Contract Killer Pt. 1
Deep within the sterile corridors of the underground facility, chaos simmered. The faint hum of machines buzzed incessantly as a colossal structure, the size of an entire building, thrummed with unrestrained energy. Wires snaked across the cold, metallic walls, feeding into the heart of a machine whose true purpose was a secret hidden behind layers of security.
"Class 1 intrusion detected. All non-combatant personnel, report to shelter immediately. A subject wearing green and a red scarf has been identified. Approach with caution," a robotic voice echoed over the intercom system, its tone almost mechanical in its urgency.
Elsewhere, within the facility's command center, Dr. Brook Stanley—a man who held the authority of Class 4—rushed toward his private capsule, a reinforced, high-tech structure designed to shield him from the chaos erupting around him. His bodyguards, heavily armed with laser blades and proto-shields, formed a tight ring around him. They were the best of the best, handpicked for their combat prowess.
But they weren't enough.
A flash of green—a blade that moved faster than thought—cut through the air. Dr. Stanley's eyes widened, and with inhuman reflexes, he dodged, narrowly avoiding the strike aimed at his neck. Spinning, he turned to face the assailant, and his bodyguards raised their shields in unison, preparing for combat.
"Who's there?" Dr. Stanley's voice was calm, almost too calm, but the uncertainty in his eyes betrayed him. His guards, however, remained resolute.
The assailant, a figure cloaked in green nano-flex armor with a red scarf billowing behind him, emerged from the walls themselves. There was no sound, no warning—just the presence of a threat that outstripped anything they had prepared for.
"I said, who are you?" Dr. Stanley demanded again, but his question was met only with silence. Another flash of green—a blade that grazed his cheek, taking a lock of his sideburns with it. The sound of metal tearing through the air was the only response.
Five of Dr. Stanley's guards immediately created a shield wall, merging their proto-shields to form an impenetrable dome. Another five opened fire, their shots piercing the air, but it was already too late. In an instant, the assailant appeared directly in front of them, moving faster than any human could track. The green blade flashed again, and the five guards who attempted to charge were decapitated in a single, seamless movement.
The remaining two muscle-bound guards managed to intercept, their powerful limbs blocking the blade's path. But even they could not withstand the force. The blade sank into one's arm, the tip slipping into his abdomen before the assailant flicked his wrist, tearing through his insides. The last guard, barely standing, dropped to the floor, lifeless.
Dr. Stanley stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief. His bodyguards were dead. The room was now a blood-soaked battlefield, but the assailant was already moving on, as though nothing had happened. A mere flicker of motion, a shadow passing through the facility.
Without a word, the assailant stepped forward, walking unimpeded as he reached for his phone. The mission was complete. He raised it to his ear, his voice calm and heavy.
"Mission complete. Wire the money through eBox, then clear the transaction logs," the assailant's deep, masculine voice instructed, devoid of emotion.
A gruff, hoarse voice replied from the other end of the line. "I have another target for you. His name is Quinn Blake. He wields purple flames—his abilities are powerful, but the job will be difficult. All relevant information will be uploaded to your Oppenheimer QI account. The pay for this one is 320,000 Galands."
The assailant paused, seemingly considering the task. "How should I handle him?" he asked, his tone still indifferent.
"Have fun," the voice responded with a sinister laugh before the line went dead.
The assailant didn't waste another second. His form rippled, blending seamlessly into the shadows as he vanished from the facility, already en route to his next target.
Quinn Blake entered the bustling halls of his school as the morning sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting long shadows over the polished floors. Anna, watching him from the corner of the hall, couldn't resist glancing over a few times before vanishing in a plume of purple smoke, knocking out the group of girls she had been conversing with.
She appeared next to Quinn with a subtle elegance, her eyes glowing a deep purple as she glanced over at him.
"Would you be interested in expanding your services?" Anna's voice was low and smooth, the kind of voice that could make anyone listen, but it was more of an invitation than a question.
Quinn didn't even look at her, his gaze distant, focused on the horizon ahead. "Sure. So, who are they?" His voice carried a detached curiosity, as if everything was just another small detail in an ongoing play.
"My friends," Anna replied briefly. "Honey and Raya. I was hoping you could help them."
Quinn followed her gaze as they warped through space, arriving at the training ground where a young woman, Honey, fired an arrow made entirely of golden-brown flames. She was a natural, but Quinn could feel the frustration in her stance. The flames were powerful, but the girl was bound by something—something he could fix.
Before Anna could speak again, Honey turned her head, catching sight of Quinn. Her expression hardened, suspicion replacing the calm on her face. "Anna...how did you appear out of nowhere? And who's this?"
Quinn's smile, cold and calculating, curled slightly at the edges of his lips. "Anna said you needed help," he said simply, his eyes glowing faintly.
Honey's resistance wavered as Quinn's presence pressed down on her—there was no denying it. Something about him felt... otherworldly. "I've been stuck at the Peak of Stage 1 for ages," Honey confessed, the frustration in her voice rising. "Sentries Disease... It's killing my cells, slowing my progress, and I can't seem to break through. I'm afraid it'll kill me before I can get any stronger."
Quinn didn't hesitate. His right hand flared to life, enveloped in an eerie, purple flame that crackled with latent power. He extended it toward her, the air around him thick with an unspoken promise.
"If I grant you more power than you could ever achieve on your own, will you work for me?" Quinn's words were not an offer—they were a command wrapped in an invitation.
Honey stared at the hand, her pulse racing. But there was no time to second-guess. If she didn't take the chance, she might never get another.
"If you can, I accept," she said, shaking his hand.
The moment their hands clasped, Quinn's power surged into her, a cascade of overwhelming energy. Honey's body flickered with all the colors of the universe as she ascended in an instant, her power surging beyond her wildest dreams. In the blink of an eye, she was no longer at the peak of Stage 1. She was now at the 1st level of Stage 7.
"You are mine now," Quinn whispered as her newfound abilities settled within her.