Chapter 97: Chapter 97: The Reality of Power
The heavy SUVs closed the gap with speed.
Alexander pressed his foot down on the accelerator of the Mercedes E 450, the engine roaring as he tried to put distance between himself and his pursuers.
He took a sharp turn around a blind bend, tires screeching against the asphalt, but the black trucks matched his maneuver.
A second SUV suddenly tore out from a side road ahead, cutting off his path.
Alexander slammed on the brakes, the luxury sedan skidding to a halt just inches from the vehicle’s bumper.
Before he could shift into reverse, the other two trucks boxed him in from behind and the side, trapping his car against the concrete guardrail.
The doors of the SUVs flew open simultaneously.
A dozen heavily armed men stepped out, their rifles drawn and pointed directly at Alexander’s windshield.
From the back of the lead vehicle, a man stepped out into the morning light.
It was Senator Ryan Gobbels.
He walked forward with a slow, arrogant stride, a cigar burning between his fingers.
He waved his hand, and two of his guards stepped forward, ripping Alexander’s car door open and dragging him out onto the pavement.
Alexander didn’t fight back, keeping his muscles relaxed as the men pushed him against the hood of his car.
He kept his face blank, though his mind calculated every weapon in his field of view.
"You thought you were clever downstairs, didn’t you, boy?" sneered Senator Gobbels, stepping right into Alexander’s space.
The smell of alcohol and tobacco rolled off his clothes "Standing there like a tough guy behind Evelyn’s skirt."
"I was merely performing my duties, Senator" said Alexander his voice flat.
Crack.
Gobbels swung his hand back and delivered a brutal, open-handed slap across Alexander’s face.
The force of the blow snapped Alexander’s head to the side, a sharp line of crimson trickling from the corner of his lip.
Alexander’s hands twitched, a primal instinct to rip the politician’s throat out flashing through his mind.
But he forced his fingers to stay loose.
He looked at the twelve automatic rifles pointed at his chest.
He looked at the political title of the man standing in front of him.
A single mistake here meant a quiet death on the side of the road, and TMC would simply delete his file to avoid a scandal with the government.
The difference in power was too vast.
He had to swallow his pride.
"Listen to me very carefully" hissed Gobbels, grabbing Alexander by his tie and pulling him close until their noses almost touched "You are a nothing.
A hired tool from a facility that I help fund with federal grants.
If I find out you are helping Evelyn leak anything about my accounts, or if I see your pretty face anywhere near this sector again, I will have my men bury you so deep the worms won’t even find you.
Do you understand me?"
Alexander slowly wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, keeping his eyes down, submissive to the display of authority "I understand, Senator" said Alexander "I am just an asset.
I have no interest in your politics."
Gobbels let out a loud, mocking laugh, patting Alexander’s bruised cheek with a demeaning slap "Good boy.
Know your place in the food chain."
The senator turned around and walked back to his vehicle, waving his hand to his men.
The guards lowered their weapons, stepped back into the SUVs, and the trucks tore away into the morning mist, leaving Alexander alone on the empty road.
Alexander stood alone on the asphalt, his eyes fixed on the red taillights of the SUVs until they vanished into the thick morning fog.
He slowly pushed himself off the hood of his Mercedes, his muscles aching from the tension.
He reached up, his fingers touching his bruised, swollen cheek, and winced slightly as the sharp pain flared through his face.
He bit his lip, his teeth grinding together so hard his jaw ached.
A wave of bitter, raw frustration washed over his chest.
He hated this feeling.
He hated the reality of being powerless against men like Gobbels.
At the end of the day, no matter how much advanced training he had received at the institute, he was still just one person against a corrupt system backed by a private army.
He slammed his fist against the roof of his car, a low growl escaping his throat as he berated himself for being so weak, incapable of defending his own dignity.
His mind raced as he climbed back into the driver’s seat.
He stared at the steering wheel, his thoughts turning to the upper echelons of the organization.
He wondered about Stephen, or the legendary veterans of TMC who handled the highest-ranked classified contracts.
If Stephen had been trapped on this road instead of him, would he have been forced to take the slap?
Would a true veteran have been able to calculate a way to disarm the lead guard, take the rifle, and systematically eliminate all twelve armed men before the senator could even finish his threat?
The gap between his current level and the peak of the institute felt wider than ever.
Alexander wiped the remaining blood from his lip, shifted the Mercedes into drive, and pulled away from the curb.
He had survived the night, he had earned a fortune from Evelyn Gable, but the sting of the senator’s hand served as a reminder of where he stood in the food chain—and just how much stronger he needed to become to never bow his head again.
As the car cruised down the lonely highway, the console screen suddenly lit up, breaking the silence with a soft electronic chime.
Alexander glanced down and saw his aunt’s name flashing on the incoming call display.
He stared at the screen, his hand hovering over the steering wheel as a flood of conflicting thoughts raced through his mind, leaving him hesitating in the quiet cabin.
