Chapter 109 - The Sins of the Father
The gunshot cracked through the hollow cavern of the dry-well like thunder.
The mercenary screamed, dropping his rifle and collapsing onto the server rack. Arthur spun around in terror, his weapon firing blindly into the overhead darkness as sparks rained down from severed conduits.
"Breach! Breach!" the remaining guards shouted, diving behind server cabinets and opening fire toward the elevator shaft.
Reyes’s operators dropped from the ropes like predatory raptors, hitting the metal deck in rolling landings, their suppressed carbines systematically cutting down the mercenaries before they could establish a defensive perimeter. The firefight was violent, sharp, and contained—less than twenty seconds of precise, overwhelming naval tactical violence.
I hit the deck last, stepping out of the shadows with my weapon leveled directly at Arthur Vance’s chest.
Arthur stumbled backward against the titanium pod, his pistol trembling in his hand. The manic, arrogant confidence drained from his face, replaced by the sheer, paralyzing horror of a coward facing the monster he had created.
"Marcus..." Arthur stammered, his voice thin, high-pitched. "Marcus, wait... my son... listen to me..."
"Drop the weapon, Arthur," I said. My voice was deadly calm, entirely devoid of human warmth. "Or I will take it out of your hand with a high-velocity round."
"Marcus!" Clara screamed from her chair, tears cutting tracks through the grime on her cheeks. "Marcus, please! He's going to blow the rig! The charges are on a timer! He set them five minutes ago!"
I glanced at the digital console. A red countdown timer was flashing on the primary server bank: *02:45... 02:44... 02:43.*
"You're too late, boy," Arthur suddenly hissed, a deranged smirk stretching across his wrinkled face. "The master ledger has already been transmitted to the foreign server array in Vladivostok. Whispering Pines was nothing! A single node! Even if you kill me, the syndicate owns the continental shelf! You think your four-million-dollar house matters? You think your pathetic little career matters?"
"It mattered to me," I said quietly. "Because I earned it. With my blood. While you stole from your own children."
"I made you!" Arthur screamed, raising his pistol.
*Crack.*
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I fired once. The round shattered his right shoulder, sending the gold-plated weapon clattering across the deck. Arthur shrieked, collapsing to his knees, clutching his ruined arm as blood poured through his fingers.
I walked forward, stepped on his wrist, and kicked the weapon into the open moonpool below.
