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Chapter 33 - V1-Chapter 33

The day of the heist was a masterclass in controlled tension. Dressed in ill-fitting, grey coveralls with fake "Omni-Net IT Solutions" logos stitched on the breast, Mark and Leo walked through the front doors of Thorne Security Solutions. 

To any observer, they were just two more anonymous maintenance workers, their faces forgettable, their presence unremarkable. I watched them through a hacked street camera, my heart a steady, cold drum in my chest.

Mark, my Oracle, carried a toolbox. Inside, nestled amongst diagnostic tools and spare cables, was the physical access device—a small, black box that would be our key to the entire building. 

Leo, my Ghost, walked beside him, his earlier nervousness replaced by a quiet, focused calm. His Phase Step was a hidden ace, but his real skill today was his ability to appear utterly, hopelessly normal.

They moved through the lobby, their fake work order, created by Maya, getting them past the first security desk with nothing more than a bored wave. 

They took the service elevator to the 27th floor, a central hub for the building's environmental network.

We're at the junction box, Mark's text appeared in my command feed. No guards. It's just like Maya's intel said.

Plant the device, I commanded. Clean and quiet.

I watched through the tiny camera hidden on Leo's collar. Mark opened the toolbox, his hands moving with the swift, economic grace of a surgeon. 

He opened the junction box, attached the device to a series of specific data ports, and closed it up. The entire process took less than ninety seconds.

Device is planted and active, Mark reported. I'm in their house. Full access to the secondary network.

Good work, Oracle, I sent. Exfiltrate on schedule.

They left the building as easily as they had entered, two ghosts who had just planted the seeds of a hurricane. Phase One was complete.

Night fell on the city like a shroud. 

The Thorne Security Solutions tower was a glittering spear of light, its penthouse suite blazing, a beacon for the corrupt and powerful. Julian Thorne's poker night was in full swing.

Two blocks away, in the back of a darkened maintenance van, Jake and I stood ready. We were cloaked in our Raiment, two figures of pure shadow. 

Jake, as Havoc, rolled his shoulders, a faint blue aura of stored kinetic energy shimmering around his massive form. He was a loaded cannon, itching to be fired.

"It's showtime," he whispered, his voice buzzing with excitement.

I gave a single, sharp nod.

We didn't use a side door. We walked down the main street, right up to the gleaming glass entrance of the tower. 

The two guards at the front desk, hired for their intimidating size rather than their alertness, looked up in confusion as two impossible shadows approached.

"Hey! This is a private building!" one of them yelled, reaching for the panic button under his desk.

He never touched it.

Havoc took three long strides, his feet eating up the polished marble floor. He slammed his open palm onto the desk between the two guards. He didn't hit them. He hit the desk.

Kinetic Overcharge.

The energy Jake had been absorbing all day—the vibrations of the van, the rumble of the city, his own restless fidgeting—was released in a single, concussive blast. 

The marble desk didn't just crack; it exploded outward in a shower of glittering dust and fragments. The two guards were thrown back into the wall by the shockwave, slumping to the ground, stunned and unconscious.

The lobby, which had held a dozen staff members and late-arriving party guests, fell into a state of absolute, panicked silence. 

They stared at us, their champagne flutes and datapads forgotten, their faces masks of pure terror.

I stepped forward, my shadowy form seeming to drink the light from the room. I let my voice, the layered, inhuman echo of the Villainess, wash over them.

"Your evening has been cancelled."

Chaos erupted. People screamed, scrambling for the exits, but the heavy glass doors hissed shut, their magnetic locks glowing red. Oracle had sealed the building.

"There is no escape," my voice boomed through the lobby's internal speakers, overriding the soft ambient music. 

"This building now belongs to me. You are all my guests. My hostages."

I walked to the centre of the lobby, the terrified crowd parting before me like water. I retrieved one of the Intimidator-bomb props from my inventory.

 It was sleek, black, with a glowing red digital timer. I placed it on the reception desk's ruined surface, in full view of the main entrance.

"This building is rigged with five identical devices," I announced, my voice broadcast to the street outside. 

"They are linked to my vital signs. If I am harmed, if any unauthorised attempt is made to breach this building, they will all detonate. I suggest you keep your heroes on a very tight leash."

Outside, the first police cruisers were arriving, their sirens wailing. The flash of red and blue lights painted the lobby in strobing colours. 

A crowd was gathering. The media was arriving. The performance had begun.

In my command centre, I watched it all unfold on a dozen screens. The police had established a perimeter. 

A bomb squad was cautiously approaching, their scanners already picking up the low-level energy signature from my prop. 

The bluff was working.

In the penthouse, the poker game had ended abruptly. Julian Thorne and his powerful friends were huddled together, watching the news feeds on a massive screen, their faces pale. They were trapped.

I sent the next command. Phase Four. Oracle, Ghost. The vault is yours.

Activating humidity override, Mark replied instantly. The maintenance alert will trigger in five minutes.

Ghost, I'm at the vault's service entrance, Leo texted. Waiting for the override.

The city's attention was focused on the drama in the lobby. They were watching the Villainess and her monstrous enforcer, Havoc, holding the city's elite hostage. 

They were watching the heroes arrive—Sunstone, Velocity, a dozen others—forming a cordon, their faces grim. No one was watching the quiet sub-basement.

The final piece of the plan clicked into place. 

Maya. Begin the feed.

From his remote location, Oracle began feeding a secure, encrypted video stream from the lobby's internal cameras directly to Maya. 

She had her own command centre set up, her fingers flying as she edited the footage in real-time, packaging the raw chaos into a compelling narrative.

She sent the first clip to Anya at V-Net, along with a simple, anonymous message: "Exclusive. From inside."

On a screen dedicated to news feeds, I saw the V-Net broadcast interrupt its regular programming. Anya's face appeared, her expression a mixture of professional calm and barely concealed excitement. 

"We are getting breaking, exclusive footage from a source inside Thorne Tower," she announced. "I must warn you, the images you are about to see are disturbing."

While every other network was showing the same long-shot view of the police line, V-Net was showing the world the view from my eyes.

The final element of the plan was in motion.

A new figure appeared on the street outside, parting the sea of police officers. He was tall, his presence radiating an aura of calm, analytical power. 

Even from my distant vantage point, I recognised him. It was the A-rank hero, Arbiter. He had taken command of the scene.

At the same moment, a text from Leo flashed on my screen. 

Maintenance override successful. The vault door is unlocked. I'm going in.

The board was set. The pieces were all in motion. The city held its breath, watching the monster in the lobby, completely unaware of the ghost in the basement who was about to steal their dirty secrets. 

The real heist was about to begin.

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