Rain slicked streets stretched beneath the neon glow of the city, reflecting every red and blue siren light. Bra Q crouched atop the building across from the Royal Bank, his eyes scanning every inch of the plaza below. To anyone else, it would look like chaos—but to him, it was a perfectly choreographed puzzle. Every guard's patrol, every security camera's blink, every possible route had already been calculated.
"Alpha team, breach in T-minus thirty seconds," he whispered into his earpiece. His voice was calm, precise, unshakable. His crew—his closest allies—moved in perfect synchronization, trained to anticipate his thoughts even before he voiced them. Years of operations, countless missions, countless risks… it all led to this.
Inside, alarms blared, but Bra Q remained unfazed. Security measures were nothing more than obstacles to be predicted and countered. Cameras were disabled before the footage could even reach the monitoring room. Guards were neutralized silently, systematically, without leaving a trace. Outside, Bra Q calculated the police response, estimating exact arrival times and positioning for escape. Everything was under control.
Until it wasn't.
A sharp whistle cut through the night. Blue and red lights flooded the plaza. The police had arrived—faster than predicted. And then it clicked: a betrayal. Someone on the inside had tipped them off.
"Move! Exit B, now!" Bra Q ordered, though his calm mask never faltered. His mind raced, recalculating every possible escape—but all routes were blocked. Every alley, every street corner, every building had been anticipated, yet none of it mattered now.
Gunfire erupted. His crew ducked, firing back, but the streets were a death trap. Reflexes honed by years of strategy and survival kicked in—dive, roll, return fire—but another shot tore through his side. Pain blossomed, hot and sharp, blinding. He fell, rain mixing with blood on his jacket.
His mind, sharper than any weapon, did not go silent. Even as his body betrayed him, Bra Q cataloged every failure, every misstep, every detail he would have corrected if given another chance. The mission, the crew, the plans—it all faded beneath the growing darkness.
And yet, in that final moment, a thought remained, whispering stronger than life itself: This is not the end.
Rain soaked his hair. Sirens howled. And Bra Q closed his eyes for the last time in that world.
Somewhere, in a world he had yet to know, the brilliance, the strategy, the genius—the part of him the world could never contain—would awaken again.
And when it did, no kingdom, no empire, no obstacle would stand in his way.