Dean took a deep breath, preparing himself for the next phase of the mission. He walked back upstairs, keeping his posture relaxed, and muttered under his breath as he re-entered the hallway, "Damn, that was one hell of a number two..." He stretched his arms nonchalantly and waved at the radio guy. "Sorry about that, couldn't hold it. Hope you guys didn't mind the wait."
The radio guy chuckled awkwardly and knocked on the door to the senator's room. "Sir, the team with the helicopter is here."
A moment of silence, then a gruff voice from within answered, "Come in."
The door creaked open, and Dean's sharp eyes immediately scanned the room. Senator Thomas sat in an office chair at the center, his suit stained and wrinkled, an untouched glass of whiskey on his desk. Two heavily armed guards stood at his sides, rifles in hand. Without hesitation, Dean's hands moved in a blur—two daggers flew across the room, embedding themselves in the guards' throats before they could even react. They gurgled and collapsed to the floor, their weapons clattering.
The radio guy gasped, about to shout, but before a sound could escape, Marcus clamped a hand over his mouth and slid his combat knife across his throat. Blood spurted as the man's body slumped silently against the doorframe. Robert swiftly stepped forward, securing the door to prevent any unwanted interruptions.
Dean pulled out his FNX-45 Tactical pistol, its suppressor glinting under the dim light, and aimed it directly at the senator's forehead. "Make a sound, and a bullet will pierce your skull before you even finish the first syllable."
Thomas' face turned pale, sweat breaking across his forehead. His lips trembled as he stared at Dean, barely able to process what had just happened. "W-what do you want? I can pay you—"
Dean let out a low chuckle. "Still the same slimy bastard, huh? I don't want your money, Thomas. I want justice." His voice dropped into a dangerous growl. "Do you remember what you did back then? The innocent people you executed for disobeying you? The women you violated? The supplies you hoarded while your own men starved?"
The senator's hands trembled as he wiped his brow. "T-that was necessary! I did what I had to for survival!"
Dean's smile disappeared, his eyes turning cold. "Survival? Is that what you call murder and rape? Taking advantage of the weak?"
The senator opened his mouth to protest, but Dean was done listening. He suddenly stepped forward and delivered a brutal punch to Thomas' throat. The senator choked, gasping for air, clutching his neck in pain but unable to scream.
Dean slowly pulled out his machete, its blade gleaming menacingly. "I should've killed you a long time ago," he muttered. He placed the tip against Thomas' chest and began slicing, slow and deliberate. The senator writhed, his muffled cries filling the room. Blood poured onto the floor as Dean carved into him, showing no mercy. By the time he was done, Thomas was nothing more than a twitching, unrecognizable mess.
Dean exhaled and wiped the blade clean on the senator's suit before turning to Marcus and Robert. "Let's move. We still have work to do."
They moved stealthily through the building, eliminating the remaining lackeys with precise headshots and silent takedowns. When they reached the lower floors, they found the prisoners—men and women, some emaciated, some barely clothed, tied up like animals. The stench of unwashed bodies and filth filled the air.
Dean knelt next to a trembling woman and gently cut her bindings. "You're safe now. We've taken care of them."
Marcus and Robert handed out food and water, covering the women with spare clothing. The freed prisoners sobbed in relief, clinging to each other.
Dean stood up and addressed the group. "Thomas is dead. This building is secure for now. Stay here, rest, and regain your strength. We'll be back soon with a bigger vehicle to take you somewhere safe."
As he turned to leave, the rescued survivors looked at him with a mixture of fear and gratitude. They had just witnessed a man who was both their savior and a ruthless executioner.
Dean, Marcus, and Robert made their way back to the rooftop. As the helicopter blades roared to life, Dean looked down at the ruined city below. The nightmare wasn't over yet, but tonight, they had taken a step toward making things right. With a grim expression, he muttered, "One less monster in this world."
The helicopter lifted off, heading back toward the fortress, leaving the past behind—at least, for now.