Clyde Shelton was an engineer, a man who built his life on precision and control. That control shattered the night his wife and daughter were murdered before his eyes. Clarence Darby, a career criminal, broke into their home and turned it into a scene of unimaginable horror. Darby did not act alone—his accomplice, Rupert Ames, had planned only for theft. But it was Darby who took lives while Clyde was forced to watch.
The justice system that Clyde believed in failed him. The prosecution, led by ambitious attorney Nick Rice, knew their case was weak due to mishandled evidence. Rather than risk a trial that might set Darby free, Nick made a deal. Ames took the fall, sentenced to death, while Darby walked with a reduced charge. To Clyde, justice was no longer about the law—it was about who could manipulate the system best. He felt betrayed, not just by Nick, but by the very institution he had trusted.
Years passed. The world moved on, but Clyde did not. The execution of Ames marked the beginning of something much larger. Instead of a quick death, Ames suffered, his body writhing in agony as a lethal injection turned into a slow, excruciating poison. The chemicals had been altered. Investigators found evidence pointing to Darby, but before the authorities could arrest him, a call came. The voice on the other end told Darby to run. He obeyed, fleeing in a stolen police car, unknowingly following a meticulously planned path.
Darby reached a deserted warehouse, where the officer he had carjacked revealed himself—not an officer at all, but Clyde Shelton. The tables turned, Darby attempted to defend himself, but Clyde had planned for that, too. A single shot rendered Darby paralyzed, his body useless. Clyde had studied pain, perfected the science of suffering. Over the next few hours, he recorded Darby’s slow, methodical dismemberment. When the authorities found what remained, Clyde did not resist arrest. He had done what he set out to do.
From his prison cell, Clyde’s control did not wane. He made demands—small, seemingly trivial at first. A mattress, a meal, a favor. Each request masked a calculated move. Nick Rice, now DA, thought himself in control. He was not. When Clyde’s demands were met too late, Darby’s lawyer suffocated in a sealed box. When his steak lunch arrived, Clyde killed his cellmate, ensuring his placement in solitary confinement—the very position he had planned for all along.
Nick sought answers, and the deeper he dug, the more disturbing the truth became. Clyde had been more than an engineer. He had worked in black operations, an expert in dismantling regimes, eliminating threats considered untouchable. His skills were beyond ordinary comprehension. His imprisonment was an illusion—his war on the justice system was still unfolding.
The next strike was another message. A judge, one who had dismissed Clyde too easily, answered her ringing phone. The explosion left no doubt—Clyde was not acting blindly. Every move was deliberate, every death a consequence of the system’s complacency. He made it clear: the killings would continue until his demands were met. He wanted freedom, complete exoneration. The same kind of deal that had allowed Darby to escape justice.
Nick refused. Instead, he doubled security, moving his team into the prison itself. The deadline came and went, and for a moment, it seemed Clyde had lost. Then the cars exploded. Nick’s legal team, his trusted colleagues, were wiped out in seconds. His closest friend, Sarah Lowell, was among the dead. His fury led him back to Clyde’s cell, but Clyde remained unmoved. He did not see himself as a villain. He saw himself as the only one willing to hold the system accountable.
At the funeral for Sarah, another bomb struck. The target was Jonas Cantrell, the DA who had ordered Nick to make deals years ago. Nick’s grief turned to determination. He was ready to walk away, but the mayor had different plans. Promoted to acting DA, Nick now had full authority. His first act was to hunt down the truth.
Beneath the prison, Clyde’s real base of operations was discovered. A tunnel led from the city into the depths of the solitary confinement cells. Clyde had never been trapped—he had been moving freely, executing his war without interference. His final target was clear: City Hall, where the mayor and top officials had gathered for an emergency meeting.
Nick arrived at the prison, waiting for Clyde to return. When Clyde did, he still believed himself in control. He offered another deal, another negotiation. But Nick had learned. He refused to bargain with a man who had reduced justice to a game. Clyde triggered his final bomb, expecting victory. But Nick had moved first.
The device was no longer in City Hall—it was under Clyde’s bed. As realization dawned, Clyde sat back, looking at the bracelet of his lost daughter. For the first time, he was outmaneuvered. The explosion ended everything.
In the aftermath, Nick did not celebrate. He simply moved forward. Watching his daughter play the cello, he found himself in a place he had once ignored—present in a moment that truly mattered. Justice, he realized, was not just about winning cases. It was about doing what was right, no matter the cost.
