Chapter 344

The world had always been a little too loud. Screeching cars, endless news reports, and the buzzing of phones—everything was too much. But none of it had compared to the latest stunt by a game company that had finally pushed her over the edge.

It wasn't the merger of two universes that bothered her, no—it was the betrayal that stung. They had taken something pure, something simple, and turned it into another product to sell. They didn't care about the fans. They didn't care about the stories. They only cared about their bottom line.

Hannah sat in her dim-lit apartment, the stale air heavy with the scent of reheated pizza. Her eyes narrowed at the screen, her fingers twitching with the urge to break something. She didn't want to play anymore, not since they had announced the merger. They didn't understand the damage they had caused.

The stories, the characters—now they were all mixed together like a batch of bad soup. It was wrong. And the people who had signed off on it, the ones who had decided that this travesty was a good idea, they needed to pay.

One by one, she found their names. The CEO. The board of directors. The ones who had publicly supported it, speaking in their polished voices like they understood the consequences. Like they cared about anything except their next paycheck. They were her targets, and no one, not even the most sophisticated game company, could escape her wrath.

She started small. No need to rush. A few phone calls to make them uncomfortable, a few whispers in the right ears. A bit of chaos, just to see how they would react.

But the more she watched their faces on the news, the more she heard their voices on interviews, the angrier she became. It wasn't enough to make them squirm. No, she wanted them to know real fear. She wanted them to understand the cost of their greed.

The CEO was first on her list. Peter Griffin, a name that made her gag. He was tall, charismatic, the kind of man who spoke in front of cameras like he owned the world. And in some ways, he did.

His empire had been built on the backs of millions of fans who didn't have a voice. Now, he had to die.

She found his address easily enough—nothing was ever truly hidden. The night was thick with clouds, no moon to speak of, just the occasional flicker of distant streetlights. She moved silently, the only sound the tap of her boots on the pavement.

Griffin's house was quiet, too quiet. It was large and sterile, the kind of mansion you could get lost in if you didn't know where you were going. Hannah knew exactly where she was headed, though. She'd studied the layout for weeks.

His security system was no match for her. She slipped in through a side window, the soft click of the latch barely audible. There were no guards, no alarms. He probably thought his wealth made him safe. How wrong he was.

She found him in his study, sitting behind a large desk. The light from his desk lamp cast a sickly glow on his face, making him look even more pompous than usual.

He didn't see her at first. She stood there for a moment, watching him work, his fingers flying across the keyboard as if nothing in the world could touch him. She took a deep breath and moved closer, her movements fluid.

When she struck, it was fast, deliberate. One blow. That was all it took. He didn't scream. He didn't even have time to process what happened. Hannah made sure of that. He crumpled to the floor, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the world around her seemed still.

But it wouldn't last. She had other targets, and the taste of blood had only made her more determined. The owners, the ones who had given their blessing, they would follow. No one would escape the punishment they deserved.

The next target was a woman, Susan Lark. She had been the one to deliver the announcement, the one who had stood in front of a crowd of fans, their hopes and dreams shattered, and proudly declared that the merger was happening.

Susan was more difficult to find. She was careful, too careful, hiding behind layers of security. But Hannah had patience. She had learned that the game of hunting wasn't about speed—it was about waiting for the right moment.

That moment came when Susan was walking to her car after an evening meeting. The streets were nearly empty, the soft hum of traffic in the distance. Hannah moved like a shadow, unseen and unheard. Susan never saw her coming. One quick, well-placed strike, and the world around her crumbled. The woman's body hit the pavement with a dull thud, her life snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

Hannah stood over her, watching for a moment. There was no triumph, no satisfaction in her chest. It was just a task, a job that needed to be done. She was doing this for herself. No one else.

The last on her list was the board of directors. They had hidden behind their corporate jargon, their meetings, and their thick walls of security. But walls meant nothing to Hannah. She had learned to break them down long ago.

She found them in their private club, a place where the rich and powerful gathered to play golf and discuss their plans for the future. They thought they were untouchable. But there was one thing they didn't count on.

Hannah was standing in the shadows as the men and women gathered around their table, glasses of whiskey in hand. The air smelled of expensive cigars and freshly cut grass. They were laughing, talking about the next big deal, the next way they would squeeze more money out of their fans. They didn't notice her until it was too late.

She moved quickly, efficiently, picking them off one by one. They didn't understand. They didn't know the cost of what they had done until it was too late. The last man, the one who had been the loudest about the merger, looked around, his eyes wide in terror. But by then, it was over.

The world outside was silent, the city still under the weight of the night. Hannah didn't feel the rush of victory. She didn't feel anything at all. She had set things right. She had corrected a mistake. That was enough.

But as she stood there, in the stillness, she realized something: the world hadn't changed. The game companies would keep pushing forward, keep making their decisions, and there would always be someone willing to sell out for a price. There would always be another merger, another betrayal.

It was then, in the silence of the aftermath, that she understood. She hadn't been hunting for vengeance. She hadn't been trying to make the world right. She had been hunting for herself, for the part of her that had been lost in all the noise. And now, in the quiet, she was finally free.

The city lights flickered in the distance, casting long shadows across the streets. But it didn't matter anymore. No one was left to stop her. The game was over.