He drifted. His eyes opened to view the whiteness of a ceiling and the coolness of the room. Three times his eyes opened and each time a day passed. He saw Melissa smiling at him, drawing him into a room filled with armed men. He couldn't resist her pull; she was stronger than him. The men were all laughing at him. When he finally pulled his hand away from Melissa, they all opened fire. It was a nightmare. John opened his eyes. Everything around him was spinning, but it began to settle and come into focus. In the background, he could hear voices that sounded like they were coming from outside his door and approaching his room. "Sir, I need to know why you moved him from the hospital. This is our major hideout, and that man is a stranger," a female's voice spoke in a frustrated tone that held a sting of anger. The second voice, a deep clear-cut male's voice, responded in plain words, he seemed used to her character and spoke as one would to a daughter throwing a tantrum. "Yes,

But there was no gunshot. He lowered the gun because Alice held his arm and shook her head. John stood up, breaking the tension in the air. He stared out the window, relieved to see no police presence outside. The bartender lay lifeless, Sam bled on his own floor, and Alice, well, she stared hard at Sam. Her knuckles were pale from how tight she held them. Alice sat on the floor with her legs crossed, her gaze locked on Sam's bleeding wounds as he held them covered with a rag. She shook her head, struggling to accept the truth. She didn't want to believe what she had just heard. "Why would you want to betray Richard? He's your friend," Alice asked, her voice trembling. "We need to get out of here," John said, the edge in his voice reflecting the urgency of the situation. "We cannot be here when the police arrive." Sam wheezed and coughed, struggling to speak. "I had no choice, my darling. They have Sara with them. They have my daughter, my little bunny." He coughed again, blood

John opened Sam's box and placed the last set of documents in an organized pile. He then closed the box and shifted his gaze to the passing scenery outside the window. In the rearview mirror, he observed Sara methodically loading bullets into the shotguns, while Alice maintained a rhythmic tap on the steering wheel. The information he absorbed from Sam's documents weighed heavily on his mind. It painted a grim picture of an organization known as the Dark Arts, that successfully infiltrated significant sectors of the government and was now seeking to exert control over major underground groups. John couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the Drakens, knowing that they were not easily swayed by external forces. However, the emerging power struggle was far from ordinary, as the Dark Arts had been operating in secrecy, steadily growing in influence. Their recent alliance with Spectre was a troubling development, and John suspected that his own work might be at the center of their rap

John hurried into the computer room, quickly taking a seat in front of the system. Alice, closely behind him, was entranced by the intricate codes flashing on the computer screen. She observed John, who was completely engrossed in his work, typing in a series of codes that altered the patterns on the monitor until it went blank. Once John removed his flash drive from the system, he looked at Alice and asked, "Have you tried to reach Richard?" Alice shook her head, her attention now on the blank laptop screen. "What did you do?" Alice inquired, her curiosity getting the best of her. The laptop's emptiness revealed nothing about John's actions. John studied her before explaining, "I shut it down after I erased their database. They had accumulated information about important figures. I'm certain they were investigating hidden transactions by these individuals. With data like that, they could blackmail or disrupt the government." Puzzled, Alice asked, "Why would they want to do that?"

Anthony backed the hospital when John and Alice emerged from the building. He was gazing into the distance, a cigarette in his hand. The gentle breeze played with his hair, and he leaned against the doorframe, enjoying the cool sensation on his skin. He held the unlit cigarette between his lips. "Are you planning to light that?" John asked. Anthony's smile appeared somewhat strained to John, curving but not fully. They had come close to him without him noticing, a sign that maybe he was getting old. Anthony replayed the thought in his mind and decided it wasn't such a bad thing. "No, my smoking days are long gone, but you know, old habits die hard. I just hold it like this from time to time; it eases my mind," he replied and straightened up. "How's your father?" John remained silent, gazing into the distance, the word "father" causing a twisting sensation in his stomach. He tightened his grip on Alice's hand and took a deep breath. "Dr. James sent his regards. Richard has been mo