The Phantom General:Return of the Ex-Convict

The Wrong Number

The Grand Sky Hotel was suffocating.

Five hundred guests sat in silence under the crystal chandeliers. This wasn't a wedding. It was a hostage situation.

At the altar, Sarah Quinn stood trembling in a silk gown worth millions. But the white fabric couldn't hide the fresh purple bruise on her cheek.

"Do you," the priest stammered, sweating under the heavy silence, "take Victor Vance as your husband?"

Sarah didn't answer. Her eyes, filled with tears, were locked on the front row.

Victor Vance sat there, legs crossed, a relaxed smile on his face. He wasn't at the altar yet. He was too busy holding the tiny wrist of a terrified five-year-old girl.

"Mommy..." Zoe whimpered. She was dangerously thin, her skin pale.

Victor's smile didn't waver. He tightened his grip. Crack.

Zoe let out a sharp, agonizing cry.

"Answer the priest, Sarah," Victor whispered, his voice smooth. "Or I snap the little bastard's arm right now. On camera."

Sarah's knees buckled. She had once been the city's proudest beauty. Now, she was just a broken mother begging for her child's life.

"I... I do," she sobbed.

"Louder!" Victor laughed, dragging Zoe up by her arm like a ragdoll. "Say it so the whole city knows you belong to me!"

"I DO!" Sarah screamed, tears ruining her makeup.

"Good girl," Victor sneered. "Now that you're legally mine... I don't need this little mongrel breathing my air. Guards. Throw the mutt in the kennel."

"No!" Sarah lunged forward, but two massive bodyguards pinned her arms behind her back.

"I object."

The voice wasn't loud. But it sounded like gravel grinding against steel.

BOOM.

The heavy oak doors at the back of the hall exploded off their hinges. They crashed onto the marble floor with a deafening thud, sending dust into the air.

A man walked through the smoke.

He wore a faded green trench coat stained with mud. His combat boots were worn bare. He looked like a beggar who had crawled out of a grave. But his eyes were pitch black. Cold. Dead.

"Luke?" Sarah gasped, the blood draining from her face.

It was him. Luke Dark. Her husband who disappeared five years ago. The man everyone said died in a foreign prison.

"Well, well," Victor laughed, releasing Zoe. "The convict returns! I heard you were eating rats in a dungeon. Did you break out just to watch me take your wife?"

Luke didn't speak. He walked down the aisle. Thud. Thud.

"Daddy!" Zoe cried, stumbling toward him.

Luke stopped. He dropped to one knee and caught his daughter. Through her cheap dress, he could feel every single rib.

"I'm sorry, Zoe," Luke whispered. For a second, his emotionless face cracked, his voice shaking with rage. "Daddy is late."

Victor's eyes narrowed. "Get him. Break his legs and throw him out with the girl."

Four bodyguards in tailored suits rushed Luke, drawing steel batons.

"Luke, run!" Sarah screamed.

Luke didn't run. He stood up, shielding Zoe behind his coat.

The first guard swung for his head.

CRACK.

Luke caught the baton mid-swing. With a twist of his wrist, bone snapped through the silent hall.

Before the guard could scream, Luke kicked him in the chest. The man flew ten meters backward, crashing into the marble altar.

The other three guards froze.

Luke moved.

Elbow to the throat.

Knee to the gut.

Boot to the face.

Three seconds. Four guards lay on the floor, twitching in pools of blood.

Luke adjusted his dirty cuffs and finally looked at Victor. "Prison taught me a few things."

The room fell dead silent.

Victor's face turned red. Humiliated in front of the city's elite, he pulled out his phone, his hands shaking.

"You think you're tough because you can fight?!" Victor screamed. "My uncle is General Thunder! He's inspecting troops outside! I'll have him bring a tank in here to crush you!"

Sarah turned pale. General Thunder commanded the City Garrison. He wasn't just the law. He was the executioner.

"I'm calling him now!" Victor yelled, putting his phone on speaker.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

"The line is busy," the automated voice droned.

