Chapter 10: Two Preys, One Hunter.

James waited impatiently for his wife and son's faces to pop up on the screen after a series of rings. The holographic display hummed softly before flashing to life. A beautiful woman appeared on-screen, her radiant smile lighting up the room. Beside her, a small boy with a curly hair leaned in toward the camera.

"Daddy!" the boy chirped, waving his tiny fingers.

James's face softened. The creases of tension around his eyes melted away into a warm grin. "Hey champ, how was school today?" he asked.

The woman's voice followed, calm and melodic. "We missed you today. You working on something 'epic' again? When are you coming home?"

James sighed. "Yeah... something came up. I'll explain soon, I promise."

The boy leaned closer to the screen, holding up a crayon drawing. "I made this for you! It's us! And you have lasers! Pew pew pew!"

James chuckled, his heart lifted by the simplicity of the moment. They talked for a while longer, about banal things, about love, about vacation. Then the call ended, and James was alone again, the warm glow of the screen replaced by cold silence.

At exactly 9:40 PM, the room's mood shifted.

James sat hunched over his keyboard, eyes darting across multiple data streams. He had been scouring international surveillance reports, backdoor logs from CISPA's unregistered database sectors, and black-market transaction alerts. Nothing. The mystery man he was searching for—Vex's killer—had left no trail.

Suddenly, a video call notification popped up on the central screen. The icon spun unnaturally, surrounded by a web of shifting binary codes. A strange encryption pattern looped across the feed.

James narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is this?"

He tapped a sequence on his keyboard—his own firewall countermeasure. But even his defenses couldn't track the origin. Whoever this was had bypassed CISPA's Black Iris protocol.

The screen flickered.

He clicked 'accept.'

But no face appeared. No voice. Just static. The screen showed an empty space—a hallway perhaps, dimly lit but unmistakably abandoned. The signal was real, but there was no one there.

A chill ran down James's spine. His instincts buzzed to life. He pushed away from the table and marched across the room, pulling up the exterior camera feed on his palm-sized wristpad.

Nothing.

He checked the driveway.

A sleek, matte black SUV was parked just outside the perimeter gate—but the sensor couldn't read its license. He expanded the image.

Still, no figure.

"Stella," he whispered, addressing his AI.

"Yes, sir?"

"Run thermal scan on the front porch."

"Scanning... No thermal readings detected."

James frowned. "Run biosignature. Cross-reference known CISPA agents."

The AI hesitated. "Sir... there is no match."

James grabbed his mug of now-cold tea and headed for the stairs. He ascended the staircase leading from the underground command lair. The smooth folding mechanism closed seamlessly behind him, restoring the illusion of a normal suburban home.

Back in the living room, James walked over to the long shelf beneath his television. From behind a collection of vintage hardcover books, he pulled out a thirty-by-seventeen-inch flat-spined book. Opening it, he retrieved a concealed Beretta, checked the magazine, then clicked the safety off.

A knock came. Not a doorbell. A knock. Slow. Deliberate.

James slid to the door, gun raised at shoulder height. He unlocked the first latch, then the second.

He pulled the door open.

Standing before him in a tailored black coat, with graying temples and a crooked grin, was Alan Brose.

James dropped the gun slightly, eyes narrowing.

"You look like hell," Alan said.

"And you look like you crawled out of it," James replied with a smirk. "You didn't tell me you were coming?"

Alan stepped inside without waiting. "I thought I did. Or maybe I meant to. Or maybe I just like showing up to see if your old reflexes are still intact."

James rolled his eyes. He holstered the Beretta behind his waistband and closed the door.

"I swear you're aging backwards," James muttered. "Or maybe CISPA finally figured out a youth serum."

Alan chuckled. "Nah. Just clean living and fewer smoke."

James pointed at the now-recovered camera feed. "You tripped none of my sensors. None. That's not a trick I've seen in years."

Alan held up his left wrist, displaying a sleek matte-black watch with glowing indigo lining. "New prototype. Designed by the Phantom Tech division. It scrambles all visual and biometric surveillance. Makes me a ghost."

James whistled. "Impressive."

Alan walked toward the kitchen island and dropped a file folder onto the counter. "I assume you saw the file I slipped to you earlier?"

James nodded. "Encrypted deep. No ID tags. I assumed it was from one of the Triumvirate. But I had a feeling it was you."

Alan gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Figured you'd put the dots together."

James leaned against the counter, pushing a button under the counter that brought up a screen. "So... Shadow Walker?"

Alan opened the folder. Inside were satellite images, debrief notes, timelines. The operations spanned five continents.

"He's been active for years," Alan said. "Taking down entire trafficking networks, disrupting syndicate chains, collapsing gun corridors in Latin America... and now? Somalia. Took out two of Vex's associates."

James's fingers danced across the screen. "His tactics... surgical. Strategic. But whoever killed Vex—it wasn't like this. That was emotional. Brutal. A message."

"Exactly." Alan leaned forward. "Different men. Different goals. But both personal."

James folded his arms. "You think they're connected?"

Alan was quiet for a beat. Then he shook his head. "No. But I think they're about to collide."

James sighed. "And I'm supposed to find both?"

"You're the best we've got, James," Alan said. "Agents before you hadn't tried because of their certain failure. You don't get called 'The Hunter' for nothing. You wanna catch a ghosy, you don't call a plumber! You call a damn ghost catcher."

James ran a hand down his face. "Great. A ghost and a killer. What could go wrong?"

Alan tapped the folder again. "Shadow Walker's mission stays between us. The others don't need to know yet. But if either of these men crosses into domestic territory... we need to be ready."

James nodded slowly. "Understood."

Alan turned to leave. As he opened the door, he glanced over his shoulder. "By the way… check your garage. I left you a little something from the engineering boys. Might help with your search."

James raised an eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

Alan grinned. "Only if you plan on being boring."

The door clicked shut.

James stared at it for a moment. Then he turned back to the kitchen, flipping through the images on the screen.

Shadow Walker.

Vex's killer.

Two preys, one Hunter.

And he sure is ready for it.