The apartment was unnervingly quiet. Streetlights cut through the blinds in long, sharp lines, falling across the polished floor like prison bars. Rain had started again, tapping against the windowpane in a rhythmic, almost meditative pattern.
The gorilla-masked man sat at his sleek black desk, fingers drumming over the smooth surface of his tablet. Each tap and swipe precise, measured. Every wire, every device, every gadget in the room was exactly where it should be. Nothing here was accidental.
He leaned back, chair creaking under the subtle shift of weight, and looked at the mask sitting beside him. Black. Ominous. Familiar. A symbol of what he became when he moved in the shadows. He reached out, fingers brushing the surface.
A faint buzz — his phone. A single notification.
Liam.
He unlocked the screen, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
> "It's time."
He paused. Checked the perimeter of the room. No cameras. No unexpected watchers. Everything was secure. He hit send.
Almost immediately, the reply came:
> "Are you sure? This changes everything."
He smirked, faint, controlled. Everything changes. Exactly what it's meant to.
> "I've waited long enough. The pieces are in place. Tonight, we move. No mistakes."
Liam's response blinked back almost instantly:
> "Understood. What's the first step?"
The gorilla-masked man leaned forward, tablet angled under the dim amber light. A detailed map of the city appeared, dotted with points, lines, and notations. Routes. Cameras. Weak spots. Every single corridor, every side entrance, every blind corner meticulously highlighted.
> "Observe. Disrupt. Wait for the signal. Do not engage unless I say. Understood?"
> "Understood. You lead, I follow."
He tapped a few more keys, opening live feeds from the locations he had watched for weeks. Each screen showed motionless corridors, the faint flicker of monitors, and shadows stretching through the halls.
He exhaled slowly, tracing one finger over a specific hallway. "Tonight," he whispered, "we pull the first thread. Everything else follows."
A light buzz on his phone. Another message. Liam's tone had shifted — curiosity mixed with caution:
> "You've watched them for months. Are you certain they won't see this coming?"
He smirked again. "They've never seen me. Never understood me. That's the advantage."
Rain streaked the window, casting dark lines across the walls. He leaned back, arms behind his head, and allowed himself a moment to imagine the chaos that would unfold. Not too much — just enough to savor the anticipation.
The tablet buzzed with an incoming video call. Liam's face appeared, tense, lit by a faint glow from an unseen monitor.
"You're calm," Liam said. "Too calm. I don't like it. People die when calm becomes arrogance."
He chuckled softly, voice low, measured. "And yet, preparation is the antidote to chaos. Trust me. I've waited for this moment longer than you can imagine."
Liam leaned closer to the camera, eyes sharp. "This isn't a game. If anyone slips up—"
"I know."
The gorilla-masked man's tone cut through, absolute, unshakable. "No one will slip. I've planned for every outcome."
Liam's expression softened slightly. "And the signal?"
He tapped the mask beside him. "When the moment comes, I wear this. Nothing more. Nothing less. And the rest…" His lips curved faintly. "…is inevitable."
Outside, the rain fell harder, drumming on the windows, filling the room with a percussive, impatient rhythm. The gorilla-masked man picked up a small black notebook, flipping it open to a page full of names, dates, times, and cryptic notations. Each line represented a step in a plan that had been months in the making.
> "Check in every thirty minutes. Watch for anomalies. Be ready to act the instant I give the word."
He typed the instructions quickly, sending them to Liam, then set the tablet aside. Silence filled the room — heavy, deliberate.
He stood, moving to the window. From this height, the city seemed peaceful, almost oblivious. Little did they know, the calm was temporary, a curtain before the storm.
His phone buzzed one last time. Another message from Liam:
> "Ready."
He tapped the screen. One word.
> "Good."