James woke to the sound of a sharp knock at the door.

  His eyes opened instantly, no grogginess, no hesitation. For a few seconds, he simply lay there, listening.

  The city outside was already alive, the distant hum of traffic and drones filling the air. But the knock wasn’t random. It was calculated, measured. Whoever was on the other side of that door wasn’t just some hotel worker or a lost guest.

  Another knock.

  James exhaled, sitting up. The sheets slid off his bare torso, dog tags dinking together. the cool air of the room brushing against his skin. He rolled his shoulders, letting the stiffness of the night out.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet touching the polished floor. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair before standing, his muscles stretching as he walked toward the door.

  His 1911 was already in his hand before he even reached it. Habit.

  James pressed his back against the wall beside the door, flipping the safety off just in case. Then, moving silently, he peered through the security display on the wall, showing a grainy camera feed of the hallway.

  Two men. Well-dressed. Suits. Corporate types.

  One of them held a briefcase.

  James narrowed his eyes.

  Didn’t look like hired guns. But that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous.

  He flicked the safety back on, tucking the gun behind his back before unlocking the door and cracking it open.

  Two pairs of eyes met his.

  One of the men a slim, sharp-featured guy with neatly combed brown hair offered a polite smile.

  The other was bulkier, broader, standing slightly behind him like a silent wall of muscle.

  “Who the hell are you?” James asked, his voice flat, cautious.

  The slim man tilted his head slightly. “My name is George, and this is my partner, Collins. We are representatives from CAI.” His tone was smooth, professional. “May we come in?”

  James glanced between them, then at the briefcase.

  He could already tell they weren’t here for a friendly conversation.

  Still, he stepped back, waving them inside.

  Might as well hear them out.

  George shifted awkwardly, glancing away before clearing his throat. “Do you, uh… want to put on some pants first?”

  James leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his bare chest, completely unbothered. “No, I’m good.”

  George hesitated. “Alright.. then…” He stepped inside cautiously, his partner, Collins, following close behind. Collins didn’t say a word, but the way his hand hovered near his jacket made it clear—he was the muscle.

  James shut the door and motioned toward the couch. George sat down stiffly while James took the opposite seat, the low table between them. Collins remained standing behind George, his posture straight, eyes never leaving James. Definitely security.

  “We have a contract for you,” George started, but James cut him off before he could go further.

  “How do you know who I am? And how did you know I was here?” His voice was calm, but his stare was sharp, calculating.

  George smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “A man of your stature is bound to be known.”

  James didn’t react. Just stared.

  George sighed, adjusting his tie slightly. “Alright, fine. We have old MGI files.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  James moved before George could blink.

  The 1911 was in his hand, the barrel pressed against George’s forehead in an instant. Collins was fast, drawing his own weapon and aiming at James, his grip steady, his face unreadable.

  “Wait, wait, wait! Everyone calm down!” George said quickly, holding up both hands. “We’re not here to start trouble.”

  James didn’t lower the gun. “Then start talking.”

  George exhaled, forcing himself to stay composed despite the cold metal against his skull. “We’re here because those same MGI files mark you as a target for elimination.”

  That made James pause.

  He didn’t lower his gun, but his grip eased just slightly.

  George took it as a chance to continue. “So when your name popped up on the registry as a guest here, we did some digging. Turns out, you have quite the history. A very… particular set of skills. The kind that we could use.”

  James finally lowered the 1911, but he didn’t holster it. “Use me for what?”

  George leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “You already know the MGI is still operating in the shadows. But what you might not know is that they’re the ones bankrolling the Helix Cartel.”

  That caught James’s attention.

  George’s expression remained calm, but there was an underlying sharpness in his gaze. “The Helix Cartel is a problem, but one we can handle. However, as long as they have the bottomless pockets of MGI backing them, anything we do is just delaying the inevitable.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice steady, measured. “We need someone like you to go after the real boogeyman.”

  James stayed silent, his mind working through the implications. If MGI was the one pulling the strings, then Helix was nothing more than their attack dog. Cutting the head off the cartel wouldn’t mean a damn thing if their master could just buy another one.

  His fingers drummed idly against the grip of his 1911, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow exhale, he set the pistol on the table between them, the weight of the decision settling in his mind.

  “If I’m going to do this,” James said evenly, his voice carrying that edge of finality, “I’m going to need money. And every last file you have on MGI.”

  George gave a small, knowing smile. He reached down, unlocking the briefcase with a soft click before flipping it open. Inside was a neatly stacked pile of documents, some yellowed with age, others crisp and freshly printed. Each file was stamped with the unmistakable emblem of MGI. James’ sharp eyes scanned the pages from where he sat, already picking out pieces of information just from the scattered words visible—classified operations, personnel names, research projects.

  George didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he reached into the case and pulled out a sleek black card, sliding it across the table.

  “This holds 100,000,” he said smoothly. “You’ll get another 400,000 when the job is done.”

  James picked up the card, running his thumb over its surface. It was heavy, metallic. Not some cheap pre-war plastic.

  George stood, smoothing out his suit as Collins, who had remained silent the entire conversation, followed suit. “I look forward to a fruitful partnership,” George said with a polite nod.

  James didn’t respond, just watched them as they made their way to the door. Collins gave him one last unreadable glance before stepping out behind his partner, the door clicking shut behind them.

  James leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He looked down at the files in the open briefcase, fingers grazing over the MGI seal embossed on the topmost document.

  He had come here to hunt down any intel on MGI, knowing that their headquarters had been in Miami before the war. His original plan had been to tear through whatever remained of the building, piece by piece, searching for anything useful.

  But this?

  This just saved him a hell of a lot of time.

  Two days later, James emerged from his room for the first time, his expression cold and unreadable.

  The air in the hotel lobby was lighter than when he had first arrived—travelers chatting, businesspeople moving between meetings, and CAI security forces maintaining their casual but ever-present watch. The young woman at the front desk, the same one who helped him when he checked in, perked up as he passed, offering a bright, "Haven't seen you in a while, stranger."

  James didn't acknowledge her. He walked past without a word, his boots clicking against the pristine floor, his mind already miles away.

  The weight of what he had uncovered sat heavy in his chest, but it didn’t slow him. If anything, it only hardened his resolve. He had pieced it all together—every file, every scrap of information, every coded message and redacted report. They had hidden extremely well, covering their tracks so thoroughly that even with the knowledge he already possessed, the additional files from CAI, and his own enhanced cognitive abilities, it had taken him two relentless days to unravel it all.

  But now?

  Now, there was nowhere left for them to hide.

  James stepped out into the street, the Florida heat pressing against him like a weight. The city hummed with life, people moving about their business as if the world wasn’t rotting beneath them. He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders, his muscles stiff from the hours spent hunched over documents and screens.

  It didn’t matter. The hunt was on.

  He climbed into his car, the door slamming shut with finality. His fingers gripped the wheel, knuckles white. And then, without hesitation, he floored the gas. The tires screeched against the pavement, the engine roared like a beast unleashed, and James shot down the road, leaving the city behind in a blur of concrete and steel.

  He had found them.

  And when he was done, not a single one of them would be left standing.