Geneva spread out below us as we descended, the city lights creating a constellation against the dark Swiss landscape. Neutral ground. Historic ground. And soon, potentially, a battlefield.

The plane landed at a private airfield secured by Valeska's people. We disembarked into a convoy of vehicles that took us to a safe house—nothing fancy, just a secure location where we could wait and coordinate.

Because we couldn't move yet. Not without knowing exactly where Mark was, what his security looked like, how vulnerable he might be.

Making ourselves public before we were ready would give him time to fortify. To disappear. To turn this into a prolonged hunt that would benefit him more than us.

So we waited.

Hours passed with agonizing slowness. Evelyn monitored news coverage—the "Reynard Vale has returned" rumors had reached fever pitch, but nobody knew we were in Geneva. Alexis checked and rechecked equipment Valeska had provided. Camille set up recording equipment for what would come next. Sienna stayed close, her caring nature sensing my tension even though I tried to hide it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only four hours, my phone rang.

Liang Mei.

"Tell me you have something," I said immediately.

"I have everything," she replied, satisfaction clear in her voice. "Mark is still at his fortress—the converted government building he's been using as his primary residence and command center. Same location for the past six months. He hasn't moved."

"Security?" I asked.

"Weak," Liang said, and I could hear her typing in the background. "He's been replacing security personnel constantly. Paranoia makes him suspect everyone, so he cycles through teams every few weeks. Current detail is… suboptimal. Undertrained. Poorly coordinated. More concerned with internal threats than external ones."

"How many?"

"Maybe fifty personnel on-site. Mix of private contractors and government security he still trusts. No military-grade defense systems. The building itself is fortified, but nothing that would stop a determined assault."

I felt Strategist processing that information, mapping approach vectors and tactical considerations. "Send me the full intelligence package. Building layouts, security rotations, communication protocols. Everything."

"Already sent," Liang confirmed. "Check your encrypted device. And Reynard—be careful. Even weak security can get lucky."

"I will. Thank you, Liang."

"Thank me by winning," she replied, then the call ended.

I immediately dialed Samuel.

He answered instantly. "Reynard. What do you need?"

"Bring your military to Geneva," I said without preamble. "We're conducting a raid on Mark's fortress. I need Ghana's forces as both an actual assault team and a show of international support. Can you mobilize that quickly?"

"Already mobilizing," Samuel said. "I had them on standby after your first call. Give me six hours and I'll have a strike team in position. More if you need heavier equipment."

"Six hours is perfect," I said. "Coordinate with President Valeska of Poland—she's providing local support and intelligence. I'll send you the fortress location and tactical information."

"Done," Samuel said firmly. "Mark's reign ends today, my friend. One way or another."

"One way or another," I agreed.

The call ended, and I looked up to find Sienna frowning.

"What?" I asked.

"Switzerland," she said. "Won't they mobilize their own military to help Mark? He's the World President. They're not just going to let a foreign military raid a building in Geneva."

"They might," I admitted. "But the chances are low. Switzerland's neutrality is foundational to their national identity. Breaking that to support a World President with ten percent approval—a World President who's been systematically destroying global stability—would go against everything they represent."

"But they could," Sienna pressed.

"They could," I conceded. "But they'd need to go against the wishes of their own population, who are just as affected by Mark's policies as everyone else. They'd need to officially renounce neutrality, which has massive international implications. And they'd need to do it fast enough to matter."

I pulled up intelligence on my tablet. "More likely, they wait. Observe. Maybe move forces into position but don't engage unless absolutely necessary. Then, after everything is decided, they come in for cleanup and to reassert their authority. Political theater while avoiding actual commitment."

Sienna nodded slowly, accepting the logic even if she didn't like the uncertainty.

I turned to Camille. "Is the recording equipment ready?"

"Set up and tested," she confirmed, gesturing to the professional camera setup she'd arranged. Valeska's resources had included broadcast-quality equipment, and Camille had configured it with her usual efficiency.

"Good," I said. "Because we're making a broadcast. Dubois, are you ready?"

