The corridor reeked of gunpowder and blood.
Luke pressed his back against the cold concrete wall, his M4 carbine raised as footsteps echoed from around the corner. Beside him, Ethan made quick hand signals—two targets, moving fast. Luke nodded, fingers tightening around his weapon's grip.
Just another Tuesday night, Luke thought grimly. Hunting terrorists in a warehouse. Living the dream.
They'd been partners for three years now, working cyber-security operations for the FBI. Most days involved tracking digital footprints and building cases behind computer screens. But tonight was different. Tonight, they were deep in enemy territory, hunting one of the most dangerous men in Manhattan.
King.
A terrorist who believed humanity needed to be "cleansed" to survive the new world. A world where dungeons appeared out of nowhere, spilling monsters into city streets. A world where ordinary people needed extraordinary protectors.
Hunters, they called them. People brave enough—or crazy enough—to put their lives on the line against creatures that shouldn't exist.
Luke's mother had been one of them.
He shoved the thought aside as two of King's men rounded the corner. No time for memories. Ethan moved first, a precise three-round burst that dropped the first target instantly. Luke followed up, his own shots finding their mark before the second man could even raise his weapon.
Clean. Quiet. Professional.
Two down. How many more before we call it a night?
They moved forward, stepping over the bodies without breaking stride. Six more men down since they'd breached the warehouse. The rest of the strike team was securing the perimeter, but Luke and Ethan had volunteered for point. They wanted King themselves.
"Boss room ahead," Ethan whispered, gesturing to the reinforced door at the end of the hallway. "Ready?"
Luke checked his magazine. Still half full. "Let's finish this."
Famous last words, a voice in his head muttered. Probably should've said something less cliché.
They stacked up on either side of the door. Luke tested the handle—unlocked.
Strange. King wasn't the type to leave doors open. Then again, the man was arrogant enough to broadcast his location on FBI networks. Maybe he thought he was untouchable.
He'd learn otherwise.
Luke kicked the door open and swept inside, weapon raised. "FBI! Freeze!"
The room was sparse. A single table, a chair, and a figure seated with his back to them, reading a book. The man didn't move. Didn't even flinch.
Rude. At least pretend to be scared.
"I said freeze!" Luke advanced slowly, Ethan covering his six. "Hands in the air. Now!"
A low chuckle echoed through the room. The figure finally moved, but only to turn a page in his book. "Special Agent Luke Chen. So predictable. Did you really think it would be this easy?"
Well, a guy can hope.
Luke's eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. The voice was right—King's distinctive rasp—but the posture was too relaxed. Too perfect. His gaze dropped to the floor, catching the faint shimmer of light.
A projector.
His blood ran cold. "Hologram."
Oh, fantastic. We walked into a trap. Didn't see that coming. Except I totally did.
"Very good," King's voice continued, dripping with mockery. "Though I expected you to notice sooner. After all, you are working on advanced technology yourself, aren't you?"
Luke's mind raced. How did King know about the program? He'd kept it secret, shared it with no one except—
Cold metal pressed against the back of his skull.
Oh. Oh no.
Luke froze.
"Don't move," Ethan's voice said quietly.
Luke's jaw tightened. The pieces clicked into place—Ethan's unusual interest in the program, his insistence on expanding its parameters, the way he'd pushed for lower combat thresholds despite Luke's protests.
He was King.
Should've trusted my gut. But no, I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Friendship and all that bullshit.
"The hologram," Ethan said, the gun still pressed against Luke's head. "Pretty impressive, right? Almost perfect. But it's still missing something. For true hunter enhancement, it shouldn't just mimic basic movements. It should be able to affect reality. Punch through walls. Lift cars. Become an extension of the hunter's will." He paused. "I might have forgotten to add that improvement."
Forgot. Sure. Let's go with that.
Luke's voice came out cold. "Forgot? Or was helping hunters never your goal in the first place?"
The pressure against his skull eased slightly. "So that's why you locked me out. The password-protected features. I wondered when you'd caught on."
"The combat threshold. You wanted it at sixteen." Luke kept his voice steady. "Anyone below that number would die during integration. That's when I knew."
When I knew my best friend was planning genocide. Good times.
