Operation Hollow Crown
Event File: Operation Hollow Crown
Codename: Hollow Crown
Date: October 23rd, 2629
Location: Highspire, New Haven — Scare Fest Parade Route, Central District
Classification: Triune Pact Strike Record — Level Omega
Status: Confirmed Success
Objective: Termination of Tom Riddle (“The Fear Architect”) and disruption of Orion Syndicate public control network.
Prelude — “A City Wearing Masks”
For 129 years, Highspire’s Scare Fest Parade had been a tradition of illusion and indulgence — jack-o’-lantern floats, Daemos holograms, and drunk citizens wrapped in synthetic horror for one night of sanctioned chaos. But this year, 2629, the laughter carried a tremor. The Syndicate had claimed sponsorship; their floats glowed with the serpent sigil of Orion.
At the heart of the procession, the Iron Serpent Float, a 200-foot steel leviathan, wound through the streets — its hollow eyes glowing red, its interior a throne room of gold and shadow. Tom Riddle sat within, cane across his lap, surrounded by his enforcers and dancers in skeletal masks.
Above the crowd, broadcast drones streamed his “Address to the Masses” — a ritual of dominance disguised as celebration. He intended to remind Highspire who owned its fear.
What he did not know was that three factions had come to write his epitaph that night.
The Triune Pact — The First Move
In the shadows overlooking the parade’s heart, Reas Froiz, Lazarus “Lockjaw” Kane, and Tookie Williams watched through mirrored lenses from the upper balcony of the Crimson Spire.
Below them, 500,000 citizens danced, oblivious to the crosshairs forming in the dark.
The Triune Pact — forged days prior over marrow and wine — would baptize itself in blood tonight. Their aim: to decapitate Orion’s psychological core.
Reas Froiz had orchestrated every variable — bought parade routes, bribed drone pilots, silenced Aegis patrols. The Spire’s eastern wing had been converted into a temporary war-room, its servers pulsing with ghost networks masking Triune transmissions.
Willow Hayes led external guard coordination, ensuring no Syndicate counter-force breached the perimeter.
Lazarus Kane brought the Fangs, leather-clad riders armed with stage-4 weaponry and his new tier-7 suit gleaming faintly under the crimson light.
Tookie Williams commanded the 4th Street Crips, their diamond-carbon suits synched to Blue, executing crowd suppression if Orion retaliated.
Phase One — “The Laughing Ghost”
At precisely 21:00, a holographic broadcast cut through the night. Tom Riddle’s skeletal figure appeared above the city, his high, rattling laugh echoing from drone to drone.
He began his address, cane tapping in rhythm, each beat syncing with hidden pulses — a psychological metronome designed to induce compliance in the populace.
He spoke of legacy. Of order. Of fear reborn.
Unseen to him, Reas’s signal interceptors piggybacked onto the broadcast feed. His voice faltered mid-word as Triune-coded glyphs overrode the Orion logo on every screen — the serpent’s eyes melting into a three-pronged insignia.
Citizens gasped.
Riddle’s face flickered.
And then came the light.
Phase Two — “The Serpent’s Spine”
From the sewers below the parade, Kane’s Iron Fangs erupted like a pack of demons — choppers roaring, tires spitting flame. Their engines’ growl drowned out the festival’s music as they tore through Orion barricades, flaming batons and plasma blades carving through Syndicate escorts.
Simultaneously, Tookie’s crew emerged from the western alleys — precise, military, silent — cutting communication lines, neutralizing drone handlers, and locking down escape routes.
Their visors shimmered with Blue’s tactical HUDs, marking enemy locations like ghostly embers.
Above them, Reas Froiz’s aerial drones circled — Tier-6 modified swarms loaded with EMP bursts. When they detonated, the Iron Serpent float’s lights died in an instant.
The parade went black.
And then, amid the smoke, the shots began.
Phase Three — “The Death of Fear”
A single window opened on the Spire’s top floor.
The wind was sharp. Cold.
Reas Froiz raised an antique rifle — a Daemos longshot modified by his own hand. Beside him, Willow Hayes stood still, holding her breath as she steadied the scope feed.
Far below, Tom Riddle’s cane clicked against the float’s floor. He looked up. Perhaps instinct. Perhaps recognition.
Reas whispered, « L’histoire ne pardonne pas les lâches… » — History does not forgive cowards.
The rifle cracked once.
The bullet — a custom silver-core round engraved with Triune’s sigil — struck Riddle just above the heart. The old man’s body jerked back, eyes wide, and he began to laugh even as blood filled his lungs.
His last words, caught on the hijacked broadcast:
“I see you now… little gods wearing masks.”
Then the Iron Serpent exploded.
The entire float went up in a fireball, fragments of molten steel raining over the street like falling stars. The crowd screamed and fled as sirens wailed in every direction, while Reas calmly lowered the rifle and turned to Willow.
« Le monde vient de changer. »
(The world just changed.)
Aftermath — “The Crown Falls Hollow”
By dawn, Highspire’s skyline still smoked. The Orion Syndicate’s command grid fractured overnight; Warrens families began infighting within hours. Daemos proxies pulled funding to minimize exposure.
The Triune Pact solidified — no longer theory but blood-bound reality.
Each faction gained:
Reas Froiz: Orion’s black accounts rerouted into his network (approx. 38 billion credits).
Lazarus Kane: Reclaimed leadership of Iron Mafia sectors in the Warrens, raising an army.
Tookie Williams: Acquired control over Orion’s eastern weapons depots and supply lines.
Scare Fest was never held again. The city declared it cursed — “The Night of Hollow Crowns.”
Legacy
The Hollow Crown became the symbolic birth of the new order.
Fear had been Orion’s crown — empty now, its king burnt to ash.
In its place rose Triune, a pact of power and purpose, bound by necessity and blood.
Reas Froiz’s words, recorded in the Spire’s vault, became the motto that followed:
“We did not steal their throne.
We simply reminded the world that kings still bleed.”