"Ashes of Crestfall: The Rise of Aaron San Agustin"

As the wheels lifted off the ground, Aaron watched Crestfall disappear beneath him—its narrow roads, weathered rooftops, rice fields, and wooden fences shrinking into a patchwork of greens and browns. The place that birthed him now seemed like another world entirely.

"Depart," Daniel said quietly into his comm device. Instantly, the armored convoy below pivoted in formation and began its journey down the provincial highway, roaring like a river of black steel toward Velmont City without a single pause.

Velmora City, United States – Commercial Trading District

Halfway across the world, morning broke over Velmora City with golden light streaming between towering skyscrapers. Located on the southeastern coast, Velmora was one of the largest international trading hubs in the United States— a city of glass facades, endless highways, sprawling harbors, and blinking LED screens advertising everything from AI investment apps to genetic therapy startups located in a neighborhing country.

Below the gleaming towers, a cluster of black vans rolled to a quiet stop at the basement parking entrance of a prestigious financial conglomerate headquartered in the heart of the city's commercial district. The building stood fifty stories tall, its glass walls tinted blue to reflect the dawn sky, emblazoned with an insignia of a soaring silver falcon clutching a lightning bolt.

Inside one of the vans, a heavyset man with cropped blond hair checked his watch and turned to his team.

"Synchronize time. Breach window is five minutes, no extensions," he growled in a gravelly whisper.

Around him, seven men and women in tactical black uniforms nodded, each checking their weapons: suppressed carbines, compact submachine guns, sidearms strapped to their thighs, knives strapped to shoulders, flashbangs clipped to chest rigs.

"Comms check," said a slender Asian woman adjusting her earpiece. "Alpha team, green."

"Bravo team, green," answered a lean, dark-skinned man loading a fresh magazine.

"Charlie team, green," replied another, his eyes flicking to the tablet showing floor schematics.

The leader inhaled slowly, feeling the cool recycled air of the van filling his lungs. "Target is on the thirty-fourth floor, executive conference suite. Cameras looped for ninety seconds max. No screwups. Entry teams follow hard breach plan. Capture only—repeat, capture only."

34th Floor

Inside the elegant boardroom lined with panoramic windows overlooking Velmora Harbor, a woman stood beside a touchscreen panel outlining currency fluctuation trends for Southeast Asian markets. Her dark navy suit fit perfectly against her slim athletic frame, hair tied in a neat chignon, diamond-studded pen clipped to her pocket.

"We can't continue this acquisition with the yen at these artificial lows," she said sharply, glancing at her team seated around the oval marble table. "Redirect the overflow liquidity toward derivatives and offset it with sovereign bond futures. We go public in two days."

"Understood, ma'am," replied one of her assistants, typing rapidly.

Downstairs, the tactical team burst from the elevators on the ground floor, weapons raised, moving with silent lethal precision.

"Lobby secured," one whispered into his comm.

The team leader flicked his fingers. Another squad sprinted toward the stairwell, climbing rapidly in formation. Within seconds, two men reached the security hub on the 20th floor, silenced weapons coughing as guards slumped over consoles.

"Camera feeds under loop protocol. Ninety seconds," said the slender Asian woman, sweat sliding down her temple as she hacked the panel with practiced speed.

"Breach team, move," ordered the leader.

On the 34th floor, the woman's presentation was interrupted by the sudden flicker of ceiling lights. She frowned, turning to the glass walls that overlooked the inner office corridor.

That was when she saw them.

Three armed men stormed into view, their faces hidden by matte black tactical masks, weapons sweeping across desks as office staff screamed and ducked for cover. Within moments, the boardroom door burst inward, slamming against the wall so hard the glass rattled in its frame.

"On the floor! Now!" shouted the first attacker, his weapon aimed directly at her.

Her team dropped instantly, hands raised, some sobbing. But she remained standing, her eyes locked on the intruder with unflinching calm despite the thundering of her heart.

"What do you want?" she demanded, voice low and controlled.

"Get down!" he roared, stepping forward and slamming the butt of his rifle into her side.

The force knocked her against the conference table. Pain shot up her ribs, stealing her breath. As she fell to her knees, she clutched her side, gasping.

The leader crouched down, his eyes hidden behind tinted tactical goggles. "Your security is incompetent," he said, almost conversational beneath his modulated voice.

She glared up at him, refusing to show fear even as pain radiated from her ribcage.

"Secure her!" he barked. Two team members seized her by the arms, zip-tying her wrists behind her back with swift, practiced motions. One slipped a hood over her head, the scratchy black fabric pressing against her lips as the world went dark.

"Breach window closing. Move out!" shouted the comm operator.

The leader grabbed her shoulder roughly and lifted her to her feet. The team formed a tight diamond formation around her as they retreated back into the corridor, boots thudding silently against the plush carpet, weapons sweeping doorways with each step.

On the floor below, Bravo team detonated two flashbangs to clear the east stairwell, the blasts echoing like thunder down the enclosed concrete shaft. Screams erupted from trapped employees, shadows flickering under emergency lights as the building's internal alarms began to wail.

"Extraction inbound. Rooftop clearance in sixty seconds," came the radio voice.

"Copy. Package secured," replied the leader as they climbed the final stairwell to the helipad.

Through the black hood, she could hear the steady thump of rotor blades slicing the dawn sky. The humid breeze of the rooftop brushed against her face as they emerged into morning light.

A sleek matte black helicopter crouched on the landing pad, rotors blurring against the skyscrapers beyond. The team hustled her toward it, ducking under the roaring blades. Someone pushed her roughly into the cabin, and she stumbled forward, slamming her knees into metal flooring. The zip ties bit into her wrists as pain burned up her arms.

The door slammed shut behind her, sealing her into humming darkness.

As the helicopter lifted into Velmora's morning sky, the city glittered beneath them—glass towers, harbor cranes, endless highways alive with traffic.

Inside the cabin, the leader sat across from her, his gloved fingers drumming on the barrel of his rifle. "Sleep if you want," he said softly. "You'll need your strength where we're taking you."

And with that, the bird banked sharply, carrying its captive into the burning dawn—away from the world she controlled, into the shadows that would soon define her fate.