Carter Mays hadn't blinked in minutes.
The CIA command center was silent—too silent. The red glow of the paused footage painted the room in the same color that haunted his nightmares now. Von's eyes. That slow, deliberate throat-cut gesture.
It wasn't just a message.
It was a declaration.
He's coming for us.
Carter turned to the analysts. "Get me everything—satellite feeds, traffic cams, drones. I want predictive behavior modeling on Von Royner. Where he eats. Sleeps. Thinks. I don't care if we break every federal law to get it. I want him caged."
A technician with tired eyes spoke up. "Sir… if I may. We've run the Oracle simulations twenty-two times. And every scenario where we move directly against Royner ends in failure. He's already two steps ahead."
"Then we make him come to us," Carter muttered, voice ice-cold. "We hit his heart."
Von stood over the sink in the safe house bathroom, shirtless, chest heaving. Sweat dripped from his brow as he stared into the mirror, his own reflection blurring into shadows. The red tint in his irises faded slowly. Each use of the gift came with a cost blurred time, psychic strain, headaches that felt like razors behind the eyes.
He splashed water over his face, bracing himself on the sink.
The door creaked behind him.
Shanice entered quietly, wearing one of Von's hoodies, her legs bare, her presence grounding. She looked at him—not with fear, but with deep, aching concern.
"You haven't rested," she said, approaching him slowly.
"I can't afford to," he replied.
"You keep trying to outthink them… What if they're doing the same?"
"They are. But they don't have this." He held up the flash drive again. "The Oracle Prototype. My father's last creation. It doesn't just predict ten seconds into an enemy's future. It predicts the enemy's entire chain of choices—based on emotion, psychology, and learned behavior."
Shanice's brow furrowed. "So… you can see what they'll do… even days from now?"
Von nodded slowly. "If I'm synced to them long enough. If I've studied them. That's why I needed to get into your father's mind. Why I needed to…"
He trailed off.
Shanice touched his cheek. "You don't have to explain."
"No," he said, voice cracking. "I do. I came back to this city with revenge in my heart. You were supposed to be a link in a chain. But now…"
She pressed her forehead to his. "I'm not letting you carry this alone."
Their kiss was slow, meaningful. A pause in the storm. For a few heartbeats, time wasn't an enemy. It was a lover, cradling their broken pieces.
At the same moment, a black ops team descended on O-Block.
No sirens. No media. Just masked agents and suppressed rifles.
They moved through apartments like whispers, interrogating, detaining, threatening anyone who might've known Von. One old woman was thrown to the floor for mentioning "James' boy."
Carter Mays watched it all from an armored surveillance van two blocks away, eyes locked on thermal imaging feeds. One blip blinked red—then two. Then three.
They were multiplying.
His analyst frowned. "Sir… it's not just Von. We're detecting movement patterns from other individuals using similar predictive behavior. It's like… he's teaching them."
Carter's hands clenched. "No. He's building an army."
Back at the safe house, Von knelt in front of a small map laid out on the floor. Red strings connected pins from barbershops, safe houses, schools, and trap houses—places his father used to protect. Places the CIA never saw as threats. Until now.
"I'm not the only one," he whispered. "My father trained others before me. Friends. Disciples. He didn't just pass the power… he passed the principles."
Shanice sat beside him. "And they'll follow you?"
"They already are."
His phone buzzed.
It was a burner signal from a contact named "TraceGhost."
We've spotted Mays. On 63rd. Full team.
Want us to engage?
Von typed back fast.
No. Not yet. Follow. Log movements. Send me live feed.
This ends when I say it ends.
He stood.
"Time to test the chaincode."
That night, Von plugged the flash drive into the last surviving laptop from his father's underground network. The screen came alive with code pulsing, rewriting itself. A prompt appeared:
Oracle AI v0.98
Subject: Carter Mays
Timeframe: 7 Days
Simulation Confidence: 79%
Start? [Y/N]
He tapped 'Y'.
Instantly, visuals flashed—Mays giving orders, black sites shifting location, Shanice being detained, media reports framing Von as a domestic terrorist. Cities locking down. Martial law in South Chicago. A complete takeover, all leading to Von's capture and execution… unless he moved first.
Von stared into the screen, heart pounding.
He knew now.
They didn't just want to silence him.
They wanted to rewrite history, erase his father, the truth, the resistance.
But history was about to write back.
Meanwhile, deep in Langley, Virginia, the Director of Central Intelligence stood in a quiet conference room, watching a live encrypted feed from the Chicago field office.
Agent Carter Mays appeared on screen.
"We're close, sir," Mays said. "Royner's within the grid. It's only a matter of time."
The Director leaned forward. "If he leaks the chaincode prototype, we lose operational control of every Oracle-affiliated program worldwide. Do you understand the scale of that?"
Mays nodded stiffly. "I'll neutralize him."
"You better," the Director said. "Because if you fail… you won't just be fired, Agent Mays. You'll be buried."
The screen went dark.
Carter turned and stared at a frozen frame on the monitor behind him.
Von Royner.
Eyes red. Face calm. As if he knew exactly what was coming next.