The release came through the wall at night, which sounds more exciting than it really was. A man entered through a door that had been intentionally left unlocked by someone with the ability to do so.
He handed Michael a folded piece of paper, only to say three words...
"Rex sends his regards."
He then left through the same door, moving as quietly and efficiently as someone who is paid not to ask questions.
'What...?'
'Is it that fucking genius...?'
Michael read the paper in the dark. It had a place, a time, and a set of instructions that were so detailed that he knew someone had put significant effort into making them.
'No fucking way... that guy...'
Before the next shift change, he was out of the building.
Michael considered Rex Rexilion to be a name for a certain type of person: the ones who were really smart, not just successful.
Rex didn't get his reputation by collecting things or showing violence...he got it by being an expert at gathering information and controlling how it was shared.
He always knew how to acquire information, when to use it, and when to keep it to himself.
That last part was the hardest skill to learn. Rex's patience was almost supernatural in a world where everyone was constantly trying to show off how smart they were.
Michael had worked next to Rex twice, and both times he thought Rex was one of only four people on earth he would say should not be underestimated.
'You really came in clutch for me, Rex... I need to thank you after this...'
...
The outside of the safe house wasn't very interesting, which was the only thing about its design that mattered in that situation. There was a man inside that Michael didn't know.
He was older, had careful eyes, and moved like someone who had learned to be still. On the table in front of him was a sealed document case with Michael's name written on it in Rex's handwriting.
The older man said he was someone Rex had trusted with a set of instructions and then, without any niceties or preamble, told Rex that Rexilion was dead.
"W-What...?" Michael was shocked hearing that news. "T-There's no fucking way...!"
"How can a man like Rex, who has done fucked-up things, die just like that?!"
"Stop fucking lying, or I'll kick your fucking ass until I get sent to the prison again, and I don't fucking care if it happens to me again!"
The man raised his hand to silence him so that he could tell the truth.
Rex's death happened for fourteen months. The situation was complicated, and the people in charge were the kind who usually didn't have to deal with formal consequences for things like this.
Michael thought about that for a moment.
He didn't really think Rex would be dead, and of course, he thinks that people in Rex's position don't usually die because of something stupid, but there was still something about hearing it confirmed that made him stop and think for a moment.
Rex was one of four people in the world he would never have thought were weak. Now that number was three, and Michael felt the loss in a way that didn't fit with any of the emotions he could think of.
"Fucking hell... got killed just because he finally got caught after fucking a lot of taken women."
"And it doesn't make sense for him to just... let it happen!"
"Fuck!!!"
"I want to find that fucking guy who kills him, and I'll make sure to fuck his wife too!"
"No need," the older man said. "Rex knew that this would happen eventually, so he wants someone he trusted to read this document..."
Thereafter, he opened the case for the document.
Michael thought that what Rex had put together inside it was the most amazing piece of physical research he had ever seen. It carefully recorded the full profile of a nation, which was something Rex was known for doing.
'The United States of Erosyne...?'
Michael read about it.
In about twenty years, this country had built itself into something truly unique. It was stable enough on the surface to attract real capital and international recognition, but it was also structurally loose because it had grown quickly and hadn't fully consolidated.
Some parts of its financial rules were very advanced, while others were strangely underdeveloped, leading to inconsistencies in regulatory practices that could create vulnerabilities in the financial system.
This pattern made it seem like the legislature was always behind the economy it was supposed to control.
Its police force was good at normal things, but not at all ready for unusual ones, such as handling protests or addressing cybercrime, which left the community feeling vulnerable to emerging threats.
Its social fabric was based on hope.
The people who lived there had come from all over the world and were still figuring out what they were, which made it easier to read and manage than populations that had settled into a set identity.
Rex had written on the last page of the document, in his careful and precise handwriting, that it was a country that was waiting for someone to study it properly.
Rex understood it. He also seemed to know that Michael would be the best person to get this information.
Michael stayed in that safe house for two hours, reading the document all the way through twice and then going back and reading certain parts a third time.
By the end, the outline of a plan had come together in his mind with the clear, satisfying sound of something that had been made to fit.
And there was some important message that said...
'Cuck Them All. L.O.L. -R'
He thought that Rex had always been a real genius. And geniuses, even those who had passed away, had a way of staying useful.
'Rex wanted me to live a normal debauchery life there, huh...? He wanted me to adopt a new identity so that I wouldn't have to worry about prison again.'
