The man on the mortuary table didn't blink, breathe, or twitch.
But he wasn't dead.
Not yet.
"Mr. Malrick," said the funeral director, tightening the silk gloves over his hands. "Are you sure you want this done… here?"
Lucian Malrick opened one eye. "Where better to start a resurrection than a room full of corpses?"
The director swallowed and nodded.
In thirty-seven minutes, Lucian would step out of this building with a new name, a fresh kill order, and an arsenal worth more than a suburban duplex.
His target? Nathan Castor.
The Executor.
---
Meanwhile: Nate and Nova's Safehouse
Nate flinched as Nova slapped a file down on the table. "Black Cartel," she said, glaring at him like this was somehow his fault.
"I didn't ask them to send assassins," Nate replied.
She opened the folder. A dozen faces. All killers. All untraceable. "You're not listening. These aren't bounty hunters. They're cleansers. When the Cartel sends them, it's not about eliminating a threat — it's about erasing someone from the timeline."
"Neat," Nate muttered. "Guess I won't bother buying green bananas."
Nova threw him a loaded sidearm. "No more sarcasm. From now on, you're armed every time you sneeze."
---
The First Attack
They didn't have to wait long.
It started as they left the gas station on Freret Street.
A man in a chef's uniform casually dropped a paper bag.
It exploded.
Nova tackled Nate behind a delivery truck as fire erupted across the sidewalk. A woman in a nurse's outfit fired three rounds from a silenced pistol before blending into a crowd.
"Cartel loves disguises," Nova growled, returning fire and grazing a hidden gunman in a priest's collar.
Nate, ducking under a shattered bus stop sign, shouted, "This is the worst date ever!"
They fought their way through the chaos and barely made it to the Charger, skidding onto the road as sirens blared.
---
The Cartel Files
Back at the hideout, Nova tapped into a stolen ÉCHO server and decrypted fragments of an old LaRoux dossier.
"Black Cartel didn't always work for ÉCHO," she explained. "They used to be LaRoux's loyalty enforcement unit. If an investor got cold feet, if a senator voted wrong — Cartel showed up."
"And now?" Nate asked, pacing.
"Now they work freelance. But ÉCHO reactivated their contract under Hollow Protocol."
Nate stopped pacing. "What does Hollow want?"
Nova hesitated. "To become real. It's not enough for her to be code. She wants body, power, control. She wants to replace humanity — and you're the only one with the kill switch."
Nate stared at the codex fragment on the table.
It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
---
A Message Arrives
That night, as Nate tried to rest, his burner phone buzzed. One new message.
> From Unknown
"Executor: You are invited to the funeral of Lucian Malrick. Come alone. Or the girl dies."
Attached: a live feed of Nova tied to a chair, gagged and unconscious.
---
Nate Arrives
The address led to an abandoned church in the Lower Garden District. Moonlight painted the cracked stained-glass windows with eerie shadows.
Inside, Nate walked down the aisle between pews full of mannequins in funeral garb.
At the altar, Malrick stood in a coffin, arms crossed.
Alive.
Smiling.
"Welcome," he said. "To my funeral. You're the eulogy."
He snapped his fingers.
Two cartel soldiers stepped from the shadows with machine pistols.
Nate raised his hands slowly.
Then grinned.
"You should've searched me."
---
The Counterattack
From the balcony, Nova fired a flare gun straight into a chandelier, shattering it in a cascade of sparks and glass.
She'd escaped thirty minutes earlier and doubled back.
Nate rolled to the side, grabbed a broken candlestick, and smashed it into a gunman's leg.
Chaos erupted.
Bullets. Fire. Screams.
Malrick escaped out the back door, wounded.
Nate chased him into the graveyard, dodging crumbling tombstones.
They fought under the moonlight — fists, knives, curses.
In the end, Nate won. Barely.
He stood over Malrick, bruised and shaking.
"You're not an Executor," Malrick wheezed. "You're an accident."
Nate lifted the codex fragment from his jacket.
"Accidents make history," he said — and walked away.
---