours, Zero," kenzo's voice was a smooth blade. "The clock doesn't care about your grief."
Darien knelt, his fingers trembling as he fumbled with his laptop. He wasn't just a technician anymore; he was a man being forced to build his own gallows. But as his fingers touched the cold chassis of his gear, the fear began to calcify into something sharper.
"He thinks I'm a tool ", Darien thought,
His gaze flickering to the bloodstain on the sofa where Rico had been. He thinks he can own a ghost.
Darien plugged the drive into his deck. The interface bloomed to life contains a folder "Mori's Syndicate" pulsing on the screen. This was the "weak spot" kenzo wanted him to patch—a backdoor into the city's financial district.
"I'm in," Darien whispered, his voice cracking.
Kenzo leaned in, the scent of expensive tobacco and ozone surrounding Darien.
"Retrieve the files back in 2018. Clear the virus you created. Do it now."
Darien's hands flew across the keys. But he wasn't looking for ledgers. Deep within his partitioned drive, hidden behind layers of dummy folders, sat a file dated August 2018. It was a volatile piece of code he had written in a fever dream three years ago—a worm designed to mimic a system collapse while quietly encrypting the host's entire architecture. Basically it's a deonion process, if someone tries to access the folder, an random password protection appears like a layer blocking the folder, it repeats every attempts creates a new layer He called it "Graveyard Digger."
3... 2... 1... Execute.
The screen didn't retrieved the files. It turned white. A blinding, searing white that mirrored the flash of a flashbang.
"What is this?" Kenzo's voice lost its calm.
"You wanted my mind, Mori?" Darien hissed, slamming his laptop shut. "You forgot that my mind likes to bite."
Mori ordered jade, The penthouse lights flickered and died. Emergency red strobes began to pulse, casting the room in the color of fresh blood. locking every door, freezing every elevator, blocking the path of the every exists
"Stairs!" he gasped to himself.
He took the stairs two at a time, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He reached the 4th floor, but the sound of steel sliding against leather echoed from above and below. They were flanking him.
"Jade! Kill him!" Kenzo roared,by chasing darien
the facade of the businessman finally shattering to reveal the monster beneath.
Jade lunged, but the darkness was Darien's only ally. Darien didn't fight; he moved. He threw his heavy tool bag at Jade's knees and dove toward the hallway.
"No!" Kenzo shouted, his hand catching Jade's shoulder.
"The virus... if he dies, the encryption stays locked. Bring him to me alive. Break his legs if you must, but I want his fingers intact!"
Kenzo signaled into the hallway. From the shadows of the executive lounge, five figures emerged. They didn't carry guns—guns were for thugs. These were Mori's Executioners. Their silhouettes were defined by the long, curved lines of Katanas and the glint of serrated hunting knives.
Darien didn't look back. He sprinted. His lungs burned.
the Five Executives not just as guards, but as nightmares. These are Mori's personal "High Table," each representing a different way to die.
As Darien sprinted down the hallway of the 4th floor, the air seemed to drop ten degrees. Kenzo and jade were chasing him
Kenzo's voice echoed behind him, but it was the silence ahead that terrified him. Then, they appeared—the Five Executives, blocking the path like monoliths of ivory and steel.
Vane (The Surgeon): A tall, gaunt man in a white suit. He carried a set of specialized throwing scalpels and a thin, curved rib-cutter. He didn't want to kill; he wanted to "dissect.
Darien skidded to a halt, his sneakers hissing against the polished marble. He looked back—Jade was closing in. He looked forward—the Five were waiting.
"Don't let him reach the fire exit," Vane whispered, his voice like dry parchment.
Darien lunged to the left, trying to use a heavy mahogany desk as cover. He didn't see Vane move. The Surgeon simply flicked his wrist. A silver flash cut through the air.
A scalpel buried itself two inches deep into Darien's left shoulder. The pain was a cold, piercing spike. Darien gasped, his hand flying to the hilt of the blade, but he didn't have time to pull it out.
Then the another one, Kora(a speedster): A woman whose movements were so fluid she seemed to lack bones. She used a weighted silk cord—a garrote that could snap a neck or limb in seconds.
"Too slow, Zero," a voice hissed.
Kora appeared from behind a pillar. She swung her weighted cord. It wrapped around Darien's ankle, yanking his feet from under him. He slammed face-first into the floor, the taste of copper filling his mouth. As he scrambled to crawl away, Jason stepped forward,
Jason (The Butcher): A massive man with a heavy, short-handled cleaver. He was the brute force, meant to shatter whatever the others missed.
his heavy boot smashing down on Darien's lower back.
