One of Ethan Cole's many properties was a five-star luxury hotel located in the Broadway district. The building rose thirty-seven floors above the city streets, an elegant glass tower that blended seamlessly into Manhattan's skyline. The lower levels were dedicated to high-end restaurants, exclusive lounges, and entertainment facilities designed for wealthy clients and celebrities who preferred privacy over publicity.
Above those bustling floors were the guest suites, each designed with meticulous attention to comfort and luxury. The hotel had long been known as one of the most expensive places to stay in the city, attracting businessmen, politicians, and international elites who were willing to pay for discretion and world-class service.
But the thirty-seventh floor was different.
That floor was never listed on any public brochure. It didn't appear in the hotel's booking system, and no ordinary guest had ever stepped foot inside. The entire top level belonged exclusively to Ethan Cole, a private sanctuary far removed from the curious eyes of the outside world.
Over the years, more than a few young women had been invited there.
At that moment, however, the quiet underground parking garage beneath the hotel was hosting a far less romantic visitor.
A tall figure moved silently through the shadows.
The dim lighting of the garage made it difficult to see clearly, but the man's silhouette revealed a broad, powerful build wrapped in a long dark trench coat. His movements were careful and controlled, blending almost perfectly into the darkness between parked vehicles.
If someone happened to glance in his direction, they might not notice him at all.
He approached a metal door marked as an emergency exit. It was one of the secondary access points leading into the hotel's internal corridors, rarely used except during maintenance or emergencies.
Just as the man reached for the handle, his hand paused slightly.
The air around him felt wrong.
For a brief moment, it seemed as though the entire underground garage had fallen into absolute stillness. Even the faint hum of ventilation fans felt distant.
The man slowly turned around.
Half of his face slipped into the weak overhead light, revealing a rough jawline covered with thick stubble. His eyebrows were heavy and sharp, giving him a permanently aggressive expression, while his eyes gleamed with the predatory focus of a hunting animal.
A thin, dangerous smile curled across his lips.
"So… I've been discovered?" he murmured quietly.
His voice was deep and rough, carrying the low rumble of a wild beast.
"Click… click… click…"
The faint sound of footsteps echoed through the garage.
One by one, five figures stepped out from the surrounding shadows.
All of them wore black suits and identical tactical gloves. Their faces, however, were hidden behind masks of wildly different designs. One wore a grinning clown face, another a traditional opera mask, while the others displayed stylized cartoon and theatrical expressions.
The mismatched masks created an unsettling atmosphere.
It looked less like a security team and more like a troupe of silent performers.
The man's smile widened slightly.
"So you've been waiting for me here?" he said slowly. "I've felt like someone was following me for a long time. Looks like that feeling wasn't wrong."
His voice grew lower, heavier.
At the same time, his eyes began to glow with dangerous excitement.
He spread both hands outward, stretching his fingers wide.
With a subtle cracking sound, his fingernails elongated into sharp, curved claws that glinted under the garage lights like polished steel.
"ROAR!"
Without warning, the man exploded into motion.
His speed was terrifying.
To an ordinary observer, his body would appear almost like a blurred shadow streaking across the floor. In the blink of an eye, he had already closed the distance between himself and one of the masked figures.
Like a tiger launching itself at prey.
His target was the man wearing the clown mask.
The masked operative didn't move.
He stood completely still, as if frozen by fear.
But the charging mutant showed no hesitation.
Within half a second, he had reached striking distance.
His arms shot upward before slashing downward with brutal force, the claws on his fingers aiming directly at the clown-masked man's chest.
"WHOOSH!"
The strike tore through the air with a violent gust.
His claws pierced the target's chest instantly.
For a moment, the mutant's face remained twisted in savage satisfaction, the bloodthirsty grin still visible on his lips.
Then the expression froze.
Something was wrong.
The body of the clown-masked man suddenly shifted, becoming fluid and metallic at the same time. His chest shimmered with a strange silver sheen, like living steel.
The mutant's claws had not pierced flesh.
They had sunk into metal.
Before he could react, the clown-masked operative's arms transformed.
His forearms reshaped themselves into two razor-sharp blades that shot forward from beneath the mutant's ribs.
"PFFFT!"
The sound of metal slicing through flesh echoed in the garage.
The attacker's body trembled violently as blood immediately spilled from his mouth.
He tried to pull his claws free from the metallic chest, but his hands were trapped as though welded in place.
His muscles strained as he attempted to break loose.
Nothing moved.
The mutant looked up, fury burning in his eyes.
The eerie grin painted across the clown mask stared back at him.
Suddenly, another hand appeared on the clown-masked operative's shoulder.
A second masked figure stepped into view beside him, wearing the stylized face of a traditional opera mask.
The moment the hand touched the metallic body—
"ZZZZZT!"
A surge of electricity erupted outward.
Metal conducted the energy instantly.
The powerful electric current shot directly through the trapped claws and into the mutant's body. The voltage was terrifyingly high—enough to kill an ordinary person instantly.
The mutant's entire body convulsed violently.
His head snapped backward, and he roared toward the ceiling with his mouth wide open. The sheer force of the scream triggered nearby car alarms, filling the garage with chaotic noise.
"PFFT… PFFT… PFFT…"
Three more sharp impacts followed.
The remaining masked operatives had already moved.
Appearing almost out of nowhere, they drove their weapons forward in perfect coordination. Multiple blades plunged into the mutant's torso from different angles, each strike precise and lethal.
Blood burst outward across the concrete floor.
The mutant's body twitched several more times before finally collapsing.
His head slumped forward.
Unconscious.
The clown-masked operative twisted his body sharply, the metallic form shifting and bending as he forced the claws loose from his chest. His body slowly returned to a normal human shape, although two torn holes remained in the front of his suit where the attack had struck.
He appeared slightly injured, but still fully functional.
Reaching into his coat, the masked operative removed a small communication device.
He spoke calmly into it.
"Dark Division, Team Alpha reporting. The target—Sabretooth—has been successfully captured. We will arrive at Laboratory District Three within thirty minutes."
A familiar voice answered through the communicator.
"Understood. Please follow the gentleman's instructions and place the subject under deep anesthesia."
The voice belonged to Svija.
The operatives immediately began securing their prisoner.
One of them produced a thick chain nearly as wide as a man's arm and tightly bound the mutant's wrists and ankles. Another removed a syringe filled with pale blue liquid and injected it into the side of the unconscious man's neck.
Within seconds, his breathing slowed dramatically.
The captured man was none other than Sabretooth—a savage and extremely dangerous mutant known for his brutal strength and feral instincts.
And tonight, he had become the newest subject in Ethan Cole's collection.