The Storm’s Eye

Jakarta’s night market throbbed with life—sizzling satay smoke, neon-lit stalls, laughter tangled with motorbike roars. Kiran haggled over a durian, her knife discreetly tracing the Syndicate’s phoenix emblem carved into the fruit seller’s cart. Across the street, Felix leaned against a crumbling wall, trading cash for a USB drive with a twitchy informant.

Bintang and Sebastian watched from a rooftop, binoculars scanning the crowd for tails. The air hummed with cautious hope; three new safehouses were secured, and two corrupt officials flipped.

Then the streetlights died.

Felix into comms. “Power’s out. Move.”

“Fall back to the—”

Gunfire erupted. Black SUVs plowed through the market, Syndicate enforcers in tactical gear spilling out.

Feng Bao’s voice boomed from a drone overhead: “Surrender or burn.”

Kiran yanked the fruit seller into an alley. “Go! Now!”

Felix sprinted, bullets chipping concrete behind him. “They knew! They fucking knew!”