GHOST OF THE GODFATHER

CHAPTER 20: Breaking Through the Glass Sky

Valdieri Plaza rose like a silver blade piercing the black clouds above the city. The electric blue neon lights wrapping around each floor radiated absolute luxury, as if the building were an ivory tower where new gods resided. Yet beneath its concrete foundation, in the darkness of sewer tunnels reeking of rust and wastewater, three figures crept toward the heart of the enemy’s defenses.

Vittorio Valdieri stopped before a mud-covered iron-barred door. He drew a short breath, feeling Leo Ravelli’s lungs tremble under the pressure of adrenaline. His black suit was now slightly stained with dirty water, yet his aura remained unshaken.

“Pico, is this the way?” Vittorio asked, his voice echoing low through the narrow corridor.

“Yes, Master,” Pico whispered, pointing upward toward a maintenance hatch hidden behind massive steam pipes. “It leads directly to the main transformer room on basement level three. My father said it’s the only blind spot not monitored by The Circle’s thermal sensors.”

“You confirmed the patrol schedule?” Silas interjected while checking the magazine of his AK-47.

“Every ten minutes, a security officer checks the steam pressure, but they never enter this gap. It’s too narrow and filthy for men in clean uniforms,” Pico replied confidently.

Vittorio nodded. “Good. Silas, prepare the EMP case. Pico, once we go in, you must leave this area immediately. Go to the safe coordinates I gave you.”

“But Master, I want to see you destroy them!” Pico protested, his eyes shining.

“This is not a show, boy,” Vittorio said, placing a hand on Pico’s small shoulder. “If we fail, you are the only witness who knows what truly happened tonight. The world needs witnesses, not spectators. Go.”

Pico fell silent for a moment, then nodded obediently. “Good luck, Mr. Valdieri.”

Vittorio and Silas climbed the steam pipes with controlled movements. Once at the top, they found a small ventilation hatch. Vittorio used his carbon knife to pry loose the bolts without making a sound. They slipped into the transformer room, where a deep hum filled the air.

“Don, look at that panel,” Silas said, pointing to a row of blinking green LED lights on the wall. “Biometric security system. If we pass through that door, our faces will be detected instantly by the command center on the fiftieth floor.”

Vittorio studied the panel coldly. “That is what our ‘god-killer’ is for, Silas. Place the case here, directly above the main power distribution unit.”

Silas carefully set the EMP case down. “If I activate it now, the entire building will go dark for thirty seconds before the analog backup generators take over. That’s a narrow window to reach the private elevator.”

“Thirty seconds is eternity for those who know how to run in the dark,” Vittorio said as he pulled out an access card taken from Marco Velli’s body. “Use the ‘Eclipse’ frequency now.”

Silas pressed the button on the EMP device. A high-pitched hum began to rise, growing faster and louder.

“Three, two, one.”

Whuummp.

An invisible wave of energy surged outward. Every light in the transformer room died instantly. The once-loud machines fell into deadly silence. In the distance, they could hear emergency alarms cutting out, followed by panicked static over the intercom system.

“Move!” Vittorio ordered.

They burst through the exit, sprinting down concrete corridors now lit only by faint moonlight seeping through narrow gaps. Vittorio moved with impossible speed for the body of an addict, his soul driving Leo’s flesh beyond its biological limits.

They reached the private elevator lobby, normally under heavy guard. In total darkness, two security officers wearing night vision goggles tried to aim their weapons, but their electronics were dead from the EMP.

“Damn it! The guns aren’t working!” one shouted.

Vittorio gave them no chance to switch to manual weapons. In one fluid motion, he smashed the butt of The Black Mamba into the first guard’s jaw, then kicked the second guard’s knee until bone cracked.

“Silas, the elevator!”

Silas used a small crowbar to force open the private elevator doors. “Manual, Don. We have to climb the cables!”

“Do it!”

Vittorio and Silas jumped into the shaft, gripping the thick, oil-slick steel cables. They climbed using pure muscle, ignoring the burning in their hands and the wound on Vittorio’s shoulder reopening.

“What floor, Don?” Silas asked between breaths.

“The fiftieth. Straight to the gala,” Vittorio replied.

Suddenly, the rumble of backup generators roared to life above them. Red emergency lights flickered inside the shaft.

“Backup is online. They’ll detect us in here any second!” Silas climbed faster.

“Let them,” Vittorio replied, his eyes gleaming in the red-lit darkness. “I want Antonio to know his ghost is climbing his tower.”

They reached the fiftieth-floor door just as the sound of many footsteps echoed from the platform above. Silas held the door open while Vittorio pulled himself out into a luxurious corridor lined with red velvet carpet and gold-paneled walls.

At the far end, elegant classical music drifted through the air, mixed with the clinking of crystal glasses and polite laughter from the city’s elite. The contrast was grotesque. Outside there was blood and filth, while here there was betrayal wrapped in silk.

“Ready, Don?” Silas stood beside him, holding his AK-47 low.

Vittorio adjusted his black suit, now damp with sweat and streaked with grease. He wiped the blood from his cheek and fixed his gaze on the massive double doors leading into the main gala hall.

