A long, winding road in the Paris suburbs.
A convoy of armored personnel carriers snaked its way toward the distant prison.
The facility was over a hundred kilometers from the city, nestled deep in a valley of lush, green mountains. Aside from a helicopter, this treacherous, winding mountain road was the only way in.
It was a fortress, easy to defend and hard to attack, built specifically for high-risk convicts and... special prisoners.
Like Ivan Vanko.
The APCs cleared the checkpoint and rolled into the prison compound. Soldiers dismounted, forming neat ranks at the entrance. They were kitted out in full-body, black ballistic armor, looking menacing. No firearms. Just metal riot batons.
The heavy gates opened. The prison's top brass walked out.
"Warden!"
"Commander!"
The two leaders shook hands. After a brief exchange, they walked into the prison block, the black-armored soldiers following two-by-two.
The prison was dark and damp. Six floors, 500 individual cells, a thousand guards. The regular inmates, seeing these bizarrely dressed soldiers, all pressed against their bars, curious.
The group went straight to the sub-level, to Ivan Vanko's special cell. Even here, he was a VIP, with a dedicated 50-man guard detail.
His cell was basically a bank vault. The door had a state-of-the-art electronic and mechanical lock system. The walls were 50cm of high-strength alloy, rated to stop a 120mm tank shell.
It took several guards to heave the massive door open. The two bigwigs stepped inside.
The smell hit them instantly. The Commander frowned, covering his nose.
Ivan was strapped to a simple metal chair, his head lolling, unconscious. His body was a wreck, covered in drying blood that stained the floor. He'd clearly been through some... intense questioning.
The Commander frowned. "He's this tortured, and he still hasn't talked?"
The Warden shook his head. "Tough bastard. We've been at him all night. Not a word."
The Commander stepped closer, checked Vanko's vitals. He wasn't dying, but... "Easy, Warden," The Commander warned. "This man has secrets we need. He's no good to us dead."
The Warden was proud of his 'handiwork.' He just smiled. "Don't you worry. Give me a week. I'll have him singing like a canary."
The Commander nodded, then quickly left the putrid cell.
They walked to a conference room in the adjoining admin building.
The Commander got straight to the point. "Warden, you've received the President's orders?"
"I have," The Warden nodded. "My facility and my men will cooperate fully with your operation."
"Good. Here's the situation. Our targets are two supes. We can't use firearms. I need you to lock up every gun in this prison. My men will load them onto the APCs and drive them off-site. You'll get them back after the fight."
"Already done. Per the President's order, all firearms are crated. My men will help you load up."
The Commander motioned for his soldiers to go with them, then continued.
"One of the targets is a technopath. He controls electronics. The second they're in the prison block, you need to destroy the gate mechanisms. We're sealing them in."
"Already prepared for that, too," The Warden said. "On your command, I'll trigger a full lockdown. Physical lockdown. My men and I will be in the admin building's safe room. We'll wait for you to finish."
They went over the details, plugging every possible hole. By the end, they had a plan. A perfect plan.
"Good. This will work," The Commander said, satisfied.
The Warden laughed. "If those two pricks are stupid enough to come here, this will be their tomb."
The most dangerous enemy is the one you don't know. Now that they knew the supes' powers, they had a counter.
A soldier entered. "Sir. All weapons are loaded and secure. The APCs are leaving the perimeter."
The Commander nodded, his face grim. "It's time. Begin."
......
Paris, Four Seasons Hotel.
Franklin and A-Train, suitcases in hand, left their room and headed to the lobby to check out.
In the elevator, A-Train grinned. "Yo, Franks. Let's leave 'em a little surprise before we bounce."
The way the staff and the rich cunts had looked at him... the whole room-stealing bullshit... he was pissed. They deserved a little payback.
Franklin glanced up at the elevator's camera. "Way ahead of you, bro. Already taken care of."
A-Train's grin widened.
They checked out, got their car from the valet, and pulled away.
They didn't know it, but they were already the stars of a massive police surveillance op. Several unmarked cars quietly pulled out behind them, trackers feeding their location live.
The Mercedes stopped at a red light.
A-Train stuck his head out the window, looking back at the hotel. "Yo, Franks. This is a pretty good view right here. You wanna...?"
Franklin just nodded, calm and activated his power.
The second they'd left their suite, a team of cops disguised as hotel staff had entered, sweeping for... anything.
One of them was examining a floor lamp when the unplugged, powerless lamp suddenly exploded.
BOOM!
Glass shrapnel shredded the cops' faces and eyes. They dropped, screaming, their faces a mask of blood.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
One after another. The TVs. The phones. The hair dryers. Every single goddamn electronic device in the hotel... exploded.
One wounded cop fumbled for his radio, screaming, "OFFICER DOWN! WE'RE HIT! WE NEED... FUCK... WE NEED AMBULANCES!"
The handler on the other end was confused. "What?! You're hit? But the targets are in their car!"
"THEY FUCKING RIGGED THE ROOM! Every goddamn appliance... it blew up! Our eyes... fuck... they're gone! The hotel... there must be... hundreds of casualties! Get medics here! NOW!"
"Oh my god... Roger! Ambulances en route!"
No one died, but hundreds of guests and staff were injured. The hotel's pristine, five-star reputation... was gone.
A-Train listened to the distant pops and smiled.
But then... he looked in the side-view mirror. His smile faded.
"Yo, Franks. We got a tail. Multiple cars."
Franklin's face was ice. "I know. Been tracking their encrypted comms for five minutes. They even put a bug in this car... but I'm controlling what it sends."
A-Train was impressed. "So, what's the plan, man? These pigs ain't gonna just let us waltz onto a plane."
Franklin sneered. "Leave? Who said anything about leaving? The mission ain't over. Get Chloe on the line. I want the location of Ivan Vanko. We're gonna make one more big-ass splash before we bounce."
"I'm on it."
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You can read advance chapters and view R-18 images of the characters on pat reon page.
pat reon.com/GreenBlue17
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