This time, there would be no miraculous escapes.
After unpacking his gear and settling in, Alexander sank into the couch and closed his eyes. He mentally sorted through the intel, stress-testing his strategies.
He knew that hunting a ghost like Harold in a city like Penang required surgical precision. One reckless move would blow the whole operation.
He had to play the long game—learn the board, establish dominance, and wait for the crack in the armor.
By evening, Carter and Hayes had dinner brought up. It was a spread of simple, high-protein meals tailored to Alexander's routine.
Over dinner, they handed him the deployment roster and patrol routes for the night teams. Alexander reviewed it meticulously, issued a few tactical adjustments, and dismissed them to get some rest.
Checking his watch, it was just past eight o'clock. He changed into a set of dark, tactical streetwear and laced up a pair of reinforced combat boots. He slipped a matte-black folding knife into his waistband.
After tossing a burner phone and a set of car keys into his pocket, he gave himself a final check in the mirror. Satisfied he looked like any other local expat, he slipped out of the apartment.
The guards in the hallway immediately moved to tail him, but Alexander raised a hand.
"Stand down. I'm just running a perimeter check. Hold the fort and keep a low profile."
He knew his men were lethal, but moving in a pack would draw unwanted attention.
In a foreign city where the shadows had eyes, the key to survival wasn't firepower—it was knowing the exits.
First and foremost, he needed to know the environment. He needed to know where the cameras were, where the blind spots were, and where the quickest escape routes lay.
Alexander took his time walking down the neon-lit streets. His pace was casual, but his eyes were cataloging everything.
He mentally logged the blind spots of street cameras and the narrow alleys tucked behind rotting brick walls.



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