I'd put the call on speaker so everyone could hear.

"Ready," Dubois's voice came through. "I have every major network on standby. Social media platforms coordinated. Emergency broadcast protocols activated. When you send the message, it will reach everyone, everywhere, simultaneously."

"Perfect," I said. "Start recording."

Camille hit a button, and the camera's red light activated.

I looked directly into the lens, letting my skills guide my delivery. Not aggressive. Not desperate. Just… certain. Confident. The voice of someone who knew they were right and could prove it.

"Mark," I said, addressing him directly first. "Your reign of tyranny is over. In the next few hours, forces will converge on your location. You have a choice: surrender peacefully, and you'll receive a fair trial. Due process. The legal protections you've denied so many others. No one needs to get hurt. No one needs to die."

I paused, letting that sink in. "But if you choose to fight—if you choose to resist—understand what that means. There's a military force about to raid your building. Trained professionals. International support. This doesn't end well for you if you force confrontation."

I shifted my focus, addressing the broader audience now. The billions who would see this message.

"To everyone watching," I continued, my tone shifting to something more inclusive. More human. "I know what the past eight months have been like. I know the policies Mark has implemented. The hierarchies he's enforced. The suffering he's caused while claiming it's for the greater good."

Persuasive Speaking made my voice carry weight beyond the words themselves. Made people want to listen. Want to believe.

"You've been told that rank determines worth. That the enhanced deserve more than the unenhanced. That hierarchy is natural and questioning it is weakness. But I ask you—what has that philosophy given you? Higher homelessness. Restricted access. Policies that benefit a small elite while crushing everyone else."

I leaned forward slightly, maintaining direct eye contact with the camera. With every person watching.

"Mark doesn't care about you. He never has. His vision is one where power concentrates at the top and everyone else serves. Where your value as a human being is determined by a System rank you may have no control over. Where families are destroyed and communities are shattered in service of 'natural hierarchy.'"

Persuasive Argumentation structured the logic flawlessly, making each point build on the last. Making rejection of Mark's philosophy feel not just right but obvious.

"I'm not asking you to support me," I said. "I'm asking you to reject him. To reject policies that dehumanize and stratify. To demand better from whoever leads, whether that's me or someone else entirely. Because this—" I gestured broadly, encompassing everything Mark had built "—this isn't leadership. This is tyranny dressed in philosophical justification."

I held the camera's gaze for a moment longer. "Mark's time is over. What comes next is up to all of you. Choose wisely."

Camille stopped the recording.

"That's… really good," she said quietly. "Like, genuinely powerful."

"Send it to Dubois," I instructed. "Full distribution. Constant loop."

Within minutes, Dubois confirmed. "Broadcasting now. Every platform. Every network. Emergency override on major channels. This message is reaching billions simultaneously."

"Good," I said, feeling something settle into place. The pieces moving exactly as planned. "Keep it running. I want Mark to see it. I want the world to see it. I want everyone to understand what's about to happen."

I stood, looking at Valeska. "Bring me to Mark. All of this ends today."

She nodded, already moving toward the door. "My people have vehicles ready. Samuel's forces are in position. We can move within the hour."

"Then we move within the hour," I said.

I looked around at the girls—Evelyn, Alexis, Sienna, Camille. All of them ready. All of them committed despite knowing how dangerous this was.

"This is it," I said simply. "Whatever happens next, whatever the outcome—thank you. For believing in this. For believing in me."

"We're not saying goodbye," Camille said firmly. "Because we're all coming back. Together."

"Together," Sienna echoed.

"Let's end this," Alexis added.

Evelyn just nodded, her expression carrying the weight of strategy and certainty.

We walked out into the Geneva night, toward the fortress where Mark waited, toward the confrontation that would determine everything.

My broadcast was playing on every screen. Mark's choice was simple—surrender or fight.

And honestly?

I hoped he chose to fight.

Because I had eight months of grief and rage and determination to work through.

And Mark was about to experience all of it personally.

Today, one way or another, this ended.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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