"This thing is enormous." Axel Vance weighed the experimental handgun in both hands while staring at the equally ridiculous cartridge resting beside it. Calling the weapon a pistol felt almost insulting when it looked more like someone had shortened a cannon and attached a grip.
Marcus watched his reaction with an amused smile beneath his beard. "Don’t get too excited yet, Officer Vance. I still have a few other toys you might appreciate." He turned back toward the locked cabinet and began pulling out more equipment.
A moment later, several pieces of tactical gear covered the table. There were flashbangs, fragmentation grenades, additional ammunition, and a heavy-duty ballistic vest fitted with enough pouches to carry most of Axel’s new equipment. The amount of gear looked less like support for one police officer and more like preparation for a small assault team.
Axel stared at the pile before looking back at Marcus. "I’m still just a Miami cop assisting an FBI trainee. Why exactly is the federal government handing me enough equipment to start my own war?"
Marcus’s smile faded slightly.
He glanced toward Clarice Starling, then stepped closer to Axel and lowered his voice. "Because this isn’t the first time people above my pay grade have heard reports involving things that shouldn’t exist. Strange killings, impossible injuries, unexplained disappearances, ritual cases—we’ve had files like that for years."
Axel’s expression sharpened.
Marcus sighed. "The problem is that almost every time somebody claims they can deal with those cases, they turn out to be useless. We’ve found self-proclaimed psychics looking for government money, frauds selling miracle cures, and genuine eccentrics who might know something but refuse to cooperate with anyone carrying a badge."
He tapped one finger against the table. "You’re different."
Axel raised an eyebrow.
"You’re law enforcement. Your identity checks out, your reports are documented, and multiple witnesses watched you do something to Michael Myers that ordinary weapons couldn’t accomplish." Marcus studied him carefully. "As far as the people running this operation are concerned, you’re the first government employee they’ve actually confirmed can confront this kind of threat and walk away afterward."
Axel finally understood why everyone inside the underground facility had seemed to recognize him.
His purification of Michael had apparently traveled much farther through federal channels than he realized.
Marcus continued, "The instructions I received were simple. Give Axel Vance whatever support falls within our authority, because whatever you’re dealing with doesn’t care whether your badge says Miami Police or FBI."
That answer explained everything.
Axel looked back at the weapons on the table. The FBI was not giving him expensive equipment out of generosity. They were investing in someone they believed could solve problems their normal agents could not handle.
That meant expectations would come with every weapon.
And eventually, so would missions.
Axel did not mind.
The system had already rewarded him for purifying Michael Myers with a direct increase to his Physique. If more corrupted killers, spirits, demons, or other supernatural threats existed in this world, then confronting them was not only necessary for survival but also one of the fastest ways for him to become stronger.
As long as Axel remained powerful enough, nobody could casually treat him like an expendable pawn.
"All right." He reached for the ballistic vest. "I’ll take the support."
Marcus grinned again. "I thought you might."
Axel equipped the vest and adjusted the straps until the weight sat comfortably across his torso. The pouches gave him room for ammunition, flashbangs, and several other pieces of equipment without restricting his movement too badly. He packed the experimental hand cannon into its case and kept the Remington 870 he had already selected as his primary long gun.
Clarice had chosen a compact MP5, which suited her much better than Axel’s heavier equipment. After Marcus issued them a basic ammunition load and repeated his warning not to expose the underground facility, the two investigators headed back through the ordinary-looking office. Minutes later, they rode the freight elevator upstairs and emerged through the laundromat as though they had simply finished washing clothes.
The man in the baseball cap still sat in the corner reading his newspaper.
He did not even look up.
Axel glanced at Clarice as they stepped outside. "Your government is weird."
Clarice gave him a tired look. "After the last few days, I’m not sure the FBI even makes the top five."
They loaded the equipment into the car.
Once Clarice started driving, she remained quiet for several blocks. Axel was checking the experimental handgun’s case when he noticed she kept glancing toward him as if she wanted to say something.
