Within ten minutes, the **H2R** shrieked to a violent halt at the absolute edge of the industrial pier, its rear compound smoking against the wet concrete. Arisa dismounted in one fluid motion, her eyes scanning the dark shoreline.
Idling aggressively in the black water was their customized, military-grade interceptor vessel—'The Ocean Phantom'. Behind the reinforced hull, triple high-output marine engines vibrated with a low, mechanical growl. One of Rider's extraction operatives held the helm, waiting for the asset transfer.
"Move, Arisa! Secure the perimeter inside the vessel!" Abir commanded, throwing his leg over the saddle. "Tell Rider's cell to ghost the H2R into the secondary locker."
The moment Abir and Arisa breached the deck, the vessel launched forward, its hull slicing through the dark ocean swell like a kinetic blade. Right on cue, four Interpol tactical cruisers slammed their anchors at the pier's edge. Marcus Cruz stepped into the freezing rain, his eyes locking onto the fading wake of the vessel, already 500 meters out.
"Coast Guard tactical grid, execute Code-Nine!" Cruz barked into his comm-link. "Target vessel is navigating the north-west maritime sector. Establish a full intercept box! Lock their orbital thermal telemetry from the sky!"
The open ocean was a chaotic matrix of massive swells and shifting currents. Arisa pulled up the vessel's navigation interface, four distinct crimson proximity signatures materializing on the radar.
"Abir! Four heavy Coast Guard combat gunboats are executing a pincer movement to trap our vector!" Arisa reported, her fingers stabilizing the grid. "The orbital satellite has our active thermal signature locked. We can't clear the maritime border at this velocity!"
Abir took the heavy helm into his leather-clad grip. The freezing sea spray and torrential rain battered his features, yet the dangerous, calm grin remained etched onto his jaw.
"They think they can box a demon on open water, brother," Abir muttered, his voice cutting through the roar of the marine engines. "They don't realize I mapped these current lines years ago. Arisa, prime the subterranean EMP payload. Let them close the distance."
The pursuing gunboats opened fire, their mounted .50 caliber machine guns chewing through the ocean surface, throwing up massive plumes of water around the Phantom. The lead interceptor vessel surged forward, closing within fifty yards.
"Now, my Queen! Drop the pulse!" Abir growled.
Arisa flipped the protective shroud on the console and slammed the toggle. A heavy metallic cylinder detached from the stern, sinking into the dark depths. Three seconds later—
A muffled, high-intensity Electromagnetic Pulse (EMP) detonated beneath the surface.
Instantly, the electrical grids, digital navigation arrays, and primary engines of the two closest gunboats fried, dying in a split second. The localized orbital satellite tracking link went entirely dead, blinded by the interference. The disabled gunboats wallowed blindly in the swell, crashing into each other in the pitch black.
As the operators on the remaining vessels attempted to acquire manual targets, Abir pitched the helm, launching the Phantom off a massive wave crest. In mid-air, he unholstered his chrome Desert Eagle, firing four rapid, calculated counter-shots.
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
The heavy rounds shattered the primary high-intensity spotlights of the pursuing vessels, sending the gunners into immediate disarray.
"Rider! Is the black-ops cargo submersible holding the extraction point across the line, brother?" Abir called out through the secure comms.
Rider's voice crackled through the secure channel. "Affirmative, Boss! Five nautical miles out. She's sitting below the thermal layer. The moment you submerge, Interpol loses your ghost permanently!"
Abir pinned the throttle to the absolute limit. 'The Ocean Phantom' tore through the midnight swells, disappearing into the vast, dark horizon where their underground empire awaited.
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