“Shocking footage has surfaced earlier today showing a group of unidentified individuals forcefully entering a private conference room at the Opalis Grand Hotel. The video appears to capture several high-ranking members of Parliament allegedly drafting legistion reted to military expansion into civil governance. Here’s what was recorded:”

  [Cut to Phone Footage – Grainy, Shaky]

  The camera bursts into a dimly-lit, vish conference room. Several startled officials rise from their seats. Papers scatter. Security yells in the background. The intruder, breathing heavily, speaks directly to the camera.

  "To every citizen watching this—wake up! This is what they’re doing behind closed doors while you suffer! These wmakers are secretly drafting a bill to give the military control over civilian life. They’re rewriting the w to make generals your governors, your judges, your enforcers!"

  "No public hearings. No transparency. Just luxury suites and signed betrayals. Is this the democracy we were promised under the Quintaris? You deserve to know the truth before it's too te!"

  [End Clip – Cut back to studio]

  "As of now, no official response has been given by Parliament. The leaked footage has already sparked public outrage across several provinces. We’ll continue to follow this developing story.”

  Geret turned off the television and leaned back in his chair, the remote still in his hand. He looked at Cathie with a serious expression.

  “That’s exactly why I kept the data you collected,” he said. “The government has started making quiet moves. Too quiet. If they’re drafting something like this behind closed doors in a luxury hotel, who knows what else they’re pnning?”

  Cathie didn’t respond right away. She stood still, arms folded, her eyes glued to the dark screen as if the answers might still be there.

  “You’re a good journalist, Cathie. Maybe one of the best I’ve seen,” Geret continued. “But you’re still just one person. And right now, that data is a loaded gun. Too dangerous to be carried around by someone as... vulnerable as you.”

  Cathie gnced at him sharply. “So you think I should just back down?”

  Geret shook his head. “I think you should stay alive long enough to finish what you started.”

  Geret narrowed his eyes, his fingers tapping slowly on the edge of the desk.

  "Alright, Cathie… I’ve been meaning to ask—how the hell did you even get data this complete? Especially that part about the minister’s scandal. That kind of intel isn’t just lying around in public archives."

  Cathie exhaled slowly and looked away for a moment, her voice quieter when she finally replied.

  "It wasn’t me. I didn’t dig that far." She paused, then added, "It was Fred. My partner."

  Geret raised an eyebrow. “Fred? The one who—”

  Cathie nodded. “Yeah. He’s gone.”

  There was a brief silence before she continued. “Fred’s father used to have some weight in the old administration. Not a high-profile figure, but well-connected. When the new regime took over… everything fell apart. His family was bcklisted, lost everything. Fred never talked much about it, but he had access to pces most of us couldn’t reach. He knew where to look.”

  Geret leaned back slightly, absorbing the information. “So that’s why the government’s been sniffing around your work. You’re carrying someone else’s truth.”

  Cathie looked at him, her eyes steady. “I’m not just carrying it. I’m finishing what Fred started.”

  Geret leaned forward, his expression a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

  "So what are you pnning to do with this data, exactly? Report it to the press and become some kind of public hero?"

  Cathie scoffed, leaning back in her chair with a slight smirk.

  "You really underestimate me, Geret."

  His brow lifted. "Enlighten me, then."

  She crossed her arms. "I’m not going to ‘report’ it like some whining toddler crying to an adult. That’s useless. Those officials will bury it before it even reaches the surface, or worse—bury me."

  Geret tilted his head. “Then what? What’s your py?”

  Cathie leaned forward, voice low and steady.

  "I'm going to take them hostage."

  He blinked. "Hostage?"

  "Yes," she said firmly. "This isn’t just data—it’s leverage. If I hand it over, they’ll cover it up and walk free. But if I dangle it over their heads... if I make them sweat, knowing this could go public at any second, then we’ve got something they fear." She paused, eyes burning with intent. “We won’t just expose them—we’ll control them. We'll get ourselves a puppet minister right inside the heart of their machine.”

  Geret stared at her for a long moment, then let out a low whistle, a slow grin forming across his face.

  “Interesting, Miss Journalist. I knew you had guts—but this? This is cold-blooded.”

  Cathie gave a small shrug, her smile thin.

  “It’s the only nguage they understand.”

  Draven sat at the edge of the booth, arms crossed, gncing at the ridiculous tower of half-eaten pizza slices in front of Drake. Cathie, seated across from them, was sipping soda while trying not to ugh.

  Drake, mouth half-full, mumbled, “I swear, this is better than any mission reward I’ve ever gotten. You should take hostages more often, Cathie.”

  Cathie rolled her eyes. “It’s just pizza, not gold.”

