**Theodore’s Submarine - Conference Room - 6 Hours After Escape**The debate had been raging for an hour. Voices raised. Tensions high. Seven people arguing about fate of one prisoner. About justice versus pragmatism. About revenge versus strategy.“We kill him,” Torres said. Blunt. Military thinking. “He’s too dangerous to keep alive. Too connected. Too valuable to Council. They’ll rescue him. Or he’ll escape. Or he’ll sabotage us from inside. Dead, he’s just a corpse. Safe. Contained. Final.”“We can’t kill a prisoner in custody,” Julie countered. Professional ethics. Medical oath. Sister’s conscience. “That makes us executioners. Murderers. No better than Consortium. We fought for justice, not revenge. We keep him alive.”“But where?” Nadia asked. Practical. Tactical. “We can’t hold him indefinitely. We don’t have prison. We don’t have legal authority. We’re not government. We’re not law enforcement. We’re just people who captured international criminal. Eventually, we have to deci

The submarine’s interior felt smaller than ever. The constant low-frequency drone of the screws and the faint metallic creak of pressure against the hull usually faded into white noise. Not tonight. Tonight every sound carried accusation.Twenty-three green dots glowed on the master life-signs display in the control room. Twenty-three heartbeats. Twenty-three sets of lungs pulling recycled air. Twenty-three potential traitors.Kai stood at the center of the compartment, arms folded so tightly his knuckles showed white. The red battle lights turned his face into planes of shadow and determination.“Lockdown is total,” he said, voice carrying just enough to reach every ear without shouting. “No one moves alone. No one accesses any terminal without a witness. No exceptions.”Julie stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on the back of the navigation plotter. She hadn’t slept properly in three days; the circles under her eyes looked bruised. “We’ve already lost too much to surprises. I

Theodore’s Submarine - 80 Miles from Turkish Coast - 4 Hours After Mole’s SabotageThe submarine listed fifteen degrees. Water flooding compartments faster than pumps could manage. Hull integrity compromised. Multiple breaches. Systems failing. Death imminent.Theodore studied damage reports. Engineering background showing. Calculating. Assessing. Understanding reality nobody wanted to accept.“Twelve hours,” he announced. Voice steady despite situation. “Maximum. Before submarine sinks completely. Maybe less if flooding accelerates. We’re finished.”“Can we dock somewhere?” Julie asked. Medical instinct seeking stable ground. Seeking safety. Seeking hospital for wounded.“Turkey blocked us. Council influence. Political pressure. We’re persona non grata. Greece wants us arrested. Cyprus might help but it’s eighty miles away. We won’t make it. Submarine’s too damaged. Too slow. We’d sink before arrival.”“Then we abandon ship,” Kai said. Decision made. Commander mode. Survival prioriti

Theodore’s Submarine - Engineering Section - 90 Seconds Until Full SubmersionDarkness. Drowning. Death. Theodore’s consciousness fading. Water filling lungs. Victor’s hands holding him under. Certain. Professional. Killing efficiently.Then. Gunshot. Loud. Echoing in flooded compartment. Close. Very close.Victor stumbled. Grip loosening. Bullet in shoulder. Blood in water. Wound not fatal but painful. Disabling. Surprising.Theodore surfaced. Gasping. Coughing. Choking. Alive. Barely. Desperately. Impossibly.Mei stood in doorway. Weapon raised. Wet. Exhausted. But present. Real. There.“Get away from him!” she shouted. Aiming. Ready to fire again. “Now!”Victor dove for cover. Behind equipment. Behind flooding machinery. Professional survival instinct. Protecting himself. Calculating. Assessing new threat. New variable. New complication.“Mei?” Theodore gasped. Confusion. Relief. Horror. “You’re supposed to be on raft. Forty miles away. How—”“I stayed,” she said. Helping him up. S

Turkish Beach - 2:15 AMVincent Prime’s voice continued through the phone speaker. Calm. Controlled. Enjoying every word. Every revelation. Every demonstration of power.“I have your families. Your loved ones. Your weaknesses.” He paused. Let it sink in. “Julie’s apartment roommates. Three civilians. Sarah, Michelle, and David. Taken from their home two hours ago. Currently secured in warehouse outside Richmond, Virginia.”Julie’s face went pale. “No. They’re just—they’re not involved. They’re innocent—”“Lila’s father,” Vincent Prime continued. Ignoring protest. “Arthur Blackwell. Retirement home in Connecticut. Taken during manufactured medical emergency. Ambulance crew were operatives. Currently secured in facility outside Hartford.”Lila’s hands shook. “You bastard. He’s seventy-eight. He has dementia. He doesn’t even know who I am anymore—”“Derek’s sister. Jennifer Sterling. Chicago. Kidnapped from her workplace. Marketing firm. Downtown office. Taken during lunch hour. Currentl