December 26, 2025 – Chicago Time: 7:45 p.m.
Chicago's historic movie theater,The Biograph, stood like a sad monument in the rain. Michael looked at the ticket in his hand, numbered 15-B. This was where the famous gangster John Dillinger was shot. It was no coincidence that Asher had chosen this place; he loved to speak in symbols.
The interior was almost empty. An old black-and-white film was playing on the screen. When Michael sat down in seat 15-B, he noticed the seat next to him was empty. But just then, he noticed a pair of headphones and a small screen resting on the armrest.
He put on the headphones. A crackling but extremely civilized, even soft voice filled his ears.
"Welcome, Michael. You look a lot like your father. He used to look exactly like that when he was cornered; as if he could set the world on fire but didn't have a match."
Michael scanned the dark room. "Where are you?" he whispered.
"I'm everywhere, Michael. But the real question isn't where I am, it's where you stand. Luca D'Angelo is in a hotel across from the police headquarters right now, putting together an execution squad for you. Natalia Reyes is working to uncover your connection to Leo Cross. Time is running out."
Michael clenched his teeth. "What do you want from me, Asher? Wasn't it enough that you exploited my father for years?"
"I don't ask for anything from anyone, Michael. I only make offers. Your father leased his soul to me for your freedom. Now the debt is yours. Before Luca kills you, I'm offering you a way out. Tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m., there will be a vote at the Chicago City Council. The city's new security law... There's one name standing in the way of us passing that law: District Attorney Marcus Thorne."
"You want me to eliminate a district attorney?"
"No, you're not a killer, Michael... At least not anymore. You're a psychologist. Prosecutor Thorne has a weakness. Find it and bring it to me. If you do, I'll make sure Luca D'Angelo leaves Chicago quietly. If you don't... tomorrow night at Elara's documentary premiere, champagne won't be the only thing popping."
The screen went black. The sound cut off. Michael took off his headset and threw it away. As he headed for the exit of the hall, a large man waiting at the door handed him a small file.
Time: 10:30 PM
Michael's House
Michael spread Prosecutor Thorne's file on the table. But his mind was elsewhere. He called Natalia. The phone rang three times before she answered.
"Natalia, where are you?"
"I'm at the police station, Michael. Luca's men are terrorizing the city. Why are you out of breath?"
"Listen to me... Don't go to City Council tomorrow morning. Stay away from there, no matter what."
Natalia's voice turned icy. "Michael, what have you gotten yourself into now? Look, the Leo Cross case is deepening. If you're hiding something from me, I can't protect you."
"Don't protect me, Natalia," Michael said, "Just stay alive."
He hung up the phone. Michael looked at his reflection in the mirror. He put the rusty key on the table into his pocket. He now knew what that key opened. His father's old, abandoned warehouse near Dawson Bridge...
December 27, 2025 – Time: 03:00
Under Dawson Bridge – Old Warehouse
Michael opened the warehouse's heavy metal door with that rusty key. The inside smelled of mold and old paper. He lit his flashlight. On the walls were documents, photos, and audio recordings his father had collected over the years. Richard Hale hadn't just served Asher Burke; he had secretly investigated him.
Michael found his father's voice in a box. A small cassette player. He pressed the button.
"Michael, if you're listening to this recording, you must now be the hunter, not the hunted. Asher Burke is not a man, he is a system. To defeat him, you must think like him. There's not just a corpse under Dawson Bridge, son. There lies the key to all the sins of this city. Look in the compartment under the concrete..."
Michael noticed the old concrete slab on the warehouse floor. When he pried it up, he found a steel briefcase underneath. He opened the briefcase.
Inside was a gun, some cash, and a list. At the top of the list was a single name:"Asher Burke's True Identity: [BLACKED OUT]"
But the photo was there. Michael froze when he looked at the photo. The man in the photo was the famous philanthropist known as the city's "angel of kindness" whom he saw on TV every day.
Michael whispered, "Is this how you think the game will end, Asher?"
At that moment, the warehouse door was kicked open. Luca's men entered, automatic weapons in hand.
"Mr. D'Angelo sends his regards, Hale!"
Michael turned off the flashlight in his hand. As he vanished into the darkness like a ghost, he unlocked the safety on the gun he had just taken from the bag.
This wasn't 19-year-old Michael's fear. This was the first breath of a man who had become the hunter.