Free Web NovelChapter 156: Chapter 156: Clean Slates
"That’s why people kill to move up the ranks of TMC," stated Marcus, his voice firm as the elevator ascended back toward the hospital basement. "The perks keep you alive."
Alexander didn’t reply. He adjusted the cuff of his shirt, his eyes fixed on the smooth skin of his forearm. The advanced nanite solution had left his body feeling energized, as if the grueling firefight had never happened.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, letting the cool air of the underground garage flood the cabin. Both men walked back to the nondescript sedan, their footsteps echoing through the empty concrete structure. The physical toll of the night was gone, but the strategic landscape had shifted.
"I need to return to the Gable estate," stated Alexander, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. "The Mercedes is still damaged, and I need to ensure Serena remains quiet about the details of the ambush."
Marcus chuckled, leaning against the passenger door as the car rolled toward the exit gates. "The kid was thrilled, Alex. She thinks you’re a hero. Just play along with her little fantasy, keep your head down, and let the organization handle the cleanup at the warehouse."
"And the Sinclairs?" asked Alexander, his eyes scanning the rear-view mirror as they merged into the late-night traffic.
"They lost an elite squad and failed to secure their leverage," stated Marcus, his expression turning cold. "They will be retreating to lick their wounds and figure out how Reaper got involved. For now, you are off their immediate radar. Focus on the girl."
Alexander nodded, his left hand shifting the gear smoothly as the city lights blurred past.
"I’m going to take you to get some real toys tomorrow," stated Marcus, a dangerous smirk returning to his face as he stared out the window. "You can’t be walking around with just a standard issue piece after what happened tonight."
"Understood," stated Alexander, his eyes fixed on the road. "How much are we talking about?"
"It’s expensive," stated Marcus, shrugging his massive shoulders. "But don’t worry. If you’re short on cash, I can lend you whatever you need to get properly geared up."
Alexander pulled his phone from his jacket pocket with his left hand, steering smoothly with his right as he brought up the encrypted TMC network application. He quickly filled out the standard incident report, detailing the vehicle damage and the location of the ruined Mercedes at the Gable estate.
A few seconds later, the device vibrated. A confirmation notification flashed across the screen stating that a stealth towing service was already en route to retrieve the vehicle. Immediately after, a secondary logistics menu materialized on the display, showing a list of replacement rental options along with the itemized invoice for the incident.
The screen listed the estimated cost for the towing service, advanced bodywork, chassis realignment, and agency glass replacement.
Estimated Cost: $37,500 USD.
"Damn it," stated Alexander, his jaw tightening slightly as he stared at the five-figure sum. "They are practically charging me the price of a brand-new vehicle just for the repairs." frёewebηovel.cѳm
"What happened?" asked Marcus, turning his head.
"They are charging me thirty-seven thousand five hundred dollars," stated Alexander.
Marcus let out a low, relaxed whistle, completely unfazed by the amount. "Honestly, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable price for their level of service. Remember, the organization doesn’t send your car to some third-rate, shady backyard workshop. They use original agency parts and master mechanics who work under total secrecy. I estimate that specific Mercedes model runs around sixty to seventy thousand dollars retail, so they are only charging you about half the value to completely erase a crime scene and make it pristine. What can I say? It’s not a bad deal at all."
Alexander kept his thumb scrolling down the encrypted screen, reviewing the replacement vehicles available in the organization’s regional stock. The inventory was filled with standard premium sedans and armored SUVs, but after the adrenaline rush of the warehouse ambush, he wanted something different. He wanted something aggressive.
His mind flashed back to the high-performance Shelby he had spotted in the assignment parking lot days ago—the one he had initially hoped was his designated contract vehicle. He paused his scrolling as a familiar silhouette materialized on the screen. He tapped the details, looked at the acquisition fee, and let out a low sigh.
"What did you find?" asked Marcus, leaning over to catch a glimpse of the illuminated display.
"A Shelby GT500," stated Alexander, his eyes scanning the technical specifications. "Gloss black with crimson racing stripes. One hundred thousand dollars."
"Nice, very nice," stated Marcus, nodding in approval. "That doesn’t sound bad at all. Do you want it?"
"To hell with it," stated Alexander, tapping the screen to finalize the purchase and authorize the wire transfer from his secondary account. "I deserve a real vehicle after tonight. I want to drive it fast. Are we going to the underground street races tomorrow night?"
"Absolutely, no doubt about it," stated Marcus, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I already submitted the insurance replacement paperwork for my ruined Corvette earlier. Tomorrow I’ll show you my new baby. It’s a masterpiece."
"Tell me what you ordered," stated Alexander, glancing sideways. "I want to know."
"No way," stated Marcus, chuckling darkly. "It’s a surprise."
"Come on," stated Alexander, keeping his eyes on the road. "I hate suspense."
"Fine," muttered Marcus, rolling his shoulders. "It’s a widebody Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat. I want to hit the drag strips and do some serious racing."
"A Hellcat sounds decent," stated Alexander, a faint, competitive smirk touching his lips. "But I would still gap you completely on a real track."
Marcus turned his entire body in the passenger seat, his eyes locking onto Alexander with a sharp, challenging glare. "Tomorrow night. One hundred thousand dollars. A direct race against me. Let’s see if you can back up those arrogant words with actual balls."
"Haha, absolutely," stated Alexander, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as a cold, confident smile broke across his face. "Let’s do it. I’m going to smoke you on that track."
A sharp, competitive instinct stirred deep within Alexander. He was starting to enjoy the rush of adrenaline—perhaps a little too much.
