The FBI Command Center was alive with the hum of urgent activity. Agents moved with determination, eyes glued to monitors displaying everything from intelligence reports to global maps, each flashing with critical updates. The latest development in Moscow had propelled the investigation into a new, even more dangerous phase. Everyone knew that Mr. Black’s game was escalating, and the stakes were higher than ever.
Sarah Coleman and Agent Daniel Briggs sat side by side at their desks, fingers flying over keyboards as they pored over data. They were scouring digital archives for any connection between Japan and Project Ahnenerbe, hoping to find some clue that would give them an edge in understanding Mr. Black’s next move. Despite their efforts, the task was proving difficult.
"Damn it, Sarah," Briggs muttered, frustrated as he scrolled through a series of documents. "I’ve gone through everything from post-war Japan. There’s no direct link to Project Ahnenerbe. The Nazis had their hands all over Europe, but Japan... they had their own agenda."
Sarah paused, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her. She froze when she came across a mention buried in an obscure declassified document. The words on the page seemed to pulse with significance.
"Wait," she said, voice low with realization. "I found something. An obscure reference to a Japanese project during World War II. It’s called... Project Hunger Game."
She leaned closer to the screen, brows furrowed as she read aloud.
"According to this, Project Hunger Game was a strategic warfare concept designed to cripple a nation by destroying its staple food production, causing widespread famine and economic collapse. But it wasn’t just about food—it could target any critical resource. This could be the angle Mr. Black is playing."
Daniel leaned in, his curiosity piqued. Sarah highlighted a passage on the screen, and his eyes widened in understanding.
"So, instead of bombs and guns, they planned to starve out their enemies," he said, his voice low with awe. "Make them desperate and weak. That’s psychological warfare on a national scale. But how does this connect to Mr. Black’s current moves?"
Before Sarah could answer, the intercom buzzed to life. The sharp voice of Section Chief Mercer echoed through the room.
Stolen novel; please report.
"Coleman, Briggs—get to my office. Now."
The urgency in Mercer’s tone left no room for delay. Sarah and Daniel exchanged a brief look before hurrying to his office. When they arrived, the chief was standing at his desk, his eyes fixed on a large world map pinned to the wall. Red markers dotted various locations across the globe, each one corresponding to a recent incident tied to Mr. Black’s activities.
"We’ve got a new development," Mercer said, his tone grim. "Reports are coming in from Nigeria. Multiple crude oil export ships have gone missing or been reported as sunk. This isn’t a coincidence—it’s sabotage."
Mercer gestured to a nearby agent, who quickly brought up a live news feed. The headline on the screen read: "Mysterious Disappearances of Nigerian Crude Oil Tankers—Sabotage Suspected."
Sarah’s heart sank as she processed the news. "Nigeria’s economy is heavily dependent on crude oil exports. If Mr. Black is targeting that, he’s playing a different game now. He’s not just after casualties—he’s aiming to destabilize entire economies."
Mercer’s expression darkened. He looked at the economist who had just entered the room, his face set in urgency.
"If this continues," the economist began, his voice serious, "Nigeria could face a severe economic crisis. Crude oil accounts for more than 90% of their export earnings and about 70% of government revenue. Losing these tankers means not only a massive loss of income, but also a potential collapse of their currency. The naira could plummet, leading to inflation, unemployment, and social unrest. It would cripple the nation."
Mercer slammed his fist on the desk in frustration. "The bastard isn’t just playing with lives—he’s manipulating global economies. This is bigger than we thought. We’re not just dealing with a terrorist; we’re dealing with a strategist who understands the world’s financial lifelines."
Sarah’s mind raced as she thought through the implications of what they had just uncovered.
"This could be his version of Project Hunger Game," she said, voice steady but full of concern. "Instead of targeting food, he’s going after oil—the lifeblood of a nation. And with Nigeria being a key supplier globally, this could have ripple effects across the world. It’s economic warfare."
Mercer turned to the economist, his expression hardening. "What can we do to mitigate this? How fast can Nigeria recover if this continues?"
The economist hesitated, clearly calculating the grim possibilities. "It depends on how many tankers they lose and how quickly we can intervene. If Mr. Black disrupts their oil exports for even a few weeks, it could cause long-term damage. The loss of revenue would weaken their ability to fund essential services, leading to unrest. International support might help, but it would take time to stabilize their economy. The key is to stop this now before it spirals out of control."
Mercer nodded sharply, his eyes narrowing with determination. "We need to act fast. Contact the Nigerian authorities—warn them about what we’ve discovered. And I want our cyber division to work on tracking down the missing tankers. We need to know who’s behind this sabotage and where Mr. Black might strike next."
The team sprang into action, the urgency of the situation propelling them forward. Sarah stayed behind for a moment, her eyes locked on the map. She tried to piece together the broader picture of Mr. Black’s strategy, but the more she thought about it, the more complex it became.
"What’s his goal?" she murmured, mostly to herself. "He’s already caused so much chaos—what’s he planning to gain from all this?"
Mercer looked at her, his gaze steely. "He’s after more than just chaos, Sarah. He’s after control—control over fear, over economies, over nations. And we can’t let him succeed."
