Chapter 14: the first target

Rain slicked streets glistened under the dim glow of the streetlights. Derek sat on the fire escape of an abandoned building, laptop balanced on his knees, eyes scanning the files he had compiled. The explosion that killed his family still haunted him, but it had also sharpened his focus. There was only one thing on his mind: the people responsible. And he had identified the first.

“Number one,” he muttered, tapping a pen against his notebook. “You won’t hide. Not from me.”

The name scrawled on the page read: Marcus Vale, an underworld broker with a penchant for cruelty and a streak of arrogance. Derek had been watching him for days. Every movement, every meeting, every careless glance had been logged. He knew Marcus’s routines better than Marcus himself.

“He thinks he’s untouchable,” Derek said under his breath. “Funny. That’s exactly what makes him predictable.”

He stood, brushing rain off his leather jacket. The alley below was empty. The night smelled of wet concrete and gasoline. Derek’s fingers danced over the laptop keys, sending a few anonymous messages, carefully crafted.

“We need to talk. Meet at the old bridge. Midnight. Come alone.”

He didn’t expect Marcus to take the bait immediately, but patience was a weapon Derek wielded better than any sword. He had learned that the hard way.

Marcus sat in a dimly lit loft across the city, phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, I know. Keep the shipments moving. No mistakes. And if anyone gets in the way—handle it.” He laughed. “They always think they can stop me. They never can.”

He didn’t notice the message flashing on his phone: We need to talk. Old bridge. Midnight. Alone.

“What the hell is this?” he muttered, squinting at the screen.

Derek’s words, though unseen, had already begun their work. He had studied Marcus’s tendencies, his need for ego validation. This would lure him perfectly.

By the time Marcus left the loft, Derek was already shadowing him, staying just out of sight. He moved with fluid precision, footsteps silent on the wet pavement. Every turn Marcus took, Derek anticipated.

“You really think you can lose me in the rain?” Derek whispered to himself, crouching behind a dumpster. “Not tonight.”

Marcus paused at a corner, glancing around. “Something’s off,” he muttered. “Too quiet. No one walks these streets this late.”

That was exactly the reaction Derek wanted. He stepped lightly across a puddle, splashing water softly, just enough to catch Marcus’s attention.

“Who’s there?” Marcus demanded, hand reaching for the knife at his belt.

Derek’s shadow elongated across the wall. “Relax. You don’t know me… yet,” he said calmly.

Marcus spun, eyes wide. “What the—”

Derek moved. Martial arts reflexes kicked in. He ducked a punch, spun around, and swept Marcus’s legs. The man crashed into the wet pavement, splashing water everywhere.

“Pathetic,” Derek said, landing lightly behind him. “You’ve made this too easy.”

Marcus scrambled to his feet, knife flashing. “I won’t let some kid—”

“You’re not a kid,” Derek interrupted, voice low and deadly. “You’re a man who killed because he could. That’s why you’re going to fall tonight.”

They exchanged blows, fists clashing against the sound of rain. Marcus fought with aggression, but Derek’s style was precise, methodical, practiced. He dodged, blocked, countered.

“You think you’re clever,” Marcus spat, swinging wildly. “But you don’t scare me!”

“You should be scared,” Derek said, sidestepping and flipping him onto the pavement. “You should have been scared the moment you touched my family.”

Marcus lunged for a nearby pipe. Derek grabbed it mid-swing, twisting the metal away. Sparks flew as the pipe scraped against concrete.

“Not bad,” Marcus hissed, wiping blood from a split lip. “But not good enough.”

“Good enough,” Derek replied, landing a precise strike to Marcus’s ribs, “is what I decide.”

The chase continued through the city. Wet streets, neon reflections, and narrow alleyways became a blur of motion. Derek’s mind ran through the plan. Step one: catch him. Step two: lure him to the bridge. Step three: make him pay.

Marcus darted into an abandoned warehouse, thinking he could lose Derek. He didn’t notice the trap. Derek had manipulated the security cameras, altered the exit routes, and left a trail of breadcrumbs. Every choice Marcus made had been anticipated.

“You’re clever,” Marcus muttered, “but not smart enough.”

“Clever isn’t enough,” Derek replied, crouching in the shadows. “You’ll see that soon.”

Derek emerged silently, blocking the only exit. “Time’s up.”

Marcus’s eyes darted. “No… you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” Derek said simply.

By midnight, they reached the bridge. The city stretched beneath them, lights reflecting on the water far below. Marcus finally understood he was trapped.

“You… you set me up!” Marcus shouted, brandishing the knife one last time.

“I set the stage,” Derek said calmly, voice echoing against steel beams. “And now the final act begins.”

“You think you can do this? Drop me off? Kill me?”

Derek took a step closer, eyes cold. “I don’t think. I act. You killed. You destroyed. And now, justice has a face.”

Marcus laughed nervously. “You… you’re insane!”

“No,” Derek said. “I’m focused. You’re insane. That’s the difference.”

They circled each other, tension snapping like a wire. Derek feinted, forcing Marcus to overcommit. He lunged, grabbed the villain by the collar, and held him over the railing.

“Look down,” Derek said softly. “Look at what your choices have built. You wanted power. You got it. But now, it’s time to pay.”

“I… you can’t—” Marcus stammered, fear overtaking arrogance.

“Can’t?” Derek’s lips curled. “I can. I will. I already have.”

And with a controlled, deliberate motion, he let go. Marcus screamed as he plummeted, the sound echoing against the water below. Silence followed.

Derek’s breathing was steady. Calm. Controlled. He had done what was necessary. One step closer to dismantling the network that had destroyed his life.

He didn’t linger. Derek left the bridge, disappearing into the shadows. His mind ran ahead to the next target, calculating, strategizing. He wasn’t satisfied. Not yet. Not until every person responsible had paid.

“Goodnight, Marcus,” Derek whispered to the empty night. “And good luck… you won’t need it.”

As he walked back into the city streets, the rain slowed to a drizzle. The first act of revenge had been completed. But Derek knew this was only the beginning. There were others. Many others. And each one would fall, one by one.

The Cold Genius moved silently, a ghost among shadows, prepared to reclaim what had been taken from him,