2025-11-09 02:54:35Call me Big 5.”
The voice from the other cell said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Eric blinked. “Looking for me? I don’t even know who you are?”
Let’s just say I’m someone with enough connections to get you out of here.
Silence.
“I know what they did to you. Quentin Tate’s little stunt, Faraday and Clara. It’s a damn shame. A man like you, framed by a spoiled, randy, cocaine-sniffing daughter of the President.”
Eric swallowed. “So what do you want?”
“I need your help—one job in exchange for your freedom.
Eric gave a bitter laugh.
“Just connections, judges, wardens and Senators who still owe me favours from the ‘80s. I can walk out of here any day I choose. But you? You’ll rot unless someone pulls strings.”
“…Then why are you still here?”
Big five smiled, showing no teeth. “Because I was caught.”
“Why?”
“I came here to kill President Tate.”
The words dropped like lead.
“You’re insane.”
Big five went on. “Tate's administration has drained this country dry and sold out to foreign interests. Lied about wars and peace. He’s a puppet, and I know the hand inside him.”
“And what, you want me to help you finish the job?” Eric asked.
“We’ll need you to get into the sub-vault inside the Capitol. It’s a clean tunnel system with one entry and exit. Sealed with the world's most sophisticated vault-locking mechanism.”
“We?... I thought you worked alone?”
“No, son. I belong to a nocturnal group of freedom fighters called ‘The Vigilante.” He replied. “And they will be waiting behind the Whitehouse in exactly two days at six o’clock.”
Big five paused and continued. “They will be there to receive the gold from you. There’s only one man alive who can do the job.”
Eric stopped pacing.
Big five grinned. “That’d be you.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No. I’m not.”
“I just wanted a life, a normal life.”
“And look where it got you,” Big 5 said, his voice low. “On your knees in front of a woman who spat in your face. Framed by a drug addict. Humiliated by men who couldn’t shine your boots if they knew who you really were.”
Eric scoffed. “That place has triple biometric access, pulse-rhythm recognition, and thermal” scan walls…”
“I know what it has, I designed half of it. Before they threw me out and erased my name.”
Eric froze. “You’re lying.”
Silence.
“Why the vault?” Eric finally asked. “Why now?”
Big 5 cracked his neck slowly and deliberately. “Because the gold DSS Malcolm brought in today isn’t what it seems. It’s not a diplomatic token, it’s blood gold.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Colca Valley, a remote village in Peru. Ever heard of it?... No…Exactly. Two years ago, Tate’s launched an unsanctioned military op there. Claimed it was a counter-narcotics raid. The truth is, it was a gold grab that was buried under tribal lands. The Locals resisted, so Tate and Malcolm wiped them out.”
Eric blinked.
“Children, women, elders and animals were torched, all so Tate and his little shadow-dog Malcolm could walk into the next election with enough wealth to run the world.”
He stepped closer to the bars. “That gold doesn’t belong to America.”
Eric laughed bitterly. “You’re insane.”
The Big Five was getting really impatient. “You’ve opened vaults deeper than this one. You were the whisper that robbed Interlock Bank in Brussels. The ghost who vanished from Madrid’s Central Reserve.”
“That was years ago,” Eric muttered.
“But you still got the hands,” Big 5 growled. “And right now, they’re wasting in a cage while the men who ruined your life walk free.”
“You want revenge?” Big 5 asked. “I’m offering it now.”
Eric stayed quiet.
Big 5’s voice turned cold. “Or maybe you want to stay here. Let them brand you a rapist. Let your fiancée marry Malcolm. Let Faraday spit on your name ‘til you die in this box.”
Eric’s eyes flashed. “Don’t talk about Clara.”
“Then take the offer.”
Eric contemplated for a while then accepted.
“I’m in… how do I get out of here?”
Big five smiled. “Leave that to me.”
He heard Big 5 make a call in Spanish.
“Hola, habla Big 5. Tengo aquí a un prisionero acusadofalsamente de violación y agresión.
“Necesito que verifiquen sus acusaciones de que realmentecometió el crimen. Ustedes tienen cámaras de seguridad, úsenlas. Y actúen con sabiduría.”
Once he hung up, Eric asked him. “You speak Spanish?”
“I speak all languages, son.”
Eric's phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen. His breath stopped.
BANK NOTIFICATION: “ASSET TRANSFER COMPLETE — $918,000,000.00 USD.”
PROPERTY TITLE TRANSFER: Seven estates across Europe and the UAE now belong to Eric Pason.
FLIGHT CLEARANCE: GLOBAL.
Eric looked up, stunned. “What is this?”
“That is my wealth in case I don’t make it out of here,” he said quietly. “It’s all yours. My empire, my blood money. Use it but don’t waste it.”
Eric was speechless. “Why me?”
“Because nobody else gave me hope in here.”
Footsteps echoed down the hallway; security guards were coming.
Big five reached through the bars. Eric shook his hand firmly. It was calloused, warm, and heavier than steel.
“You remember your promise?” Big five asked.
Eric nodded. “Steal the gold. Expose the lie.”
“Don’t get caught,” Big Five added. “You don’t owe them your body.”
More footsteps. Keys jingling. Radios crackling.
“Time to go,” Big Five said, stepping back.
Eric hesitated. “What if I fail?”
Big five smiled one last time, tired but proud. “Then die trying like a goddamn legend.”
The cell door screeched open.
Three armed security officers entered. “Mason Eric Pason,” one said flatly. “You’re being released. Internal misidentification. Orders from upstairs.”
Eric took one final look at Big 5. His eyes held no fear—justfinality.
“Go,” Big Five said. “And don't look back.”
Eric nodded, stepped through the open bars, and vanished into freedom.
