Chapter 89: Return to the Big Apple

New York City. Queens. A Safehouse in a Basement Apartment. Two Weeks Later. Rainy Night.

The neon sign of a laundromat flickered outside the grimy window. Inside, the room was small, smelling of takeout Chinese food and damp concrete. It was a far cry from the penthouses and palaces they were used to.

Jack was polishing his sniper rifle on the kitchen table. He was wearing a "I Love NY" t-shirt that was two sizes too small. "I hate this city," Jack grumbled. "Too many people. No trees. And the rats here are bigger than the wolves in Alaska."

"It's a concrete jungle, Jack," Harper sat on a worn-out sofa, sewing a hem on a dress. She looked tired but focused. "You just have to learn how to hunt in it."

Sebastian stood by the wall, pinning photos to a corkboard. Alexander Hale. The Media Tycoon. His face was everywhere. On TV, on billboards, on the internet. CNN was playing in the background: "...Sterling Corp stock plummets as rumors of Sebastian Sterling's death in France are confirmed by anonymous sources. Alexander Hale's media group, 'The Hale Network', is set to acquire the assets..."

"He's fast," Sebastian watched the screen. "He's not just buying my company. He's rewriting my history. Painting me as a madman who died in a cult suicide."

"He controls the narrative," Dr. Braun adjusted his glasses (now taped together). "How do we fight a man who buys ink by the barrel?"

"We don't fight him in the news," Sebastian turned around. "We fight him in the spotlight." "Tomorrow night is the Met Gala. The biggest fashion event of the year. Hale is the co-chair. Every camera in the world will be there."

"And we're going to crash it?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "With what? We have fake passports and a bag of stolen French gold that we can't fence."

"We need liquid cash," Sebastian said. "And we need tech. My tech." "We are going to rob Sterling Tower."

---

[The Fortress]

Manhattan. Sterling Tower. 2:00 AM.

The 90-story skyscraper pierced the clouds like a needle. It was dark. The FBI had seized the building. Yellow [ CRIME SCENE - DO NOT ENTER ] tape wrapped around the massive revolving doors. Police cruisers sat idle at the curb.

"It's a fortress," Jack looked through binoculars from a rooftop across the street. "Thermal cameras. Motion sensors. And probably a tactical team in the lobby."

"I know," Sebastian adjusted his earpiece. He was wearing a black tactical suit—not armor, just fabric. "I designed the security system." "That's why I know the backdoor."

"There is no backdoor," Braun checked the blueprints on a tablet. "I checked the schematics."

"There is," Sebastian smiled. "But it's not for people. It's for window washers."

---

[The Climb]

Sebastian stood on the automated window-washing platform, suspended 80 floors up. The wind whipped his coat. The platform was locked down by the FBI. But Sebastian opened the control panel and hotwired it in ten seconds. HMMMMM. The platform started to rise.

He reached the 88th Floor. His private penthouse office. He looked through the glass. It was empty. The furniture was covered in white sheets. It looked like a mausoleum.

He took out a specialized glass cutter (bought from a shady hardware store in Brooklyn). SCREECH. He cut a perfect circle. He used a suction cup to pull the glass out. He climbed in.

The air inside smelled of expensive leather and abandonment. He walked past his mahogany desk. He saw a picture frame face down on the floor. He picked it up. It was a photo of him and Julian, years ago. He wiped the dust off the glass and set it upright. "I'm home," he whispered.

---

[The Vault]

He didn't go to the wall safe. The FBI would have drilled that open weeks ago. He went to the Private Bathroom. He walked into the shower. A massive rain shower with marble walls.

"Sebastian," Harper’s voice came through the comms. "You have 5 minutes before the silent alarm resets. The loop I put on the cameras won't hold forever."

"Copy." Sebastian pressed a specific sequence of tiles on the shower wall. Fibonacci sequence. 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8.

CLICK. A section of the marble wall popped open. Behind it was a small, lead-lined compartment. Inside, there was no money. Only a single, black Hard Drive and a set of Keys.

"Got it," Sebastian grabbed the drive. This was the "Shadow Drive". It contained the backdoors to every piece of software Sterling Corp had ever sold. Including the security systems of half the banks in New York. And the keys... were to a storage unit in the Bronx where he kept his "Rainy Day" fund. Vintage cars. Cash. Diamonds.

Suddenly, a flashlight beam swept across the office window. A helicopter. NYPD Aviation Unit.

"Intruder on the 88th floor!" A voice boomed from a loudspeaker. "Step away from the window!"

"Busted," Sebastian cursed. "Harper, initiate Plan B."

---

[The Escape]

"Plan B is stupid!" Harper yelled in his ear. "But go!"

Sebastian ran. Not to the window washer platform. He ran to the Elevator Shaft. He pried the doors open with a crowbar. The shaft was dark, a vertical drop of 88 floors.

He looked up. The cables were cut (FBI procedure to lock down the penthouse). He looked down. He clipped a carabiner from his belt onto the guide rail. "Going down."

He jumped. ZIIIIIIIP. He slid down the rail, the friction burning his gloves. 80... 70... 60... Sparks flew like fireworks in the shaft.

"Police are breaching the lobby!" Jack shouted. "They are coming up the stairs!"

"I'm not going to the lobby," Sebastian gritted his teeth. At the 40th Floor, he kicked the elevator doors from the inside. BANG. They opened. He rolled out into the server room level. He ran to the west side of the building. He smashed a window with a fire extinguisher.

He looked out. The adjacent building—a hotel—was only 10 meters away. But 10 meters lower.

"Jack, catch me!" "I'm not there!" Jack yelled. "I know! I meant metaphorically!"

Sebastian ran. He jumped. For a second, he was flying over 6th Avenue. A dark silhouette against the city lights.

CRASH. He landed on the hotel’s balcony, rolling to absorb the impact. Ideally, his legs should have broken. But the serum’s residual effects had left his bones denser than normal. He groaned, stood up, and dusted off the glass shards.

He tapped his earpiece. "Package secured. Let's go shopping."

---

[The Setup]

The Next Day. 6:00 PM. A High-End Tailor Shop (Closed for Private Fitting).

The "Rainy Day" fund had been accessed. Cash was no longer an issue. Sebastian stood in front of a mirror. He was wearing a midnight-blue tuxedo, tailored to perfection. It hid the scars. It hid the weapons. He looked like the Prince of New York again.

Harper walked out of the dressing room. She was wearing a gown that looked like liquid starlight. Silver, backless, dangerous. She wore the Gold & Steel Ring on a chain around her neck, hidden under the fabric.

"How do I look?" she asked, putting on diamond earrings (real ones this time).

Sebastian turned. He stopped adjusting his cufflinks. "Like a weapon of mass destruction," he smiled.

"Good," Harper picked up a clutch purse. Inside was a specialized hacking device (courtesy of the Shadow Drive). "Because tonight, we aren't just crashing a party." "We are going to steal Alexander Hale's voice."

Sebastian offered her his arm. "Shall we dance, Mrs. Knight?"

"Let's burn the house down," Harper took his arm.

They walked out into the New York night. The hunters had arrived.

(End of Chapter 89)