Chapter 5
The Crimson Night
[DATA: 19. CYCLE 9. YEAR 40 INDUSTRIAL]
[LOCATION: HALTER’S PRIVATE RESIDENCE — BLIN]
[TIME: 02:30 LOCAL]
[STATUS: REFLECTION PRIOR TO OPERATION “HIDDEN BLADE”]
The night was so profound that even the moon seemed to have surrendered to the darkness sprawling over Blin. Yet, a single light—feeble but defiant—emanated from the second-floor window of a modest house. Inside that room, where a candle’s flame traced menacing shadows upon the walls, Halter was writing. He paid no heed to the furious wind lashing the trees outside, nor to the windows rattling from the biting cold.
“To win a battle, one must learn to play with two faces. If you choose to play from only one side, you have lost before you have even begun...”
His pen scraped the paper with a hypnotic rhythm. It was the sole light in the entire alley. To Halter, time was merely a number of no consequence when his mind was saturated with schemes and variables.
?Suddenly, the pen slipped from his fingers. He ceased. The silence of the room grew heavy, punctuated only by the crackling of the candle’s wick. Halter set the pen aside and rubbed his eyes with exhaustion, letting out a whisper that dissipated into the shadows.
?“Ah... I suppose it has grown late. I must rest a little for tomorrow’s ‘festivities’.”
?He cast a final glance out the window toward the city that slept in innocence, unaware that tomorrow it would awaken to a new master. With a soft breath, he extinguished the candle. The darkness of the room merged with that of the night as Halter lay down slowly, preparing for the final sleep before the storm that would alter the course of history.
[DATA: 19. CYCLE 9]
?[LOCATION: THE BASEMENT — LOWER DISTRICT, BLIN]
?[TIME: 08:30 LOCAL]
?[STATUS: PREPARATION FOR THE DOUBLE BETRAYAL]
Morning broke with a pale, sickly light. Heavy clouds obstructed the sun’s ascent, and the few rays that managed to pierce through appeared more like a warning than a divine blessing. It was a frigid day; the wind blew with a light, sharp rhythm?.
?In a hidden basement, far from the radiance of the center, the idealists were gathered around an archaic map of the city. The air was thick with the scent of dampness and diesel.
?“Listen closely,” Peter addressed them, his voice sounding heavier than usual. “This is the plan. Once we have assassinated the Chancellor, the General remains our greatest threat. He will not grant us our freedom. Therefore, we shall take him by surprise. When he exits the building following the assassination, we will execute him as well.”
?Peter moved his finger across the map, designating strategic points around the residence where the gala would be held.
?“You will disperse to these positions. Each of you covers a sector. If the General attempts to depart, the first to spot him shoots to kill. Today, Geot will be left without leaders.”
?One of the members leaned in, whispering into Peter’s ear, fearing that panic might spread like a virus among the others.
?“Peter... what if the General has realized? What if he is a step ahead of us?”
?Peter did not lift his eyes from the map. A frozen smile remained etched on his face.
?“Do not worry. He believes he has broken us. He watched us sign the accord and thinks we are merely tools in his hands. He is convinced everything will proceed according to his blueprint, but he forgets one thing: we are the ones who will liberate this country from men like him.”
?The ensuing silence was suffocating. No one questioned further. Peter attempted to project confidence, but deep within his chest, a cold sensation was weighing down on him. It was the feeling of someone playing with fire in a room full of gunpowder, unaware that someone else has already struck the match.
[DATA: 19. CYCLE 9]
[LOCATION: CHANCELLOR’S OFFICE — GOVERNMENT RESIDENCE, BLIN]
[TIME: 12:45 LOCAL]
[STATUS: DIPLOMATIC CRISIS AND HANS’S RESOLVE]
Midday approached, yet the clouds refused to yield. This pale, suffocating atmosphere permeated everywhere, even within the heavy walls of Hans’s office, where his deputies were gathered with ashen faces.
