MiyamotoArt

The News: Airport Arrival The low hum of jet engines droned in the background as Hugh descended the steel steps of the private plane. His trench coat, torn at the sleeves, fluttered in the breeze, revealing the faint shimmer of the armor beneath. He adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, feeling the reassuring weight of his katana and kunai hidden within. The call came just as he passed through the near-empty arrivals hall. The ringtone was piercing against the silence, its sharp trill cutting through the faint chatter of attendants. Hugh glanced at the number unfamiliar. A pang of unease gripped him, but he tapped the screen and brought the phone to his ear. “Hugh,” a low, gravelly voice greeted him. No introduction, no pleasantries. “Who is this?” Hugh’s tone was clipped, his jaw tight. “It doesn’t matter,” the voice replied. “What matters is you’re done.” Hugh stopped mid-stride, the fluorescent lights above casting harsh shadows on his face. His free hand clenched into a