Chapter 100 The Archangel's Fall
Chapter 100 The Archangel's Fall
The heavy, encrypted master-ledger drive slotted flawlessly into the stolen military terminal deep within our dark Geneva bunker.
This drive was the impenetrable vault of their entire global conspiracy, for the Archangel Directive. It took our son, 15, 12 seconds to warm up.
“Their firewalls are just awful, Papa,” our son said coldly. He moved his long fingers over the keyboard with a blinding supersonic speed and his ice blue eyes reflected the collapsing deep-state code perfectly. The core architecture is fully decrypted; there are three global directors on the Archangel Directive.
Smoothly, I commanded, "Give me the targets, Prince. I was standing by Julian, and I was the pure, unfiltered Mafia Consort.
Our son said that “Target One was the European Director of Intelligence, who is currently imprisoned in a heavily guarded, underground MI6 black site in London.” "Target Two, the American Director of Black Ops, is being driven through Washington D.C. in a fully autonomous, heavily armored deep-state motorcade.
Our daughter moved with ease out of the shadows, sliding her custom twin combat blades into the sheaths at her thighs. Her pitch-black eyes burned with deeply unhinged, feral hellfire. I will utterly destroy London.
Our son promised, a horrifying beautiful smile on his lips, “And Washington is in my grid.”
Julian Vance's jaw clenched on to the hard steel. The monstrous ruler of the underworld's bulk and muscle rested over the glowing terminal. “But where is the Supreme Commander, Prince?”
“That's not a radar that I'm seeing, son,” replied our son as he brought up a highly classified satellite tracking feed. A huge stealthy deep state zeppelin, flying at forty thousand feet over the freezing Atlantic Ocean, where the Ghost Syndicate can't get him.
Julian reached out, his huge, burning fist clenching the back of my neck, crushing me to his firm chest. His eyes were black, and he promised to kill.
“They were just looking for something to play with in the sky, Kaelen,” Julian growled darkly. Let's get rid of them altogether.
I whispered perfectly, "The global assassination protocol is completely initiated.
Four hours later, the absolute power of the Vance dynasty was unleashed on the whole earth.
The heavy rain in London pounded the impenetrable steel doors of the MI6 black site. The deep-state operatives, dozens of elite in number, walked the underground floors, with no fear whatsoever of their security.
Little did they know that a little Queen had already made her way into the ventilation shafts.
She fell from the ceiling grate right into the middle of the European Director's heavily guarded command room. She wore no armor – she was a blinding streak of pitch-black tactical silk. Before the elite guards could even raise their suppressed weapons, she completely unchained her inherited hellfire.
This was a stunning, dead quiet slaughter. Her hips moved right and she skated across the shiny floor like ice skates. She drew upon the explosive rotational force of her Olympic heritage, and in one perfect swing, her twin blades cut through the arteries of four operatives in a single stroke.
The European Director cried out in complete, immobilising fear as the little Queen walked in a perfect manner, lifting her bloody steel.
Our daughter's cold voice crackled over the secure global frequency, "London is permanently silenced.
Thousands of miles from that location, the American Director of Black Ops was driving an armored SUV through the glittering streets of Washington D.C., in the luxurious and heavily reinforced back seat.
Our 15-year-old son didn't shoot a single gun in the Geneva bunker. One blow of his keystroke was devastating.
All of the eastern seaboard was suddenly and unmistakably engulfed in a digital blackout, a blinding, supersonic moment. The streetlights, the security grids and the localized servers in the Pentagon were completely switched off.
"What is happening?!" the American Director shrieked as his SUV's dashboard violently flashed red.
Our son's perfect, ice-cold brain piped straight through the car's encrypted speakers, "I am happening.
The Prince has hijacked the car's autonomous driving AI. He locked the reinforced doors, overriding the manual releases. The deep-state director was shocked and stunned to see the steering wheel suddenly jamming the heavy SUV, as if it were alive. The car hit ninety miles per hour, broke through the entire concrete barricade at Arlington and crashed headlong into the freezing black waters of the Potomac River.
Our son reported it perfectly, saying "Washington has officially drowned.
We were on the ice of the Atlantic Ocean, the frosty and stormy sea, and Julian and I did the very peak of the shadow war.
The Vance ghost jet flew at forty-five thousand feet and completely covered our thermal signature directly over the huge Archangel zeppelin.
Our jet's heavy floor hatch opened to the sub-zero stratosphere with its howling winds. No static lines were used.
“My King, take their breath away,” I whispered perfectly.
We were all completely overcome by the force of gravity.
We fell like a bomb, all guns blazing, at the freezing night. We had to pierce the clouds like dark meteors and arrive with the crushing kinetic impact of our arrival, to the massive reinforced aerodynamic spine of the deep-state zeppelin.
Julian didn't find an access hatch. The Fallen King then drew his heavy combat blade, and ripped a large, jagged hole through the zeppelin's armored hull.
We landed in the central gondola with a perfect landing and it was really luxurious and guarded.
A dozen elite Archangel Praetorians brought up their heavy assault rifles, but the Mafia Consort was on the move. I completely unleashed the blinding, supersonic grace of the ice. The zeppelin was my kingdom, its narrow confines my absolute domain. I took cover under a barrage of high caliber ballistics, spinning quickly and maneuvering my twin combat blades to slice through their unprotected joints of biometric armor with perfection.
Julian completely entirely unchained the monster. A large operative lunged at him and Julian seized the man's armored throat and lifted him from the soft carpet and with a sickening, deafening crack, crushed his windpipe.
We had a perfect synchronization of Pairs no one could break, with every body we left in the deep-state behind us until we arrived at the Supreme Commander's reinforced suite.
The Supreme Commander resisted the reinforced glass window, his face turning pale as a sheet as he gazed at the two Kings of the underworld with blood dripping from their mouths.
“This is impossible!” he gasped, his voice breaking with utter defeat. The world will hunt you down, the world that is right!
The world as it ought to be no longer exists, Julian growled darkly, stepping right into the Commander's space, projecting a sheer, earth-shattering alpha dominance. The earth is VANCE'S.
I stepped up like a pro by my husband, my eyes as icy blue as ever, merciless.
I went away with Julian. In one perfect, explosive movement, Julian violently shoved the Supreme Commander all the way back against the glass and I took his twin combat blades and drove them with one of those pure, devastating movements through his chest, shattering the reinforced glass behind him.
The sudden, violent depressurization pulled the Supreme Commander's lifeless body out in the freezing Atlantic night.
I was standing next to Julian and the hurricane winds were blowing through the broken glass, my broken heart now whole, absolute victory. A large hot hand of his, Julian's, circled around my waist and pulled me into a huge, scorching kiss of eternal victory.
The Archangel Directive was systematically and completely deleted. The shadow war had come to an end.
The Vance Syndicate had entirely reclaimed their throne, and the global underworld knew exactly why the Kings would reign forever.