SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 309 - 42 Hours

We had forty-eight hours to work with.

Now only forty-six remained.

Simply getting back to the precinct took more time than I had wanted and it was time that I couldn’t afford to waste.

I could feel every second scraping against the inside of my skull as we worked.

Sector 47’s precinct was a squat, brutalist building that smelled like rust and coffee. Grant was already there when I arrived, the circles under his eyes deeper, his coat heavy with dust and rain. He was holding a clipboard, pretending to go over reports, but the second I stepped in, he nodded.

"They’re ready," he said.

I looked past him. The captains of sectors 45 through 50 were there, scattered across the bullpen, talking in low voices, some of them shaking their heads, others staring at their boots. It was chaos, but it was quiet chaos. The way it needed to be.

I was more impressed on how fast they had gotten a hold of every captain.

I let my mind sweep across the room, calculating angles of conversation, who would object, who would comply, who would crack under the pressure. One by one, I approached them, speaking low, laying it out flat:

Hyena’s demands.

The hostages.

The deadline.

No leaks, no calls, no chatter. If Hyena even suspected we were mobilizing, all of the hostages would likely die.

Sector by sector, captain by captain, I received nods. Tired, scared, angry, but nods.

We moved like ghosts, gathering the appropriate forms and approvals for the wire transfer. Ten million was a lot, but the city had contingency black budgets that I could tap with the right signatures, the right leverage. The paperwork was signed in back rooms, away from cameras, away from Hyena’s eyes.

Grant stood by me, watching every signature, every handshake, his jaw tight.

"Two million," he reminded me quietly.

"Two million," I confirmed. "Stall for proof of life."

I went back in the abandoned building as I never took the phone out of it. It was risky, he was a hacker beyond what I knew and I didn’t want to interact much with his devices. I stood in the cold, empty air, the board of photos watching me with their silent, desperate eyes. The cracked phone sat in my palm, cold and dead, until I powered it on.

It was a risk, but it was one we had to take.

The line connected faster than it should have.

"Detective," Hyena’s voice came, smooth, pleasant, as if we were old friends meeting for coffee. "Calling so soon?"

I didn’t waste time. freewebnoveℓ.com

"We’ve agreed to your demand for the ten million," I said, my voice flat, controlled. "But we want proof of life first."

A pause, soft static brushing against my ear.

"I told you I would provide it in due time," he said.

"Listen, we’re ready to transfer an initial two million to the account of your choosing. Once we get proof, you get the rest."

"You don’t trust me," Hyena said, sounding amused.

"You’re holding families hostage after having hid from the police for months. You can’t honestly expect me to trust you in the slightest."

Another pause, then a chuckle. "Fair enough. What do you want as proof?"

"I want them to say a specific sentence," I said. "On camera. Unedited. If we suspect tampering then you can give up on our deals."

"And the sentence?"

I glanced at the board, at the photos. "Tell them to say: ’Detective Vale, we are alive.’"

Silence.

Then: "Simple enough."

"Send the account details."

A soft beep, and a message arrived instantly onto my phone, the account number and routing information displayed in plain text. I was beyond uncomfortable with how much access he had to it. Thankfully I was using a burner phone to contact Anthony.

"Once the payment is confirmed," Hyena said, "you’ll get your proof."

The line clicked off.

The transfer was made within the hour. Two million dollars disappeared into the ether, moved from a black budget slush fund we kept for emergencies. I signed the authorization with hands that didn’t shake, despite the tension crawling down my spine. I called Grant to inform him of the situation while making sure not to reveal my plan.

I could feel Grant shaking his head. "This feels wrong," he said.

"It is, but we don’t have a choice right now." I replied.

We waited.

Minutes dragged.

Then, Grant informed me that an alert pinged across the secure terminals in each precinct we had informed. No subject line, no sender.

Just a video file.

Grant and the captains gathered around the battered terminal in Sector 47’s back office. The patrolmen closed the door, sealing the room in silence as I hit play.

The video was grainy, filmed in what looked like a warehouse. Families—mothers, fathers, children—sat against walls, their hands bound but their eyes clear. Some of the children were crying softly, but they were alive.

One by one, they looked at the camera, their voices trembling but steady:

"Detective Reynard, we are alive."

"Detective Reynard, we are alive."

Over and over.

They let the video play through twice, cataloging faces, details, background sounds before sending it to me. Observation was mapping each detail across my mind, checking for signs of editing, signs of coercion.

But it was real.

Proof of life.

They were alive.

For now.

I stood, stretching the tension from my spine, and turned to Grant. "Alright, this is enough."

"What now?" he asked.

I looked at the cracked phone in my hand.

"Now we negotiate." I said before hanging up my phone.

I picked up the cracked one and the line clicked once, twice, before Hyena picked up.

"I assume you’ve seen your proof," he said, tone light, casual.

"I have."

"And?"

"You’ll get the rest of the money," I said, "but we need a bit more."

A pause, the faint hum of static. "More?" His voice echoed with a slight annoyance in it’s phrasing.

"You want the sector borders down, you want access to the police archives—these are not things that can be arranged in hours. We need time. If you want your demands met, you need to give us that. Just a bit more time is all I’m asking for."

Silence.

I could almost hear him smiling on the other end.

"Detective, we had an agreement."

"We’re cooperating," I pressed. "We sent the money, we’re showing good faith. But if you want the rest of what you’re asking, you need to meet us halfway. Release some of them now, and give us more time."

With this, we basically guarantee our victory. Anthony could have likely caught him in 48 hours, but if I was able to secure him more time then it would skyrocket our chances of victory. He had no reason to refuse as we’re cooperating. This is our victory.

Another pause happened. Longer this time.

Though, I felt uncomfortable. The silence stretched. It was oppressive, pressing down on my lungs.

Then Hyena spoke, and his voice was colder than before, the playfulness gone.

"As promised, I will release some of them. A small gesture of good faith."

I closed my eyes, letting the relief wash through me.

"But you will not get more time."

My eyes snapped open. "What?"

"You heard me," Hyena said, calm, almost gentle. "You have forty-eight hours to begin. You’ve wasted six. Now you have forty-two."

"You—"

"Tick tock, Detective."

The line went dead.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the hum of the old light above us.

Grant let out a breath like a deflating tire. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

I lowered the phone, staring at the dark screen.

Forty-two hours.

He really gave us nothing at all?

We had shown him we would cooperate. We had played by the rules he set, hoping it would buy us leverage.

It hadn’t.

Hyena was playing a different game.

One where he knew exactly how much control he had.

I quickly got myself an ride back to the station and I found myself face to face with Grant as I explained the situation.

"Now what?" Grant asked.

I turned, facing the board with the photos, the string, the scrawled notes.

Anthony was out there, crawling the dead channels, looking for signals, chasing whispers in the dark. I trusted him. If anyone could crack Hyena’s network, it was him.

But forty-two hours was not enough to guarantee his success. No matter how much I trusted him, Hyena was an S-Rank hacker while Anthony was an A-Rank spy. The difference in skill in their respective fields is huge.

"We stick to the plan," I said, my voice steady, even as my mind raced to patch the leaks in the strategy. "We get the families back, one way or another."

Grant nodded, though the doubt in his eyes was clear.

I couldn’t blame him.

I turned back to the window, the city sprawling out beneath the gray dawn. The lights flickered like distant warnings, the streets alive with shadows we couldn’t see.

Forty-two hours.

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