I don't know if I'll continue.
But if not, it's been an excellent journey so far. With you all together, thank you for everything.
It was almost 300,000 words that were worth every syllable.
including his chief of staff and the Vice President, felt a chill. They realized that the channel was not only open, but that Daniel had taken complete control. He could listen to, and alter, whoever was listening. The realization that Daniel was in absolute control of that line, and possibly all their lines, was unsettling, a reminder of the power he wielded.
Daniel, his honey-brown eyes fixed on the President's screen, smiled, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was a smile that promised more than it revealed. "Dubai, this time of year, is beautiful, you know? Why not start there? It's an excellent starting point for your diplomatic tour."
The suggestion wasn't a question, but an instruction, gentle but undeniable. The President, speechless, simply nodded slowly, his tired eyes fixed on Daniel, captured by that invisible force. He felt the weight of Daniel's presence, even through the screen, the absolute certainty that, yes, Daniel could enter wherever he wanted, at any time, undetected. The diplomatic trip had just taken on a new meaning, a new layer of complexity, and a hint of mystery that only Daniel could unravel. The hunt was over, but the game, as Daniel had said, was just beginning.
The silence in the mansion was now a heavy blanket. Daniel turned off the console, and the once vibrant screens sank into a soft shadow. He turned to Henry, who still sat, his shoulders hunched with exhaustion. The dim light coming from the panoramic window, revealing the Dubai nightscape, barely illuminated Daniel's face.
"Open the bunker, Henry," Daniel said, his voice low, almost a whisper, but filled with final decision. It wasn't a request, but an order. There was a melancholy in his tone, a resignation. It wasn't power he sought, but the burden he carried. He had acted, he had won, but victory didn't bring the peace others imagined. It brought only the certainty that the war would continue, and that he, Daniel, the "Twelve," the "Ghost," would always be at the center of it. The idea of "not wanting this power" echoed in his distant gaze, an exhaustion that went beyond the physical. He had done what was necessary, but the cost was visible in every line of his face, in every tense muscle of his body.
Henry, without saying a word, simply nodded, rising with visible effort. His fingers flew over a hidden panel in the wall, and a low hum filled the air. A section of the marble wall, once solid and impenetrable, began to move, sliding aside with mechanical precision, revealing a dark passage. The air coming from within was cooler, denser. Daniel took one last look at the blank screens, at the world map that still bore the marks of his "justice." He hadn't wanted that power, but fate, or perhaps his very nature, had forged him to wield it. And now, it was time to descend into the depths of his fortress, into the heart of his operations, where the true battle, the battle against the darkness that always surrounded him, still awaited. The bunker door swung open, swallowing the light from the office, inviting Daniel into his world of shadows, a world he had created to protect the light he now possessed.
Ghost is the wall of evil that prevents millions of people from dying, or stupid wars from certain countries attacking just because they want to or make an excuse saying it's theirs first.
Daniel, his expression impassive, his honey-brown eyes fixed on the main screen, where the image of the President of the United States was still visible, activated the communication channel. The President, in his austere bunker, sat with his hands resting on his knees, his face weary, but his eyes showed deep gratitude. He seemed to have aged ten years in the last few hours. The Vice President and the Chief of Staff sat silently beside him, their worried gazes fixed on the screen.
"Mr. President," Daniel's voice echoed, without the urgency of before, but with an unquestionable authority that filled the space between them.
The President lifted his head, his tired eyes meeting Daniel's on the screen. "Ghost. I... I don't know what to say. You saved millions of lives. You saved cities. You saved the world. I told you I wanted to meet you. In person."
Daniel nodded slowly, the slightest movement. "Yes, Mr. President. I heard. And the invitation is accepted. I make you a proposal." His voice was emotionless, but his words carried a weight that held everyone's attention. "Better not, President. You have the targets. And I will pass all the terrorists' data to the CIA and Interpol."
A shocked silence fell over the conference. Daniel's proposal was unexpected. The President blinked in surprise. "You... you're going to give us the data?" His voice was a mixture of relief and disbelief. He'd expected an ultimatum, perhaps a threat. But this? It was an offer of intelligence on an unprecedented level.
"Yes, Mr. President," Daniel confirmed, his voice unwavering, but with a firmness that left no room for doubt. "I know where they are. I've located the terrorist network's five main command and control centers. They are the masterminds behind everything. I'll give you the exact coordinates, the detailed plans of their operations, the names of their financiers, and the structures of their cells around the world. All the intelligence you need to act decisively and surgically."
The Pentagon General, who had been silent until then, exclaimed, "Ghost! This is... this is a gift! But why? Why don't you act yourself, like you did before?" He was confused. Daniel's brutal efficiency in the past contrasted with this new approach.
"General, I don't want that power," Daniel replied, his voice calm, his eyes fixed on the screen. The confession surprised everyone. "The decision to attack must come from you. From your governments, your armies, your agencies. It is your responsibility to protect your citizens. I provide the intelligence, the knowledge of the lines you cannot see. But the action, the final act, must be yours. It is the only way to ensure the world begins to deal with its own monsters, and not depend on a ghost forever. I am the wall that prevents evil, but the wall does not attack. It only resists and exposes."
