The Second Coming of Atlas Prime

Chapter 13

Atlas crouched low, gesturing for the remaining security team to form a protective perimeter around the cowering executives.

"The shots came from the east-facing building," Atlas announced, his voice steady amid the chaos. "Approximately third or fourth floor, judging by the bullet trajectory."

Aaron stared at him with newfound respect. "How can you possibly know that?"

"Experience." Atlas's reply was clipped as he crawled toward the shattered windows, staying below the line of sight. He peered carefully over the windowsill, his enhanced vision zooming in on the building across the street. "I can see movement. He's still there."

Mr. Zhao spoke rapidly in Mandarin to his colleagues, their faces ashen with fear.

"We must leave immediately," Mr. Zhao stated, his composure remarkable despite the situation. "Our security protocols require evacuation."

Atlas turned to the Eastern Holdings representatives, his manner confident yet respectful. "Sir, I understand your concern. I can guarantee your safety if you follow my instructions precisely."

The businessman assessed Atlas with shrewd eyes, weighing his options.

Something in Atlas's demeanor, his calm certainty and controlled power, seemed to resonate with him.

"Very well, Mr. Reed. What do you suggest?"

Atlas mapped out the escape route in his mind, calculating angles and exposure points.

"There's a service corridor through the kitchen that leads to the underground garage. No windows, reinforced walls. We'll move in formation, security front and back, executives and family in the center."

Aaron nodded frantically. "Yes, whatever you think is best."

"I'll draw his fire while your team gets everyone to safety." Atlas felt for his bike keys he had rented just for this in his pocket. "Once you're clear, I'll pursue."

Hannah grabbed his arm. "James, that's suicide!"

Atlas placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently. "It's my job."

He organized the group quickly, arranging them in a tight formation. He led them through the mansion's labyrinthine corridors.

The Eastern Holdings representatives remained remarkably composed, matching Atlas's brisk pace without complaint. Mr. Zhao fell into step beside him.

"You are not ordinary security," the businessman observed quietly. "Your training is... exceptional."

Atlas allowed himself a small smile. "I take my responsibilities seriously, sir."

"Indeed." Mr. Zhao studied him with newfound interest. "When this situation resolves, perhaps we should discuss your future employment opportunities."

They reached the underground garage without incident. Atlas directed the security team to position the vehicles, the Eastern Holdings limousine first, followed by the Finnegan family cars.

"Drive directly to the Four Seasons," he instructed. "They have enhanced security protocols. Stay there until I contact you."

Mr. Zhao extended his hand to Atlas. "We will postpone our signing until tomorrow, when matters are more... settled. Your quick thinking today has not gone unnoticed."

Atlas shook the businessman's hand firmly. "Your safety is my priority, sir."

As the Eastern Holdings representatives were escorted to their vehicle, Aaron approached Atlas.

"You saved the deal," he said, disbelief coloring his voice. "Somehow, in the middle of a sniper attack, you managed to salvage everything."

Atlas nodded curtly. "The relationship is intact. That's what matters."

He grabbed a security guard's sidearm, checking the magazine with practiced ease. "I'll take care of our shooter problem. Get your family to safety."

Anola stepped forward, her imperious manner somehow intact despite her disheveled appearance. "Mr. Reed, you can't possibly think of confronting this assassin alone."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Finnegan, this is exactly what I'm trained for." Atlas's voice carried absolute conviction.

The remaining security personnel moved toward him, preparing to form a team.

"No." Atlas held up his hand. "Your priority is protecting the family. I move faster alone." He fixed them with a stern gaze. "The family comes first. Always."

The guards hesitated, looking to Aaron for confirmation.

"Do as he says," Aaron ordered, surprising even himself with his trust in this man he barely knew.

Atlas strode to a sleek motorcycle parked in the corner of the garage, its matte black finish absorbing the fluorescent light.

"Nice ride," Hannah murmured, clearly impressed.

Atlas swung his leg over the bike, the engine roaring to life beneath him. "I'll be in touch when it's done."

Without another word, he accelerated up the exit ramp, the sound of the motorcycle's engine echoing through the garage as he zoomed.

…

Ten minutes later, Atlas pulled into an alley behind the building he'd identified as the sniper's nest. He parked the motorcycle and made his way up the fire escape, moving with silent efficiency.

On the fourth floor, he entered through an unlocked window, gun at the ready. The room was sparse, just an abandoned office space with dust-covered furniture.

A man in black tactical gear was methodically disassembling a sniper rifle in the corner.

"Nice work," Atlas said, holstering his weapon. "Very convincing."

The man glanced up, his movements never pausing. "You didn't mention you'd be saving the target."

Atlas shrugged. "Plans change. The money's the same."

He withdrew an envelope from his jacket, tossing it onto the makeshift workbench. The sniper counted the cash quickly, nodding with satisfaction.

"One more thing," Atlas said. "I need a favor."

The sniper raised an eyebrow. "Not part of our agreement."

"I'll make it worth your while." Atlas produced another, smaller envelope. "I need some of your blood. And dirt."

"My blood?" The sniper's face contorted with confusion. "What kind of sick-"

"Just a small amount." Atlas cut him off.

After a moment's hesitation, the sniper reached into his pack and produced a small medical kit. He pricked his finger, collecting the blood in a small vial.

"You're one strange client," he muttered, handing over the mixture.

Atlas pocketed the second payment. "Professional thoroughness is never strange."

Once the sniper had departed, Atlas carefully applied the blood mixture to his shirt and face. He smeared dirt across his clothes, then mussed his hair and created a convincing tear in his sleeve.

Satisfied with his appearance, he jogged in place and splashed some water on his fake face to make it look like sweat, then headed back to the motorcycle.

When Atlas returned to the Finnegan mansion, he found Aaron, Anola, and Hannah in the main study, surrounded by security personnel. Their heads snapped up in unison as he entered.

"James!" Hannah gasped, rushing toward him. "Oh my God, you're bleeding!"

Atlas allowed himself to sway slightly, playing the part of the wounded hero returning from battle. "It's not serious."

Aaron stepped forward, his eyes wide as he took in Atlas's disheveled appearance. "What happened? Did you find him?"

"I did." Atlas's voice was intentionally rough, as if he'd exerted himself greatly. "There was a gunfight. I managed to take him down."

"And the body?" Anola asked sharply.

Atlas met her gaze steadily. "Disposed of. Permanently. No traces that could connect back to the family."

Aaron's shoulders slumped with relief. "You did it. You actually did it."

"The Eastern Holdings representatives?" Atlas asked, maintaining his professional demeanor despite his apparent injuries.

"Safe at their hotel," Aaron replied. "They've agreed to resume the signing tomorrow." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "They specifically asked if you would be present."

Atlas nodded, allowing himself a small smile of satisfaction. "I'll be there."

As Hannah fussed over his wounds and Aaron watched with calculating eyes, Atlas savored his silent victory.

They believed every word, every fabrication. His plan was working perfectly.

The Finnegan family had welcomed the architect of their destruction into their inner circle with open arms.