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Home / Mafia / THE UNDERESTIMATED UNDERWORLD KING / HUNTED BY THE ACTIVE SHOOTER
HUNTED BY THE ACTIVE SHOOTER
Author: Mr. Felix
last update2026-01-18 13:57:30

Detective Morrison's voice carried careful authority, no threat yet but promise of one coming. "You're not under arrest. Yet. But you need to come in for questioning."

Dante calculated odds with mechanical precision. Three cops in the room. Hospital full of witnesses. Cameras in every corridor. Going with them meant interrogation rooms and holding cells. Meant lawyers who couldn't help and evidence he couldn't refute. Meant prison at best. Death at worst if Victoria and Pierce had people inside
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  • THE SURRENDER

    Dante was publicly surrendering. Right there. In front of everyone. Hands up. Weapons down. Giving up. Submitting. Everything he'd fought against. Everything he'd resisted. Now surrendering.Sullivan was ordering. Commanding. Triumphant. "Restrain him. Read him his rights. He's under arrest. International terrorism. Murder. Conspiracy. Everything. Book him."UN Security was moving in. Guards in blue helmets. International force. Grabbing Dante. Handcuffing him. Roughly. Violently. Like he was dangerous. Like he might fight back. Treating him like a criminal. Like scum.Sophia was freed. Gun away from her head. Bonds cut. She was running to Dante. Desperate. Crying. "Don't do this! Please! There has to be another way! You can't give up! You CAN'T!"Dante looked at her. Really looked at her. Maybe for the last time. "I have to. For you. For Emma. For everyone. This is the only way you live. The only way any of you survive. I made my choice."Sullivan was pressing. Wanting more. Wanting

  • FACE YOUR CHARGES!

    Sullvan was alive. Somehow. Again. The guy just wouldn't stay dead. He'd captured Sophia after her parachute landing. Found her. Grabbed her. Took her prisoner.Now he was holding her at UN Headquarters. Not hiding. PUBLICLY. In front of everyone. Making it a show. Making it a statement.His message to Dante was simple. Clear. Brutal. "Come face me, Hayes. Address the General Assembly. Do it live. In front of the world. Or watch her die LIVE. On camera. In front of everyone."Dante was exhausted. Injured. Barely alive. Had just survived a plane crash. Had just been rescued from the ocean. Was hypothermic. Was broken. Was dying.But he was coming anyway. Because Sophia needed him. Because this was the only way. Because giving up wasn't an option.Morrison's boat was racing to New York. Full speed. Engines maxed out. ETA was two hours. Maybe less if they pushed it. Maybe more if conditions got bad.Sullivan's deadline was one hour. Sixty minutes. Not negotiable. Not flexible. Come now o

  • LET'S FINISH THIS

    Dante was grabbing the cargo netting. Big section. Strong material. His hands worked fast. Tying knots. Connecting pieces. The plane was breaking apart around them. Wind screaming. Metal tearing. Everything falling.Cain and Victor were helping. Grabbing edges. Holding sections. Twenty seconds until they hit the ground. Maybe less. Time running out fast.They were making a makeshift parachute. Spreading the cargo net between them. Holding corners. Creating something that might catch air. That might slow them down. That might save their lives."This WON'T work!" Victor was shouting over the wind. His voice barely audible. Terror in his eyes."It HAS to!" Dante was finishing the last knots. Making them tight. Making them strong. No time for doubt. No time for fear. Just action.Ten seconds left. They jumped from the falling plane wreckage. All three of them. Holding the cargo net. Spreading it wide. Praying it would work.The cargo net deployed. Caught air. Like a parachute. Sort of. St

  • I FOLLOW ORDERS OR I LOSE EVERYTHING

    Fighter jets were flanking the civilian plane. Two F-22 Raptors. US Air Force. Sleek. Deadly. Orders to destroy.Victor was piloting. Checking instruments. Seeing missile locks activating. "They're locking missiles. We're DEAD. No question. This is it."Dante grabbed the radio. Desperate. "This is civilian aircraft! We have CHILDREN aboard! Seven-year-old! Newborn! You can't shoot civilians!"Fighter pilot's voice came through. Cold. Detached. "Orders are orders. Surrender aircraft immediately or be destroyed. You have sixty seconds to comply.""We're unarmed! Civilians! You can't just murder us!"Fighter pilot responded. No emotion. "Watch me. Missile launch in ten seconds. Nine. Eight—"Victor was thinking out loud. "We could try to outmaneuver. Evasive action. Maybe—"The pilot shook his head. "They're F-22s. We're a private jet. They'll shred us like paper. No chance. Zero."Marie was thinking fast. "Then we TALK. Convince the pilot we're not the threat. Make him see reason. Make

  • ASSAULT ON FBI

    FBI headquarters Geneva was fortress. Professional construction. Impenetrable design. FORTRESS. Concrete. Steel. Technology. Security. Everything defending. Everything protecting. Everything preventing exactly this assault.Dante's team was nine people. Him. Cain. Victor. Sophia. Adrian. Scarlett. Marie. Elena. Reaper. NINE people. Professional warriors. Experienced. Capable. But just nine.Against one thousand plus FBI agents. Swiss military backup. Automated defenses. Professional security. Overwhelming force. Impossible odds. Professional assessment showing death. Showing failure. Showing impossibility.Victor was stating obvious. Professional reality. "We need miracle. Divine intervention. Impossible advantage. Something changing mathematics. Something making nine equal thousand. Miracle."Cain was thinking. Professional strategy. "Or we need DISTRACTION. Something so big FBI has to respond. Something forcing them away. Something creating opportunity. Something MASSIVE."Marie que

  • ONE THOUSAND PLUS AGENTS

    Three-way battle was raging. Professional violence multiplied. FBI tactical units versus Stone's military veterans versus Dante's desperate escape. Complete chaos. Underground bunker transformed into war zone. Bullets everywhere. Explosions. Screaming. Death.Stone was fighting like berserker. Decades of rage unleashed. Professional soldier meeting personal vendetta. Every strike purposeful. Every movement calculated. Fury rendered tactical. Grief transformed into violence. Professional warfare meeting father's revenge.Sullivan's FBI agents were professional but UNPREPARED for military assault. Trained for law enforcement. For hostage rescue. For counter-terrorism. Not prepared for conventional warfare. Not prepared for five hundred combat veterans attacking simultaneously. Not prepared for Stone's fury.Stone's soldiers were actual combat veterans. Multiple deployments. Real warfare. Professional killing refined through experience. Ruthless efficiency. Understanding violence persona

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