Victor cursed and dialed again. "Pick up, Uncle..."

Suddenly, a sound erupted in the quiet hall.

RING! RING! RING!

A sharp, military ringtone. Everyone turned. The sound came from Luke's muddy coat pocket.

Victor froze. He looked at his phone showing a busy signal, then at Luke.

Slowly, Luke pulled out an old, shattered Nokia phone. He answered it calmly.

In the silence, only Luke could hear the terrified voice on the other end.

"Supreme Commander! This is Thunder! I see your signal! I'm outside with an armored battalion! I'm coming in to kneel and salute you!"

Luke frowned. He looked Victor dead in the eye but spoke loudly into his phone:

"You have the wrong person. I am not a commander. I am just a convict named Luke."

Click.

He hung up.

For a second, the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Then Victor threw his head back and howled with laughter.

"Hahahaha! Did you hear that?!" Victor pointed at Luke, tears in his eyes. "The caller thought they reached some commander, and this loser got so scared he had to beg them: 'No, I'm not a big shot! I'm just a convict!' He's wetting his pants!"

The guests erupted into laughter.

"Probably a burner phone from a loan shark," someone muttered.

"What a pathetic loser. Coming to his ex-wife's wedding to hide from debt collectors."

Sarah looked down, her face burning with shame. She had hoped, just for a second, that he came to save them.

Victor smirked, stepping forward. "You're a joke, Luke. A broke, scared little—"

CRUNCH.

Combat boots trampled over the broken doors on the floor.

Twelve armed soldiers with assault rifles stormed through the archway, securing the perimeter. Walking in front of them was a giant of a man with three stars gleaming on his shoulders.

General Thunder.

"Uncle!" Victor shouted, his face lighting up. "Thank God! This convict assaulted me! Arrest him!"

General Thunder ignored his nephew. He marched straight toward Luke.

The General's face was chalk-white. He was sweating bullets.

He had heard the code over the phone: "I am just a convict."

Translation: "I am undercover. Play along."

Thunder stopped two feet in front of Luke. His knees shook. He wanted to drop to the floor and beg for forgiveness. But he couldn't blow the Commander's cover.

"Uncle?" Victor asked. "Why aren't you shooting him?"

Thunder slowly turned to Victor. His massive hand flew out.

SMACK!

He backhanded Victor across the face so hard a bloody tooth flew across the aisle.

"Shut up!" Thunder roared, his voice cracking with terror. "I am here to arrest this fugitive myself! I don't need a civilian telling me how to do my job!"

Victor hit the floor, bleeding and stunned. "But... Uncle..."

"I am taking this suspect into custody!" Thunder shouted, grabbing Luke's shoulder, though his fingers trembled so badly he could barely grip the coat. "He is extremely dangerous! I need to interrogate him alone! In my armored car!"

Thunder looked into Luke's dead eyes, silently pleading. Please don't kill me.

Luke shrugged, keeping his face blank. "You got me, officer."

He turned to Sarah. Gently, he wiped a tear from her bruised cheek with his thumb.

"Don't worry," he whispered, warmth touching his voice. "I'll be back for dinner."

Thunder dragged Luke out of the hall, followed quickly by the soldiers, leaving the guests in confused terror.

Outside, the heavy doors of the military SUV slammed shut. The privacy glass slid up, blocking the driver's view.

The second the door locked, the terrifying General Thunder slid off the leather seat.

He fell to his knees on the dirty floor mat, burying his forehead against Luke's muddy boots.

"Supreme Commander!" Thunder sobbed, his massive frame shaking. "I deserve death for being late! Please, punish me!"

Luke didn't look at him. He leaned back, pulling a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

He looked at the car's security monitor. On the screen, Victor stood up, wiping blood from his mouth, his face twisted in rage as he grabbed Sarah's hair.

Luke took a long drag. The ember glowed red in the dark.

"Get up, Thunder," Luke whispered. "Mobilize Alpha Team. I want Victor crippled before this cigarette burns out."