The rain hit 79th Street like falling nails, bouncing off rusted rooftops and cracked pavement. Thunder rumbled above the safe house, and inside, the tension was thick enough to strangle. Von Royner stood over the flickering laptop screen, watching the data he'd unleashed ripple through the dark web. CIA documents, surveillance footage, and proof of covert assassinations, Project Oracle was no longer a ghost story.
Now it was war.
"Protocol V has been activated," Shanice whispered from behind him. She was wrapped in a hoodie, her hair damp from the storm. "Your face is on every agency watchlist. Not just CIA. NSA. DHS. Even foreign intel groups are watching this drop like hawks."
Von didn't turn around. His eyes were locked on a red-highlighted file titled: Operation Lazarus – Royner Protocol: Terminate with Extreme Prejudice.
"They were never going to let me live," he said quietly. "This wasn't about control. It was about containment."
Shanice stepped closer. "What do we do now?"
"We burn the rest of their kingdom down," Von replied, eyes narrowing.
Across town, inside a secure bunker deep below Langley's blacksite division, Agent Carter Mays barked into a satellite phone.
"Deploy Delta-V team now. Royner's last known location is 79th. I want eyes, ears, and drones over every rooftop within a three-block radius."
A cold voice crackled on the line. "You're authorizing the Lazarus Directive?"
"Yes," Carter snapped. "It's the only way. This isn't a rogue agent anymore. He's an existential threat."
There was a pause.
"You understand the implications, Carter? Once the Lazarus Directive is executed, there's no walking it back. No trials. No arrests. Just… liquidation."
"I understand perfectly," Carter said, his voice hardening. "I created this mess. I'll end it."
As he hung up, his hand trembled. A photo on his desk stared back at him Shanice, age five, riding on his shoulders, giggling.
He slammed the picture face-down.
Meanwhile, Von and Shanice were already on the move. The safe house was no longer safe. Von had detected a signal spike on his encrypted tracker, a digital signature left behind by CIA drones.
"They've got a Vortex Eye above us," he muttered, climbing into the backseat of a modified Lincoln. "Military grade UAV. Probably scanning heat signatures. We're not sticking around."
Shanice tossed him a burner phone. "I uploaded our next location to the drive. We're going underground. Literally."
Minutes later, they drove toward an abandoned train tunnel near South Shore. Long forgotten, the tunnel had once been used by smugglers during the Prohibition era. Now it would serve as a hideout for a fugitive with a secret that could dismantle national security.
The tunnel was cold, reeking of mold and rusted iron. Water dripped from the ceiling in rhythmic patterns. Von lit a lantern and led Shanice through the narrow passage until they reached a concealed chamber lined with outdated military crates and communication gear.
"This place used to belong to my father," Von said. "Back when he realized the CIA was turning on him, he created fallback zones like chess pieces."
Shanice looked around. "He knew they'd come after you one day."
"He prepared for it," Von replied, lifting a metal case from the ground and flipping it open
Inside was a bulletproof vest embedded with a micro-processing plate, loaded pistols, backup ID cards, encrypted drives, and a red notebook labeled Oracle Genesis.
Von opened the notebook, scanning his father's dense handwriting.
"'They used my gift to rewrite timelines,'" he read aloud. "'To stage assassinations that never made the news. Predict stock market crashes. Win wars before they started. They took the future and made it a weapon.'"
Shanice gasped. "Jesus… They're playing god."
"No," Von said coldly. "They're trying to own God."
At the same time, Delta-V team breached the 79th safe house with military precision. Six soldiers in black tactical suits burst through the door with flashbangs and silence. But the house was empty.
Carter arrived moments later, storming past the commander.
"Status?"
"Negative contact," the soldier said. "He's gone. Place was scrubbed clean burner tech, no heat signatures. But we did find this."
He held up a small device the size of a thumb drive. Carter took it and plugged it into his secure laptop.
A single file played: Von Royner's face, hood up, eyes glowing faint red
"You tried to bury us," Von's voice said. "But like my father, I was born in the dark. You think this is about revenge. It's not. It's resurrection."
The video cut.
Carter slammed the laptop shut.
"He's baiting us," he muttered. "He wants us to chase him."
Back in the tunnel, Von sat beside Shanice, heart pounding. They had maybe a few hours before the drones recalibrated. Maybe less.
"I have to go to Springfield," he told her. "There's a CIA ghost terminal buried under the old armory. My dad mentioned it in his notes. It houses their predictive algorithms. If I shut it down, they go blind."
"I'm coming with you," Shanice said immediately.
"No."
"Don't you dare"
"I can't risk you," Von interrupted. "If something happens to me, you're the only one who can tell the story."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I don't want to tell your story, Von. I want to live it with you."
He kissed her hard, fierce, like it might be the last time.
"Then pray I come back."
Springfield was two hours south.
Von arrived just after midnight. The city was quiet, too quiet. He moved through alleyways, his instincts razor-sharp. When he reached the abandoned armory, he noticed the surveillance grid had already been scrambled.
"Someone's here," he whispered.
He entered cautiously, weapon drawn.
Inside the main vault room, red lights pulsed softly. Dozens of old servers whirred, blinking. At the center stood a figure in a tailored suit.
Agent Carter.
"I knew you'd come," Carter said, turning slowly. "Your father came here too. Right before he vanished."
Von raised his gun. "You killed him."
"I preserved him," Carter replied. "He was a threat to global stability. You don't understand the things he could see alternate outcomes, failed futures. We didn't kill James Royner. We archived him."
Von's eyes widened. "Archived?"
Carter smiled. "His consciousness. Digitally stored. The final phase of Project Oracle wasn't to control his mind, it was to become it."
Von trembled. "You sick bastard."
"He's still in there," Carter said, pointing to the glowing server core. "Talk to him if you want. But when you leave this room, you'll realize we were never your enemy. Chaos is. And we are the only line of defense."
Von stepped closer to the core, heart thudding. On the screen, an interface flickered to life.
WELCOME: PROJECT ORACLE GENESIS
INPUT ID: VON.ROYNER.0912
ACCESS GRANTED
INITIATING VISUAL INTERFACE…
Suddenly, the screen filled with static. Then a face appeared.
His father.
James Royner.
"Von…" the digital voice said, calm, powerful. "You finally made it."
Von's legs buckled. "Dad?"
"This isn't real," Carter said quickly. "It's a simulation. Code. Nothing more."
But Von ignored him. He stepped toward the monitor.
"What do I do, Dad?" he asked.
"Finish what I started," the AI replied. "Burn it all."
Carter raised his pistol. "Step away from the core."
Von turned slowly. "I'm not like you."
"No," Carter said. "You're worse."
Gunfire cracked.
Carter stumbled, Shanice behind him, smoking pistol in hand.
"I told you," she said, "I wasn't letting you do this alone."
Von rushed to the terminal. He inserted the red flash drive and hit ENTER.
All the screens turned black.
Across CIA networks, system failures exploded. Prediction engines crashed. Surveillance programs dissolved. The Lazarus Directive was terminated.
The future was unshackled.
Two days later, Von and Shanice stood on the rooftop of a motel just outside of Gary, Indiana. The sky stretched endlessly, no drones in sight.
"You think they'll keep coming?" she asked.
"They always do," Von replied. "But now… we're ready."
He took her hand.
Together, they walked into the unknown.