"Mori wants him alive," Jason grunted, "but he didn't say he had to be whole."
Darien rolled, dodging a second stomp, but he ran straight into Saito's path.
Saito (The Traditionalist): The man with the Katana. He moved with the grace of a dancer and the precision of a laser.
The Katana unsheathed with a sound like a winter wind.
Saito didn't swing for the neck. He stepped in and delivered a precise, horizontal draw across Darien's right forearm. The steel was so sharp Darien didn't feel the pain for a full second—then, the heat arrived. The wound was deep, exposing the pale fascia beneath the skin. Blood began to pump out, soaking his microfiber cloth.
"My hand..." Darien whimpered, clutching his arm.
If he lost the use of his fingers, he was as good as dead. The Desperate Counter. Fuelled by pure adrenaline and the image of Rico's face, Darien did the only thing a he can managed to do. He grabbed a heavy fire extinguisher from the wall and didn't aim for them—he aimed for the floor.
He smashed the nozzle, releasing a blinding cloud of white chemical powder.
In the chaos of the white mist,
Here is the last executive
Reza (The Viper):She's Small and incredibly fast, wielding twin karambit knives coated in a paralytic irritant.
Reza lunged, his karambits spinning. Darien felt a sharp sting in his lower back—a shallow stab that felt like a wasp sting, followed by a terrifying numbness spreading through his hips.
"The virus is in the drive!" Darien screamed into the mist, hoping to distract them.
"If you kill me, the city's accounts burn tonight!"
He used the confusion to burst through the fire door. He was leaving a trail of red smears on the walls. His vision was tunneling. Every breath felt like inhaling broken glass.
He burst through a heavy fire door and found himself on the external balcony used by the window-cleaning crews. The rain lashed at his face, turning his vision into a blurred mess of neon and gray.
Below him, the naples streets looked like a distant world. As he jumped onto the platform,
"There!" a voice shouted.
Saito burst through the door. The Executioner looked at Darien;
his Katana raised. The blade sliced through the air, whistling an inch from Darien's ear. Darien scrambled backward, his heel catching on the edge of a heavy glass-cleaning lift.
Darien didn't think. He jumped.
The lift lurched under his weight. He frantically slammed the "DOWN" button. With a mechanical groan, the lift began to slide down the side of the building. 4th floor... 3rd floor... Saito looked at the cable. The Executioner above didn't hesitate. He didn't jump after him. Instead, he stepped to the winch. With one powerful, fluid stroke, his Katana severed the primary steel cable.
CLANG.
The Katana severed the steel weave. The lift dropped.
The lift dropped like a stone. Darien's stomach lurched into his throat. He screamed as the metal cage free-fell toward the pavement. The safety brake kicked in with a violent jar, the lift tilting at a 45-degree angle, hanging by a single, fraying secondary rope.
He was suspended seven feet above the ground.
"Move or die," he whimpered.
He climbed the tilted railing and jumped, When Darien finally hit the ground after his seven-foot jump, He hit the asphalt hard, the impact radiating a white-hot pain through his ankles and knees. He rolled, skinning his palms raw, the smell of wet pavement and blood filling his senses. the impact reopened the wounds. His forearm was a mask of red; his back was screaming. He dragged his body toward the alleyway, his legs feeling like lead weights due to Reza's poison.
He forced himself up. He couldn't stop. He could hear the Executioners hitting the ground behind him, their movements rhythmic and terrifyingly fast. He turned into a narrow alleyway, his vision swimming.
He saw a row of overflowing garbage bins behind a derelict diner. It was his only hope. With the last of his strength, he scrambled behind the bins, pulling heavy, foul-smelling garbage bags over his body. He curled into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, trying to stifle his heaving breaths. the stench of rotting food a welcome relief because it meant he was still breathing. He pulled the heavy bags over his wounded frame, the cold plastic sticking to the blood on his arm.
He lay there in the dark, his body shaking with such violence he thought his bones would break. In the distance, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of boots on the pavement grew louder,
"He's bleeding out,He won't get far." he heard Vane shouted. then faded as the Executioners swept past his hiding spot.
Darien squeezed his eyes shut, hot tears carving tracks through the grime on his face.
The silence returned, broken only by the rain. He held a portrait photo to his chest like a holy relic.
"Rico..." Darien sobbed quietly, the sound muffled by the trash bags. "I'm sorry, Rico. I'm sorry."
The boy who entered the building as a technician was gone. In the darkness of the naples alley, hidden amongst the filth, zero a renowed hacker, the digital ghost was no more— he was covered in blood.