The Wraith’s tires screeched as the magnetic field slammed it onto a polished deck. The sound echoed in the cavernous hangar, a vast, steel-ribbed space that dwarfed the armored coupe. Robotic arms, thick as redwood trunks, descended with a hydraulic hiss, locking clamps onto the vehicle’s frame. Floodlights, bright enough to strip paint, clicked on, bathing the scene in harsh white. From the shadows between colossal cargo containers, a dozen figures emerged, their armor a stark, unblemished white, Veltis Maritime’s insignia etched onto their chest plates. Each carried a pulse carbine, its barrel glowing with contained energy. “Welcome home, Miro,” a voice boomed, deep and gravelly, laced with a chilling undercurrent of absolute authority. Corrado Veltis stepped into the light. He was a man carved from old granite and bad intentions, his silver hair slicked back, his suit impeccably tailored. A thin, brutal smile stretched his lips. In the Wraith's backseat, Tassio remained bound and gagged, letting out a muffled, desperate whimper. Nyssa, weapon still in hand, kicked open the passenger door, scanning the perimeter and the carrier's gargantuan hangar frame. This wasn't a skirmish; it was a declaration of war. Miro, however, had already unbuckled and was adjusting his rearview mirror. “Ah, sir! What an unexpected pleasure. I must say, the express service was quite… forceful. Did you enjoy the show? I tried to keep the drone explosions aesthetically pleasing.” Corrado’s smile widened, a predator seeing its prey walk willingly into the trap. “Show? Miro, you magnificent young fool. You played them like a virtuoso. The complete destruction of the vanguard, the calculated risks, the way you exploited their overconfidence… brilliant. A masterful tactical display. Your mother would be proud.” He clapped his hands once, a sharp, decisive sound. “Release the Garren heiress.” Before Nyssa could react, the robotic clamps retracted, and the Wraith’s doors sprung open. Two white-armored sentries advanced, but Corrado waved them off. “No, no. Miro will handle this.” He approached, his stride unhurried, radiating an aura of cold, seasoned power. He stopped before Miro, extending a hand that held a long, ornate stiletto. Its hilt was wrapped in dark leather, the blade a polished obsidian, glinting under the hangar lights. “A ceremonial blade, my boy. For the final stroke. A symbolic end to the Garren line, executed by the one who broke them from within. A proper Veltis touch.” Nyssa’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of her pistol. Her gaze darted from Corrado’s sneer to Miro’s calm posture, then to the dark weapon. This was it. The reveal. The betrayal. Every instinct screamed at her to shoot first, ask questions never. But Miro’s eyes, soft and earnest, met hers, and something held her back. Miro accepted the piece. He examined its craftsmanship with a thoughtful hum. “Very fine. Is this ethically sourced obsidian, sir? We should really be mindful of our materials, you know. Supply chains can be so opaque.” He then turned, not to Nyssa, but back to Corrado, holding the grip, blade pointing respectfully toward the deck plates. “With all due respect, I won’t be needing this for… that. Actually, there’s something important I need to tell you.” Corrado’s brow furrowed, a faint tremor running through his otherwise impassive face. “Indeed? What could be more important than the complete and utter decimation of a rival cartel, a task you have executed with such terrifying efficiency?” Miro beamed, a wide, open-hearted smile that would disarm a bomb, or perhaps, in this case, arm one. He gently took Nyssa’s hand, pulling her slightly forward. She tensed, ready to fight, but he squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “Corrado, I’d like you to meet Nyssa Garren. She’s… well, she’s my girlfriend. We’ve been through a lot together these past few days, and I truly believe she’s the one. She even gave me a one-star rating, which I took as a sign of her discerning taste and high standards. And honestly, I’m working on getting that up.” Nyssa spluttered, a choked sound of disbelief and rising panic. Girlfriend? One-star rating? This was not the time or place. Tassio, muffled by his gag, was now shaking his head so violently his teeth chattered against the binding. Corrado Veltis slowly, deliberately, lowered his gaze to Miro’s hand, then to Nyssa’s. The terrible smile vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated contempt. A heavy silence fell over the hangar bay. “Your… girlfriend?” Corrado’s voice was a whisper, but it carried across the vast space, freezing every guard in place. “You secure the heir to a rival port, the asset you were ordered to compromise and eliminate, and present her as a romantic entanglement? After all this, Miro, after the spectacular, cold-blooded display on the elevated highway, you are still a simpering, pathetic fool!” His voice rose to a roar, shaking the very deck plates. “This is not an infiltration, this is a farce! A display of weakness that will cripple the Veltis legacy! Execute them! All three of them! Now!” The white-armored squad snapped into action, pulse carbines rising, their targeting lasers painting red dots across Miro, Nyssa, and Tassio. Nyssa instinctively pushed Miro behind her, drawing her pistol, but there were too many, and their weapons were too powerful. Miro, however, ignored the rifles, staring directly at the patriarch with a cold, sharpening focus. The polite refusal, the earnest introduction, the plea for blessing… none of it mattered. This wasn’t about love or reason. It was about power, and a brutality he could never fathom. The Veltis empire was beyond reasoning. With a sudden, clean flick, Miro reversed the obsidian blade in his palm, ignoring the immediate sting. He brought the razor-sharp edge to his own throat, the dark point pressing against the pulsing vein just beneath his jaw. The riflemen froze, red beams wavering across the deck. Corrado, mid-shout, stopped dead, his jaw going slack. “Take another step, old man,” Miro’s voice was flat, calm, and stripped of cheer, “and the Veltis bloodline ends right here.”

The Grandfather Paradox