'But still... I need a lot of thinking about this...' Michael thought, and then he saw some words that really made him want it.
'He said that the nation has many baddies to fuck... and if they are taken... it's also going to be better as well.'
'Damn... fuck it all!'
'I'm going to follow his path by fucking all the women in USE, and I don't know if I have to die or get caught again...'
'This time... I have nothing to lose.'
...
Becoming Mike Hawk took six weeks, a conservative estimate considering the amount of work involved.
The name itself was carefully chosen. Michael had used believable fake names before, and those names were meant to be believed, to get through official checks, and to sound real.
Mike Hawk was not like the others. It was based on being invisible.
There was no record of that name in any database because it didn't have any history yet. There were no previous entries on the clean surface, blank account, or new ledger.
There were many governments that had files on Michael Hawking, Erik Voss, Jin Mao, or El Sombra. None of them could connect any of those files to a man named Mike Hawk because Mike Hawk did not share any verifiable traits with any of those people.
"And also... fun fact... Mike Hawk resembles 'my cock' if you read it carefully, and that foreshadows my massive cock that already conquers lots of women in different countries."
Well then... back to the narration...
It was possible to measure and see the physical changes. He lost weight while in prison, but he addressed this by following a strict program that built muscle, resulting in a small yet significant change to his silhouette.
He let his hair grow out from the bald cut he had for years. This changed his face in the same way that hair changes faces, but not in a big way... Still, it was enough to not match up with any composite image or photographic record that might exist.
He also dyed his hair red, which was unnecessary, and his hairstyle, with a touch of red overall, changed the appearance of his face. He altered his posture and the way he distributed his weight.
This change may seem small, but body language is one of the main ways people recognize each other from a distance and in their peripheral vision.
He compiled the documentation using channels he trusted, as those individuals had no reason to discuss their contributions.
He thought that relationships based on mutual benefit were much more reliable than loyalty.
Mike Hawk had a passport, a set of supporting identity documents, a thin but real credit history, and a clean medical record with no distinguishing marks on it by the end of six weeks.
No one knew. That was the requirement, and Michael—Mike—had met it completely.
The people who helped put the identity together only knew the parts they had worked on, and none of them knew what it was called when it was done. The man in the safe house had been paid and moved, and even if someone found a reason to ask, he wouldn't be able to provide them any information.
People from Michael Hawking's past who might be looking for him were looking for a man who didn't exist anymore.
Mike Hawk took a commercial flight to the United States of Erosyne. He sat in the window seat of economy class with a carry-on bag, a book he didn't plan to read, and the document case flat in the bag's inner compartment.
He slept for four hours of the trip, ate the meal that was given to him because he didn't see why he shouldn't, and spent the last hour looking out the window at the landscape of his new country as it got closer.
From the air, it looked just like Rex had said it would. Eager. A bit too fast. Things are beautiful before they get too complicated because history hasn't had enough time to build up.
He didn't feel anything that he would have called excitement, but he did feel something close to focus that comes when the preparation phase ends and the operational phase begins.
The wheels finally land on the ground.
'Alright... first day as Mike Hawk, and I do hope I can fasten up my process to at least fuck one woman so that I can adapt.'
'I know... It sounds stupid, but it's been a while since I fucked a woman...'
'That's probably just the last day because I already fucked a lot of women while I was preparing to go here.'
Mike Hawk got off the plane and walked through customs with the calm confidence of a man who had nothing to worry about in his luggage, which he didn't, and nothing in his past that an immigration officer looking at his documents would find, which they didn't.
The officer gave him back his passport. And then Mike said thank you, went through the arrivals gate, and stepped outside for the first time in the open air of Erosyne.
'Here we fucking go...'
The city moved around him with the kind of energy that comes from a place that is always busy. People walked by confidently and self-assuredly, as if they belonged in that place, while traffic moved in all directions, accompanied by the sounds of a busy city center conducting its afternoon activities.
There was a smell of exhaust and something floral coming from a vendor's cart about thirty meters to his left.
Mike stopped moving.
Not because something was wrong. He stopped because something happened that he had not expected at all, and it took him two full seconds to figure out what he was looking at.
'What the fuck...?'
A screen with text appears in the air in front of him.
It was pale, glowing, and a little see-through, and it was hovering at eye level, as if someone had projected it there from a place that didn't exist.
[Dominance Authority System has found a compatible host.]
[Compatibility Rating: Disgustingly High.]