Chapter 1
Zurich, Switzerland.
The buzzing winter air of Zurich was thick with falling snow. The city's central square was packed as the President delivered a public address, outlining grim statistics on the country's economic decline and resource crisis. The mood was heavy, the crowd silent with anticipation. Then, the world broke.
----BANG!----
The sound was a flat, deafening report. A crimson mist instantly bloomed from the President's head, spraying over the podium and coating everyone nearby in warm, shocking blood. He collapsed, his body immediately dissolving into a pool of red on the white snow.
Ten-year-old Luca Meyer witnessed the entire horror. In the stunned silence that followed, he saw a fleeting shape—the sniper—moving quickly away from a rooftop window. Driven by a desperate need to prove himself strong, Luca darted from the chaos. He pursued the figure, chasing the assassin through narrow, winding alleys and damp utility tunnels until he reached a derelict building on the city's outskirts. It looked abandoned, suspiciously quiet. The sniper was gone. As Luca paused, looking around the grimy courtyard, a heavy sack dropped over his head, cutting the light and sound instantly.
Luca woke up tied to a chair. His mouth was gagged, and the rope binding his wrists bit into his skin. The room was modern, sterile, but claustrophobic. Men dressed in black—enforcers, not bodyguards—ringed the perimeter.
Sitting across from him, puffing casually on a thick cigar, was an older man, probably in his late no fifties, wearing a tailored suit that seemed out of place. This was the Cartel Manager.
"Hey, kid," the Manager said, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. He exhaled a plume of bitter smoke. "I don't want trouble. But I hear you saw my sniper and decided to go for a run. You made a really big mistake, didn't you? Think you're tough?"
He tapped the ash from his cigar. "I could break your bones. Torture you. But why put myself through all that stress? Guys, just take this one out."
As two men stepped forward, drawing silenced pistols, a sudden shout cut them off.
"Wait! I know this boy… Yes! He's the son of the Vice President!"
The Cartel Manager froze. A slow, chilling smile spread across his face. He extinguished his cigar. "Well, well, well. Boss would love some good ransom money. Congratulations, kid. You just went from being a nuisance to being a very expensive asset."
That night, the devastated Vice President, reeling from the twin shock of the President's murder and his son's abduction, made a call. He contacted the Veilbreakers Division, a specialized global organization dedicated to extracting high-value targets from immediate danger. They dispatched their most elite unit: The Veils. Each member was a master in a specific discipline, having spent their lives honing skills dedicated to impossible rescues.
The moment the call ended, a sleek black helicopter arrived outside his estate. Five figures rappelled down, entering the house in a blur of focused efficiency. They asked precise questions about Luca's routine and his last known location.
One member, Kyros, was a linguistics expert, trained for years to translate and speak any language fluently. With his rapid interrogation of locals and analysis of video feeds, the team swiftly pinpointed the Cartel's most likely hideout.
They found the building: a deeply hidden, suspicious-looking structure that appeared abandoned from the street. The Veils, moving like ghosts, breached the perimeter. They killed or knocked out the external guards with silent, surgical efficiency.
Inside, one of the last remaining thugs witnessed the carnage. He trembled, screaming a choked whisper before turning to flee like a child. "These people are like lions devouring zebras!"
He never got far. Amanda, one of The Veils, moved with terrifying speed, cleanly slicing his head from his shoulders. They stepped over the body and walked deeper, the trail of blood and neutralized guards lengthening behind them.
By the time they reached the supposed holding room, they had created a literal path of carnage. They met the final line of defense: not the usual street thugs, but actual trained Navy and Military contractors.
The final fight was fierce. The contractors put up a determined resistance, but The Veils were faster, stronger, and more lethal. The fight ended quickly.
The Cartel Manager stood next to the tied-up boy. He grinned, seemingly unconcerned by the destruction. "Wow. The Veilbreakers Division? How important is this kid?" He held up his hands. "Let me make you a—"
Before he could finish his offer, Asher, another Veil, moved instantly, decapitating the Manager and slicing off both his arms in one fluid motion.
But as the body hit the floor, they realized their mistake: the man was a dummy, crudely stuffed, and the boy tied to the chair was not Luca. Before they could react, a sudden cloud of knockout gas hissed from vents in the floor, and the room went dark.
The team woke up seconds later, disoriented. They were tied next to the real Luca Meyer.
The Cartel Manager—the real one—spoke again, his voice echoing from hidden speakers, deeper and calmer than before. "I have been awaiting you. I knew when I kidnapped the Vice President's son he would send the most elite. And I was right. I have The Veils." His voice dropped, becoming predatory. "Now tell me, now that I have all of you under my control, what do you think I will do? I intend to continue what I'm building, but you people exist. So, of course, I am going to kill you all, including the boy."
Just as his guards raised their weapons, a smoke grenade detonated in the center of the room. A shadowy figure dropped from the ceiling, moving with impossible speed. In a blur of motion, he killed every guard and the Cartel Manager at once, freeing The Veils and Luca in the next instant.
As the figure vanished into the smoke, Amanda managed to catch a glimpse of his face. Her jaw went slack with disbelief. "It can't be him. He shouldn't be alive!"
They tried to chase him, but he was already gone.
The Veils returned a shaken but unharmed Luca to his father, then boarded their helicopter, returning to their towering headquarters on Bouvet Island.
Operations Manager Samuel Blake met them at the entrance. "Welcome back, team! Successful mission, I hope?"
They all nodded, exhausted, but Amanda looked deeply disturbed.
"What's wrong, Amanda? You look like you saw a ghost," Samuel asked.
"We saw someone you wouldn't believe is still alive," she said sharply.
He looked at her, confused. "Who?"
Amanda's voice was shaking. "Him. The Predator of Syria."
Samuel Blake's face registered pure disbelief. "It can't be. I thought he was dead."
"Well, I guess he's back," Amanda said, her voice firming with resolution. "And he's stronger than he was."
Samuel and Amanda rushed to a secured terminal to access a classified profile.
A file opened on the screen.
"It really is him," Samuel whispered. "The Predator of Syria. The White Wolf. The Bear of the Veilbreakers Division. The man we thought died is still alive, and still running."