A chill crept through the alley as silence settled over Sector 9. The blood on the ground hadn't yet dried, and Vayunesh Athisay sat calmly on the rusted bench—waiting.
And then… they arrived.
Headlights flared from both ends of the street as three black armored vehicles pulled up in perfect synchronization. The cars weren't marked, but they moved with the discipline of a military convoy. Their matte finish absorbed light like the night itself.
Inside the vehicles, silhouettes were visible—some slumped unconscious, others alert and motionless, all dressed in black.
The doors swung open.
Out stepped eight figures, dressed head to toe in black tactical suits, their faces hidden behind featureless masks. Some carried small pistols. Others had rifles, even AK-47s—military grade.
They didn't shout.
They didn't warn again.
They simply raised their weapons and said, in unison:
"Surrender and come with us."
Vayunesh raised his hands with a relaxed smile.
"Chill, guys. I'm coming. No need for drama."
He stood up slowly, giving them no reason to act, and walked toward one of the open cars. Sliding in without protest, he glanced at the unconscious bodies already lying inside — criminals, maybe politicians, maybe people like him.
The door shut.
Without a word, the masked men began to restrain him.
A blindfold slid over his eyes.
A strip of matte black tape sealed his mouth.
Noise-cancelling earphones pressed against his ears.
A cold metal collar was fastened around his neck—some kind of tracker… or shock device.
Then, with a soft hiss, a sweet-smelling gas filled the car.
Within seconds, his breathing slowed. His head fell back, and sleep took hold.
But just before losing consciousness…
Vayunesh smiled.
Scene Shift: Two Days Earlier — Texas, USA
Thousands of miles away, the slums of Texas painted a grim picture of what the world had become.
Forget what you remember of skyscrapers and shining cities.This wasn't the Texas of old.This was a wasteland — a post-collapse region ruled by desperation, rust, and survival. In this version of America, poverty wasn't the exception… it was the rule.
Inside a dilapidated motel converted into a stronghold, a red banner hung on the wall — a wolf claw slashing through barbed wire.
This was the den of the Red Wolfs, a violent gang infamous for trafficking, raids, and executing former government enforcers. And their leader?
Darian Wolfe.
Once an underground street fighter, now the ruthless ruler of southern Texas's criminal underworld.
The world might have thought of him as just another gang leader.
But soon... he would be much more than that.
Because even here — two days before Vayunesh vanished — the organization had already begun making moves.
And Darian Wolfe was about to learn that even wolves get hunted.