The next morning, the squad gathered at what appeared to be an ordinary paint house—a business that sold supplies for artists and contractors. But the back room told a different story.
"I own this place," X said as he led them through a concealed door. "One of many fronts. Helps to have legitimate businesses scattered around the city."
The hidden room was set up like a military operations center—maps on the walls, computer equipment, weapons stored in locked cabinets. A large table dominated the center of the space.
X pulled out the document from the Joseon Dynasty and carefully tore out a single page. The photograph of Dylan Foster stared up at them, along with the title "Gluttony" written beneath it.
He placed the page on the table where everyone could see it.
"This is our target," X said. "Dylan Foster. Presidential candidate. Member of a secret cult that's been manipulating world events for God knows how long. In three days, we're going to kill him."
The room fell silent.
Then Laurel stood up.
"I've been thinking about this all night," Laurel said, his voice steady but firm. "And I've decided I can't help with this mission."
Everyone turned to look at him.
"Why not?" Alpha asked, her tone neutral but her eyes sharp.
"Because this man hasn't done anything wrong to deserve to die," Laurel replied, gesturing at the photograph. "He's running for president. That's not a crime. You're asking me to become a murderer for... what? Some document from another dimension? Some theory about a secret organization?"
X stood up slowly, his expression unreadable.
"You want to know what Dylan Foster has done?" His voice was cold. "Let me count the crimes."
He began ticking them off on his fingers:
"Embezzlement of government funds—$50 million that was supposed to go to education and infrastructure, funneled into his private accounts. Three whistleblowers who tried to expose him ended up dead in 'accidents' within six months. He owns shares in the private prison system and has been pushing for longer mandatory sentences to increase profits. He's taken bribes from pharmaceutical companies to block legislation that would lower drug prices—people have died because they couldn't afford medicine while he got richer. He's connected to human trafficking networks through his business associates—"
"Stop," Nelson interrupted, standing as well. "Even if all of that is true—and I'm not saying it is—shouldn't you be fighting him with law? Take him to court. Expose his crimes publicly. Why does it have to be assassination?"
X turned his cold gaze on Nelson. "Because the system protects people like him. The courts are bought. The media is controlled. The government agencies that should be investigating him are run by his friends. The law doesn't work against people with that much power."
"So you've appointed yourself judge, jury, and executioner?" Laurel challenged.
"Yes," X said without hesitation. "Because someone has to."
"But that's not why you really want to kill him, is it?" Nelson pressed. "You said you have personal reasons. What are they?"
X was silent for a moment, his jaw tight.
"My family," he said finally. "My parents, my younger sister. They died in a fire that was ruled an accident. But it wasn't an accident. I have evidence that it was arson, ordered by someone with connections to this cult. Dylan Foster was one of the people who helped cover it up."
"Then expose that evidence—" Nelson began.
"I tried!" X's voice cracked with sudden fury. "I went to the police. The FBI. The media. Everyone. The evidence disappeared. The witnesses recanted or vanished. The case was closed before it even opened. That's when I realized—these people are untouchable through normal channels."
He took a breath, forcing his emotions back under control.
"So yes, I have personal reasons. But even removing those, even if my family had never been murdered, Dylan Foster would still deserve to die. He's a monster hiding behind a politician's smile, and if he becomes president, he'll have the power to hurt even more people."
"Who are you to decide that?" Laurel asked quietly.
X met his eyes. "Who is he to decide my family's death? Who gave him the right to end innocent lives for profit and power?"
The question hung in the air.
"People like him dying," X continued, "is doing the world a favor. Sometimes the only way to remove a tumor is to cut it out."
Laurel stood there, his own memories surfacing unbidden. His parents. The fire that had killed them when he was still a baby. The murderer who had never been caught, never been punished.
He understood. God help him, he understood exactly what X was feeling.
"My family was murdered too," Laurel said quietly. "When I was too young to remember them clearly. The killer was never found. If someone told me they knew who did it, that they could arrange for that person to die..."
He looked at the photograph of Dylan Foster.
"I'd probably take that deal," he admitted.
He sat back down heavily. "Okay. Fine. I'll help."
X nodded once, acknowledging the decision without celebration.
"Anyone else have objections?" Alpha asked, looking around the table.
Nelson looked troubled but said nothing. Lily stared at her hands, clearly uncomfortable with all of this. Ji-won's expression was unreadable—someone who'd lived a life of calculated violence probably found this debate unnecessary.
The others—Beto, Itachi, Marvel, Lee, Luis, and Pablo—showed no signs of hesitation. They'd all done this kind of work before.
"Then let's discuss the plan," X said.
X pulled out a calendar and marked two dates in red:
**September 5, 2026 - Assassination**
**September 8, 2026 - Election Day**
"Three days from now, we strike," he explained. "Foster has a campaign rally scheduled at the Capital Convention Center. Huge venue, thousands of attendees, heavy security. It's the perfect opportunity."
"Perfect how?" Nelson asked. "That sounds like the worst possible scenario—maximum witnesses, maximum security."
