Alexander Thorne

Rain lashed against the panoramic windows of penthouse suite 72, mirroring the storm brewing inside Alexander Thorne. He was Thorne Industries on the surface, a philanthropic innovator pushing the boundaries of technological advancements. But beneath the surface, he was 'Ghost', a digital wraith dispensing justice to those the system failed. Tonight's target: Victor Martel, a notorious skin trader who had built his empire on the backs of the vulnerable, preying on desperation and innocence, yet slipping through the cracks for, greasing the palms of city officials and burying his crimes deep within a labyrinth of shell corporations. Alexander typed furiously on his customized holographic keyboard, his fingers dancing across the projected keys. Lines of code cascaded across the room, illuminating his face with an eerie glow. He navigated Martel's digital fortress with the ease of a seasoned hacker, bypassing firewalls and triggering backdoors. He copied the files detailing Martel's operations, bank transfers linking him to his co-conspirators, and a digital ledger containing the names and locations of his victims, then injected a meticulously crafted virus into Martel's system. It wouldn't destroy anything, just expose everything. The video files would be sent anonymously to every news outlet in the city, the bank transfers would be flagged for immediate investigation, and the ledger, sent to the local police department. But Alexander wasn't finished. Justice, in his eyes, wasn't just about exposure. It was about retribution. He remotely accessed Martel's self-driving limousine, reprogramming its navigation system. Instead of taking him home to his opulent mansion, it would take him to the old docks, a desolate area frequented by lowlifes and shady characters. Alexander watched on his computer screen as Martel, oblivious to his impending doom, entered the limousine. As the car pulled away, a faint smile played on Alexander's lips.