The controller felt heavy in my hands. It was a standard university-issue drone remote, but the moment my fingers wrapped around the joysticks, the System flared to life.
[Skill Activated: Drone Pilot (Advanced)]
My vision shifted. A translucent HUD overlaid my sight, feeding me telemetry data, wind resistance calculations, and thermal imaging options. I didn’t just know how to fly the drone; I felt connected to it. I pushed the left stick forward, and the drone banked smoothly into the night sky, completely silent.
"Whoa," Nia whispered, watching the feed on her monitor. "You didn’t tell me you had a pilot’s license."
"I’m a fast learner," I said, keeping my eyes on the screen.
I guided the drone toward the financial district, hovering a few hundred feet above the Vanguard tower. The streets below were empty, bathed in the orange glow of sodium lamps.
"Thermal on," I muttered.
The screen shifted to a spectrum of blues, purples, and bright reds. The Vanguard building was mostly cold, but the underground parking garage was radiating heat.
"There," Nia pointed at the screen.
A silver Bentley pulled out of the garage. Richard’s car. But it wasn’t alone. A nondescript, matte-black utility van followed closely behind it.
"He’s not using an armored car," I noted, tracking them as they turned onto 5th Avenue. "He’s trying to keep it low-profile. If he uses a Vanguard security team, there’s a paper trail. He’s doing this off the books."
"Where is he taking it?" Nia asked, her fingers flying across her keyboard to pull up a city map.
I watched the trajectory. They were heading east, toward the industrial district near the docks. "He’s moving it to a secondary location. Somewhere he controls completely. We need to intercept that van before it gets behind a reinforced steel door."
I pulled out my phone with my free hand and hit speed dial.
Darius answered on the second ring. His voice was deep, gravelly with sleep. "This better be good, Hart."
"I need a ride," I said. "And I need you to bring that crowbar you keep in your trunk. We’re going hunting."
"Text me the pin," Darius said. The line went dead. He didn’t ask questions. That was why I liked him.
"Keep the drone on them," I told Nia, handing her the controller. "The System—I mean, the software is already locked onto their heat signatures. Just maintain altitude. I’ll have my earpiece in. Guide us in."
"Jake," Nia said, her voice tight with worry. "That van probably has armed guards inside. If Richard is moving his blackmail vault, he’s not leaving it unprotected."
"I know," I said, checking the switchblade in my pocket. "But he’s scared. And scared men make mistakes."
6:00 AM. The Campus Quad.
While I was speeding toward the industrial district in the passenger seat of Darius’s beat-up Honda, the sun was just beginning to rise over the university.
But Sophia Rossi was already awake.
My phone buzzed with an alert from the campus news feed. I opened it.
The Vanguard Innovation Center—the massive, multi-million dollar steel skeleton dominating the campus—had been vandalized. Massive banners were draped over the chain-link fences.
BLUE HERON HOLDINGS = STOLEN FUTURES.
WHERE DID THE LIBRARY FUNDS GO, RICHARD?
STUDENTS OVER STEEL.
Sophia hadn’t just printed flyers. She had mobilized an army. Photos were flooding social media of students linking arms around the construction site, blocking the morning crew of Vanguard contractors from entering.
"Look at this," I said, holding the phone up for Darius to see.
Darius let out a low whistle. "The administration is going to lose their minds. Richard Sterling is going to have a PR nightmare by breakfast."
"Exactly," I smiled. "He’s going to wake up to his phone exploding with calls from the Board, the Dean, and the press. He’s going to be looking at the campus."
"Which means he won’t be looking at us," Darius finished, pressing his foot down on the gas.
6:30 AM. The Industrial District.
"Take the next left," Nia’s voice crackled in my earpiece. "They’ve stopped. An old shipping warehouse. Pier 44."
Darius killed the headlights, and we rolled to a stop two blocks away, hidden in the shadow of an abandoned factory.
We got out. The air smelled of salt, rust, and freezing rain. Darius popped the trunk and pulled out a heavy steel crowbar, slapping it into his palm.
"What’s the play?" he asked.
"We don’t touch Richard," I said. "He’s in the Bentley. We let him go inside to prep the vault. The van is sitting outside, waiting for the all-clear. We hit the van, grab the server drives, and vanish."
We moved through the alleys, sticking to the shadows. My heart was pounding, but my mind was terrifyingly clear. The System was feeding me adrenaline, sharpening my senses.



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