Chapter 17 – Let the revenge begin

Cerberus was still standing at the table when the hacker’s voice came through the line. Commander, we may have found Ulrich’s hideout. Without looking up, Cerberus asked only, Where? The answer followed at once. A hunting lodge north of the city. Power draw hasn’t dropped for three weeks. Continuous load. He’s still there. I’m sending the coordinates now. Cerberus listened in silence and then gave a short order. Forward the coordinates to the team and tell them to move out and check everything.

When the call ended, Cerberus set the phone on the table. Wearing fireproof gloves, he picked up a glass measuring cylinder and a conical flask. The flask already held a clear liquid. Cerberus added a few careful drops from the cylinder, returned it to its stand, and gently shook the flask. The mixture changed almost immediately, thickening into a dense blue gel.

He raised the flask to eye level and studied the result for a moment, then gave a small approving nod and turned away from the table. Ten steps brought him to the mannequin waiting near the wall. Where a plastic head should have been, Vann’s severed head had been fixed in place.

Cerberus slowly tilted the flask. The gel poured over the face, slid into the sockets and mouth, traced the jawline, and dripped onto the body of the mannequin. When the flask was empty, he stepped back, took out a waterproof match, struck it, and flicked it toward the head.

The reaction came at once. Blue fire spread across the surface as the gel began eating through everything beneath it. Plastic softened and sagged. Bone blackened. The skin on Vann’s face blistered, melted and peeled away in thick strips.

Cerberus lifted the protective goggles from his eyes to his forehead, took a deep breath, drew the smoke into his lungs, and slowly smiled.

The van rolls along the forest road and stops five hundred meters short of the lodge. The side door slides open and five soldiers spill out in one practiced motion, splitting instantly – three disappear into the trees while two continue along the road. As the teams move out, another soldier steps down from the van and launches a compact drone through the canopy, his voice following over the radio. Eighth to First. Drone deployed. Aerial feed in one minute. The reply comes immediately. First acknowledged. Taking position in thirty seconds. The three-man element pushes deeper into the forest. The rear soldier suddenly breaks left and runs uphill, dropping his rifle forward as he moves. He slides to one knee, then flattens himself against the ground, the weapon coming up smoothly as the bolt snaps back and the scope settles on the house below. First in position, he reports calmly.

Above the trees the drone climbs higher as the operator scans the area. Conducting aerial sweep. No movement. Switching to thermal… no heat signatures detected. A moment later the sniper adds, Visual on the structure. No movement inside. Alpha and Bravo on position. A short pause follows before the order arrives. Move.

The soldiers enter the house and begin the sweep. It is empty, but the interior immediately feels wrong. Carnations lie in strange places throughout the rooms. Thin threads stretch across doorways. Shards of glass scatter across the floor beside paper clips, white powder and small devices fixed to the walls at deliberate angles. Nothing here is random. Everything has been placed deliberately. One of the soldiers speaks quietly into the radio. Alpha reporting. Structure appears empty. Awaiting orders. As the words leave his mouth, his boot catches something almost invisible – a thin thread tightening beneath the sole. The entire house answers at once as metal shrieks through the walls and hidden mechanisms begin to move.

Hours earlier Ulrich had walked through the lodge for the last time, the house where he had spent many good years. He moved from room to room without hesitation placing charges and wiring the structure so that anyone who came searching for him would pay for every step they took inside.

The present snaps back as Bravo’s voice cuts through the radio. Eighth, something’s happening here. We’ve taken a defensive position. Check it. The drone operator immediately floods the structure with infrared and the image erupts with heat points across the entire building, far too many ignition sources appearing at once. His voice sharpens. All units evacuate immediately. Get out of the building now. It’s about to blow.

The soldiers sprint for the exits and clear the lodge seconds before the explosion rips through it. The blast wave throws them across the yard and debris crashes through the trees, leaving only a high ringing in their ears. When the smoke begins to settle they start moving again. They are alive – all except one. A heavy fragment of the collapsing structure has struck Seventh in the back and he lies motionless on the ground. Report status, comes the order over the radio. Alpha and Bravo hit by the blast wave, the sniper answers. Everyone’s getting up except Seventh. A brief pause follows. Status on Seventh? Bravo reaches him, rolls the soldier onto his back and hears a strained rasp escape his throat. Seventh, do you hear me? The answer comes weak. I can’t feel my legs. The report goes out immediately. Eighth, he’s alive but he can’t walk. The response is short. Evacuate him. Then we pull back to base. Three soldiers move quickly to prepare the wounded man for extraction. As they secure him, First begins to leave his firing position and suddenly stops. Something shifts in the nearby tree line – at first nothing more than a darker shadow separating itself from the trunk of a tree, then the shadow begins moving toward them. First tries to warn the others over the radio, but no sound leaves his throat. His jaw locks, his body refusing to obey as paralysis spreads through him.

Then he hears a calm voice close to his ear, quiet and almost gentle. Don’t interfere with Gobby. Rest. Darkness takes him instantly.

Three soldiers finish securing the wounded man and lift the stretcher when movement ahead draws their attention. A boy steps out of the darkness and walks straight toward them. The stretcher drops instantly and weapons snap up, muzzles locking onto the approaching figure. Over the radio Bravo’s voice cuts in. First, what’s happening? Who is that? Silence follows. First. First. Instead another voice answers, flat and mechanical. The subscriber is unavailable. Please try again later. Uneasy looks pass between the soldiers. A moment later the operator’s voice returns. Eighth here. Report. Bravo answers quickly. Object approaching our position. Possibly a child. First is not responding. The reply comes immediately. Open fire. Gunfire fills the comms as the drone climbs again and pulls the camera into a wide overhead view. Below, the figure suddenly drops onto its hands and the transformation begins – one arm swelling into a crude hammer of fused bone and flesh while the other stretches forward into a long brutal spike.

The boy launches forward, cutting between the trees at impossible speed. He reaches the first soldier and drives the spike straight through him, lifting the body and pushing forward while using the corpse as a shield against incoming rounds. A heartbeat later he closes on the second soldier and the hammer comes down once, crushing the skull instantly.

The last soldier grabs for a grenade, fingers hooking the pin, but another shape appears behind him. A second boy moves too fast to track. Blows land low and precise along the spine until the nerves shut down and the body locks in place, paralyzed before the grenade can be thrown. The attacker vanishes back into the trees as suddenly as he appeared. The first boy approaches slowly, lifts the hammer and brings it down with full force. Head and neck collapse together.

Beside the van Eighth stares at the drone feed, struggling to understand what he is seeing. He tightens the zoom until the camera finally locks onto the figure standing among the bodies. The boy slowly raises his head toward the lens and where a face should be there is only something like a mask fused directly onto the skull – bark instead of flesh, but wrong somehow, as if splintered bone, blood and fragments of skin had been crushed together into a single living surface. Eighth begins taking photographs without thinking, one after another, until the image suddenly jerks and a stone fills the frame. The drone shatters instantly and the signal dies.

Eighth flinches back from the screen, hurling the controller onto the gravel with all his strength. When he looks up Ulrich is already stepping out of the forest. He does not approach the vehicle. Instead he stops at the edge of the trees and raises his hand in a calm, almost polite wave. For a brief second, stunned by the absurdity of the moment, Eighth raises his hand and waves back before the realization hits and the arm drops. Ulrich’s voice carries clearly across the clearing. Tell Cerberus he made a mistake taking this contract. And tell him my boy Vann has been avenged. Then he turns and disappears back into the forest while Eighth throws himself into the van, the engine roaring as the tires tear across the gravel and the vehicle races down the road.