?“Chancellor, what we feared has transpired,” one of them began, wiping away beads of sweat. “The mustard gas Halter deployed has triggered a diplomatic earthquake. Other nations are accusing us of crimes against humanity. This transcends the standard conventions of war.”
?Hans, reclined in his leather chair with his legs crossed, exhaled a dry breath and swirled his glass of whiskey. The ice collided against the glass with a metallic clink.
?“It does not surprise me in the least. This was expected of Halter. He always leaves a trail of blood wherever he treads.”
?“Sir, there is more,” another deputy intervened, his voice trembling. “We have received an official communique from the ISS.”
?Hans rose slowly. His eyes hardened into an expression that was a pure amalgam of shock and apprehension. He set the glass aside and advanced toward his subordinate like a predator that had just scented danger.
?“What does the letter state?”
?“They express total discontent regarding Halter’s actions. What was inflicted upon the Bratan soldiers is deemed intolerable. There is talk of severe penalties—even indictments for our leadership. The details will arrive in a subsequent dispatch.”
?Hans struck the desk with a fist so violent that items were sent flying to the floor.
?“It couldn’t have gone any other way! This is the handwriting of that coward, Cici. He notified the ISS directly to save his own skin.”
?“Sir,” the first deputy mustered the courage to ask, “what is our course of action? Should we relieve Halter of his command immediately?”
?Hans began to settle, but it was a treacherous calm. A thin, diabolical smile surfaced on his face.
?“Not yet. We must first see tonight’s gala through. I have an even better concept for our General. We will utilize him as a tool to demonstrate to the ISS that we remain loyal to their mandates.”
?He turned toward the window, gazing at the bleak sky.
?“We will execute Halter for his crimes... before the very eyes of the ISS representatives. In doing so, we shall wash our hands of the matter and appear as the guardians of justice.”
?The apprehension in the room was replaced by a complicit silence. Hans believed he held everything under control.
[DATA: 19. CYCLE 9]
[LOCATION: OUTSKIRTS OF BLIN — EN ROUTE TO RESIDENCE “OKULTA”]
[TIME: 20:15 LOCAL]
[STATUS: INFILTRATION AND BLACK MARKET REVELATION]
The sun had fully retreated, yielding to the nocturnal shadows that draped over Blin like a frigid shroud. A fierce wind whipped up withered leaves and grit into the air, conjuring the image of a city frozen in time, where the sparse movements of people resembled ghosts seeking refuge.
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?Halter waited in the car, parked in a lightless corner of the district. Suddenly, a light rap on the glass pulled him from his thoughts. It was Peter. The aristocratic suit was a trifle tight on him, yet it bestowed an appearance that no one would ever associate with a basement rebel. Halter opened the door with a smile that did not reach his eyes.
?“The suit becomes you, Mr. Peter.”
?“Thank you, General,” Peter replied, seating himself with a rigidity that betrayed his anxiety.
?Halter ignited the engine, but before departing, he cast a glance toward the rear seat.
“And your friends? Will they not be attending the festivities?”
?Peter attempted to maintain a motionless expression. The pressure Halter exerted with his tone alone was almost physical. He could not reveal that his comrades were positioned outside to assassinate the General himself.
?“A mission of this nature is too perilous for many. I decided to come alone.”
?Halter returned his gaze to the road and set the car in motion.
“You have made the correct decision. Too many people only serve to disrupt the equation.”
?The drive toward the residence was long and silent. The moon struggled against dense clouds, failing to illuminate the bleak streets. Peter, suffocated by curiosity and suspicion, could endure it no longer.
?“General, why does the Chancellor organize a gala without guards? Does he not realize he is vulnerable?”
?Halter kept his gaze fixed ahead, his hands gripping the wheel with mechanical serenity.
“He knows that within those walls he is vulnerable to bullets, yet he believes he is protected by secrets. This gala is clandestine; only the invitees are aware of its existence.”
?“What kind of celebration is this, that requires so many shadows?” Peter asked, adjusting himself in his seat.
