Master of Lust-Chapter 338 - -

They landed an hour later at an automated offshore refueling rig in the Mediterranean. It was a Corporate Oversight black site, marked on the plane’s navigation charts.

It was perfect. A rusted steel island in the middle of the ocean, unmanned, powered by a geothermal generator.

Rick didn’t need to hack the door. He placed his hand on the control panel.

[System Interface: Connection Established.] [Override: Successful.]

The heavy blast doors hissed open. The lights flickered on. The facility woke up, recognizing its new master.

They set up in the control room. Sharon secured Johnson in a storage locker with a bottle of water and a bucket. She joined Rick at the main console.

"You okay?" she asked, watching him. "Your eyes are... glowing. A little bit."

"Upgrade," Rick said dismissively. "Don’t worry about it."

He placed the Black Laptop on the desk. He placed the Cube on top of it.

"Connect," Rick ordered.

He didn’t type. He just pushed his will into the machine. The laptop booted up. The Cube pulsed. The encryption—military grade, quantum-hardened—shattered like glass under Rick’s mental touch.

Files began to scroll across the massive main screen of the control room.

It was everything.

Bank accounts for politicians. Assassination orders. Blueprints for weapons that shouldn’t exist. And a folder labeled PROJECT: SUCCESSION.

Rick opened it.

Profiles popped up. Photos. Bios. Stats.

Subject 1: The Warlord (Active - Africa)

Subject 4: The Prophet (Active - Vatican City)

Subject 9: Valerius (Active - Switzerland)

Subject 11: The Huntsman (Active - Pursuit Mode)

"Jesus," Sharon whispered. "They’re everywhere."

Rick scrolled. He was looking for himself.

He found it.

Subject 13: The Anomaly (Rick Smith).

Status: Active / Volatile.

System: Chaos.

Origin: Accidental transfer following death of previous host (Unknown).

Notes: Subject displays rapid adaptation. Dangerous.

"Accidental transfer," Rick muttered. "So I really did just get lucky."

He kept scrolling. He wanted to know about the people around him. He wanted to know about The Game.

He found a sub-folder: MONITORS & HANDLERS.

"Johnson said Oversight moderates the game," Rick said. "Let’s see who works for them."

He opened the file.

A list of agents appeared. Agent Johnson. Agent Smith. Agent K.

And then, a face he knew.

Rick froze. The air in the room seemed to vanish.

On the screen was a high-resolution service photo. A woman with stern eyes and a sharp jawline. She was wearing a Corporate Oversight grey suit.

Name: Senior Agent Sharon Vintner. Cover ID: Lieutenant, Portstown PD. Assignment: Subject 13 (Rick Smith). Mission: Stress Testing & Activation.

Rick stared at the screen. He read the mission logs attached to the file.

Log 1: Subject 13 is dormant. Initiating low-level conflict stimuli. Arranged for ’Jed’ incident to trigger fight-or-flight.

Log 4: Subject activated System. Monitoring close-range interaction. Established ’Partner’ dynamic to gain trust.

Log 12: Subject is responding well to positive reinforcement (intimacy). Recommend continued emotional bonding to ensure loyalty to the Monitor. Subject is pliable when he believes he is the dominant protector.

Rick read the last line again. Subject is pliable when he believes he is the dominant protector.

He felt a physical blow to his gut, harder than any punch The Huntsman had thrown.

The "tactical" kiss. The night in the hotel. The pool in Fiji. The fear in her eyes when he jumped out of the window.

It was a script. A job.

She wasn’t a rogue cop swept up in his madness. She was the zookeeper, watching the lion to make sure it ate the right meat.

Rick slowly turned his chair around.

Sharon was standing by the coffee machine, pouring two mugs. She looked tired, beautiful, and—Rick realized with a sick clarity—perfectly composed.

"Coffee?" she asked, turning around with a smile. "It’s instant, but it’s hot."

Rick didn’t answer. He just stared at her, his glowing blue eyes burning with a cold, nuclear rage.

Sharon stopped. She saw his face. She saw the screen behind him.

She saw her own photo.

The mug slipped from her hand. It hit the floor and shattered, hot coffee splashing over her boots.

"Rick," she whispered. Her hand didn’t go to her gun. It went to her mouth.

"Stress testing," Rick said. His voice was the Voice of Command, but dialed down to a whisper that shook the room. "That’s what you called it? When we were in the container? When I was bleeding out on the mountain?"

"Rick, listen to me," Sharon said, taking a step forward, her hands raised. "It’s not... the file is old. It started that way, yes. But—"

"Shut up," Rick said.

He stood up. The lights in the control room flickered and turned red as his anger interfaced with the rig’s OS.

"Did you set up the kidnapping?" Rick asked. "Nadia? Did you arrange that too? To give me a quest?"

"No!" Sharon cried, tears springing to her eyes. "Nadia was real! The Huntsman is real! I didn’t know about them! My mission was just to watch you! To keep you alive until you leveled up!"

"And the sex?" Rick asked, his voice cutting like a razor. "Was that for the XP? Or did you get a bonus for that?"

Sharon flinched as if he’d slapped her. "That was real, Rick. I swear to god. The file... those are Johnson’s reports. He spins everything. I fell for you. I broke protocol! That’s why Johnson tried to kill me at the airstrip! I went rogue for you!"

"Or maybe that was part of the script too," Rick said. "The ’Rogue Agent’ trope. Builds trust. Makes the hero feel special."

He walked toward her. Sharon backed up until she hit the wall. She looked terrified. Not of his powers, but of his hate.

"I saved your life," she whispered.

"You managed an asset," Rick corrected. He stopped inches from her face.

He raised his hand. Sharon flinched, closing her eyes, expecting a blow.

Rick reached past her and ripped the comms earpiece out of her ear—the one Johnson had given her. He crushed it in his mechanized grip, plastic shards falling to the floor.

"You’re fired," Rick said.

He turned away, walking back to the console.

"Rick, please," Sharon sobbed. "We can fix this. I can explain."

"Get out," Rick said, not looking back. "Get out of my sight. Go guard Johnson. If I see you in here again, I’ll treat you like a hostile NPC."

"Rick..."

"GET OUT!"

The command slammed into her chest. It wasn’t a choice. Her body moved on its own, obeying the Voice. She stumbled backward, weeping, forced out of the room by his will. The heavy blast door slammed shut in her face, locking automatically.

Rick was alone.

He looked at the screen. At the list of Users. At the game board.

He was alone. Nadia was a traitor. Sharon was a spy. His father was a lie.

He looked at his reflection in the dark monitor. The blue light in his eyes flared.

"Fine," Rick whispered to the empty room. "If it’s a game, I’ll play. But I’m done playing by their rules."

He placed his hand on the laptop.

"System," Rick commanded. "Access the global network. Find every bank account associated with Corporate Oversight. Find every safe house. Find every dirty secret."

[Directive Received.] [Executing...]

Rick sat back, watching the code scroll.

"I’m not going to win the game," Rick said, a cruel smile touching his lips. "I’m going to break the board." 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

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