A gunshot rang out, followed by a barrage of others. The room erupted into chaos. Bullets whizzed in every direction, ricocheting off walls and furniture.
Amid the storm of violence, a flash sparked in the seated man's eyes. With a fluid motion, he spun his chair and tipped it forward, using it as brief cover against the deadly hail of gunfire. In one seamless move, he grabbed a splintered piece of wood and hurled it with lethal precision. The makeshift projectile pierced a guard's throat, sending him crumpling into a pool of blood.
The remaining guards intensified their fire.
Like a bolt of lightning, the man darted between them. A punch shattered one guard's nose, followed by a kick to the groin that doubled him over. Another guard took a pen to the eye, screaming in agony as he clutched his bloodied face. A floor lamp torn from the wall crushed a guard's skull. A metal filing cabinet served as a shield to deflect bullets before being launched at another guard, leaving him sprawled with broken ribs.
One guard tried to sneak up behind him, but with a fluid twist, the man seized his head and snapped it violently, the sickening crack of a broken spine echoing through the room. The panicked guards fired wildly, turning the space into an indescribable mess.
A braver guard charged with a knife raised. A precise punch shattered his jaw, leaving him groaning on his knees. The suited man felt fear creeping in, trembling with rage. In a furious motion, he raised his gun and fired at the man.
The bullet, fired by the suited man, grazed the man's ear, carving a smoking furrow into the wall behind him. The suited man had no time to react. Before he could shoot again, the man was on him. With a swift grab, he seized his wrist. A sharp crack rang out, and the gun clattered to the floor, useless.
Two standing guards rushed to save their boss. The man hurled the suited man against the wall with brutal force. The impact shook the room, knocking the air from his lungs and shattering his ribs. Then, slipping behind one of the guards, he grabbed his wrist and twisted it into an unnatural angle. As the guard screamed, a punch to the jaw silenced him.
Without pause, the man bent low, dodging a bullet from the second guard by a hair's breadth. He scooped up a stray stapler and flung it, disarming the shooter. Frustrated, the now-unarmed guard swung a massive fist to knock him out. The man ducked under it and drove a knee into his gut, doubling him over. A precise kick to the temple finished the hulking figure, who collapsed unconscious.
The guard with the twisted hand, enraged, charged again. He unleashed a flurry of rapid strikes with his good arm, which the man barely blocked. In an almost instinctive move, he caught the arm and wrenched it violently. A crack sounded as the guard howled, his arm broken. Seizing the moment, the man delivered a powerful kick to his stomach. Winded, the guard dropped to his knees, defenseless. A spinning kick and a brutal neck twist followed, and the guard went limp, his lifeless body slumping to the floor.
The ground was littered with mangled bodies, limbs twisted into impossible angles, faces contorted. Blood flowed freely, staining the floor and walls. Only the man and the suited man remained.
The suited man, staggering and injured, tried to rise. But before he could lift his head, the man was on him, raining down punches and kicks with unrelenting ferocity. His face became a bloody pulp, bones crunching under the force. With a savage motion, the man hurled him across the room again, crashing him into the wall.
The man approached slowly. He grabbed the suited man by the collar, lifting him with superhuman strength. Their eyes met, and in that moment of raw terror, the suited man understood. He wasn't facing a man—he was facing a demon.
"I had an encounter," the man murmured suddenly, his voice eerily calm. "A young woman, quite intriguing. She saw right through me. Incredible, isn't it?" He pulled the suited man closer. "Tell me, what do you see in my eyes?"
The suited man, half-conscious and utterly terrified, stared into his piercing gaze. "Go… go fuck yourself… bastard…" he stammered.
The man smiled. "So be it."
The suited man felt the grip tighten around his throat, crushing his windpipe. He gasped, struggling for air, his bulging eyes reflecting the horror of his plight. In a final, desperate bid, he clawed at his attacker, but his movements were weak and erratic. The man, unfazed, held him in a death grip.
The suited man's breaths grew ragged, his bloodshot eyes rolling back. With a last surge of strength, he managed to grab a hidden blade from his jacket and plunged it deep into the man's side.