Finally, Clarice spoke. "Axel, there’s something I should tell you."
He continued inspecting the weapon. "Go ahead."
"I reported what happened with Michael."
Axel looked up.
Clarice tightened her hands slightly around the steering wheel. "Not just the arrest. I included the Bible, your ability to affect him, the black substance leaving his body, and the fact that you seemed physically stronger afterward."
She hesitated. "I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first."
Axel stared at her for a moment.
Then he returned his attention to the gun.
"That’s it?"
Clarice blinked. "You’re not angry?"
"If I wanted to hide what I could do, I probably wouldn’t have spent half a day reading scripture over Michael Myers while you sat ten feet away." Axel closed the metal case. "Besides, if the FBI really decided to investigate me, pretending nothing happened would only make everything more suspicious."
Clarice’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
Axel picked up one of the flashbangs and examined it. "Right now, federal support gives us weapons, information, and resources we wouldn’t have otherwise. I can live with people knowing I have a few unusual abilities."
"That’s a surprisingly reasonable response."
"Don’t get used to it."
Clarice smiled faintly. The car continued toward the Dolphin Hotel.
They were still several blocks away when the first fire engine screamed past them.
Another followed.
Then an ambulance.
Axel looked through the passenger window. "Something happened."
Clarice accelerated.
When they rounded the next corner, both investigators fell silent.
Black smoke poured from the upper floors of the Dolphin Hotel.
One section of the building was already burning fiercely, with orange flames visible through several shattered windows. Guests crowded the sidewalks below while hotel employees and firefighters desperately tried to control the evacuation.
Axel leaned closer to the open window and stared upward.
"Clarice."
"What?"
"Your hotel is on fire."
"I can see that."
The car barely stopped before Clarice was out.
Axel grabbed his shotgun and followed.
As they approached the building, Clarice looked toward the flames and suddenly became pale. "That looks like the fourteenth floor."
Axel immediately remembered the argument he had witnessed earlier.
Room 1408.
Clarice pointed higher. "My room is on fifteen. Directly above it."
That changed everything.
Whatever investigative material Clarice had left upstairs could contain information about Michael, Laurie, the chanting, or the cult. If someone had deliberately started the fire to destroy evidence, every second mattered.
They rushed toward the entrance.
Guests were pouring out through the lobby in various states of panic. Some carried suitcases, others wore robes or half-buttoned shirts, and one elderly man was dragging an oxygen tank while hotel staff tried desperately to keep the exits clear.
The hotel manager spotted Axel pushing against the flow and immediately moved to stop him. "Sir, you can’t go inside! The upper floors are being evacuated."
Axel pulled out his badge.
"Miami Police."
The manager stopped.
Axel pointed toward Clarice. "Federal investigation. Move."
The man immediately stepped aside.
Axel and Clarice entered the smoke-filled lobby.
The elegant hotel they had seen earlier looked completely different now. Sprinklers had soaked parts of the carpeting, alarms screamed overhead, and smoke drifted down from the upper floors while firefighters shouted orders near the elevators.
The elevator indicators were dark.
"Stairs," Axel said.
Clarice nodded.
They entered the stairwell and started climbing.
Dozens of guests were moving in the opposite direction, making progress painfully slow. Axel used his enhanced Physique to force a path upward without knocking anyone down, occasionally pressing himself against the railing to let terrified families squeeze past.
By the time they reached the thirteenth floor, the smoke had become thick enough to sting their eyes.
The fourteenth-floor landing was much worse.
Black smoke rolled through the stairwell opening, and a wave of heat struck them hard enough to make Clarice instinctively recoil.
Axel immediately grabbed her arm.
"Keep moving."
Clarice coughed and covered her mouth.
Axel pulled her past the worst of the smoke and pushed upward toward the next flight. His enhanced body tolerated the heat and lack of clean air far better than hers, allowing him to practically drag Clarice onto the fifteenth-floor landing.
They burst through the stairwell door.
