The silence after the gunfire was heavier than the noise itself.
Ethan stood amid the wreckage of the warehouse, blood dripping from his left hand. The echo of violence still lingered—shell casings glittered on the floor like the coins Charon might accept. The mercs who had come for him were dead, but they weren't the real problem. They were bait. Distractions. And now Ethan knew someone was watching, someone bigger than the thugs and dealers he'd crossed.
He'd made waves. And in this city, waves had consequences.
Behind him, Ava stepped out from the shadows, her face pale but composed. "You're bleeding."
"It's not mine." Ethan's voice was low, distant. He didn't flinch from the pain or the pool of red seeping across his coat. "Well—mostly not."
She walked closer, eyes flickering over the bodies. "These men weren't local. Imported muscle. Military tactics, foreign weapons."
"Yeah," Ethan said, kneeling to inspect the gear. "They weren't sent to kill me. Not at first. They were here to capture."
"And what does that tell you?"
"That someone's scared." He looked up at her. "Scared of what I might become."
Ava crouched beside him. "Then they should be."
Elsewhere – A Dark Chamber Beneath the City
"Failure." The voice was distorted through layers of modulation, mechanical yet unnervingly calm. The figure in the chair did not look up at the screen displaying the carnage from the warehouse.
Pulse—masked, armored, cold—stood before him, motionless.
"They were expendable," Pulse replied. "But the Ward variable is accelerating. His kills are calculated now. Strategic. He's no longer reacting—he's initiating."
The screen changed. Footage of Ethan detonating an explosive charge at the docks. Images of chemical burns, the crude lab he'd built in secret now evolving into a sophisticated operation. Surveillance tracked him across three sectors of the city.
The voice behind the screen clicked once—disapproval. "This changes the schedule."
Pulse didn't move. "Do we proceed with Phase Two?"
"No," the figure said. "We introduce a variable of our own."
A new file loaded onto the screen. A woman—blonde, armed, vicious. A former black-ops operative. Now freelance.
Codename: Sable.
Back at the Hideout – Hours Later
Ethan sat at the edge of the cot, his hand trembling slightly as he stitched the wound on his side. Ava sat nearby, watching him, though she pretended to be occupied with decrypting the hard drive they'd stolen.
"You ever think about stopping?" she asked suddenly.
Ethan didn't look up. "Every time I blink."
"And?"
He knotted the thread with a wince. "Then I open my eyes again."
There was a pause. "You scare me sometimes."
"That's the point," he said, smiling without humor.
She shut the laptop. "No. Not like that. I mean you scare me because I don't know where the line is for you anymore. Or if it even exists."
Ethan looked at her now. Really looked.
"You think I'm becoming something I can't come back from."
"I think you already did," she whispered. "I just don't want to lose what's left."
The air was heavy between them. But Ethan didn't respond. He couldn't—not with words. Not with this weight in his chest that had no name.
Two Days Later – Industrial Sector C
The old power station stood like a fossil from a forgotten era, iron bones wrapped in rust and shadows. Ethan moved like smoke through its corridors, silent, armed, eyes scanning every flicker.
Ava was in his ear. "You've got movement ahead. Two sentries. Possibly more inside."
"Confirmed," he whispered. "Going dark."
He slid the mask over his face.
Two minutes later, the power station erupted.
Smoke. Screams. Gunfire.
Inside, Ethan tore through the mercenaries with a brutality that left even Ava silent. He was faster now. Meaner. Less hesitation in his kills. Each blow calculated. Each death a message.
He reached the server room just as Sable appeared.
She wasn't like the others.
She didn't speak. She moved.
Steel on steel. Blade against baton.
Ethan blocked her first strike, but barely. Her speed was surgical. She was trained. Conditioned. And unlike the thugs he'd grown used to, she didn't fear him. She studied him. Toyed with him.
"You're not the only one who's evolved," she hissed mid-combat.
Their fight shattered consoles and lit sparks across the dark room. But Ethan didn't stop. He couldn't. He feinted left, baited her into a sweep, and then drove her into a wall. But she recovered too fast, leaving a shallow cut across his neck before vanishing into smoke.
He stood alone, breathing heavy, blood on the floor, systems destroyed.
Ava's voice broke the silence. "Ethan… are you okay?"
"No," he said. "Someone new's entered the game. And she's better than the last dozen I've fought."
Later That Night – Rooftop of an Abandoned Tower
Ava found him staring out at the city. Rain dripped from his coat. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
"I've never seen you lose control like that," she said gently.
"I didn't lose control," he replied. "That was the problem. It felt too easy."
He turned to her, eyes hollow. "They sent someone. Someone trained. A professional. They know who I am. What I'm capable of. They're not underestimating me anymore."
Ava stepped closer. "Then we don't let them predict us."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You're still with me?"
She hesitated—just long enough for him to notice. Then nodded. "All in. Until the end."
And for a moment, beneath the shadow of the storm, Ethan let the mask slip. Just a little. Just enough for Ava to see the man behind the monster.
Then he turned back to the skyline.
"They want a monster?" he whispered. "I'll give them extinction."