[Third Person POV]
The building's interior was choked in darkness. Emergency lighting had failed, backup generators were offline, and all that remained was silence and the low creak of shifting weight above and below. Somewhere in that silence, thirty men with weapons were searching for a ghost.
They had no idea how close he already was.
David moved like a shadow between pillars and half-lit corridors. His Darkwear suit swallowed the faintest ambient light. Vibranium-lined shoes made him completely silent. Clipped to his belt were several small steel balls, no larger than marbles, dense and smooth. He plucked three and tossed them across the corridor in quick succession.
The balls clinked and bounced off crates and metal frames, scattering noise in opposite directions.
"There!"
Several of the Serpent guards spun toward the noise, rifles raised. Their nerves were already frayed. Darkness made them dangerous, but David was worse. He was calm.
He activated Eagle Vision.
The world peeled into layered shades. People began to glow, red, yellow, and white. Five red outlines illuminated the hallway ahead.
They never saw him coming.
David surged forward. One red outline raised a rifle. David ducked beneath the barrel, seized the wrist, and snapped it sideways. The weapon clattered to the floor. A second red figure tried to pivot, but David shoved him into the line of fire, using his own body as a shield. Muffled gunfire erupted.
David launched a steel ball over the heads of the men to his left. It clattered behind them. They turned on instinct.
Wrong move.
He stabbed low with a blade into the thigh of one guard, twisting as he yanked it free. The man dropped screaming. Another charged him with a crowbar. David sidestepped, let the blow glance off a support beam, then shattered the attacker's jaw with an upward elbow.
The hallway was chaos.
In the flickering remnants of backup light, David was a blur. To his enemies, it was like being attacked by the dark itself.
A figure lunged with a combat knife. David disarmed him, caught the blade mid-air, and drove it through the attacker's calf. The man screamed and collapsed.
David moved on.
Every red was eliminated. Every yellow was broken or disabled. Every white was spared, left unconscious or too terrified to move.
The final steel ball rolled into silence as David made his way to the main hall.
Then the power came back on.
Fluorescent lights burst into life with a deafening hum. David's HUD flickered for a second, then recalibrated. The room was now fully lit, and two figures stood at the far end.
Dante Vasquez and Salvador Reyes.
Dante was built like a wrecking ball—barrel-chested, head shaved clean, tattoos coiling down both arms. He held two knives, one in each hand. Salvador was leaner, more measured. His scarred face was unreadable, but the pistol in his hand was steady.
"You think this is your playground?" Dante growled. "You just walked into your fucking grave."
David tilted his head slightly, silent.
Salvador raised the pistol and fired. David was already moving. The bullet missed by inches as he rolled behind a concrete pillar. More shots followed, tearing chunks from the stone.
Dante ran wide, flanking. David anticipated the move and sprinted up a side staircase, using the upper catwalk to loop around. He dropped down behind Salvador.
"Behind you!" Dante shouted.
Salvador turned too late. David slammed his boot into the man's ribs, sending him sprawling. The pistol clattered away. David bent low and swept Salvador's legs, cracking him against the floor.
Dante was already on him.
Their blades clashed. Metal screeched. Dante moved like a street brawler with training—wild but practiced. David blocked a slash, parried another, then twisted into a spin kick that sent Dante stumbling back.
"You think you're some kind of goddamn avenger?" Dante spat. "You're just a coward in a mask."
David didn't reply. He lunged.
Dante met him halfway. They collided like two bulls. David slipped under his arms, elbowed him in the spine, then twisted and cut a deep gash along Dante's arm.
"Fuck!" Dante roared.
He charged again, this time faster. David let him come, then pivoted on his heel. He redirected Dante's momentum and slammed his face into a steel beam.
Blood sprayed.
Salvador was up again, limping but determined. He came from behind with a broken chair leg. David ducked and countered with a sweeping hook. The blow shattered Salvador's nose and sent him to one knee.
Dante groaned, clutching his broken nose. His knives trembled.
"Come on," David said softly. "Show me what makes you men worth fearing."
Dante roared and charged one final time. David sidestepped and drove both fists into his ribs. He kicked Dante's knee sideways. The crack echoed.
Dante dropped, screaming.
David didn't stop. He picked him up, held his head still, and whispered, "You ran a trade in flesh. In children. There is no mercy for that."
Then he drove the blade into Dante's throat.
Salvador, bloodied and half-conscious, crawled away.
David turned to him, walking slowly.
"You should've died with him," he said.
Salvador stared up, choking on blood. "Then finish it."
David crouched beside him. "No. I want you to live. I want you to limp away from this. I want you to carry the message."
"Message?"
"That I am coming for all of you."
David stood, wiped the blade clean, and turned toward the exit.
Behind him, Salvador coughed blood and collapsed.
David walked out into the night, disappearing before the next wave of panic could spread.
Far away from the chaos, inside a secure S.H.I.E.L.D. mobile operations van stationed several blocks outside the Serpents' territory, three agents sat in stunned silence as the real-time drone feeds and advanced recon lenses finished cycling through footage of the building's blackout and the massacre that had just occurred.
Kara Palamas, better known as Agent 33, stared at the screen, jaw clenched. Her colleagues sat frozen.
The data stream continued feeding in through their multi-channel uplinks—infrared overlays, environmental scans, intercepted short-range comms.
Kara hit the pause and immediately routed the entire data package to HQ, marking it for Level 8 clearance.
She added a note in the encrypted message: Subject remains unidentified. Highly skilled in close quarters combat, infiltration, electronic warfare. Potential asset or threat. Awaiting directives.
Minutes later, a reply came in.
Maintain surveillance. Do not engage. Full profile and behavior pattern required before intervention. Absolute discretion.
"That's it?" an agent asked. "After what we just saw?"
Kara stood from her seat and stepped back from the console.
"They want more information," she said flatly. "They're not going to make a move until they know who the hell he really is."
Her mind kept replaying the way David had fought in the dark.
"We had eyes on him for ten minutes before we lost visual," a agent said. "Then he just... disappeared. Even his digital signature is gone. It's like he wiped himself clean."
She looked down at her tablet and scrolled through the images again. The collapsed hallway, the bodies, the steel marbles on the ground that had been found near the dead.
Somewhere deep down, she could already tell: this wasn't the last time she would see him.
---
---
[David's POV]
I moved through the shadows, fast and invisible, cutting through alleyways and rooftops like a thread woven between the city's concrete. My heart was steady, but my thoughts were moving fast. The adrenaline hadn't worn off yet. It never did, not when the job wasn't finished.
"All digital traces removed," Gideon's voice echoed calmly in my ear. "Security feeds at the nightclub and all adjoining properties have been scrubbed. You left no footprint."
"Good," I muttered, exhaling slowly. The rush was fading now, giving way to cold calculation.
I'd noticed the surveillance days ago. Unmarked vans but well-placed. It didn't take much to guess it was S.H.I.E.L.D. They were probably waiting for me to show.
"Did they follow?" I asked.
Gideon paused. "They tried. But you lost them three blocks from the target. They no longer have a visual."
I grunted. "They will be back."
I paused on a fire escape, watching the distant street below. Sirens were still flaring near the nightclub, a sea of red and blue spreading into the night.
"What about the dock?" I asked.
"Information packets were delivered to the FBI and cross-shared with Homeland Security and Coast Guard Task Force. Response teams were deployed within twenty minutes. Law enforcement units are currently at Dock 39. They are moving the captives out of containers as we speak."
I clenched my fists for a moment. I needed to see it for myself.
I climbed the last flight of the fire escape and leapt across to the next rooftop, making my way toward the river.
To be continued...