A Call From Anderson

"Mr. Anderson," Jack answered the phone excitedly, "I think you must have brought me the most fantastic news."

Naturally, Jack couldn't resist leaving the phone call for Anderson. After all, the cooperation was on the verge of being confirmed, and it couldn't be a one-sided conversation all the time.

However, it was worth noting that up until this point, Jack had always appeared before Anderson in the form of Ethan Hunt.

"For me, yes, but for you, well, that's still up for discussion," Anderson teased.

"I've already contacted Secretary of Defense Camilles," Anderson continued, his voice filled with anticipation. "In three days, at the Pentagon, he's willing to have a conversation with you, but on one condition: you come alone."

Jack wasn't surprised; he had anticipated this situation long ago. It would be strange for someone of his important status to refrain from taking precautions.

"Very well, I agree," Jack replied calmly. "Three days from now, I'll be there on time at ten o'clock in the morning."

After all, they were discussing cooperation. What's a slight risk if it leads to great rewards?

Moreover, for Jack, this wasn't an adventure. At most, it was a mildly stimulating endeavor.

"Are you so confident? The Pentagon is not your private villa. You can't come and go whenever you want," Anderson remarked, genuinely surprised.

Sitting upright, Jack said,

"What I'm about to do will benefit you, and in return, you'll have something to offer me. So, naturally, there's nothing to worry about."

"By the way, there's something else you should know." Jack chuckled mischievously.

"You mean..." Anderson began, his voice tinged with curiosity. Being the governor of New York State, he would have received reports about the events unfolding in New York City.

About the Continental Hotel? So many killers died...did you do it?" Anderson asked.

"Yup, it's me," Jack said confidently while leaning back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Anderson, taken aback by Jack's casual response, nodded slowly. "Yes, through my internal sources, I learned that the High Table has taken notice and sent their personnel to handle the situation... Wait, you didn't just cross paths with them?"

Jack paused for a moment, feigning deep thought before smirking. "Ah, you must be referring to a little encounter I had with someone known as the judge. She was quite a sight, walking around in high heels, looking like she had a lot of money to her name. It seemed a pity, so I relieved her of her belongings and let her." He chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Anderson's eyes twitched, surprise and disbelief evident on his face. "Where did you let her go?"

Jack confidently replied, "Oh, I'd say it was around ten kilometers outside the city limits." He tried to sound confident, although a hint of doubt lingered in his tone.

"Daring to treat the people from the High Table in such a manner... I must admit, your audacity is quite impressive," Anderson sighed, a hint of envy in his voice. "You've done something I've always wanted to do but never had the nerve to attempt."

Jack flashed a shameless grin. "Well, what can I say? It's much more exhilarating that way. So, shall we consider it settled then?"

Anderson smirked, unable to resist the infectious charm of Jack's audacious personality. "Can't I at least know your name?"

Jack chuckled, not putting up much of a fight. "Since you traced that phone number back to me, I suppose it's only fair. My name is Jack."

Anderson raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Well, I was expecting something completely different. But it's not bad either."

.....

After hanging up the phone, Jack glanced at the eclectic group surrounding him—Carlos, Fox, Wesley, and Wick.

With a hint of exasperation, Jack sighed and said, "Well, now I finally understand where my unwavering confidence comes from."

"The Pentagon?" Wesley queried, his eyes widening in curiosity.

"Minister of Defense?" Carlos chimed in, his mind racing with possibilities.

Fox's voice trailed off as she began to ask a question, but Jack quickly interjected, waving his hand dismissively.

"Hold on, hold on!" Jack chuckled.

"Yes, indeed! Three days from now, at ten o'clock in the morning, I, Jack, the Templar Knight of the Templar Order, will march into the hallowed halls of the Pentagon alone to discuss with the esteemed US Secretary of Defense Camilles about the future of the Templar regiment."

"Can you even fathom the kind of treatment we might enjoy?" Wesley butted in.

With a confident stride, Jack stepped out of the room.

"No need to worry, everyone. Don't overthink it. I won't be leading you all to certain death. Establishing communication with national forces is only natural when we strive to protect order. It's unavoidable and necessary."

As they watched Jack's departure, Carlos fell silent momentarily before speaking up.

"You know what? I believe he can actually pull it off.

Fox raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You mean you didn't believe in him before?"

Carlos shook his head. "Not at all. I was just—"

Interrupting Carlos, Wesley looked at him knowingly.

"Don't worry, father. I know he brought us together, forming this group of five, to fight against the dark forces that control the underground world and save me from that life of darkness."

Carlos beamed with pride and gave Wesley a thumbs-up. "You're absolutely amazing, son."

Wick, who had been silently observing, couldn't help but chuckle. His laughter filled the room, easing the tension and adding a touch of levity.

The atmosphere among the group became more harmonious and relaxed. Admittedly, when they first joined the Knights Templar, they had doubts about taking on the powerful High Table with just a handful of individuals.

They all came together for various reasons—some coerced, others enticed. However, a glimmer of hope ignited in their hearts when they assumed leadership of the Assassin Brotherhood. Jack received validation from the mystical Loom of Destiny. It was a fragile sliver of confidence, but it was there.

After all, they were facing the High Table—an organization of global influence controlling the underworld, capable of making even the most powerful nations cower.

But they discovered that the Knights Templar were not alone in their fight. The prospect of government support, of national forces intervening on their behalf, lifted a weight off their shoulders. They felt a newfound sense of ease.

While their goal was to obliterate their adversaries, they still recognized the state's power. Thus they had refrained from taking any drastic measures thus far. But now things have changed.

Now, they glimpsed a fracture in the seemingly impenetrable darkness the High Table casts, allowing rays of holy sunlight to seep through. And they, the Templars, stood as the embodiment of justice—a collection of sharp swords poised to pierce the veil of chaos and bring order back to the world!

.....

Night fell, casting a veil of darkness over the quiet road. The soft glow of streetlights illuminated the figures passing by, their footsteps echoing in the stillness.

A weathered and worn beggar leaned against the side of the road, his head bowed in resignation. He had grown accustomed to the rhythm of the world around him, lost in his thoughts as he listened to the symphony of footsteps. Yet, tonight, something unusual was about to unfold.

A singular footstep broke through the usual cadence, drawing closer and closer until it stood right before the beggar. He looked up, his eyes widening with surprise. In front of him were a pair of feet, poised and still.

These were no ordinary feet. The beggar's gaze traveled upward, taking in the unexpected sight before him. The shoes were a strange mix of beauty and disarray. Adorned with mud, the remnants of a once elegant high heel now lay broken. At the same time, the owner of these peculiar feet wore stockings hinting at a refined taste.

The beggar couldn't help but feel intrigued by this odd combination. What story did these shoes hold? And who was the woman with disheveled hair standing before him?

The woman, none other than the judge of the high table, appeared exhausted, her hair in disarray. The grace and elegance that usually defined her had vanished, replaced by a disheveled appearance that suggested she had encountered quite the adventure. She looked at the beggar with a mix of determination and weariness.

"I am the judge of the high table," she declared, her voice hinting exhaustion. "Take me to see your head."

==========

Do you want to read ahead? Explore exclusive 60+ chapters filled with sizzling encounters, and heart-pounding adventures.

Then what are you waiting for Join my Pa*treon right now.

Link : pa*treon.com/thebookaddict (Remove the *)