But the man didn't flinch. With chilling calm, he tightened his hold, digging his fingers into flesh until they grazed bone. A sickening snap echoed as the suited man's spine gave way. A choked gurgle escaped his ravaged throat as life ebbed from him.
The man observed his handiwork coldly. Then, with a brutal flick, he released his grip, letting the suited man's lifeless body crumple into a heap of flesh and blood.
Silence settled over the room, broken only by the man's steady breathing. He straightened slowly, surveying the carnage with icy composure. As he turned to leave, he paused, letting out a sigh. Without a word, he vanished into the darkness, leaving behind a scene of death and ruin.
---
The man emerged from the office, trailing carnage in his wake. The hallway's silence now buzzed with held breaths, the clatter of weapons, and muffled footsteps. He didn't need to see to know. They were there. Dozens. Maybe more.
He paused, fingers brushing the doorframe. Somewhere in the shadows, a shotgun boomed. He dodged sideways, his hair grazed by a spray of buckshot that pulverized the wall behind him. With a leap, he propelled himself toward a massive pillar, bullets ricocheting off the stone, spitting sharp fragments.
Flashlights swept the darkness, blinding the mercenaries advancing in tight formation. He counted the beams in his head. Six. Three left, two right, one trailing.
His hand slipped into his jacket's inner pocket, pulling out a curved knife. A precise throw, and the first light burst in a shower of sparks. Confusion erupted instantly.
"Contact right!" a voice shouted.
Too late.
He was already among them.
The first mercenary didn't have time to scream. The blade sank under his jaw, piercing through to the palate. With a twist of his hips, the man used the corpse as a human shield, soaking up panicked bursts from the others. The body shuddered under the impacts, warm blood splashing onto his gloved hands.
A second foe charged, combat knife raised. The man spun, narrowly dodging the blade. His free hand seized the attacker's wrist, twisting until bone snapped. The pained cry was cut short by a knee to the solar plexus. Before the body hit the ground, he'd snatched the fallen knife and buried it in a third man's throat.
The pack recoiled instinctively, forming a hesitant semicircle. He used the lull to rip a bulletproof vest from a corpse. The straps clicked in the tense silence.
"You think that's enough?" he muttered, slipping on the blood-smeared gear.
A grenade rolled to his feet.
He scooped it up smoothly and lobbed it back. The blast tore through the left flank, hurling charred limbs against the baroque ceiling frescoes. The explosion rattled crystal chandeliers, raining down jagged shards.
In the chaos, he bolted for the grand staircase. The white marble steps, veined with red—as if mocking the blood about to stain them—curved elegantly down to the main hall. He vaulted over the gilded railing, skipping entire flights. A stray bullet grazed his left shoulder, tearing through fabric. He ignored the sting, calculating approach angles.
At the mid-level landing, five men blocked the way, their heavy weapons forming a wall. He dove behind a bronze statue of a warrior angel. Bullets turned the artwork into a sieve. When the firing paused, he was already moving.
A furious kick toppled the statue. Two tons of metal crashed down, crushing the legs of the nearest man. Screams mingled with the screech of the statue sliding across marble. The lone survivor crawled for his rifle. The man stomped his hand, then his skull.
Boots echoed above and below now. They were converging on him.
He yanked a decorative axe from the wall, testing its weight with a swing. The first foe barreling down the stairs took it square in the chest. The man wrenched it free, spraying crimson across the wall mosaics.
The next group hesitated.
He charged with a roar, the axe carving deadly arcs. A head rolled. A severed arm flew, its submachine gun clattering away. An abdomen split open like ripe fruit, spilling steaming guts.
By the time he hit the ground floor, the axe was a twisted hunk of metal lodged in a corpse's skull.
The main hall stretched before him, vast as a cathedral. Columns propped up a glass canopy, moonlight filtering through.
There were fifty of them. Maybe more. Lined up in military formation, knees bent, laser sights weaving a web of red dots across his chest.
He froze.
Silence fell.
Then, as one, the horde surged.