Miles stepped deeper into the hallway, his footsteps echoing faintly against cracked concrete and hollow silence. The interior was dark, heavy with dust and abandonnt, yet thin streams of sunlight forced their way through broken sections of the wall, cutting sharp lines across the floor like blades of gold. The air felt still, almost waiting.
He dragged a rusted chair into place and pushed Kyle into it, securing him just enough so he would not fall over. Kyle’s head lolled to one side, his lips moving with incoherent murmurs, his mind trapped sowhere far from reality under the effect of the drugs.
Miles exhaled slowly, his senses sharpening.
Then ca the sound.
Footsteps.
Soft.
asured.
From the shadows.
Miles’ hand instinctively moved to his holster, his body turning slightly, his eyes locking onto the dark corner where the sound originated.
A figure erged.
The sunlight from the broken wall struck his face as he stepped forward, revealing a young man, not much older than a teenager. His expression carried tension, his breathing uneven.
Miles narrowed his eyes.
"Do I know you?"
The man’s jaw tightened, his voice trembling with restrained emotion.
"It makes angry... that you don’t even rember ."
He took another step forward.
"But all these years... I learned sothing. To stay calm. To stay patient."
His fists clenched.
"My uncle... he was all I had. My only family."
His voice cracked slightly.
"And you took him from ."
Miles tilted his head slightly, confusion flickering for a brief mont.
"What?"
The man’s eyes burned.
"Still don’t recognize ? The demon mask..."
A mory flashed.
A battlefield.
A masked figure.
A masked person standing behind him.
Recognition dawned.
"So you are his nephew."
The man nodded slowly, his breathing heavier now.
"At least you rember him. The man you killed... right in front of ."
Miles let out a faint smirk, though his eyes remained cold.
"I didn’t know you were his nephew. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it in front of a kid."
He glanced at him from head to toe.
"Your mask hid your face well. Never thought there was a child behind it."
His tone sharpened.
"But looks like you grew up. Trained yourself. So tell ... why kill ?"
A pause.
"What have I done to you?"
The young man’s expression twisted.
"My uncle was innocent."
His voice rose.
"You are just a murderer. Soone who kills innocent people for fun."
Sweat rolled down his forehead.
His hands trembled.
Miles observed him carefully.
There was no killing intent.
No steadiness.
Only confusion.
Only anger.
"You..." Miles exhaled slowly, almost disappointed. "I thought if Rehman brought you here, you would be sothing dangerous."
He shook his head slightly.
"But you are just a kid... who walked into the wrong path."
The man clenched his fists.
"I am not a killer."
Miles stepped closer.
"You never killed anyone before, did you?"
Silence.
"Then tell ," Miles continued calmly, "are you really capable of killing ?"
His voice lowered.
"Rehman gathered so of the deadliest assassins for this. And you think you can even touch ?"
The man’s breathing beca erratic.
His body trembled visibly now.
Miles’ eyes narrowed further.
Sothing was off.
This was not a fighter.
This was bait.
Miles sighed.
"If you want to fight, then fight. Don’t waste my ti."
The man suddenly lunged forward, desperation driving his movent.
In a flash, Miles caught him by the neck, stopping him instantly.
His grip tightened.
"Two hundred and eighty six people," Miles said coldly. "Including your own parents."
The man froze.
Miles’ voice cut deeper.
"Yes, Niel. The bomb blast that killed them... was carried out by your own uncle."
His grip loosened.
Niel collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air, his hands clutching his throat.
"No..." he whispered, shaking his head violently. "You are lying... He said my uncle was a good man... an honest mayor..."
Miles’ voice hardened.
"Your father was the honest one."
He stepped closer.
"Your uncle killed them to take his place. Everyone in your city knows this."
His tone rose sharply.
"How can you be so blind? So easily manipulated?"
Niel’s world shattered in silence.
Miles suddenly looked up, his voice echoing through the empty structure.
"What the hell is this, Rehman? What are you trying to prove?"
A faint static crackled.
Then Monica’s voice ca through his earpiece, tense and urgent.
"Boss... sothing is wrong with his clothes."
Miles’ eyes snapped down instantly.
Without hesitation, he grabbed Niel’s jacket and tore it open.
Wires.
A compact explosive device strapped tightly against his body.
A soft beeping began.
From the walls, speakers crackled alive.
Then laughter filled the space.
Cold.
Cruel.
Rehman Nawwar spoke, his voice dripping with amusent.
"Take my little gift."
The beeping grew faster.
Niel’s eyes widened, realization crashing into him all at once.
Tears stread down his face.
"I am... sorry..."
Before Miles could react, Niel pushed himself up and ran.
"Wait!" Miles shouted, stepping forward. "Stop!"
Niel sprinted toward the exit, his body shaking, his mind breaking under the weight of truth and fear.
The beeping reached its peak.
Then silence.
A fraction of a second.
And then
A deafening explosion tore through the hallway.
The blast wave slamd into Miles, throwing him violently backward as debris and dust filled the air.
The walls shook.
The light vanished.
And everything fell into chaos.
..
