[Third Person POV]
David kicked open the heavy metal door and stormed into the warehouse, guns blazing. Two armed guards at the front barely had time to raise their weapons before they were dropped by swift, accurate shots.
Muzzle flashes lit up the darkness as bullets tore through crates and walls. Somewhere above, Roberta fired from her sniper position, her shots clean and deadly. Two more guards fell from her cover fire.
David moved quickly, clearing the main floor with cold efficiency. The warehouse was cluttered—old equipment, steel containers, and oil drums lined the space. He didn't stop to check each corner. Anyone who wasn't dead had run.
Another door stood at the far end. He walked up to it, stepped over a dead body, and opened it cautiously. A stairwell. It led down.
David sighed, muttering under his breath, "Why the fuck does every warehouse have a basement?"
With a pistol in one hand and a compact SMG in the other, he moved down the steps. Just as he reached the last few stairs, Gideon's voice buzzed in his earpiece.
"Shin and John are en route with Emilio."
"Good," David whispered.
He stepped into the basement. The light was dim, but he saw them—Victor Ruiz and two armed goons crouched behind crates.
Roberta's voice came through in his earpiece. "David, we have company. Five people in an SUV. Two more cars are coming from the opposite direction. More than ten in total."
"Keep eyes on them. Don't engage," he ordered.
David had come here planning to torture Victor before dragging him out, but now he had to change his plans. Still, something stirred in him.
As he saw Victor, a deep, burning rage surged up—like a small leftover piece of the old David was waking up.
He took a breath, pushed it down.
The goons opened fire the moment they saw him. David dove behind a support pillar, bullets splintering the wood and ricocheting off concrete.
He didn't hesitate. He rolled out, shot one of the goons clean in the chest, then rushed forward. The second guard tried to flank him, but David fired two bursts from his SMG, sending the man crashing into a crate.
Victor fired wildly, but David ducked, rolled, and surged forward. Victor panicked and tried to run, but David was faster. He punched him hard in the gut, grabbed the back of his neck, and slammed him into the wall. Victor slumped. One more jab to the neck with a knockout syringe, and he was down.
As David straightened, Roberta's voice came through again.
"David. Something's happening outside. The two groups—looks like there's tension. They've started fighting."
David paused. "How many are left?"
"Five from the SUVs. Two retreated. Three are still fighting. These three… they're skilled. Especially the one in front."
David narrowed his eyes. "How does he look?"
Roberta didn't answer. Instead, she flicked her scope's vision to his HUD feed.
Through his contact lenses, David saw the man clearly—bald head and marked with a black bullseye on his forehead.
David's breath caught for a moment.
"Bullseye," he muttered.
He quickly opened his status.
[STATUS]
Name: David Arthur Brown
Age: 25
Race: Human
SP: 175
Skills: Hand-to-Hand Combat Mastery, Parkour Mastery, Hacking Mastery, Perfect Recall, Cooking Mastery, Bullet Time, Eye Color Manipulation, High-Speed Calculation (Psycho-Pass – Shinya Kogami's Combat Analysis), House Cleaning Mastery, Rope Mastery, Acting Mastery
Character Assimilated: Deadshot (DCEU), Jason Bourne, Chris Wolff, Harold Finch, Snake Eyes, Hikage Shinomori (MHA), L. Lawliet, Art Rosenbaum, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, Loid Forger, Agent Whiskey, Hal Emmerich
Character Assimilation:
1. Richard Drakunovski – 90%
2. Harold Allnut – 95%
"I think I can take them," he muttered to himself.
David stood at the door of the warehouse, his breathing steady despite the chaos unfolding outside. He held Victor Ruiz over his shoulder, but his attention was already elsewhere.
"Roberta, bring the car near the warehouse. We need to take Victor from here. Be ready and arrive on my signal."
After few minutes, her voice crackled in his earpiece. "I'm in the car and on my way."
He muttered, "Okay. Time to move now."
He tossed smoke bombs toward the front of the warehouse, watching as thick plumes spread across the entryway. The moment the smoke filled the area, David moved, only to suddenly stop and jerk his head back as his danger sense flared. A throwing knife sliced through the air where his head had just been.
"Tch. That was close."
Without wasting time, David fired his grappling gun. The hook latched onto a roof beam outside, and he zipped through the smoke cloud, leaping over the confusion. Roberta pulled up in the car just in time. David landed beside it and threw Victor into the back seat.
"Go!" he barked.
Roberta hesitated, glancing at him. "But what about—"
"I said go!"
As he turned around, the infamous assassin stood calmly among the chaos with a mocking grin. Two smaller men flanked him.
The remaining gang members turned to face David. But the assassins moved before they could react. Guns fired. Blood spilled. The screams lasted only a moment.