"Maximum chaos," Itachi corrected. "Large crowds are easy to disappear into. Multiple exits. Too many variables for security to control everything."
"Exactly," X confirmed. "Foster will be exposed on stage. We'll have multiple shooters positioned in the crowd and on the rooftops. Crossfire pattern. Even with his security, he won't survive."
"What about civilians?" Lily asked, her voice small. "What if innocent people get hurt?"
"We'll be using precision weapons," Marvel said. "Suppressed rifles with high-accuracy scopes. The risk to bystanders is minimal if we do our jobs correctly."
"Minimal isn't zero," Lily pointed out.
"No operation has zero risk," Alpha said. "But we'll take every precaution. Dead civilians create martyrs and turn public opinion. We want Foster dead, but we want people to believe it was a targeted hit, not a mass shooting."
X nodded. "After the assassination, we scatter. No one makes contact for at least a week. Let the chaos die down, let the investigation focus on other suspects. Then we regroup and plan our next move."
"Next move?" Laurel asked. "You mean going after the other cult members?"
"Eventually," X replied. "But first, we need to make sure Ronald Stone wins the election. That happens on September 8th, three days after Foster dies."
"Won't they just replace Foster with another candidate?" Nelson asked.
"Not enough time," Alpha explained. "The election is locked in. Foster's name is on the ballot. If he's dead, his party will scramble, but they can't field a new candidate in three days. Most of his voters will stay home or vote third party. Stone wins by default."
X leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. "This is bigger than one assassination. This is about breaking the cult's control over world governments. Foster is just the first piece."
"Let's talk roles," X said, pulling out a detailed map of the Capital Convention Center.
"Marvel, you're primary sniper. Rooftop position here—" he marked an X on a building adjacent to the center. "Clear sight line to the stage. You take the first shot."
Marvel nodded. "Understood."
"Itachi, you're backup sniper. Position here on the opposite side. If Marvel's shot doesn't kill him, yours will. Crossfire means Foster can't take cover effectively."
"Got it," Itachi confirmed.
"Beto, you're crowd control. Mix with the audience. If things go wrong and Foster's security tries to evacuate him, you intercept and finish the job. Your regeneration ability means you can take risks the others can't."
Beto cracked his knuckles. "Easy."
"Lee, Luis, Pablo—you three are perimeter control. Watch for police response, clear our exit routes, make sure our shooters can extract safely."
The three men nodded in unison.
"Laurel, Nelson, Lily—you three are the distraction team."
"What does that mean?" Nelson asked warily.
"During the rally, you'll start a commotion in a different section of the venue. Nothing violent—just enough to draw security's attention away from the stage area. A fight, someone fainting, a fire alarm, whatever works. The more eyes looking away from Foster, the easier our shot becomes."
"And Ji-won?" Laurel asked, noticing the woman in black hadn't been assigned a role.
"Ji-won is our contingency," Alpha said. "If everything goes wrong, if Foster survives somehow and tries to escape, Ji-won has the enchanted sword. One strike from that blade and no amount of protection will save him."
Ji-won's hand rested on the katana at her side, and she nodded once.
"What about you and X?" Nelson asked Alpha.
"X will be nowhere near the venue," Alpha replied. "He needs plausible deniability. He'll be doing a very public appearance on the other side of the city, livestreamed, with thousands of witnesses. When Foster dies, no one can accuse X of being involved."
"And you?"
"I'll be coordinating from here," Alpha said. "Eyes on security cameras, monitoring police frequencies, ready to adapt the plan if anything changes."
X looked around the table. "Questions?"
Silence.
"Then we have three days to prepare. Get your equipment ready. Scout your positions. Memorize the layout. And remember—this isn't just about killing Dylan Foster. This is about sending a message to the cult that they're not untouchable anymore."
He picked up the torn page with Foster's photograph and held it up.
"Gluttony dies on September 5th. And after that, the other sins will follow."
After the meeting concluded and the others dispersed to prepare, Laurel found himself standing alone in the planning room, staring at the map of the convention center.
In three days, he was going to help kill a man.
Not in self-defense. Not in combat. But through calculated, premeditated assassination.
The fact that the target was corrupt, that he'd hurt innocent people, that he was part of some secret cult—did that make it right? Did two wrongs make a right?
"Having second thoughts?"
Laurel turned to find Ji-won standing in the doorway, her hand resting on her katana as always.
"Aren't you?" Laurel asked.
Ji-won was quiet for a moment. "I spent years planning to kill my own father," she said finally. "When the moment came, I couldn't do it. So I understand doubt."
"But you're still here. Still part of this."
"Because some people deserve death," Ji-won replied. "My father, for all his cruelty, was family. That made it complicated. But Dylan Foster? He's just another monster wearing human skin. The world won't mourn his loss."
She turned to leave, then paused. "The question isn't whether killing him is right or wrong. The question is whether you can live with it afterward. Make sure you know the answer before you pull the trigger."
Laurel stood alone again, her words echoing in his mind.
September 5th, 2026. Three days away.
Seventy-two hours until he crossed a line he could never uncross.