The shattered hallway still echoed with the aftermath of the explosion, dust hanging thick in the air, fragnts of concrete scattered across the ground like silent witnesses to what had just happened.
Miles stood slowly, his body steady despite the impact, his eyes darker than before.
Inside the operations room, every screen reflected the sa scene.
Monica closed her eyes for a brief second, her voice breaking through the comms.
"Boss... are you alright?"
Miles straightened, brushing debris off his shoulder.
"I am fine."
But his clenched fists said otherwise.
The speakers crackled again.
Rehman Nawwar laughed, his voice echoing through the ruined structure.
"What a cowardly kid..."
His tone turned colder, more sinister.
"But seeing your expression... that is satisfying. He was just one innocent person."
A pause.
"I can see many more... families... children... thousands of lives... all waiting on my screen."
His voice dropped into a whisper.
"What about your family, Miles? I heard you have little siblings..."
Miles lifted his head slowly, his eyes devoid of warmth.
"Rehman..."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"Laugh."
A step forward.
"Laugh for one last day."
Before the silence could settle, another door burst open.
Gunfire erupted.
Three ard n rushed in, automatic rifles blazing, bullets tearing through the broken pillars and walls.
Miles moved.
Not like a man.
Like a shadow.
He slid behind a cracked concrete pillar just as bullets tore through the space where he had been standing a mont ago.
The first attacker stepped forward, scanning.
"Where is"
A sharp crack interrupted him.
Miles leaned out just enough, his pistol already aligned.
The bullet pierced straight through the man’s forehead.
He dropped instantly.
The second shooter reacted, spraying bullets wildly toward the pillar.
Concrete chipped away, fragnts flying.
Miles stepped back, then shifted position in one smooth motion, disappearing behind another pillar before reappearing from a different angle.
Two precise shots.
The second man staggered backward, clutching his chest before collapsing.
The third man hesitated.
Fear.
That single mont of hesitation was enough.
Miles closed the distance in a flash, grabbing the rifle’s barrel and pushing it aside as the trigger was pulled, bullets firing harmlessly into the ceiling.
A sharp elbow struck the man’s throat.
A twist.
The weapon dropped.
Miles caught it mid fall, turned it, and fired a single round.
Silence.
Three bodies lay still.
Miles exhaled once, steady and controlled.
His voice ca through the comms, sharp and focused.
anwhile.
Beneath the city.
Near the Atelier.
Deep inside the underground sewer tunnels, the atmosphere was damp, confined, and suffocating.
Two agents moved carefully beneath the manhole positioned directly under one of the vans.
"Open it," one whispered.
The tal cover above shifted slightly.
A narrow beam of light seeped through.
"Pass the cutter."
The tool was handed over.
The agent scanned the underside of the vehicle, his fingers tracing along the tal until he found a weak structural point.
He began cutting.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Every second felt heavier than the last.
Minutes passed.
Sweat dripped despite the cold underground air.
Finally, the tal gave way.
A small opening ford.
"Push it."
The backseat above shifted slightly as the second agent applied pressure.
The first agent climbed up, squeezing himself through the narrow gap.
He entered the van.
And froze.
His breathing stopped for a mont.
His body cam adjusted automatically, capturing everything.
"Base... are you seeing this?"
Inside the operations room, every screen switched to his feed.
And silence fell.
Even Charles was montarily speechless before leaning forward.
"This amount of CL 20..."
His voice turned grim.
"This is not a normal bomb. This is mass destruction."
The explosive material filled the interior, carefully arranged with precise wiring and detonation modules.
The agent swallowed hard.
"Sir... there is no visible countdown... but there is a digital display."
He leaned closer.
"It is synced to ti. It shows 1 PM."
A pause.
"This will detonate automatically at that ti. Remote or not."
Monica’s expression tightened.
"We have less than an hour... and there are seventeen vans."
Charles exhaled sharply.
"We need evacuation."
Monica shook her head imdiately.
"No. If we start evacuation, they will notice. They will detonate everything remotely."
Charles clenched his jaw.
"Then we need to stop people from getting close without raising suspicion."
Monica’s eyes sharpened.
"We manipulate the live feeds."
Charles looked at her.
"But they are watching everything. We need a distraction."
At that exact mont, Miles’ voice cut through the tension.
From the battlefield.
Clear.
Decisive.
"There are power cables running along the sides."
He spoke while moving, his voice steady even as he engaged another approaching figure.
"Cut the power for a few seconds. That is enough. Replace the footage during that window."
Across from him, another assassin erged, blade in hand, confused by the sudden statent.
"What nonsense are you speaking? Why would I help you?"
Miles moved toward him slowly, his knife already in hand.
A faint smile appeared.
"Oh... I would never want soone weak like you on my side."
The assassin lunged.
Miles stepped aside effortlessly, catching his wrist, twisting it sharply until the blade dropped.
A swift strike followed.
Clean.
Precise.
The body fell.
Back in the operations room, Monica allowed herself a brief smile.
"Copy that, boss."
"Find out the nearby power grid, and hack it" Monica instructed.
And just like that.
The counter move began.
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