The five gang members fell quickly, shot down by the two assassins in seconds.
Bullseye turned to David with a small grin on his face.
David walked forward slowly, calm.
"You the one causing all this trouble?" Bullseye asked, smirking.
David didn't answer. He cracked his knuckles, and kept walked forward.
Bullseye flicked both knives toward David's head without warning.
David's eyes narrowed. With a quick twist of his body and a half-step sideways, the knives missed by mere inches. He dashed forward.
Bullseye drew his pistols and opened fire.
But David had already moved, sliding across the ground on one knee, bullets zipping overhead. With one smooth motion, he pulled a flashbang from his inventory and tossed it between them.
Bang!
The assassins stumbled, momentarily blinded.
Bullseye winced, covering his eyes. David was already there. He lunged forward and slammed his elbow into Bullseye's ribs, followed by a rising knee into his chin. Bullseye stumbled back, dropping a pistol.
The two assassins recovered and rushed toward David from the sides, hoping to flank him.
"Wrong move," David whispered.
He spun and threw two throwing knives—one embedded itself in the eye socket of the karambit-wielding assassin. The man dropped dead without a sound. The other assassin raised his gun, but David was already in front of him. A single palm strike shattered the man's nose, then David twisted his neck with one hand and dropped him like a puppet with cut strings.
Bullseye tried to regain his footing, switching back to his last pistol and a fresh set of throwing knives. He launched the blades again—four this time.
David dodged three, caught the last, and threw it back with surgical precision. It sliced across Bullseye's shoulder, making him grunt in pain.
He grinned.
"That all you got?"
Bullseye growled, but didn't charge. He knew better. He backed up quickly, putting distance between them, his hands shifting as he flicked two throwing knives toward David in rapid succession.
David sidestepped the first and batted the second out of the air with a flick of his shuriken. His Assassin's Creed-style hidden blade remained tucked under his sleeve, unused for now.
"Keeping your distance now? Smart," David muttered.
Bullseye didn't respond. He pulled a handgun from his holster and fired twice.
David moved like a shadow—smooth, effortless. He weaved around the bullets, not a single one touching him. Not even close.
With a flick of his wrist, David threw a pair of shuriken toward Bullseye. One grazed Bullseye's arm; the other forced him to shift his aim.
Bullseye snarled and tossed three more throwing knives. David dodged them all with graceful ease, his steps controlled and almost lazy.
He tossed a throwing knife of his own, forcing Bullseye to duck, then vanished behind a support beam.
In the next instant, he reappeared behind Bullseye and stabbed him with the hidden blade—straight into his side.
Bullseye gasped and stumbled forward, pain flashing across his face. He fumbled at his belt and hurled a flashbang to the ground.
Boom!
David shielded his eyes. When he looked again, Bullseye was already halfway down the road, bleeding and stumbling, but running.
"Smart enough to know when to tuck your tail," David said, watching him go.
The fight was over. David hadn't taken a single serious hit.
He exhaled, rolled his shoulders, and turned toward the warehouse. It was time to regroup.
---
---
David returned to the warehouse in his own car, the one he had stored in his inventory. The area was quiet, lit only by a few dim industrial lamps. He parked without a sound and stepped out, his boots crunching faintly against the gravel. As he walked inside, the scene greeted him with eerie silence.
Victor Ruiz and Emilio Delgado were tied to chairs, both unconscious. Their heads hung low, bruised and bloodied, restrained with zip ties and duct tape. They looked like broken men—but David didn't let himself feel satisfaction.
Instead, he felt something else rise.
A sharp, hot anger burned in his chest the moment his eyes landed on Victor's face. Something inside him wanted to snap his neck right there. But he closed his eyes for a second, breathing slow and deep. He shoved the feeling down.
"Roberta," he said calmly, his voice low. "Take that fucker to the basement bunker. I want him secure."
She nodded and moved in silently. She lifted Victor with practiced ease and disappeared down the hallway to the hidden cell under the warehouse.
David turned to the others.
"Anyone hurt?"
For a moment, no one answered. Then, one by one, they shook their heads. They were bruised and a little tired, but fine.
He gave a short nod. "Gideon," he called.
David barely reacted. He just said, "Alright," and walked to the table in the center.
Her voice responded calmly, "Yes, David. All traces have been erased. Bullseye is currently in the Upper West Side, but we lost him near a surveillance blind zone."
David didn't react much. He just said, "Alright, but keep an eye on him. He would surface eventually." and walked toward the table in the center.
From his inventory, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and placed it on the table. Four different bank cards.
"You'll be paid by tomorrow morning. Good work."
Robert looked up. "Do you want help interrogating this man?"
David looked at him and just shook his head slowly. "Nah. You'll see. He'll sing like a bird after he wakes up."
To Be Continued...