SWNOVELXO Chapter 33: Revenge
On the second day of their escape, Ark, Matias, and Nicholas huddled in their temporary hideout, staring at the holographic projection on the wall. Displayed on the screen were their wanted posters.
"Ark Cohen, Matias Correa, Nicholas Logan," the news anchor's voice was icy and mechanical. "Designated as Class-A fugitives by Golden Eagle Group, wanted for organizing violent acts and theft. A reward of up to 100,000 West Credits is offered for any credible information leading to their capture."
Blurry images of the three of them flickered on the screen—though the details were unclear, the silhouettes were recognizable enough. A bold red warning glowed beneath: EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. REPORT IMMEDIATELY IF SPOTTED.
"One hundred thousand credits," Matias leaned back in his chair, an e-cigarette dangling from his lips as he laughed. "Brothers, we're expensive now."
"Only if we don't get caught," Nicholas sneered, pulling off his headset to wipe the sweat from his ears. The blue glow of his cybernetic implant flickered dimly under the weak light. "Great. Now we can't even go to a bar."
Ark stubbed out his cigarette on the old wooden table, his gaze locked on the bounty notice. His voice was calm, yet laced with barely restrained fury. "From now on, we disguise ourselves. If we get recognized, we're dead."
"Disguise?" Matias raised an eyebrow. "How? Our good-looking faces are plastered all over these posters."
Ark didn't respond. Instead, he pulled open a drawer and tossed a few metal masks onto the table. They were crude, scavenged from gang dealings—worn-out, roughly welded, with jagged edges and an unsettling cybernetic aesthetic.
"Lunatics," Ark said coldly, staring at them. "From today on, we are cybernetic lunatics. No one wants to get close to a lunatic—especially one whose implants have driven them insane."
Matias picked up a mask and tried it on. A set of jagged mechanical teeth covered half his face, leaving only one eye exposed. He glanced at his reflection in a cracked mirror and grinned. "Damn, this actually looks terrifying."
"Better than your real face," Nicholas muttered as he grabbed a modified headset mask, its thick circuitry making his already disheveled appearance even more deranged.
Ark ignored their banter, fastening the last full-cover mask over his own face, testing its fit. His voice, muffled beneath the mask, was low and rasping. "Now, we're lunatics. Lunatics have no names, no pasts."
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Ark sat wearily on a rickety chair, flipping the coin between his fingers. This was the fourth day he had been tossing it—49 times in the past three days, and every time, it had landed on the demon. His knife-sharp gaze bore into the cursed side of the coin, as if trying to will it into submission.
"Forty-nine times," he muttered hoarsely. "This thing must be possessed by a damn demon."
"Brother, can you stop already?" Matias groaned, lying half-sprawled on the couch, a cigarette between his lips. "The past few days have been like living in a trash compactor. Leaky roofs, doubled patrols, security bots nearly kicking my ass… We could write a whole book on bad luck."
"How much worse can it get?" Ark's tone was cold as he tossed the coin again.
Under the dim light, the coin traced a faint arc through the air before landing in his palm. He glanced down—the same demonic emblem stared back at him, mocking.
"Fiftieth time?" Nicholas smirked from his corner, tinkering with his cybernetic ear. "Why not glue it to your forehead? Maybe it'll summon some good luck."
Ark didn't respond. He simply clenched the coin tighter, his expression as hard as iron. He didn't flip it again. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, silently cursing fate itself.
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On the morning of the fourth day, weak sunlight filtered through tattered curtains, illuminating the dust-heavy air. Ark sat still in his chair, the coin balanced between his fingers. He had no expectations—only the mechanical habit of flipping it.
The coin fell, its crisp clink breaking the silence. He looked down.
The angel.
For a moment, Ark remained motionless. Then, his fingers tightened around the coin, his grip so firm it seemed he might crush it. He raised his gaze to Matias and Nicholas, his expression dark yet burning with something raw and determined.
"The angel is back," he murmured, his voice thick with repressed energy. "We're striking now."
"Finally making a move?" Matias sat up instantly, grinning with excitement. "I was about to rot away. What's the plan, brother?"
"Silvermoon Corporation Division. Their Virtual Server Core." Ark uttered each word with an icy weight. "We burn their data to ashes. Let's see how these bastards survive without their virtual empire."
Matias burst into laughter, leaping off the couch and tossing his toolkit over his shoulder. "Hell yeah, now that is a plan!"
Nicholas adjusted his headset, his voice calm but laced with anticipation. "That's a solid target. No objections from me. But are you sure the angel will get us out?"
"Don't ask the angel," Ark said as he pocketed the coin. His voice was as frigid as the night air. "Ask fate."
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The Silvermoon Division tower loomed in the night, its cold, sterile glow piercing the darkness. Ark stood in a shadowed alley across the street, his fingers curled tightly around the coin. He knew—if this job went sideways, none of them would walk out alive.
Taking a deep breath, he flicked the coin into the air. It spun under the moonlight, gleaming coldly before landing back in his palm.
Heads. Angel.
A smirk played at the corner of Ark's lips. He turned to Matias and Nicholas, his voice firm. "Tonight, fate is with us."
"Then what the hell are we waiting for?" Matias grinned, the excitement in his eyes impossible to hide. "Let's rip these bastards apart."
Nicholas slid his headset into place, the soft glow of his cybernetic ear casting eerie light against his face. His voice was laced with dry amusement. "Let's hope your angel lasts until we get out."
The three donned their mechanical masks, transforming into faceless, cybernetic lunatics, and vanished into the shadows. Moving with precision, they evaded patrol drones, slipping through the building's ventilation ducts. The angel's luck seemed to guide them—every camera's blind spot, every gap in the security rotations lined up perfectly.
The Virtual Server Core was buried deep in the building's sublevels, surrounded by layers of tight security. The sterile air was thick with the hum of electronic pulses, the lifeblood of Silvermoon's digital empire. Ark pressed the coin against a security lock while Matias worked his magic, hacking through the final firewall. Nicholas kept watch, his ears tuned to even the faintest disturbances.
Within minutes, the heavy doors groaned open. Ark wasted no time—he moved straight to the server mainframe, attaching high-frequency electromagnetic disruptors. His fingers traced the cold surface of the machines, his expression unreadable.
"Virtual world?" he muttered under his breath. "Bullshit."
The final device activated, and the lights flickered before cutting out entirely. A shrill alarm blared through the facility as the server's core collapsed under the electromagnetic assault. Within hours, Silvermoon's virtual economy would spiral into chaos.
Ark turned sharply. "Go!"