It was strange, the things that broke a man.
For Adrian Kane, it wasn't being fired from the force. Not the betrayal. Not even the murders he couldn't stop.
It was June.
The moment her blood hit the pavement, whatever piece of him clung to righteousness died. In its place grew something colder. Sharper. Purposeful.
Justice was a lie.
So now, he would become one.
---
Three Weeks Later – Ouroboros Tower
The elevator doors slid open with a whisper.
Marble floor. Black-glass walls. The Ouroboros symbol—serpent devouring its own tail—etched into the ceiling above.
Adrian adjusted the cufflinks of his tailored suit. His new identity, Elias Draeger, was solidified: former PMC turned asset security consultant. Ruthless. Efficient. Loyal only to contracts.
In this place, loyalty was a currency more valuable than blood.
A woman approached—late forties, platinum hair tied in a severe braid, eyes sharp as razors. She extended a hand.
"Director Lucienne Ward. Welcome to the Tower."
Adrian nodded coolly. "Pleasure."
She walked him through halls guarded by men who could kill a room in under sixty seconds. Surveillance drones floated silently overhead.
"Your record impressed us," Ward said. "The Mercer retrieval, the Black Talon leak cover-up, the Jones purge—brilliant work."
He gave a tight smile. "I aim to please."
"You're being considered for Tier Four access. That means proximity to the High Circle. But first, a test."
Adrian didn't flinch. "Name it."
She handed him a dossier.
Inside was a face he recognized.
Morgan Voss.
---
Later – Safehouse, East District
Morgan paced like a trapped animal.
"You want me to pretend you're here to kill me?" he hissed. "Do you even know how insane this is?"
"I need the High Circle's trust," Adrian said. "Tier Four means unrestricted access to their network, their locations, their hierarchy. If I get there, I can rip them apart from the inside."
"And what happens if you fail this little theater of yours?"
Adrian's voice was empty. "Then you're dead anyway."
Morgan looked away. "I don't like what you're becoming."
Adrian didn't respond. He pressed a cold metal rod into Morgan's hand—a blood-activated tracker. "Use this only if they take me in too deep. If I stop being me."
"Too late," Morgan muttered.
---
Nightfall – Gravesend Docks
The 'execution' was staged perfectly.
A secure location. Limited witnesses. Disguised surveillance drones set to capture Adrian shooting Morgan twice in the chest—blood packs rigged under the shirt, rigged vitals.
The trick worked.
Adrian "reported in" moments later.
> "Target eliminated. Cleanup underway."
Director Ward responded with chilling satisfaction.
> "Well done, Draeger. You've passed."
She paused.
> "Welcome to the Circle."
---
The Next Day – Ouroboros Inner Circle Briefing Room
Seven members sat around the obsidian table.
Each wore masks. Animal motifs. Raven. Jackal. Stag. Fox. The Ouroboros symbol burned gold at their collars.
Adrian stood before them. Calm. Ready.
The one in the Jackal Mask spoke.
"Loyalty is not bought. It is proven. You've given us blood. Now give us insight."
Adrian slid a datachip across the table.
"Black Talon's ghost protocols. Fail-safes. Personnel weak points. Every vulnerability I could find."
They were silent as they processed the intel.
Then a soft clap.
"Impressive," said the Raven Mask. "But we want more."
The Fox Mask leaned forward.
"What do you know of the Leviathan Directive?"
Adrian's pulse spiked—but he didn't show it.
"I've heard rumors," he said. "Experimental mind-control. Political engineering. Mass behavioral correction via neuro-pattern mapping."
"You're not wrong," Raven said. "It's real. And the final phase is weeks away."
A screen blinked on behind them. Blueprints. DNA sequencing. Satellite relay networks.
And a project name:
LEVIATHAN: Cognitive Override Trial 01 – Sector Gravesend.
"They're going to test it here," Adrian said, stunned.
"No," said Jackal. "We already are."
---
That Night – Adrian's Penthouse
Alone.
Finally alone.
Adrian stared at himself in the mirror, hands shaking as he removed the Ouroboros pin from his collar.
He didn't recognize the man looking back.
A killer. A liar. A traitor to everything he once stood for.
But behind the eyes… the spark remained.
This was still his war.
And now he had names. Faces. Project timelines. Weak points.
It was almost time.
But first, one more ghost.
He reached into a drawer, pulled out a sealed envelope Mercer once gave him.
> "For when you're ready to stop playing their game."
Inside was a photograph.
Eliza Kane.
Standing beside a woman in Ouroboros robes…
But with a look in her eyes that mirrored his own.
Fear. Guilt. Rage.
She hadn't joined them willingly.
She was still alive.
And maybe—just maybe—still reachable.