?Halter smiled at the youth’s ignorance. Peter wanted to liberate the country, yet he had no inkling of the abyss into which Geot had plunged.
?“This gala is held for accords and commerce, Mr. Peter. But not legitimate trade. It is the ‘Black Market’ gala of the elite.”
?Peter furrowed his brow, lost.
“Black market? What does that imply?”
?Halter turned his head for a moment, and the dim light of the dashboard lent his face a demonic cast.
?“The black market is where the elite trade everything that ISS law pretends to prohibit. There, they sell narcotics, experimental weaponry, human organs, and slaves. Tonight, Hans is not celebrating victory; he is selling our victory to those who offer the highest price.”
?Peter froze. His eyes widened in horror, and the words died in his throat. He had just realized he was not going to kill a mere politician, but a merchant of human flesh. The remainder of the journey continued in a suffocating silence, as the vehicle cut through the darkness of Blin toward a hell gilded in gold.
[DATA: 19. CYCLE 9]
?[LOCATION: RESIDENCE “OKULTA” — BLIN]
?[TIME: 21:00 LOCAL]
?[STATUS: OPERATION “SHADOW HARVEST” — IN PROGRESS]
They arrived minutes later before a gargantuan white structure, its windows shrouded by heavy, dark drapes. Not a single ray of light dared to escape; the residence loomed like a silent monolith in the dead of night.
?Halter strode forward with steady steps, while Peter followed behind, struggling to conceal the tremor in his hands. As they reached the gate, a massive guard stood like a statue at the entrance. Peter leaned toward Halter’s ear, his voice vibrating with irritation.
?“You said there were no guards! Why is this dog standing here?”
?“Calm yourself,” Halter replied without turning his head. “He is merely there to ensure no one has concealed a weapon.”
?“But we have weapons on us, you fool!” Peter whispered in an agony of nerves.
?“Just stay calm.”
?As they reached the guard, Halter pinned him with a stare.
“I am General Halter. This gentleman is with me.”
?Upon hearing the name, the guard’s color drained instantly. He did not dare even touch them. He swung the door open in haste, allowing them to pass without a single search. Halter’s name had become a key that unlocked the gates of hell without a knock.
?Outside the residence, in the darkness, the group of idealists had taken their positions.
“Is everyone ready?” the leader asked over the comms.
“Yes, dispersed according to the blueprint.”
?But before they could draw their weapons, the night filled with black silhouettes. Halter’s special forces units emerged like phantoms from every corner, encircling them.
?“What is happening?” the leader stammered, as the barrel of a rifle pressed against his throat.
“It’s a trap! Commander, we have to warn Peter!”
?It was far too late. In absolute silence, without a single shot fired, the “idealists” were neutralized. They were not soldiers; they were merely civilians playing at war, and now they were facing the professionals of death.
?Inside the hall, Peter was numb. The room felt like another dimension. While outside people died for a crust of bread, here, the wine was valued at the price of an entire neighborhood’s lives. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, casting long shadows against walls lined with silk. A solitary violin played a melancholy melody that seeped into the bone.
?Halter traversed the hall with the cold gaze of an inspector in a slaughterhouse. While the guests laughed, he was taking inventory of every detail, every face, every threat. Peter, beside him, felt as if he were suffocating. The collar of the suit felt like a noose around his throat. The eyes of the wealthy looked like sharks ready to tear him apart.
?“Calm down,” Halter whispered, gripping his shoulder. “Just stay observant.”
?“How are we to kill the Chancellor amidst all these people?” Peter asked in a stifled voice.
?“Lower your voice. Do you see those two doors at the far end? The left leads to the washrooms. The right... to Hans’s study. When he moves toward the office, you will follow. There, it will be just the two of you... and death. I trust you understand.”
Suddenly, Halter shoved Peter lightly toward the throng.
“Mingle with them. Hans is approaching. He must not see you with me.”
?As Peter vanished amidst the guests, Hans emerged with a wine glass in hand and a triumphant smirk.
