Chapter 101: Allison grabbed the drunk by the collar and effortlessly tossed him into a trash can, as if throwing away a crumpled piece of paper.
He slammed the lid shut and, almost as if to ensure there was no chance of escape, placed a heavy stone on top.
He dusted off his hands and looked at the bucket one last time, his expression scornful.
His movements had been so fluid, so instinctive, that they almost seemed rehearsed.
Some people should think twice before biting off more than they can chew, he said, his voice soft but sharp, like broken glass.
The comment was clearly directed at Colton and Melany, who were lurking in the shadows.
Unfortunately, neither of them caught the warning.
Colton froze, realizing that the problem was not the incompetence of his men, but Allison's sheer, relentless strength.
But at this point, I was in too deep.
Turning back now would be like abandoning ship in the middle of a storm.
So, with Melany at his side, he continued to follow Allison, only to see her slip through the entrance of an old, decrepit warehouse, disappearing as if she had been swallowed up in the darkness.
Melany hesitated, a growing unease in her voice.
Colton, I don't like this.
The place looks like a death trap, and now Allison has vanished into thin air.
Colton frowned as he took in the dilapidated surroundings.
Calm down.
It has to be close.
Stay calm.
He couldn't understand how someone like Allison had eluded them so easily.
Just as he began to retrace his steps, the sudden click of a lock echoed behind them.
Click.
Colton turned around to replace that the door to the gloomy warehouse had been bolted from the outside.
He threw his weight against the door, but the iron frame held firm.
Panic reflected in Melany's eyes as she He pounded on the door with a trembling voice.
There's someone out there Help! Someone please.
From the other side, Allison's voice could be heard, conveying a lazy indifference.
Oops, my hand must have slipped.
But don't stress, it's just a warehouse.
There shouldn't be anything inside, right.
Colton slammed his fist on the door, his face twisted with rage.
Allison, you are totally vile! In his frustration, Colton stubbed his broken finger and agony coursed through him, leaving cold sweat on his forehead.
She gritted her teeth, knowing that she had once again fallen into Allison's trap.
Allison scoffed.
Vile The only thing he had done was defend himself.
Since when had defending oneself become a sin? Amateurs like them had no business following someone out of their league.
If it's just an empty room, I'm leaving, he said over his shoulder, disappearing into the maze of alleys without dedicating himself to them.
another look.
I don't have time to follow trash.
With the ease of someone who knows every nook and cranny, Allison headed to a sprawling, hidden underground warehouse.
Tapping his foot on the worn cement floor, he activated a mechanism and a large machine slowly emerged from the wall, its iron door opening.
He pressed his fingerprint against the scanner and the heavy door opened.
A wave of dust greeted her as she fumbled for the lights.
The room flickered and row after row of monitors appeared, like silent sentinels, embedded in sleek, well-maintained servers.
In the center of the room was a colossal computer, covered in a thin layer of neglect.
I never understood why the Master insisted on burying the mainframe and servers here in Ontdale, Allison muttered to herself, shaking her head as she rolled up her sleeves.
and got down to work.
After a few moments of tinkering, he managed to reactivate most of the machines.
But the central computer would not start.
It had been too long since its last use and was in urgent need of repairs.
Without hesitation, she grabbed a toolbox from the corner and began to meticulously disassemble the pieces, moving her hands with the precision of an expert surgeon.
Absorbed in her task, she lost track of time until a soft beep broke the silence.
The machines came to life and suddenly the walls around her lit up as the monitors showed the image of a pink-haired girl smiling innocently.
But the contrast with Allison's expression made the scene seem anything but innocent.
The hologram's voice sounded sweet but disturbing: Welcome back online.
Ready to reboot the hacker world.
A message appeared on the screen.
Without hesitation, Allison clicked Confirm, quickly entering her ID and password.
After navigating a maze of security protocols, he typed in his username.
Just as the system began to reboot, the entire room plunged into darkness with a sudden boom.
Allison stared at the blank screen, filled with disbelief.
You have to be kidding.
So much work, and it shuts down in a second.
The reboot had caused a complete blackout, plunging the room back into darkness.
Frustration took hold and her eyes drifted to the scant moonlight filtering through the small basement window.
Trying to deal with everything alone was maddening, like a chaotic storm that she couldn't control alone.
She needed more hands, expert hands.
Meanwhile, far away, on the Burnt Isles of Leswington, in a dimly lit room, a man with With a scarred face and a tailored suit, he sat rigidly in front of his computer, his eyes fixed on the screen.
The holographic game, which he thought had been missing for a long time, blinked for a brief moment.
The sudden burst of light made him jump out of his chair.
The hacker world.
.
.
has restarted! His eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked at the screen.
That brief flash confirmed his worst fear: the woman who had dismantled his mafia was still alive.
Worse, his trail now led abroad.
His lips curled into a snarl as he barked at his men: Still out there.
Find her, wherever she is.
Bring it to me.
I swear I'll make you pay.
.
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