Chapter 2: The Ghost of the Past
Rain lashed the D.C. streets, neon signs bleeding pink and blue through the SUV's windows as Ressler floored the gas, the engine roaring like a caged beast. Peter clung to the armrest, his blood racing, the city a blur of wet asphalt and blaring horns. The System had flagged Ranko Zamani's plan: a bomb in Lincoln Park to mask the kidnapping of General Ryker's daughter, Beth. Peter's foreknowledge burned—Zamani was a ruthless ghost, and time was slipping away. Surface goal: stop the attack. Emotional undertone: fear of catastrophe. Long-term arc: earn the team's trust.
"Take 12th, now!"
Peter barked, the System projecting a tactical map across his vision.
"You're not running this show, Wells!"
Ressler's voice was a growl, his knuckles white on the wheel.
"Zamani's crew is in that alley. Trust me, Ressler."
Peter's tone was sharp, pointing to a shadowed turn.
Ressler swore, swerving into the narrow street, tires screeching on slick pavement. The air stank of wet garbage and oil, rain drumming the SUV's roof. Two vans idled ahead, men in black unloading crates under flickering streetlights. The System pulsed, data scrolling rapidly.
"Out, now!"
Ressler snapped, drawing his Glock, his movements all coiled intensity. Peter scrambled after him, unarmed, his breath ragged. Gunfire erupted, bullets sparking off brick, the sound like shattering glass. Peter dove behind a dumpster, its rusted edge biting into his palms, the System scanning frantically.
"Red cap—he's got the bomb's location!"
Peter shouted, pointing at a thug reloading a pistol.
Ressler pivoted, tackling the man to the ground, rain soaking them both. Peter bolted to assist, adrenaline drowning his fear.
"Where's the damn bomb?"
He demanded, his voice steady despite shaking hands.
"Screw you!"
The henchman spat, blood dripping from his lip.
"Fountain, Ressler!"
Peter yelled, rain stinging his face. Ressler radioed it in, bomb techs swarming the park. The device was defused with seconds to spare, Beth safe, the crowd unharmed. But the alley fight wasn't over. A black sedan roared in, tires screeching, and a second wave of Zamani's men poured out, weapons blazing.
"Get down!"
Ressler roared, firing back, his shots precise as a metronome. Peter grabbed a fallen pipe, its weight grounding him, and swung at a thug's knees, the System guiding his aim.
The man crumpled, and Peter ducked as a bullet grazed his sleeve, tearing fabric.
"Stay behind cover, rookie!"
Ressler snapped, dragging Peter behind a crate. From Ressler's POV, he grudged respect for Peter's quick thinking, but his recklessness grated. Kid's got balls, but he's a liability.
In a tense debriefing (new event), Ressler rounded on Peter, his face flushed.
"You're reckless, Wells. That pipe stunt could've gotten us killed."
"I saved Beth. Maybe a thank-you?"
Peter's confidence was sharp, the System's hum bolstering him.
Liz lingered by the door, her voice soft but earnest.
"You were incredible out there, Peter. How'd you know about the fountain?"
"Lucky guess."
He shrugged, masking unease.
From Meera's POV, she watched a monitor spike in her station, her brow furrowing. Wells isn't just lucky. Something's off. At the park later (new event), Peter found Liz watching Beth reunite with her father, her eyes glistening.
"This job—it hits you where it hurts, doesn't it?"
He asked, his tone gentle.
"My dad… Red's stirring up questions I can't answer."
Her voice was a whisper, raw with vulnerability.
In a dimly lit bar (new event), Ressler grudgingly bought Peter a beer, his gruff voice softening.
"Don't let it go to your head, kid. You got lucky."
"Luck's just preparation meeting opportunity, Ressler."
Peter grinned, but Meera's silhouette lingered in the corner, her eyes locked on him.
Peter's heroics solidified his role, but Ressler's distrust and Meera's scrutiny cast long shadows. The Ledger's power saved lives, but its digital trace made him a target in a game growing darker.