Incensed by the guard’s discipline, Julian reached out to flick the soldier’s chin. He was immediately intercepted by two patrolling officers who forced his crew back, warning him that he was trespassing on Crown property. Julian laughed in their faces, but as he retreated, he whispered a dark plan to his team: they would return when the sun went down.
At 1:00 AM, the city fell into a deep, heavy hush. Julian emerged from his penthouse, adrenaline surging. He and two videographers dressed in tactical-style designer gear, aiming for a “special ops” look for the video. The square was a graveyard of shadows and cold stone.
There were three guards on duty, spaced far apart. Julian signaled toward the youngest-looking one. He began his assault again—shrieking provocations and lunging into the soldier’s personal space. The echoes of his taunts bounced harshly off the ancient stone walls. The guard didn’t move, but the vein in his neck throbbed. Julian felt he was close to a breakthrough. He raised his hand to shove the man’s chest.
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