Chapter 10: The Old Man's Arrival
Before the operative’s finger could complete the squeeze on the trigger, a sharp, metallic ping echoed through the basement, followed immediately by the shattering of the heavy wired-glass window high up on the boiler room wall. A small, cylindrical canister came tumbling through the opening, trailing a thin ribbon of white vapor before hitting the concrete floor with a hollow clang. "Gas!" one of the operatives shouted, turning away and raising his sleeve to his face. But it wasn't tear gas or pepper spray. The vapor smelled faintly of crushed green tea leaves and ozone, instantly clearing the air of the stale exhaust fumes and neutralizing the oppressive humidity of the basement. The operatives dropped to their knees one by one, their heavy armor suddenly feeling like lead weights as their nervous systems shut down under the influence of the non-lethal aerosol compound. The lead operative slumped against a filing cabinet, his weapon sliding harmlessly out of his gloved hands before he pitched forward onto the floor, unconscious. Miller stumbled backward, coughing slightly from the crisp, herbal aroma filling the room. He looked toward the broken window above the boiler room. Stepping through the jagged frame with astonishing agility for a man of his years was Mr. Chen. The elderly shop owner wore the same green apron, but his hands were now free of the remote, resting calmly inside his pockets as he dropped softly onto the concrete floor below. Chen didn't look at the unconscious tactical operatives. His dark, piercing eyes locked directly onto Miller, who was struggling to regain his footing against the concrete pillar. "You make a lot of noise when you panic, Officer Miller," Chen said, his voice carrying an effortless authority that commanded the entire room. Miller wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, his muscular frame tense, ready for a fight he knew he couldn't win. "What do you want from me, old man?" Miller demanded, his voice cracking with exhaustion. Chen took a slow, measured step forward, the rubber soles of his worn shoes squeaking softly against the polished floor. "I don't want anything from you, Miller," Chen replied quietly. "I want to give you a choice. The same choice your father refused to take before they broke him."
