The Architecture of Wealth (Story book)

[PTScalper]

"Perimeter," Gideon signaled, his voice a barely audible rumble over the pouring rain. He pointed a massive, mud-caked finger toward the tree line thirty yards ahead.

Through the dense, driving rain, the harsh, flickering glare of halogen floodlights cut through the darkness. The hum of massive, unregulated diesel generators vibrated through the mud.

It was Kivu Sector 4. The extraction camp that the global ledger claimed was perfectly automated and efficiently collateralized.

[PTScalper]

Elias crawled forward through the muck, sliding up beside Gideon.

The camp was a sprawling, brutal scar carved into the virgin jungle. There were no autonomous mining drones. Instead, hundreds of emaciated, mud-soaked men and women were hauling massive sacks of raw cobalt ore out of deep, open-pit trenches, driven forward by the cracking whips and shouting of heavily armed mercenaries.

The perimeter wasn't secured by thermal sentry grids or biometric scanners. It was secured by a ten-foot wall of rusted shipping containers, topped with razor wire and flanked by sandbagged watchtowers.

[PTScalper]

"They spoofed the satellite telemetry by burying heat sinks in the canopy," Elias whispered, his slate-grey eyes cold, analyzing the primitive, brutal architecture of the analog fortress. "They aren't just stealing the cobalt. They are breeding an army off the grid."

"Watchtowers are manned by pairs," Gideon observed, tracking a mercenary who was casually smoking a cigarette behind the shield of a mounted DShK heavy machine gun. "And the ground approach is mined. Not digital proximity sensors. Monofilament tripwires wired to crude, directional fragmentation charges."

"Then we don't go through the ground approach," Elias said. He looked up at the towering mahogany trees that formed a natural canopy directly over the rusted shipping containers.

[PTScalper]

Elias slung his SCAR-H over his shoulder. He flexed his right hand. The matte-black synthetic haptic glove, wired directly into his radial nerve to interface with the Cathedral, was woven with carbon-nanotube armor plating. It was designed to channel data, but its physical density was harder than steel.

"We take the towers simultaneously," Elias commanded. "If that DShK opens up, it will cut the Hashashin to pieces before we breach the mud wall. Gideon, take the right tower. I have the left."

Gideon nodded, slinging the heavy Mk 48 across his back. He drew a twelve-inch, serrated combat knife.

[PTScalper]

They moved.

Elias didn't use a grappling hook. He scaled the massive, moss-slicked trunk of the mahogany tree with pure, agonizing physical exertion. His muscles, conditioned by a decade of standing motionless before haptic screens, screamed in protest, but the ruthless, predatory drive that had conquered the central banks pushed him upward.

He crawled out onto a thick branch that extended directly over the left watchtower, forty feet above the mud.

[PTScalper]

Below him, two mercenaries were sheltering from the rain under a corrugated tin roof, arguing loudly in French over a waterproof radio. The heavy barrel of the DShK pointed out into the dark jungle.

Elias looked across the camp. In the shadows of the right tower, Gideon’s massive silhouette dropped silently from the canopy. The tactical chief landed directly behind the two guards. In a single, terrifyingly fluid motion, Gideon drove his combat knife through the base of the first man’s skull, caught the second man by the throat, and snapped his neck before the mercenary could even drop his cigarette.

Gideon looked across the camp and gave a single nod.

[PTScalper]

Elias drew his suppressed 9mm with his left hand, dropped off the branch, and plummeted ten feet, crashing through the corrugated tin roof of the left tower.

He landed heavily on the wooden platform, the metal roof collapsing around him. The two mercenaries spun around in shock, raising their AK-47s.

Elias shot the first man point-blank in the chest, the suppressed 9mm spitting a quiet, lethal cough.

[PTScalper]

The second mercenary swung his rifle barrel wildly, the buttstock catching Elias in the ribs and knocking his pistol from his grip. The mercenary roared, lunging forward to drive a combat knife into Elias’s stomach.

Elias didn't retreat. He stepped inside the thrust, bringing his right arm up in a brutal, sweeping block.

The mercenary’s steel blade sparked uselessly against the carbon-nanotube weave of Elias’s haptic glove. Before the man could recover, Elias drove his right hand forward in a devastating, open-palm strike directly into the mercenary’s face.

[PTScalper]

The dense, cybernetic glove hit with the kinetic force of a sledgehammer. The mercenary’s jaw shattered instantly, the impact throwing him backward over the sandbags. He plummeted forty feet into the mud below with a sickening thud.

Elias stood up, his breathing ragged, the tropical rain instantly washing the blood from his black glove. He retrieved his 9mm and looked down into the camp.

The synchronized breach was flawless, but the falling body had not gone unnoticed.

"Intruders! Perimeter breach!" a voice screamed from the center of the camp.

Klaxons began to wail—crude, mechanical air-raid sirens that pierced the roar of the monsoon.

[PTScalper]

"We are blown!" Elias yelled into his short-range analog radio. "Wardens, breach the gates! Gideon, light them up!"

From the right tower, Gideon unleashed hell. The tactical chief opened fire with the captured DShK. The deafening, rhythmic THUD-THUD-THUD of the 12.7mm anti-aircraft rounds tore across the camp, instantly shredding a reinforced barracks and cutting down a dozen scrambling mercenaries in a hail of high-explosive fury.

Below, the six Hashashin Wardens detonated a shaped charge against the rusted shipping containers. The steel wall blew inward, and the elite operatives poured into the mud, their shotguns roaring, clearing the trenches of armed guards while the enslaved miners scattered into the shadows.

Elias grabbed the SCAR-H from his back, braced it on the sandbags, and provided surgical overwatch, dropping any mercenary who attempted to flank the Wardens.