Alex

Recall

Robert Ashcroft sat at his expansive mahogany desk, his fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against the polished wood. His steely gray eyes, sharp and cold as winter, fixed on the man standing before him. The head of security, a normally stoic figure, now cowered, barely meeting Ashcroft’s gaze.

“How is it possible,” Ashcroft began, his voice like ice, “that they escaped?”

The security chief fumbled, his words tripping over themselves. “I... I’m not sure, sir.”

Ashcroft’s lips pressed into a thin line as his patience waned. He leaned forward slightly, the tension in his posture palpable. “Not only have they escaped, but we have no leads on their whereabouts,” he continued, his tone growing darker and angrier with every word. His knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the edge of the desk. “I want them found. And brought to me alive.”

The security officer swallowed hard. “Yes, sir,” he replied, his voice shaky but quick.

Ashcroft dropped his voice to a low, menacing growl as he added, “I want to dismantle that abomination of his… right before his eyes.”

The officer’s back stiffened. “Yes, sir!”

“I want this city scoured night and day,” Ashcroft barked, the storm of his fury barely contained. “Patrols will begin immediately. Every corner, every alley, no stone unturned until they are found.”

“Understood, sir,” the officer replied, his fear palpable as he snapped to attention.

“Now get out of my office!” Ashcroft’s voice rang out, cold and final, as he pointed toward the door.

The head of security didn’t waste a second, turning sharply on his heel and marching out as quickly as possible, his nerves barely intact.

Once alone, Ashcroft let out a deep breath, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead as he rubbed his eyes. His fingertips pressed hard against the bridge of his nose, trying to stifle the mounting frustration gnawing at his composure. His breathing was slow, methodical, as he fought to calm the rising tide of anger.

He couldn’t afford any more failures. Not now. Not with everything on the line.

After a long moment, Ashcroft straightened his posture, regaining his calm, cold demeanor. His hand moved to the intercom on his desk, and he pressed the button with calculated precision.

"Jacob," Ashcroft said, his voice steady but with a dangerous edge. "Prepare Samuel for deployment."

A slight pause came through the speaker before Jacob’s voice crackled back. "Right away, sir."

Ashcroft leaned back in his chair, staring out of the window that overlooked the sprawling city below. Samuel was his last resort—a tool, a weapon created for moments like this. There would be no more mistakes. No more escapes. They wouldn’t elude him for long. Soon, very soon, the hunt would begin.

And this time, they wouldn’t get away.