The Feared One

The war room was silent, except for the low hum of the holographic display, casting a pale blue glow across the steel walls. On the screen, a single message flickered: [FROM: UNKNOWN][MESSAGE: YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE STARTED.]

Silas Kane sat at the head of the table, rolling a cigarette between his fingers, his gray eyes scanning the words carefully. This wasn't just a warning. This was a declaration of war. Jonas Wren, seated across from Kane, exhaled sharply. "They hacked us like it was nothing. What the hell are we dealing with?"

Bishop, Kane's cyber-intelligence specialist, was already typing furiously, running deep security scans. "They didn't just breach our systems. They overrode every security measure in under sixty seconds. That's beyond black ops level and it's like they wrote the code before we even built the firewall."

Volkov, standing near the window, cracked his knuckles. "Then they're not just watching, are they?" Kane smirked. "No. They're making their next move."

Suddenly, Bishop's screen flashed red. A new transmission overrode the system.

[LIVE VIDEO FEED ACTIVATED] A figure appeared, not a man, not a face but just a silhouette, blurred by digital distortion. His voice was calm and deliberate. "Silas Kane." Kane took a slow drag from his cigarette. "And you are?"

The voice chuckled softly. "You thought Dominion was the enemy. That The Shade was your greatest threat. But those were just distractions." Jonas frowned. "And what exactly was hiding under the surface?"

The figure leaned forward, the distortion glitching slightly. "The Order." A long silence settled over the room. Then Bishop exhaled. "Oh, shit."

Kane flicked ashes from his cigarette, his expression unreadable. "The Order? Sounds like another secret club that thinks it runs the world." The distorted voice was amused. "Not 'thinks,' Kane. We do."

Bishop pulled up decrypted intelligence files. "If these records are real… The Order isn't just a syndicate. They control entire governments; Intelligence agencies and the global economy. Every war in the last fifty years? They funded it. Every financial crisis? They orchestrated it."

Jonas let out a low whistle. "And now we just blew up one of their operations." The hologram flickered, revealing a live satellite feed of Kane's warship. "You have twenty-four hours before we erase you, Kane. Enjoy what's left of your empire."The transmission cut to black.

Bishop cursed. "They hijacked a military satellite. Just like that." Kane crushed his cigarette beneath his boot. "Then we hit first."

The Lisbon skyline shimmered under the moonlight. A luxury high-rise towered over the city, its top floors fortified with reinforced glass, biometric scanners and an armed security detail.

Inside, Elias Richter; a high-ranking handler for The Order, sat in a penthouse office, sipping whiskey and staring at encrypted surveillance feeds. He smirked. "They're coming."

A voice on his earpiece replied. "We have kill teams positioned. Kane won't leave Lisbon alive." Richter swirled his whiskey. "I hope he fights. I want to see what happens when the wolf realizes he's in a bigger cage."

A black SUV rolled through the city streets, stopping outside an abandoned construction site adjacent to the high-rise. Inside, Kane's strike team prepped their gear.

Jonas adjusted his rifle scope. "This place is a fortress. We going loud?" Kane smirked. "No. We're ghosts tonight." Bishop's voice crackled through their earpieces. "I've hacked their security grid and you have a fifteen-minute window before their backups kick in." Volkov grinned. "Plenty of time."

Kane checked his silenced pistol. "Let's move."

They moved like shadows, crossing into the adjacent construction site. From the twelfth floor, they set up a zip-line spanning the narrow gap between the construction site and the penthouse terrace.

Jonas clipped in first. "This is either genius or suicide." "Probably both," Kane muttered, pushing him forward. Jonas glided silently across, landing smoothly on the terrace.

Kane followed seconds later, his boots hitting the ground without a sound. Volkov came last with his blade already drawn. They pressed against the glass walls, peering inside.

Richter sat at his grand desk, oblivious. Bishop's voice came through their comms. "That's our target. Elias Richter. High-ranking Order strategist." Kane smirked. "Then let's say hello."

The breach was fast and clean. Jonas fired first, dropping two Order guards before they could react. Volkov moved like a phantom, his knife silencing a third.

Kane walked straight to Richter, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him into the desk. Richter coughed, his whiskey spilling across the marble. "You have no idea what you're doing." Kane smirked. "I hear that a lot."

Jonas checked the hallway. "Security's coming." Richter wiped blood from his lip, smiling. "You think this ends with me?" Kane's pistol pressed against Richter's forehead. "No. But you're my message to The Order."

Richter chuckled. "Go ahead. Kill me. It won't change anything." Kane exhaled smoke. Then he pulled the trigger. One shot. Richter slumped forward, dead.

Kane turned to Jonas. "Burn everything." Jonas planted explosives on the servers and intelligence archives. As they exfiltrated, flames engulfed the penthouse behind them.

Bishop pulled up new intelligence feeds. "The Order just moved all their operatives into lockdown." Jonas poured himself a drink. "That means they're scared." Kane smirked. "Good. Let's make them terrified." Then Bishop hesitated. "There's something else."

A new encrypted message had arrived [FROM: UNKNOWN] [MESSAGE: YOU STARTED THIS WAR, KANE. NOW WATCH AS WE FINISH IT.] Jonas frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

Bishop zoomed in on live satellite feeds. Then his face turned pale. "Oh, shit." On the screen, multiple global incidents lit up in real time. Explosions in Moscow. A power grid failure in Hong Kong. A financial crash in London. An assassination in Washington D.C.

Volkov's eyes narrowed. "They just destabilized the world… in real-time." Kane exhaled, crushing his cigarette beneath his boot. "Then we break them first."