Dangerously Quiet

30.

Outskirts of Scotland

Being the right-hand man of a monster lord has both its advantages and disadvantages. For Denzin, he was groomed in this world, but it didn't snuff out his sympathetic and caring nature. It also placed him in his current situation. 

It was late hours in the night, and the castle was filled with energy. Not the energy one calmly accepts and wishes to be blessed by more, but the energy that has a death sentence over one's head. Days passed for every client of Dominion to know that his empire was crumbling at his feet. Castle grunts were sent out to locations they no longer communicate with, the signal from chipped workers was now disabled, clients' desperate calls were being unanswered, and the man who wanted it all was losing his sanity.

 The tech team has been at it for days, trying to find out how they were hacked and why it was happening. Their boss kept cursing Delacourde's name, but the man was so crafty that no trail was left to find him. Denzin was in awe of the French man. He had so much power in his hand to dismantle Dominion in under a week without bringing attention to himself. It was the right call to ask Vitalli to contact him. As part of the plan to keep suspicion from him, they agree not to contact him for updates after being given the 'safe date.'
That date was today. 
Denzin believes Raizon Delacourde was a fucking war god reincarnated. Everything was perfect for the escape plan he had planned for some time now. The heavy presence of guards was gone, private personnel like doctors and attendants weren't scheduled, and the master was distracted. 
His phone rang, the vibration startled him slightly, but he was able to go unnoticed. Reaching for the device, he sat behind his master's desk, pretending to be hard at work.

"In three hours, they will be anchored 5km northeast of the castle. You can dispose of them after. Thanks for the advice."

As quickly as the call came in, so it ended. Seconds later, an email came in, it was from the caller, and he sent bad news for the boss. 

"There. A channel is open. Put up that feed now." The boisterous demand of the boss brought a hushed silence as they all placed their attention to the large monitor on the far wall. Denzin quickly printed out the email to hand for later use. Tucking the paper in his pocket, he took his spot next to the man.

"Which sector is this?" Dominion asked, tugging at his now greasy brown hair. He sported sweat pants and a t-shirt which he never wore outside the comforts of his suite.

"Krasnoyarsk, sir," was the timid response.

"What?"

Denzin understood the man's confused reaction. Dominion thought it right to take over the Delacourde's old haunts where low-level gangs were given free rein from the past king. Krasnoyarsk, a Russian city, boasting over a million was new territory. No syndicate had any foothold in the city, making it a good place to base their distribution headquarters. In that city, the stock they received from their hotspots were gathered to be chipped and sorted. The drug Dice was created at that location, and the new products they were testing in the city. It was the best-kept secret from anyone outside of the security room.

The access to surrounding CTV cameras around the building was restricted; they could only maneuver their own outside security cameras. No civilian vehicles passed by, which was odd. The distribution center was hidden in plain sight. It occupied a commercial warehouse with its very own front business. 
Everyone watched on with bated breath, both confused and anxious to see what will happen next. Denzin rounded the desk and joined in the silent watching of their own reality tv. Their boss was the only one stir crazy, pacing up and down, wondering what next to do. The man was in denial; the false bravado he held for years was gone in a flash. He was close. Really close.