[VIRAL METER: 245% - GLOBAL FINANCIAL COLLAPSE IMMINENT]
[LOCATION: WASHINGTON D.C. - K STREET / THE POWER CORRIDOR]
[STATUS: THE ULTIMATE HEIST]
Washington D.C. was not like Vice City. There were no neon lights here, only the cold, grey marble of monuments and the suffocating silence of absolute power. The air felt heavy, saturated with the history of secrets and the quiet hum of servers that managed the world's debt.
Dante Vane stood on a balcony overlooking the Potomac River. He was no longer just a man; he was a global event. Below him, the city was under a voluntary curfew. Humvees patrolled the streets, and the National Guard had set up checkpoints at every bridge. The "Unholy Alliance" of the CIA and Mossad had turned the capital into a fortress.
"The board is set," Sia said, her voice tight with a rare hint of tension. She was sitting at a desk cluttered with high-end hardware, her eyes reflected in the cascading code of a dozen monitors. "But it's not just the government anymore, Dante. The 'Invisible Hands' have stepped out of the shadows. BlackRock and Blackstone have activated their private protocols. They've moved their primary servers to a sub-terran vault beneath K Street. They aren't just protecting money—they're protecting the 'Aladdin' algorithm. If you touch that, you don't just crash a bank; you delete the concept of ownership for the entire Western world."
Dante adjusted his tie in the mirror. He was wearing a suit woven with microscopic silver threads—a Faraday cage in the shape of Italian tailoring. "Larry Fink and the titans of BlackRock think they own the future because they bought it with other people's money. They think their algorithms can predict human behavior. Let's see how 'Aladdin' calculates a masterpiece of pure, unadulterated chaos."
"Boss," Jax said, walking into the room while checking the action on a custom-made, suppressed shotgun. "The AIPAC headquarters on K Street is reinforced with active-denial systems. Heat rays. If we get within fifty yards, we'll be cooked alive. And Mossad 'Kidon' units are stationed on every rooftop within a five-block radius."
Dante turned, a cold, predatory light in his eyes. "They expect a siege. They expect us to come with guns and fire. But we aren't here to destroy the building, Jax. We're here to inhabit the ghost in their machine."
The K Street Incursion
The target was a nondescript, glass-and-steel monolith on K Street. It didn't have a sign, but it housed the shared data-vault for the world's most powerful investment firms and lobbying groups. This was where the "Real Lords" of the GTA universe kept the ledger of who they owned.
At 11:11 PM, the "Art" began.
Suddenly, every Tesla and autonomous vehicle within a two-mile radius of K Street simultaneously suffered a "software glitch." Hundreds of cars began to steer themselves toward the AIPAC and BlackRock intersections, creating a massive, interlocking metal graveyard that blocked all emergency response teams.
"Jacob, you're on," Dante said into his comms.
Two miles away, Little Jacob and his crew, funded by Dante's untraceable crypto-millions, launched a fleet of specialized delivery drones. But they weren't delivering packages. They were dropping high-intensity smoke canisters mixed with "Smart Dust"—microscopic metallic flakes that blinded every thermal and infrared sensor the CIA had in the sky.
"De fog is thick, rasta! Dem 'Ghost' boys gwine be walkin' into walls!" Jacob's laugh crackled through the earpiece.
Inside the chaos, a single black van moved with eerie silence. Jax was at the wheel, wearing night-vision goggles that filtered through the smart-dust. Dante sat in the back, calm as a monk, watching the VIRAL METER climb to 300%.
"Sia, kill the heat rays," Dante commanded.
"Splicing into the Blackstone security grid... Now," Sia whispered.
The invisible microwave beams protecting the building flickered and died. Jax slammed the van into the lobby's reinforced glass. Before the dust could settle, he was out, his suppressed shotgun barking rhythmically as he neutralized the private security guards before they could even draw their weapons. These weren't soldiers; they were high-paid mercenaries who had never faced a force like Big Jax.
Dante stepped out of the van, his shoes clicking on the polished marble. He didn't look at the bodies. He looked at the elevator bank.
"The vault is on floor B4," Sia directed. "But Dante, be careful. The Mossad Kidon unit just dropped from the vents. They're using silent tech. I can't track their heartbeats."
The Duel in the Dark
The elevator doors opened to a white, sterile hallway. Silence reigned.
Suddenly, a blade whistled through the air, aimed directly at Dante's throat. Dante didn't flinch. He caught the attacker's wrist with a speed that defied human reaction, the titanium blade in his cane sliding out with a clinical shink.
The Mossad assassin was a blur of black shadows, but Dante moved like a ghost. This wasn't a street fight; it was a high-stakes dance of death. Dante parried a strike, spun, and drove his blade into the assassin's shoulder.
"Your masters at the Institute forgot one thing, Ari," Dante whispered to the dying man, referring to the handler from Los Santos. "I didn't just learn to fight in the streets. I learned to fight in the boardrooms where you were sold."
Jax cleared the remaining three assassins with a brutal efficiency that left the hallway painted in crimson. They reached the vault door—a six-ton slab of reinforced tungsten.
"Sia, open the gates of heaven," Dante said.
"It's not a code, Dante," Sia said, her voice trembling slightly. "It's a biometric lock. It needs the retinal scan of a BlackRock executive or the AIPAC chairman."
Dante smiled. He pulled out a small, glass container from his pocket. Inside was a high-resolution, 3D-printed contact lens—a perfect replica of Abraham Sterling's eye, crafted from the high-def footage Sia had captured during the Vinewood Gala.
He pressed the lens against the scanner.
[ACCESS GRANTED. WELCOME, CHAIRMAN STERLING.]
The vault hissed open, revealing rows of black servers, humming with the power of the global economy. This was the heart of the "Aladdin" system.
"To the 150 million people watching," Dante spoke, his voice projected through every speaker in the building and every phone on the planet. "Tonight, we end the 'Permanent Debt.' I am currently looking at the digital contracts that own your houses, your student loans, and your futures. BlackRock calls this 'Risk Management.' I call it 'Slavery with an Interface'."
Dante pulled a specialized USB drive—the Chaos Virus—and plugged it into the master terminal.
"Dante, wait!" Sia shouted over the comms. "The CIA just authorized a 'Level 6' response! They've launched a tactical missile from a submarine in the Atlantic! They're going to level the entire block to stop the upload!"
Dante didn't move. He watched the progress bar on the screen: 98%... 99%...
"Jax, Sia... get to the extraction point," Dante said calmly.
"What about you, Boss?" Jax asked, his hand on the door.
"I have a front-row seat to the end of the world," Dante replied.
[100% UPLOAD COMPLETE. GLOBAL LEDGER: DELETED.]
In that instant, every bank account associated with the Lobbies and the massive investment firms turned to zero. Simultaneously, every mortgage in the United States was marked as "Paid in Full" in the federal database.
The internet didn't just blow up; it fractured.
A high-pitched whistle grew louder. The missile was seconds away. Dante looked into the vault's security camera, straightened his tie, and winked.
"Art," Dante whispered, "is never finished. Only abandoned."
The screen went white.