“I didn’t expect you to show, Halter. I have invited you countless times, and you have always declined.”
?Halter shook his hand with a faint smile that resembled the edge of a blade.
“I thought I would see for myself what the nightlife is like, sir.”
?Hans measured him from head to toe in astonishment.
“Halter... even at a gala, you wear the military uniform and gloves? We aren’t at war here. Loosen up, enjoy yourself! This is a party, not a mission.”
?Halter stared him directly in the eye, while his black glove tightened around the glass he was offered.
“To me, sir, every party is merely a mission that has yet to conclude.”
?The hour grew late. Midnight had long since passed. While Hans continued to laugh with the guests, mocking Halter’s uniform, the General stood like a crag in the middle of the sea—unwavering. At one point, Hans broke away from the crowd and headed toward his study. This was the signal. Peter began to shadow him, maintaining his distance, his heart pounding like a war drum.
?The office was plunged into darkness. Only a sliver of light from the corridor illuminated the heavy wooden desk.
“Here are those damned documents,” Hans muttered to himself.
?A creak of floorboards at the entrance made him whirl around. Peter stood there, his weapon leveled at the Chancellor’s brow.
“Who the hell are you? What do you think you’re doing?” Hans’s voice thinned with terror.
?“I am the one who will deliver judgment in the name of the people of Geot, Chancellor,” Peter replied, his voice no longer trembling.
?Peter closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, waiting for the roar of gunpowder to wash away the sins of that land. But a silence heavier than death fell over the room. A cold clack. Simple. Like the sound of a doorknob that refuses to turn. He pulled it again. And again. Nothing. It was the sound of hope dying. To Peter, it was the collapse of a mountain; to Hans, it was the first breath after drowning.
?Hans erupted into hysterical laughter, while the clatter of metallic boots echoed in the corridor. At the threshold of the door, a shadow as heavy as death appeared.
?“Halter!” Hans shouted, exhilarated. “Arrest this bastard immediately!”
But his jubilation froze in an instant when he saw Halter draw his own sidearm and level it with absolute cold-bloodedness.
?“What are you doing, Halter?! Lower your weapon—that is an order!”
?Halter granted him a faint, ghostly smile.
“I am concluding our conversation, Chancellor.”
?A short, sharp bang punctured the air. It wasn’t the sound of a murder; it was the sound of a seal striking an official document. The scent of gunpowder mingled with the aroma of expensive whiskey. Hans’s body collapsed onto the carpet like a ruptured sack.
[OBJECTIVE: HANS ELIMINATED]
Peter was trembling violently.
“I don’t understand... General, the plan was different...”
?Halter turned toward him. His eyes held not a single grain of mercy. He leveled the barrel at the youth’s brow.
?“I am sorry, boy. But I cannot permit ‘idealists’ to interfere with the New Order. You are parasites of a different breed.”
?A second report put an end to every other sound in the office.
[OBJECTIVE: PETER ELIMINATED]
When the officer and soldiers rushed in, they discovered a scene painted in crimson. Halter stood over the bodies, composed, as he loaded Peter’s weapon with live rounds and concealed his own.
?“General?! What has transpired here?” the terrified officer stammered.
?“This idealist assassinated the Chancellor,” Halter stated with an authoritative tone. “I did not arrive in time to save him, but I executed the assassin on the spot. Judging by the weapon he carried, I suspect he is a Bratan spy.”
?Halter stepped out into the hall, where the guests were frozen in panic.
?“Everything is under control!” his voice thundered over the silenced music. “There is no need for panic. And... you are all under arrest for crimes against humanity, human trafficking, and organ harvesting.”
?The officer stood agape.
“General, these are the Chancellor’s associates... the most powerful men in the nation!”
?“The Chancellor no longer exists,” Halter replied, adjusting his black gloves. “And these are no longer associates; they are war criminals. They shall stand before my court.”
?As the sun began to crest the horizon, a new and frigid light fell upon Geot. Halter was no longer merely a general. He was the Law.
