Chapter 99 The Archangel's Hound

Chapter 99 The Archangel's Hound
The absolute, paralyzing panic of the legitimate world was a completely beautiful thing to witness.

Forty-eight hours later, the Archangel Directive discovered that their multi-billion dollar orbital strike had utterly failed to achieve its intended goal, Armand Laurent had bled out on the pristine Parisian marble. The mountain was ashes, but the ghosts were alive, and the shadow-war of the world was unleashed, and it was a violent war.

They didn't try to hide anymore. The deep state panicked and began a large-scale desperate shift of their well-guarded intelligence servers.

They didn't know the Ghost Syndicate had been searching them out.

The German Autobahn was a smooth, wet black ribbon of asphalt lacerating through the freezing midnight. I was sitting in the front passenger seat of a stolen car that was heavily modified to be a matte-black interceptor. My heart was repaired and beat cold and absolute and utterly pure.

Joined by Julian Vance, who was pushing the supercharged engine to a fearsome 180 miles per hour, I was beside him. His perfect jaw clenched into the metal, his pitch-black eyes blazing with a savage, animalistic excitement of total annihilation controlled the steering wheel of the night's ruler.

Our fifteen-year-old son's icy blue intellect, crackled through the encrypted comms from the Geneva bunker, “I have their GPS coordinates, Papa.” Two miles behind is the Archangel convoy: Three armored PMC escort SUVs and one armored tactical transport truck with the master-ledger.

No, my Prince, we don't need the escorts," I whispered perfectly, pulling out my twin custom combat blades. “Just the truck is needed.”

I'm going to break their perimeter all the way down, Julian growled in a dark voice.

The interceptor had a huge headway, which Julian was able to completely unleash. In a blinding supersonic blur of rain and roaring engines we violently overtook the convoy. The Archangel mercenaries didn't even have time to unholster their weapons.

Julian suddenly yanked the steering wheel, smashing our interceptor's heavily reinforced chassis into the front of the lead Archangel SUV on purpose.

The impact was so forceful and devastating, the deep-state vehicle was totally buckled. It turned sideways and crashed into the road, its superheated metal and flames blinding everyone. The interceptor was flawless as Julian drifted it in perfect harmony with the fearsome speed of the giant transport truck.

“Pass the information, Kaelen!” The wind was so loud that Julian could be heard shouting.

I didn't have to think twice for one second. I was totally consumed by the speeding highway. I jumped out of the passenger window and my superstar skater body flew through the icy rain.

I landed right on the slippery, steel roof of the transport truck, which was traveling at a hundred and sixty miles an hour.

My heavy magnetic tactical boots instantly grounded me. I hit the roof access panel with my combat blade and tore the reinforced steel completely off of the panel, falling right into the back of the transport.

Three of the deep-state technicians scrambled to their suppressed handguns.

I was a stunning, completely silent piece of kinetic slaughter. I lowered my hips, gliding effortlessly over the shaking metal surface. I was in a state of extreme frustration from my Olympic days and spun around on my heels and completely cut their wrists off before they could even pull their safeties out of the way.

I walked across their bodies, and I tore the master-ledger drive from the server rack, which was heavy and encrypted.

I'm a hard worker, Julian. Extracting—"

The entire massive transport truck suddenly and explosively shook, before I could complete the sentence.

The rear doors were reinforced and were completely removed from their hinges.

Stepping into the speeding transport was not a standard PMC operative. The Archangel Directive was totally panicked and released its most terrible, highly classified asset.

On the deep web he was only known as The Warden.

He was a 7-foot, all-powerful monster of pure, genetically-enhanced brute strength. He wasn't wearing traditional tactical armor, it was thick experimental biometric plating that was bolted directly into his nervous system. He had no humanity in his eyes, his eyes were burning with a sick chemical rage.

The Warden's voice was a deafening, unnatural mechanical grind, "The ghost," he rumbled.

He lunged.

His velocity was incredible for his enormous size. I was able to use my top-of-the-class agility to dive under his hands and escape but his armored fist caught my shoulder. The impact was so hard, it was a shock. I was thrown violently across the transport, my back slamming brutally into the steel wall.

A huge, towering shadow of pure alpha dominance fell through the ripped roof hatch before the genetically enhanced monster could crush my skull.

The interceptor had been deserted by Julian Vance.

No one messes with my Consort! It was a deep, unchecked, alpha hellfire roar that completely overpowered the roar of the highway, and Julian bellowed.

Julian took up the case of The Warden. It was a spectacular and truly fearsome encounter between two top predators. The fearsome dictator of the underworld finally faced a foe who could stand up to him physically, for the first time in 15 years.

Julian struck The Warden with a bone crushing palm strike, which would have easily crushed a normal man's ribcage.

The Warden hardly winced. The genetically enhanced tracker roared, grabbing Julian by his heavy tactical vest and hurling the Fallen King brutally across the speeding truck. The heavy metal of the server racks buckled under Julian's bulk, as he crashed into them.

The Warden pulled out a huge broadsword, a machine, and used it to chop my King in half.

My repaired heart beat a dangerous and hard beat one missing. Blunt force wasn't going to break the Archangel's hound. I had to break his geometry all to bits.

"Julian, drop!" I commanded flawlessly.

Julian did not ask his Consort any questions. The Ice King violently rolled across the steel floor.

I unleashed the dark, kinetic violence, all the way. I threw myself off the steel wall, making the fearsome speed of the hurtling transport my very own weapon. I didn't want to get The Warden's big chest. I tried to hit the tiniest little holes in his biomechanical armor.

I took off like a quadruple jump, spinning around madly, so much so that I obscured the massive mechanized broadsword he was wielding.
With a perfect scissor motion, I slammed my twin custom combat blades into the unprotected biometric cables at the base of his neck, slicing through them in a cross-hatched fashion.

The Warden gave out a cry of agony that could be heard from a thousand yards away, mechanical, like the sound of a machine. His genetically enhanced nervous system instantly short-circuited. The massive, heavily armored body was completely unbalanced as the transport violently swerved backward.

Julian Vance didn't allow him a single microsecond to breathe.

The Fallen King rose up and seized The Warden by his thick throat and completely absorbed his unhinged, feral alpha dominance. The seven-foot monster was thrown back with a sickening and earth-shattering heave by Julian, who physically propelled him into the open rear doors.

The Warden fell into the icy rain, his massive bulk crushing the roaring rain-soaked asphalt of the Autobahn as it bounced around before being completely squashed under the wheels of the other Archangel SUV.

His huge chest was rising and falling, his pitch-black eyes blazing with a fierce and extreme pride, Julian turned his gaze on me at the edge of the open doors.

I stood upright in the middle of the truck, holding the master-ledger, my icy-blue eyes fixed on my King.

I slipped into his huge paws and whispered, "The hound is totally dead.

As the transport truck plowed through the freezing German night, I felt Julian's lips crush my own as if in a fist, a huge, searing kiss of absolute victory. The global deep-state had unleashed its ultimate monster, and the Vance bloodline had utterly, systemically slaughtered him.

The Archangel Directive was entirely out of assets, and the Kings of the underworld had their master-ledger.