“I have been ready for fifty years, Silas,” Vittorio replied.

He stepped toward the doors. Two elite guards in gray suits immediately blocked his path.

“Stop. This area is restricted to invited guests,” one barked, reaching for his weapon.

Vittorio did not stop. He kept walking, his gaze making both men hesitate for a split second. “Tell Antonio Valdieri that his old brother has come to collect a promise.”

“Leo Ravelli? You worthless addict?” the guard finally recognized him. “Hold him—”

Two precise shots from The Black Mamba pierced both guards’ foreheads before they could take another breath. Their bodies fell onto the red carpet, their impact swallowed by the symphony playing inside.

Vittorio kicked the double doors open.

Blinding chandelier light struck his eyes. The room was filled with men in suits worth the price of luxury cars and women adorned with jewelry that could buy entire districts. On the main stage stood Antonio Valdieri, holding a glass of champagne, delivering a speech before a massive projection screen displaying the Ouroboros logo.

The entire room fell silent. Hundreds of eyes turned toward the entrance, staring at the thin figure in a black suit stained with oil and blood, holding an old pistol still smoking.

Antonio froze. His champagne glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the stage floor. The triumph on his face drained into pale horror, his eyes widening as if witnessing hell itself opening.

“Vittorio,” Antonio whispered, his voice trembling through the microphone for all to hear.

Vittorio stepped into the gala, each step leaving dark traces of mud across the pristine white carpet. Silas followed behind, his weapon trained on the crowd as panic began to spread.

“A beautiful party, Antonio,” Vittorio said, his voice clear and commanding as it cut through the silence. “But you forgot one important thing in your hosting protocol.”

Antonio trembled, gripping the edge of the podium. “You were supposed to die in that forest, in that car!”

“Death is merely a suggestion to me, my friend,” Vittorio replied as he continued toward the stage. “And today, I am not here to ask for a seat at your table. I am here to burn the entire banquet hall.”

“Security! Kill him! Kill him now!” Antonio screamed hysterically at his guards.

Guests began to scream and scatter in chaos. The personal guards of The Circle’s board tried to draw their weapons, but Silas immediately fired a burst into the ceiling, forcing them all to drop to the floor.

“No one moves if you want to see the sun tomorrow morning!” Silas roared.

Vittorio now stood directly before the stage, looking up at Antonio. Their eyes met, the gaze of a ruler risen from death against the gaze of a traitor hiding behind wealth.

“Ouroboros,” Vittorio said, pointing at the projection screen. “The serpent that devours its own tail. Very fitting for you, Antonio. You think you can own the world with digital code? You cannot even own your own life right now.”

“What do you want, Vittorio?” Antonio asked, clinging to what remained of his courage. “Money? Power? I can give it to you. We can share!”

Vittorio let out a cold laugh, one that sent chills through everyone in the room. “You still do not understand. I do not want what you have, Antonio. I want what you stole from me, my honor. And honor can only be repaid in one way.”

He raised The Black Mamba, aiming directly at Antonio’s heart.

“Leo! Stop!” a woman’s voice cried from the side of the stage.

Vittorio glanced over. A beautiful young woman, perhaps twenty years old, stood there in a midnight-blue dress. Tears filled her eyes. Elena Ravelli, Leo’s younger sister.

“Leo, please, do not do this. Father said you are sick, you don’t understand what you’re doing!” Elena shouted.

Vittorio paused for a brief moment. Leo Ravelli’s memories of his sister’s affection pulsed painfully in his mind. “He is not your brother anymore, Miss,” Vittorio replied without lowering his weapon. “Your brother died long ago because of the cruelty of the people in this room.”

“Elena, get inside!” Antonio ordered. “He’s insane. He will kill us all!”

Vittorio turned back to Antonio. “You use your children as shields, Antonio? Truly pathetic, even by your standards.”

Suddenly, the sound of police sirens and combat helicopters echoed close outside the glass windows of the fiftieth floor. Searchlights began sweeping across the gala hall.

“You are surrounded, Vittorio!” Antonio shouted, laughing madly. “The Circle’s special security forces are on their way! You will never leave this building alive!”

Vittorio glanced at the window, then back at Antonio with a predator’s smile. “I never intended to leave in any ordinary way, Antonio. Silas, activate the final protocol.”

Silas pressed a button on the EMP pack strapped to his back. This was no simple short-range jammer. It was a pure electromagnetic warhead designed to permanently sever the entire data network within this building.

“Wait. Don’t do it. You will erase all Ouroboros data!” one of The Circle’s directors shouted from the floor.

“That is the point,” Vittorio replied.

Vuuummmm.

A massive electromagnetic surge slammed into Valdieri Plaza. Every digital system on the fiftieth floor burst into sparks. The Ouroboros projection ignited, chandeliers shattered, and the helicopters outside began losing control as their navigation systems failed.

Total darkness swallowed the room once more. Only firelight flickered from the corners, and moonlight seeped through cracked glass.

“Now,” Vittorio whispered into the silence. “Let us finish this history by hand.”

The sound of his footsteps on the velvet carpet echoed steadily as he advanced toward Antonio, who was crawling in search of cover. The final war within this glass tower had just reached its lowest point.