  Drake grabbed another slice, stuffing it like it might run away. “This is gold.”

  Draven finally spoke, deadpan. “You’re going to choke and die in a pile of mozzarel. What a glorious end for a hitman.”

  Drake raised a greasy hand dramatically. “And on my tombstone, write: ‘He died doing what he loved—devouring Cathie’s wallet.’”

  Cathie chuckled. “I’m regretting this already.”

  Draven smirked slightly. “I’m surprised you're treating us. What’s the occasion?”

  Cathie leaned back. “Consider it a thank-you—for saving my life, risking yours, and... tolerating each other without murder.”

  Draven and Drake exchanged a gnce. Drake spoke with a mouthful again, “Still thinking about it.”

  Draven replied, “Same.”

  Cathie ughed. “I’ll take what I can get.”

  Cathie wiped her hands with a napkin, looking across the table. “So… how are your injuries holding up?”

  Draven leaned back with a quiet sigh. “Better. Still sore, but nothing that’ll kill me.”

  Drake was already halfway through his third slice of pizza, chewing loudly. “We regenerate fast, remember? Perks of being nature’s bck sheep.”

  Cathie gave a half-smile. “Good to know. I didn’t want you both dragging yourselves across the city half-dead.”

  But Draven’s gaze grew distant. “Still… that sniper.”

  Drake gnced up, mouth still full. “What about ‘em?”

  Draven’s voice was low. “Whoever it was, they had eyes on us the whole time. Clean shots, zero hesitation. They knew exactly where to hit. And they vanished like smoke.”

  Cathie leaned in, concern growing in her eyes. “Do you think… they were military?”

  Drake scoffed. “Does it matter? Cowards who shoot from rooftops don’t scare me.”

  Without warning, Draven kicked Drake’s injured leg under the table.

  “AAARGH—YOU DAMN PIECE OF—!” Drake smmed both fists onto the table, nearly knocking over their drinks. “What the hell, Draven?!”

  Draven remained calm, taking another sip of his water. “If they don’t scare you, then why are you still limping?”

  Cathie chuckled behind her hand. “Touché.”

  Drake groaned, rubbing his thigh. “You’re lucky I still owe you one for getting me out of that mess.”

  Draven’s eyes narrowed slightly. “We got out. But someone was watching. Waiting. And next time… they might not miss.”

  A heavy silence followed. Even Drake stopped chewing for a second.

  Cathie broke it gently. “Then let’s make sure there isn’t a next time we’re caught off guard.”

  Just as the tension at the table began to settle, a deep, thunderous boom echoed from outside. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet. The gsses on their table rattled. People inside the restaurant froze, and then the screams began.

  “What the hell was that?” Drake was already on his feet, knocking over his chair.

  Draven’s eyes sharpened. “That wasn’t just a gas leak.”

  Cathie rushed to the window. From their vantage point, she saw a rising column of bck smoke in the distance, curling into the night sky.

  Her heart dropped. “That’s… the mayor’s office.”

  A crowd was already beginning to form outside—people running, shouting, phones raised to capture the chaos. Sirens howled from every direction.

  “We need to go,” Cathie said, grabbing her coat.

  Draven was already moving. “Keep your head down. If this is coordinated, it won’t end with one explosion.”

  Drake cracked his knuckles. “Great. I just sat down.”

  As Draven, Cathie, and Drake pushed through the crowd, the fshing red-and-blue lights of the police barricade illuminated the scorched remains of the mayor’s office. The front of the building was partially colpsed, thick smoke still billowing from the bst site. Rubble was strewn across the street, and panicked civilians were being held back by a line of officers.

  Among the chaos, they caught sight of a young man in a torn jacket being pinned to the ground by two heavily armed officers. His face was bloodied, but his expression—disturbingly calm. As the crowd jeered and the cameras zoomed in, the man slowly lifted his hand… and gave a thumbs-up.

  Cathie narrowed her eyes. “He’s proud of it…”

  The man was swiftly dragged toward a police transport vehicle. Even as the doors smmed shut, he kept his hand raised, the thumb still pointed to the sky.

  Draven muttered under his breath, “They’re not just sending a message... they want everyone to see it.”

  Drake spat to the side. “Fanatics.”

  While seated in the back of the police vehicle, the handcuffed suspect stared out the window at the fading crowd. His lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. Blood from a gash on his forehead dripped slowly down his cheek, but he didn’t flinch.

  In the silence, he closed his eyes and spoke in his thoughts:

  “I’ve done my part. The signal was loud enough. Now… I leave the rest to you, Mr. Lawyer.”

  A brief chuckle escaped him before the vehicle turned the corner and disappeared into the city streets.