Behind him, Big 5 turned to the window, watching the sunlight finally break. Forty-eight hours before The Vigilante arrived.
But the gold?
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Chapter 10
Security breach! I repeat, Whitehouse compromised!”“Secure the President!”“Find the first family, now!”Eric knew there and then that the bloody Vigilante had attacked. Bastards weren't patient enough to let him deliver the gold to them as agreed.Now, Security Service agents in black suits raced down marble corridors, shouting into radios as the presidential compound, once a fortress, was now a nest of chaos.Eric ran. “GET IN!”A voice called out from the shadow of a revving van, and without thinking, Eric lunged inside, slamming the door shut as the truck screeched off like it was late for a delivery.Behind the wheel was Quentin Tate. Face lit with fury and cigarettes. A baseball cap pulled low over her wild hair.The main gate to the Whitehouse began closing, but they were out before the steel gate clapped shut with a CLANG, and theysped off into the night.Eric finally spoke. “Why did you save me?”“Didn’t do it for you.”“Then why?”“Because I want you to die by my hands.” A
Chapter 9
Eric’s breathing was shallow, nearly silent. The steel lock glared at him, reinforced and encoded with dual biometric encryption. One wrong move, just one, and the internal alarm automatically alerts the Presidential Security Unit. He rolled back his sleeves, sweat lining his brow. He had already made two failed attempts and was now left with one last chance.His first attempt was rushed. The second is overly cautious. He had thirty seconds to analyse the tumblers. Else…He inserted the pick, closed his eyes, and listened.Click… pause… click… louder click.He adjusted the angle, holding his breath.Tiny mechanisms groaned inside the chamber as if protesting his intrusion. The sweat slid down his spine. Any louder, and they would echo through the hallway.He checked the timer on his watch.19 seconds left.“Come on,” he whispered. “Talk to me…”Click.Then silence, nothing moved.The red light blinked, and with one final push, he shifted the pick gently upward. And click, there was a
Chapter 8
Faraday roared again“Why is the chandelier in the First Lady’s chambers still half‑hanging, and you are still alive? You call yourself competent? Fix it now!” Eric turned to everyone in the room, who were now breathing hard from their laughter, picked up his tools and hurried down the hallway toward the First Lady’s wing. He knocked, then swung the door gently. Inside, at the centre, stood Carter Brooks, muscular, dangerous, and a face set as if he had escaped purgatory. Eric froze as the hulk of a man turned.“You again? Why do you show up every damn time I wannahave a good time?” Eric swallowed. “Sir, I was told to replace the chandelier; there was a complaint from Faraday.” “Unless you're here for any other motive, I see nothing wrong with this Chandelier.” Carter looked at the Chandelier while eyeing Eric.Hillary emerged from her bathroom smelling like holiness and hygiene. Her robe was half-open and her hair dishevelled in deliberate art. She folded her arms. “Carter,
Chapter 7
The gala had ended, and now everyone had moved to the gallery section of the Whitehouse. Lady Fredith leaned dramatically on her cane like it was her staff of office. “I never trusted that woman,” she said, loud enough for every aide and eavesdropper to hear. “That Hillary. The one my dear nephew married.”Eric Pason was quietly dusting a bookshelf, pretending not to listen, but his ears were wide open. The glint in Lady Fredith’s eyes meant trouble.President Tate chuckled awkwardly, adjusting his tie. “Aunt Fredith, Hillary’s been by my wife for years. She’s been nothing but supportive.”“Supportive?” Lady Fredith raised her brow like she was about to sneeze judgment. “Please, Richard. That woman couldn’t support a flower pot without letting it rot.”Raynor cleared his throat. “With all due respect, ma’am, the First Lady has proven her loyalty to the presidency, especially during international tours. She has presence.”“She has presence, yes,” Lady Fredith fired back, “just like sm
Chapter 6
The Whitehouse gala had begun.And now Mr Faraday, like a captain commanding a sinking ship, barked orders across to the staff.“Eric! For God’s sake, you useless twig of a man! Stop standing there like a monument, make yourself useful!”Eric turned, balancing the silver tray of champagne and ice as he carved his way through dancers.“Try not to trip over your own dignity this time,” he sneered, drawing chuckles from two junior staffers behind him. “If you had any.”Eric didn’t flinch; he simply walked past and made his way to the VIP section, where President Tate sat, perfectly postured in a black tuxedo, holding First Lady Hillary’s hand like they were high school sweethearts instead of two sneaky secrets-keeping couples.Clara Raynor was laughing intensely at DSS Malcolm's unfunny jokes, her hand securely wrapped around his. Oh, love, Eric hissed.Felicia Haywale gestured with her hands, to Raynor's amusement, while Hillary watched in disgust.Eric approached with his tray and bow
Chapter 5
5“Oh, didn’t expect to run into the Whitehouse stripper so early. I thought your kind vanished with the last scandal.”Hillary threw the first jab. Eric watched in amusement.Felicia smiled; her lipstick was perfect. “Well, you know me. Scandals keep me young.”“I suppose the cleaners forgot to disinfect the presidential quarters,” Hillary said coldly, eyes scanning Felicia’s neckline. “You must’ve sneaked out of his bed… As usual.”“At least someone’s keeping him warm. You’ve been rather… preoccupied, aren't you?” Felicia smirked.Hillary smiled wickedly. “Much better than being a hoe to someone who gives zero fucks about you.”Felicia laughed. “I would rather be worried about being neglected by my very own husband.”“At least I am married, not a bed warmer being called upon when I'm aroused.”Felicia scoffed. “Ohh… What do you call this? Marriage? I'd rather die single…”“And a Hoe”, Hillary spat.“My dear Hillary, you have just two options: either you share him or you get a divorc
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