The heavy tires of the armored truck crushed debris as Ethan drove through the ruins. The "flower" of his city had been scorched. He didnāt speak. Beside him, Jason checked the action on his rifle, his face a mask of cold professionalism. The silence between them was fueled by a shared, burning rage.
"Crul, give me the map," Ethan said.
[Displaying now, Master. The port sector is the last stronghold. Forty survivors from Black Skull are holding a warehouse near Dock 7. They have civilian hostagesāworkers who were trapped when the shift changed,] Crul said.
"Hostages. They really donāt know who theyāre dealing with," Ethan said.
I have pushed the accelerator. The truck roared, swerving around a collapsed bus. As they approached the docks, the smell of salt mixed with the stench of burning chemicals. A barricade of shipping containers blocked the main road.
"Jason, take the high ground. Clear the snipers. Iām going through the front," Ethan said.
"Consider it done, Boss," Jason said. He rolled out of the moving vehicle, disappearing into the shadows of a crane with predatory speed.
Ethan didnāt slow down. He steered the truck directly toward the center of the container wall.
"Harder than Steel," Ethan said.
His body hummed with power. He didnāt jump out. He braced himself as the truck slammed into the steel containers at 80 mph. The impact was weakening. The truck crumpled, but the containers were punched aside like cardboard boxes.
Ethan stepped out of the wreckage before the dust even settled. A hail of gunfire immediately erupted from the warehouse entrance. Bullets sparked off his skin, falling flat to the ground. He didnāt even blink.
"Is that there?" Ethan said.
He raised his hand. Purple lightning coiled around his arm like a serpent. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a concentrated arc of electricity into the warehouseās power main. The building increased as the electrical system overloaded, lights exploding and secondary generators catching fire.
Inside, the mercenaries panicked. "Heās here! The monster is here!" one shrieked.
Ethan walked into the darkness of the warehouse. Every step he took left a cracked footprint in the concrete. He saw the hostages huddled in a corner, guarded by five men with trembling rifles.
"Drop the guns and I might let you die quickly," Ethan said.
The leader of the group, a man wearing a high-tech exoskeleton, stepped forward. "I donāt think so, Blake. This suit is rated for high-voltage insulation. Your tricks wonāt work on me!" the leader said.
He lunged, a hydraulic-powered fist aiming for Ethanās head. Ethan didnāt dodge. He caught the massive metal fist with one hand. The exoskeleton hissed and groaned, the metal fingers bending under Ethanās grip.
"Your suit is insulated against electricity," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "But it isnāt insulated against me."
Ethan squeezed. The metal crumpled into the leaderās hand, crushing bone and machinery into a single, bloody pulp. The leader screamed, but Ethan silenced him with a headbutt that shattered the manās tactical helmet and his skull instantly.
Behind him, the remaining four guards raised their weapons to fire at the hostages.
"No," Ethan said.
In a blur of speed, he appeared in front of the hosts. He didnāt use lightning. He used his bare hands. He tore the rifles away from the men and used the steel barrels to impale them against the shipping crates. It was over in seconds.
The hostages looked up at him, terrified. Ethan looked back, the purple glow in his eyes fading slightly.
"Get out. Run to the police line. Thompson is waiting," Ethan said.
He stepped back into the night air. The port was quiet now. The last of the Black Skull marks had been erased.
"Crul... report," Ethan said.
[[All sectors quiet, Master. North End is under Royal control once again. But, I have detected a high-frequency transmission originating from the Federal border. A specialized āTask Forceā is approaching. They arenāt mercenaries. They are Government,]] Crul said.
Ethan looked toward the horizon, where the first light of dawn was beginning to break through the smoke.
"Let them come. Iām in the mood to fire some more people," Ethan said.
A spike of killing intent so sharp and urgent pierced Ethanās mind that it felt like the cold hand of death had already gripped his throat. His instincts, honed to a supernatural degree, screamed at him to move.
In a fraction of a second, Ethan threw himself backward. A silver streak whistled through the space where his neck had been a millisecond before.
Blood sprayed. Ethan landed hard on the asphalt, his hand instantly flying to his throat. A shallow, clean horizontal gash ran across his skin. A single inch deeper, and his head would have been rolling on the pavement.
"Chief! Are you okay?!" Jason shouted, his rifle already up as he scanned the empty air.
"Get back, Jason! Stay back! Donāt you dare come closer!" Ethan shouted, his voice rasping from the wound.
Ethan scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting frantically. The area was open, illuminated by the flickering streetlights and the distant fires, yet there was no one. The strike had been precise, silent, and nearly fatal.
"Donāt worry," a cold, disembodied voice whispered directly into his ear. "Youāll be a corpse soon enough."
Ethan spun around, striking out with a fist cloaked in purple lightning, but he hit nothing but air. He broke into a cold sweat.
"Crul! Thermal vision! Sonar! Give me something!" Ethan commanded.
[Activating all sensors... Master, I find nothing. There is no thermal signature, no cardiac rhythm, no displacement of air. There is absolutely nothing around you,] Crul replied, its digital voice sounding genuinely strained.
Ethanās eyes fell upon a small object lying on the groundāa miniature radio transmitter. Thinking the voice had come from there, he took a step toward it.
Suddenly, the killing intent returned with the force of a tidal wave. Without hesitation, Ethan threw himself to the ground.