On Daniel's map, multiple maps activated. They weren't missile routes, but data streams, lines of glowing green code rapidly spreading across continents. The main screen showed a secure data portal opening, with the CIA and Interpol insignia flashing bright green, indicating a massive file transfer.
"The transfer has begun," Daniel announced, his voice as cold as before, but with a note of finality. "You are receiving encrypted data packets, containing millions of gigabytes of information. Profiles, routes, plans, safehouse locations. Every piece of information I have collected over the past few years. You will have everything you need to dismantle this network. And in real time, new data will continue to be fed, as my surveillance networks are relentless."
The heads of the CIA and Interpol, who were connected, were pale. They saw their own security systems being penetrated with frightening ease, not by an attack, but by an uncontrollable torrent of data. The interfaces of their own bunkers showed the flood of information filling their servers.
"My God..." the CIA Director murmured, his eyes fixed on the screen. "This is... this is everything. Every cell, every financier, every plan. It's more than we've collected in decades." He looked at the President, who was gaping.
"This is a gold mine," the Interpol Director exclaimed, a note of amazement in her voice. "We will have mass arrests all over the world. We will dismantle the terrorist network. But the imminent threats... the attacks you predicted...?"
"The threats are still imminent," Daniel confirmed, his voice serious. "But now, you have the knowledge to act before it's too late. You have the coordinates of the command and control centers, and the leaders. It's time to use your own resources, your armies, your special forces. It's your turn to show the world that you can protect your citizens. I gave you the vision. The rest is up to you."
A tense silence fell over the conference. There were no more arguments. The magnitude of the intelligence Daniel had provided was overwhelming, and the urgency of the situation was undeniable. They had the means. The responsibility was now entirely theirs. The President, the General, the Vice President, and all the agency heads stared at their screens, processing the avalanche of data and the enormous task ahead.
Daniel didn't blink. His honey-brown eyes watched the leaders' reactions, understanding sinking in. The responsibility to act was theirs now, and the clock was ticking. He had handed over the key, but the door had to be opened by them.
Henry, beside Daniel, felt the weight of the story he had just heard, a story of pain, resilience, and unimaginable power. Daniel, the most powerful man in the world in his sphere, was also the most invisible, the most marked. And his war was far from over. Victory brought no peace, only a brief respite in an endless battle.
Suddenly, the image on Daniel's screen flickered again, a direct connection to the President of the United States, who had already disconnected from the main conference. Daniel had reopened the channel, and the President was visibly surprised, his mouth slightly open, as if about to ask a question.
"Oh, and before you hang up, Mr. President," Daniel said, his voice calm but with a tone that brooked no interruption. The President and everyone on the bunker's dedicated line, including his chief of staff and the Vice President, felt a chill. They realized that the channel was not only open, but that Daniel had taken complete control. He could listen to, and alter, whoever was listening. The realization that Daniel was in absolute control of that line, and possibly all their lines, was unsettling, a reminder of the power he wielded.
Daniel, his honey-brown eyes fixed on the President's screen, smiled, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was a smile that promised more than it revealed. "Dubai, this time of year, is beautiful, you know? Why not start there? It's an excellent starting point for your diplomatic tour."
The suggestion wasn't a question, but an instruction, gentle but undeniable. The President, speechless, simply nodded slowly, his tired eyes fixed on Daniel, captured by that invisible force. He felt the weight of Daniel's presence, even through the screen, the absolute certainty that, yes, Daniel could enter wherever he wanted, at any time, undetected. The diplomatic trip had just taken on a new meaning, a new layer of complexity, and a hint of mystery that only Daniel could unravel. The hunt was over, but the game, as Daniel had said, was just beginning.
The silence in the mansion was now a heavy blanket. Daniel turned off the console, and the once vibrant screens sank into a soft shadow. He turned to Henry, who still sat, his shoulders hunched with exhaustion. The dim light coming from the panoramic window, revealing the Dubai nightscape, barely illuminated Daniel's face.
"Open the bunker, Henry," Daniel said, his voice low, almost a whisper, but filled with final decision. It wasn't a request, but an order. There was a melancholy in his tone, a resignation. It wasn't power he sought, but the burden he carried. He had acted, he had won, but victory didn't bring the peace others imagined. It brought only the certainty that the war would continue, and that he, Daniel, the "Twelve," the "Ghost," would always be at the center of it. The idea of "not wanting this power" echoed in his distant gaze, an exhaustion that went beyond the physical. He had done what was necessary, but the cost was visible in every line of his face, in every tense muscle of his body.
Henry, without saying a word, simply nodded, rising with visible effort. His fingers flew over a hidden panel in the wall, and a low hum filled the air. A section of the marble wall, once solid and impenetrable, began to move, sliding aside with mechanical precision, revealing a dark passage. The air coming from within was cooler, denser. Daniel took one last look at the blank screens, at the world map that still bore the marks of his "justice." He didn't want that power, but fate, or perhaps his own nature, had forged him to wield it. And now, it was time to descend into the depths of his fortress, into the heart of his operations, where the true battle, the battle against the darkness that always surrounded him, still awaited. The bunker door swung open, swallowing the light from the office, inviting Daniel into his world of shadows, a world he had created to protect the light he now possessed.