July 16, 2026 – New York Red Hook Port Time: 01:30
New York's humid heat, combined with the smell of sea salt clinging to the air, was suffocating. On the roof of one of Brooklyn's abandoned warehouses, I was watching the port area below through my thermal binoculars. As Julian Vargas, I was about to make my first big move.
Below, a massive cargo ship bearing the name "Hale Global" had docked. Thomas Hale—aka Asher—no longer fit within Chicago's borders. Thanks to his shady connections with the feds, he had transformed into a "legitimate" logistics giant. But I knew what was inside that ship: the black market's most valuable pieces.
"Julian, targets in my sights," Ivy said through my earpiece. Her voice had shed the excitement of that girl in Chicago, taking on the cool professionalism of an operator. "Security protocol is tighter than we expected. There are eight mercenaries with 'Hourglass' tattoos on the ship's deck. All special forces deserters."
"Good," I said. I still liked that new, rough edge to my voice. "The difficulty shows how much Thomas values what's inside."
Time: 02:00
Port Area – Infiltration
Moving like a shadow was an art the Alchemist had taught me every day for six months, until my bones ached. I knew the blind spots of the thermal cameras, the empty seconds in the patrol routes, by heart.
I slipped between the containers and reached the main crane control room. I approached the operator from behind and struck the single pressure point my father had taught me. The man collapsed without a sound.
"Ivy, hack into the system," I said.
Within seconds, all the lights in the port went out in a brief blackout, and the backup generators kicked in immediately afterward. But those five seconds of pitch darkness were more than enough for me to climb onto the ship's deck.
On deck, I passed by two guards trying to figure out what was happening in the dark. I didn't kill them; I needed to leave no trace, to focus directly on the target. My target was the container marked "V-7" on the ship's lowest deck.
Time: 02:30
V-7 Container – First Twist
I broke the container's electronic lock with that "universal key" the Alchemist gave me. When the door creaked open heavily, I expected to find weapons or drugs inside. But what I encountered hit my brain like a sledgehammer.
The inside of the container was designed like a museum. And the paintings hanging on the walls... They were all pieces belonging to our family, stolen from my father Richard Hale's famous warehouse in Chicago. But the thing standing in the middle of the container, inside a glass case, was my real "downfall."
My father's old police jacket, the one he wore on the bridge that night 15 years ago, with the bloodstains still on it. And a note hanging out of the jacket pocket:
"Welcome, Julian. I like your new name. But a Hale, no matter how many faces he changes, can never hide the smell of his blood."
I froze. Thomas knew I was here all along. This ship wasn't a shipment, it was bait.
"Ivy! Get out of there! It's a trap!" I yelled into the radio.
But it wasn't Ivy who answered. The voice on the radio belonged to the man I once owed my life to, the man I thought had died on the Chicago highway: Agent Carter.
"Michael... sorry, Julian. Thomas Hale sends his regards. Welcome to New York, son. Now, put your hands behind your head and slowly come out. There won't be a highway explosion to save you this time."
Time: 03:00
The Fight Begins
Spotlights suddenly surrounded the container. Carter wasn't dead; instead, half his face was covered in burn scars, and he had become Thomas's most loyal dog.
"Fire!" Carter shouted.
As bullets ricocheted off the container's metal walls, I threw myself behind my father's bloodstained jacket. Thomas hadn't just dragged me to New York; he'd shot me where I felt safest, through Ivy's intelligence.
Carter is alive and working for Thomas. The "safe" information Ivy gave me was actually a trap leaked to her by Thomas.
"I promised you a nightmare, Thomas," I murmured, checking the two magazines at my waist. "But I didn't say I wouldn't enjoy the fire."
I blew open the ventilation hatch on the container's ceiling with a single bullet and dove into the flames.