Death rode the desert wind.
The modified "Black Dragon" assault vehicle screamed across cracked wasteland at maximum velocity, its reinforced hull glowing cherry-red from atmospheric friction. Ethan Su's fingers danced across a holographic tax calculator, each keystroke accompanied by the soft beep of accumulating interest rates.
Princess Avira huddled in the back seat, royal composure cracking like old paint. Her cellular regeneration patterns pulsed in high-frequency bursts—a distress beacon disguised as biological noise.
Clever girl.
"Cross-dimensional communication incurs roaming charges," Ethan murmured, not bothering to turn around. "Your debt just accumulated another twelve percent in late fees."
The princess flinched. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the vehicle's climate control.
"Boss." Marcus "Fatty" Wang's knuckles went white on the steering wheel. "Twelve signatures incoming. Military-grade."
Heat shimmer parted like a curtain. The White Lion Guard materialized—twelve pristine mechs in perfect formation, chrome armor blazing under the crimson sun. Their leader, a towering Lion King-class unit, raised one massive hand.
Universal gesture: Halt.
Ethan's system interface erupted in warnings:
[AUDIT ALERT: UNAUTHORIZED MILITARY DEPLOYMENT]
[VIOLATION: Public Resource Misappropriation]
[ESTIMATED TAXPAYER COST: 847,000,000 Credits]
[ENFORCEMENT RECOMMENDATION: Immediate Asset Seizure]
External speakers crackled with authority. "Cyril Blackthorne, Judgment Swordmaster, Level 45. By Federal Council mandate—release Princess Avira immediately. Surrender for processing."
Avira pressed against reinforced glass, tears cutting tracks through dust on her cheeks. "Teacher! Please—I can explain! Ethan, let me go. I'll tell him you were kind. I'll make them understand—"
Ethan stepped into desert heat that hit like a physical blow. Wind whipped his black coat as he adjusted his tie with mechanical precision—a man reviewing quarterly reports.
"Cyril Blackthorne." His voice carried with unnatural clarity. "Employee ID 7749-Delta. Current violation: Violent Tax Resistance and Unauthorized Appropriation of Federal Assets."
The Lion King's head tilted. Servos whined. "What did you just say?"
"The First Tax Bureau doesn't offer resignations." Ethan pulled out a leather-bound ledger that materialized from thin air, pages fluttering in the wind. "Only terminations. Article 847 of the Universal Revenue Code—your deployment represents gross misuse of taxpayer resources."
Cyril's laugh boomed across the wasteland. "You're insane. Stand down, or—"
Snap.
Ethan's fingers met like a judge's gavel. The sound echoed off distant rock formations.
Avira's body went rigid. Her eyes widened as the contract tattoo on her wrist blazed golden, searing through fabric. The smell of burning silk filled the air.
"No." The word escaped as a whisper. But her legs were already moving, carrying her toward the Black Dragon's weapon console. "No, no, NO!"
Her hands shook violently as they began the startup sequence. The antimatter cannon hummed to life, barrel rotating with mechanical inevitability toward the White Lion formation.
"Avira!" Cyril's voice cracked. Disbelief bled through his mech's speakers. "What are you doing?"
"I can't stop!" She screamed, tears streaming as her finger hovered over the firing mechanism. "Teacher, run! Please run!"
But Cyril stood frozen. The girl he'd trained since childhood—his beloved student—was about to become his executioner.
"Fire," Ethan commanded.
Avira's finger slammed down.
The antimatter beam carved reality in half. Pure annihilation turned sand to glass, mechs to vapor. When the light faded, Cyril and half his squad had simply ceased to exist. Only twisted metal remained, and the acrid stench of ionized air.
Avira collapsed. Her body was her own again, but something fundamental had broken inside. She stared at her hands—the hands that had pulled the trigger.
"I killed him." Her voice was barely human. "I killed my teacher."
Ethan was already on his communicator, tone professional as a customer service rep. "Federal Oversight Division? Tax Auditor Su, Badge 001. Reporting an act of treason. Princess Avira Castellane just murdered Federal personnel. Yes, I have biometric confirmation—fingerprints, retinal scan, full video documentation."
He ended the call. Crouched beside the broken princess.
"Congratulations, Your Highness. You're now a regicide, traitor, and murderer. The entire galaxy will hunt you within the hour."
Avira looked up. Her eyes had gone completely empty—windows into a house where no one lived anymore.
"Why?"
"Because you needed to understand your position." Ethan straightened his tie. "You have nowhere else to go. No one else will take you. Welcome to permanent employment, Agent 007."
Marcus had already restarted the engine. "Boss, where to now?"
Ethan climbed back into the passenger seat, consulting his ledger. "The Godforsaken Lands. I have a debt to collect—one that might finally balance my books."
The Black Dragon roared toward the forbidden zone. As they crossed the threshold, Ethan's enhanced senses picked up something that sent ice through his veins.
Through swirling black mist, his Plunder Vision locked onto a figure wrapped in ancient bandages. The system display materialized with trembling pixels:
[DEBTOR IDENTIFIED: Su ████████ (EXTREMELY DANGEROUS)]
[OUTSTANDING DEBT: 1,000,000,000,000 Credits]
[VIOLATION TYPE: Temporal Theft/Causal Reversal]
[WARNING: PRIORITY TARGET - APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION]
Ethan's hands trembled as he read the partially obscured name—a signature he'd been hunting for ten years.
His father was waiting.