Divorced on Monday, Bought the City on Tuesday: The Infinite

The Siege of Vanguard Tower

Chapter 33

The private jet tore through the storm clouds above the Capital City, its twin engines howling against the turbulent winds. Inside the opulent cabin, Arthur sat with a glass of sparkling water, watching the sprawling urban grid expand beneath them.

This city was the beating heart of the East Coast’s corruption. For decades, the Old Families had operated here with impunity, pulling the strings of senators and judges. Tonight, the strings were getting cut.

"Boss, we have a welcome committee," Nyx called out from the leather sofa. She was cross-legged, tapping a rhythm on her laptop. "Castellano didn't go quietly. He rallied the remaining loyalists from the other three Old Families. They’ve locked down the financial district."

Arthur leaned over to look at her screen. Drone footage displayed the streets surrounding the Vanguard Council Tower. It looked like a military occupation. Hundreds of private security contractors in tactical gear formed a perimeter. Behind them, dozens of Capital City police cruisers formed a barricade, their red and blue lights painting the wet asphalt in chaotic strobe effects.

"They brought the police?" Serena asked, staring out the window as the plane banked toward the private airfield. She swallowed nervously. "Arthur, we can't fight the actual police. That’s a federal offense."

"They aren't police," Arthur replied, his voice entirely detached. "They are armed men wearing badges purchased by Castellano's bribes. A bought badge is just a receipt. I simply need to outbid him."

He stood up, buttoning his charcoal suit jacket. The jet’s landing gear deployed with a heavy, mechanical thud.

"Ares," Arthur said.

The eight-foot behemoth standing perfectly still near the cargo hold slowly turned his head. The crimson optics on his ballistic mask glowed ominously in the dim cabin light.

"Awaiting orders, Commander," the giant rumbled. The sound vibrated in Arthur’s chest.

"We aren't sneaking in. We are taking the front door," Arthur commanded. "You are the battering ram. Nobody touches my building."

Twenty minutes later, a sleek black armored SUV pulled up to the police barricade outside the Vanguard Tower. The rain was coming down in sheets.

Over two hundred heavily armed men aimed their rifles at the vehicle. The corrupt Chief of Police, a fat man wrapped in a soaked yellow raincoat, stood behind a megaphone.

"Step out of the vehicle with your hands raised!" the Chief bellowed, the amplified sound echoing off the skyscrapers. "This is a restricted zone! By order of the Mayor, you are under arrest for corporate terrorism!"

The back door of the SUV opened.

Arthur Vance stepped out into the rain. He didn't raise his hands. He didn't even look at the two hundred guns pointed at his chest. He looked up at the hundred-story glass tower. Standing on the penthouse balcony, barely visible through the storm, was Victoria Sterling. She was watching him. Waiting for him to claim his throne.

"Fire a warning shot!" the Chief yelled, unnerved by the billionaire’s absolute lack of fear. "Put him on his knees!"

A private contractor in the front row squeezed his trigger, aiming for the asphalt near Arthur’s expensive leather shoes.

The bullet never hit the ground.

A massive, armored hand snatched the bullet out of the air.

The crowd collectively gasped. Stepping out from the shadows of the SUV was Ares. The Vanguard towered over the police barricade like a walking tank. Rain hissed and turned to steam as it struck his hyper-dense armor. He didn't draw the massive rotary cannon slung across his back. He just stared down at the army of corrupt cops with glowing red eyes.

"Who gave you permission to shoot at my Commander?" Ares growled. The synthesized, demonic voice rolled across the plaza, freezing the blood in the Chief’s veins.

Before the police could process the giant, the heavy glass doors of the Vanguard Tower opened.

Lord Castellano marched out, flanked by an elite detail of augmented bodyguards. The old patriarch looked ragged, desperate, and entirely unhinged. He grabbed a young woman by the hair and dragged her out into the rain.

Eleanor Vance shrieked, stumbling in her cheap thrift-store coat, her knees hitting the wet pavement. Castellano pressed the barrel of a silver revolver directly against her temple.

"Vance!" Castellano screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria. "Call off your freaks! Transfer the deeds back to my name! Do it now, or I blow your wife’s brains all over the sidewalk!"