Normandie didn't crash through the ceiling. He simply walked through the front door, his heavy boots echoing against the marble. The automated turrets tracked him, locked on, and then—hissed into silence. He had uploaded a viral worm into the mansion’s nervous system before even stepping foot on the grounds.
"The crowns are falling," Normandie whispered as the windows shattered and the clouds rushed in to claim the room. The Aftermath El Destructor De La Realeza Normandie Alleman...
He didn't take the serum. He didn't take the gold. He simply lit a cigarette, the ember glowing against the dark sky, and waited for the next name on his list. Normandie didn't crash through the ceiling
He moved with a speed that defied biology. In one fluid motion, he drew the Lamento de Acero —his signature black-edged sword. He didn't aim for the Duke. He aimed for the pillar. He had uploaded a viral worm into the
In the neon-soaked gutters of a floating Neo-Paris, the name wasn't spoken; it was spat like a curse.