Water was already pouring from the ceiling sprinklers.
The carpet had turned into a filthy mixture of water, ash, and soot, while smoke drifted through the corridor in thick layers. Clarice bent forward and coughed several times before forcing herself upright.
"My room is down there."
Axel followed her gaze.
Then he saw movement.
Someone was backing out through Clarice’s partially open door.
Axel immediately recognized him.
The young hotel waiter from the lobby.
The same employee who had politely offered to escort Axel upstairs earlier now moved with none of his previous professionalism. His clothes were disheveled, his face was tense, and he kept glancing toward the hallway as if terrified of being caught.
"Stop!"
The waiter froze.
Then he ran.
Axel drew his sidearm.
"Police! Stop!"
The waiter ignored him.
Bang!
Axel fired once.
The round struck the man’s leg.
He collapsed hard onto the soaked carpet and slid several feet before hitting the wall.
Clarice rushed forward behind Axel.
Axel expected screaming.
Instead, the waiter simply rolled onto his back.
There was almost no pain on his face.
His expression was fanatical.
"Oh, hell."
The waiter reached inside his uniform.
Axel surged forward.
Too late.
The man pulled out a dagger and drove it directly into his own chest.
Clarice shouted, "No!"
Axel grabbed the waiter’s wrist, but the blade had already gone deep.
The man’s body convulsed once.
Then relaxed.
Blood spread across his white shirt and mixed with the sprinkler water beneath him.
Axel checked for a pulse.
Nothing.
He looked at the corpse and frowned. "That was fast."
Clarice crouched beside him. "Suicide?"
"Immediately after getting caught."
Axel searched the waiter’s pockets, belt, shoes, and uniform. He found nothing that identified a cult, organization, or accomplice. No symbols, notes, keys, or anything else useful appeared.
"Great," Axel muttered. "Another fanatic who dies before answering a single question."
Clarice looked toward her room.
"He came out of there."
Axel nodded.
They entered together.
The hotel room had been searched.
Drawers stood open, Clarice’s suitcase had been disturbed, and documents had been scattered across the floor. The desk had been emptied, but nothing obvious appeared to have been removed.
Clarice immediately turned toward one wall.
Axel followed.
A small safe had been built directly into it.
Deep scratches and pry marks covered the door.
Axel looked at Clarice. "He was trying to get into this?"
"Yes."
She moved quickly toward the safe. "My more sensitive case material is inside."
Axel stared at her. "You left evidence from a supernatural cult investigation in a hotel safe?"
Clarice gave him a flat look. "It seemed more secure than leaving it on the desk."
"Fair."
The heat inside the room was increasing.
Smoke began creeping beneath the doorway.
Clarice crouched in front of the safe and quickly entered the combination.
The keypad beeped.
Then flashed red.
A sharp alarm sounded.
Clarice tried again.
Nothing.
"Oh, no."
Axel looked toward her. "What?"
"He must have entered the wrong combination too many times." Clarice pressed another button, but the safe refused to respond. "It’s in lockout."
The fire alarm continued screaming overhead.
Axel looked toward the door.
They did not have time to wait.
Clarice hit the safe with her palm. "Everything from the case is in there."
Axel stepped closer.
"Move."
Clarice looked at him. "What are you doing?"
"Opening it."
"With what?"
Axel tapped the steel door.
The safe itself felt extremely solid.
A handgun would accomplish nothing.
Even a shotgun might not penetrate the front plate.
So Axel ignored the safe.
He looked at the wall around it instead.
A smile appeared on his face.
Clarice saw the expression and immediately stepped backward. "I don’t like that smile."
"You’ll like the result."
Axel unslung the Remington 870.
He aimed at the wall beside the safe.
"Get back."
Clarice moved farther away.
Axel fired.
Bang!
The shotgun blast tore into the wall.
Drywall, plaster, insulation, and fragments of framing exploded across the room.
The safe remained completely intact.
But beside it, a large hole had appeared in the wall.
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