Kessler sat alone in his dimly lit office, the weight of decades pressing down on him. His desk was clean—immaculate, even—but the organized chaos of his mind was anything but. A tumbler of whiskey sat untouched at his elbow, the amber liquid catching the faint glow of his desk lamp.

The news he had just received left him in a cold sweat. Marcus had been captured. Kessler had always known the man’s relentless pursuit of vengeance would eventually lead him into a trap. What he hadn’t anticipated was the revelation that Harrington—that bastard Harrington—was behind it all.

A knock at the door broke his reverie. He straightened, masking his unease. “Come in.”

The man who entered was imposing, his presence filling the room as much as his broad frame. It was the same man who had visited Marcus in the hospital, the one with the coin and the cryptic message. He closed the door quietly, stepping forward with purpose.

“You know,” the man said without preamble. “You know who has him.”

Kessler nodded grimly. “Harrington.”

The man’s face darkened, his jaw tightening. He leaned on the desk, his voice low and hard. “Then you know what has to be done.”

Kessler leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “What you’re suggesting could be the end of all of us. Harrington isn’t just some bureaucrat with delusions of grandeur. He’s protected. By men more powerful than we can imagine.”

The man’s expression didn’t waver. “Isn’t this what we were made for? To burn down our enemies, even if they sit at the highest levels of the government we serve?”

Kessler sighed, running a hand over his face. “You’re talking about more than Harrington. If we go after him, we’re not just targeting one man. We’ll be targeting the very people who prop him up. The ones who fund him, shield him, use him as their instrument.”

“And so what if we are?” the man shot back. “They’re the cancer, Kessler. Men like Harrington don’t act alone. They thrive because the system lets them. If we take him down, we have to go all the way.”

Kessler stood, pacing to the window. Outside, the city lights twinkled, indifferent to the storm brewing in his mind. He stared out, his voice quieter but no less resolved. “If we go after them, it won’t just be Harrington we destroy. We’ll be tearing down the walls of this country. Maybe even burning it to the ground.”

The man stepped closer, his tone steady and unwavering. “Then let it burn.”

Kessler turned to face him, his voice rising. “Do you know what you’re saying? These people don’t just control Washington. They control what happens across the entire goddamn world. Finance, trade, politics, even war—they’re at the center of it all. You think we can just strike at them and survive?”

“I think we don’t have a choice,” the man said simply. “This is what we were made for. You’ve seen what Marcus has done. You know what he’s capable of. If anyone can burn their empire to ash, it’s him. But only if we stand with him.”

Kessler stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He thought of Marcus—what the man had already endured, what he had already lost. Kessler had always admired his ruthlessness, his unyielding determination. But Marcus was still just one man.

One man against the world.

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“Do you think he even knows who he’s fighting?” Kessler asked quietly. “Harrington’s already fed him lies. Twisted the narrative. If Marcus figures out the truth, if he knows how deep this goes, it could break him.”

The man smirked faintly. “Marcus doesn’t break. He adapts. He survives. He doesn’t stop until the job’s done. You know that better than anyone.”

Kessler turned back to the window, his reflection staring back at him. “If we do this, there’s no going back. No safe house, no hiding in the shadows. Once we strike, it’s all or nothing.”

“That’s the point,” the man said. “They’ve grown too comfortable. Too complacent. They think their power makes them untouchable. It’s time to remind them what happens when the people they’ve used and discarded come for them.”

Kessler exhaled slowly, the enormity of the decision settling over him. He turned back to the man, his eyes hard.

He set the glass down with a soft clink, his decision made. But it wasn’t the decision the man across from him had expected.

Kessler leaned back, his gaze steady. “I’m not risking the organization.”

The man straightened, his expression hardening. “You’re serious? Marcus is out there, captured, and you’re not going to lift a finger?”

Kessler exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming against the desk. “Listen to me. If I move openly, if the organization gets involved, we all die. Harrington doesn’t just have reach—he has claws. If he even gets a whiff that we’re behind this, he’ll gut us, and whoever his backers are will bury the remains.”

The man scowled but said nothing, waiting.

“But…” Kessler continued, leaning forward, his voice dropping lower. “If Marcus’s old team were to learn about his situation… if they were to decide to act on their own, no one could connect it back to me.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “The Four Horsemen?” His tone carried a mix of incredulity and respect.

Kessler nodded. “You think anyone else has a better shot at getting him out? They were unstoppable when they were active, and Marcus made them what they were. If they know he’s alive, that he’s in danger, I’d bet my life they’ll come for him.”

The man sat back, considering. “Conquest is retired, running some security firm. War’s teaching tactics at Quantico, and Famine… well, I heard he’s off in some cabin in Alaska, living the quiet life.”

“Doesn’t matter where they are,” Kessler said. “If they find out Death has been captured—if they know what happened to his family—they’ll come back. They won’t need orders. They’ll move on instinct.”

The man’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “You’re not wrong. But they’re not exactly the quiet type. If they go in, it’s going to be loud.”

Kessler shrugged. “Good. Let them burn Harrington’s operation to the ground if that’s what it takes. And if Harrington comes sniffing around, I’ll just tell him the truth—that Marcus’s old team went rogue after his family was killed.”

The man’s expression darkened. “You’re walking a fine line here, Kessler. If Harrington or his backers catch even a hint that you pointed them in the right direction—”

“They won’t,” Kessler said sharply. “This is clean. You’re the only one who links me to them, and you know how to keep your mouth shut.”

The man studied him for a moment before nodding. “Fine. I’ll get word to them. But you know as well as I do that once they’re unleashed, there’s no calling them back.”

“That’s the point,” Kessler replied. “If the Four Horsemen are involved, it’s not an operation—it’s a force of nature. Harrington and his ilk won’t know what hit them.”

The man rose, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the desk. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Kessler said. “Tell them exactly where Marcus is being held. Give them everything they need to do what they do best. After that, leave them alone. Let them handle it.”

The man nodded, a faint smirk on his lips. “It’ll be good to see them back in action. Conquest, War, Famine… and Death.” He paused. “You know, there are still stories about them in certain circles. People say they were unstoppable.”

“They were,” Kessler said quietly, his voice tinged with something close to reverence. “And for Marcus, they’ll be again.”

The man lingered for a moment, then turned and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Kessler alone with his thoughts. He picked up the tumbler of whiskey and stared at it, the amber liquid swirling gently.

This was a gamble. A dangerous one. But if anyone could tear through the layers of Harrington’s defenses and bring Marcus back, it was the Four Horsemen.

And if it all went wrong? If the heat came back to him? Kessler took a slow sip of the whiskey, letting its warmth burn down his throat. He could always claim plausible deniability.

Marcus’s team had always been wild cards, after all. That’s what made them so deadly.