"Bring me that card..."
The tattooed boss's voice echoed through the silent chamber.
The masked operative bowed without hesitation.
"At once, Boss."
A Few Hours Later...
Far beneath the dark waters of the Gulf of Mexico, the massive submarine drifted silently through the abyss.
Only the low hum of its engines disturbed the endless silence outside.
A heavy steel hatch slid open with a metallic groan.
A lone man stepped inside, carrying a sealed evidence pouch tightly against his chest.
Before he could take another step, two masked guards blocked his path, rifles lowered but ready.
"Password."
The courier calmly met their gaze.
"The Hawk Never Misses."
For a brief moment, neither guard moved.
Then one of them stepped aside.
"You may enter."
The steel door sealed shut behind him.
The man walked through the submarine's narrow corridors. Cold white lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the metallic floor. Masked soldiers stood motionless along the passage, their faces hidden behind expressionless masks. None of them spoke.
The deeper he went, the heavier the atmosphere became.
At the end of the corridor stood a reinforced steel door.
Two guards opened it.
The command chamber lay beyond.
Without saying a word, the courier handed the evidence pouch to one of the masked operatives.
The operative immediately approached the tattooed boss.
"You have it?"
"Yes, Boss."
The pouch was placed into his waiting hand.
For the first time since entering the chamber, absolute silence settled over everyone present.
The boss slowly broke the seal.
Inside...
Lay a black card, almost completely covered in dried blood.
He carefully picked it up between his fingers.
Using his thumb, he gently wiped away the dark crimson stains.
The room remained silent.
Every pair of eyes followed the movement of his hand.
He lifted the card closer.
One heartbeat passed.
Then another.
Suddenly...
His pupils contracted.
His eyes widened.
A faint, nervous smile appeared on his face.
"...No..."
He whispered.
"This... can't be."
The masked operatives exchanged uncertain glances.
No one had ever seen their boss react this way.
One finally gathered the courage to ask.
"Boss... what is it?"
Without answering, the tattooed man slowly handed him the card.
The operative examined it carefully.
"It..."
"It looks like an ordinary black card."
Another stepped closer.
"No..."
"It isn't complete."
At the center of the card...
Only half of a beautifully engraved dragon could be seen.
The remaining half of the emblem was missing.
There was no name.
No number.
No signature.
Only the broken dragon.
The operative looked back at the boss.
"What does it mean?"
For several long seconds...
The tattooed man remained perfectly still.
His fingers slowly tightened.
His gaze never left the incomplete emblem.
Finally...
He spoke.
"...Draphiego Bloodflames."
The words echoed softly through the chamber.
No one moved.
The silence that followed felt heavier than the ocean surrounding the submarine.
One operative instinctively took a step backward.
Another lowered his head.
Even behind their masks, fear could be seen in their eyes.
"...Impossible..."
Someone muttered under his breath.
The tattooed boss slowly closed his hand around the card.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"...After all these years..."
"...one of them has returned."
No one dared ask another question.
The submarine continued its silent journey beneath the sea.
But inside the command chamber...
For the first time...
Fear wasn't outside the submarine.
It was inside.
TO BE CONTINUED....