"Would've saved us a lot of trouble," Ethan replied. "Think about it, Luke. No more weak links. No more civilians who need protecting. Just hunters. Strong, capable, able to defend themselves. We wouldn't need doctors, police, armies, protection agencies. Everyone would be a weapon."
"Everyone who survived the culling, you mean."
"Sacrifice is necessary for the greater good." Ethan's voice hardened. "You've seen the reports. Dungeon gates are appearing more frequently than ever. In 2015, we had maybe a dozen worldwide. Now? We're seeing that many in a single month. The monsters are evolving, getting stronger. Soon, conventional weapons won't even slow them down. We need the perfect tool, and that requires perfect warriors."
"By killing half of humanity first?"
"By ensuring the survivors can actually survive what's coming." Ethan shifted his weight. "Which brings us to our problem. You."
Here we go. The part where he explains why I have to die. Love this part.
Luke's breath caught.
"When your mother created the program, she made two original copies. The first one was a synthetic—hidden behind the wallpaper in her bedroom. But the second copy?" Ethan's chuckle was cold. "That one took me longer to figure out. Because it wasn't hidden in a place. It was hidden in a person. You, Luke. DNA synchronization. Neural mapping. You are the administrator copy."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"And that's why you have to die," Ethan continued. "I could extract the password from your memories, sure. But even with it, the system won't recognize me as the administrator. The only way to transfer authority is for you to grant me permission..." The gun pressed harder against his skull. "...or for the current administrator to be eliminated. Once you're gone, the protocol defaults to the user copy. To me."
So I'm literally the password. Mom really thought that one through. Thanks, Mom.
Luke's mind raced. Seconds, maybe less. Ethan was too smart to wait much longer—
Now or never.
Luke spun.
His fist caught Ethan square in the jaw, the unexpected blow sending his former partner stumbling backward. The M4 carbine clattered to the floor, and Luke didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, driving his shoulder into Ethan's chest.
That's for three years of fake friendship, you bastard.
They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Ethan recovered quickly, throwing a punch that glanced off Luke's cheekbone. But hand-to-hand combat had always been Luke's specialty. He blocked the next strike, countered with two rapid jabs to Ethan's ribs, then followed up with a brutal elbow to the face.
Ethan's nose shattered with a wet crunch. Blood sprayed across the concrete floor as he fell backward, gasping.
And that's for pointing a gun at my head.
Luke staggered to his feet, breathing hard. The fight had taken more out of him than expected. His limbs felt heavy, vision slightly blurred. He spotted the M4 carbine several feet away and stumbled toward it.
Come on, legs. Don't fail me now.
Behind him, Ethan groaned. Through the ringing in his ears, Luke heard scraping sounds. He glanced back to see his former partner crawling toward something.
Luke's magnum. The sidearm he'd dropped when Ethan first pulled the gun on him.
Oh, hell no.
"No—" Luke lurched toward the rifle, but his legs betrayed him. Too slow.
Ethan's hand closed around the magnum's grip. He rolled onto his back, blood streaming from his broken nose, and aimed.
This is gonna hurt.
BANG.
The shot caught Luke in the left shoulder, spinning him around. He hit the floor hard, his hand instinctively clutching the wound. Hot blood poured between his fingers. The pain came a moment later—white-hot agony that made his vision swim.
Yep. Definitely hurts.
Footsteps approached. Through the haze, Luke watched Ethan stand, swaying slightly. His former partner's face was a mask of blood, but his eyes were clear. Focused.
Great. He's still functional. I'm bleeding out, and he's still functional.
"Missed," Ethan said, his voice thick. "Was aiming for your heart." He squatted down, bringing himself eye-level with Luke. "Guess I'm rattled."
Rattled. That's one word for it.
Luke tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. The blood loss was too much, too fast.
Come on. Move. Do something. Anything.
"Don't worry though." Ethan's smile was cold. "If my plans work out—when they work out—I'll prepare a place for you in that future. Then you can come hunt me yourself. Wouldn't that be something?"
Oh, I'll hunt you alright. Count on it.
He raised the magnum, pointing it directly at Luke's chest.
Well. This is it. Not how I planned to go out, but then again, nothing ever goes according to plan.
"Say hi to the devil for me, Luke."
"Pretty sure he's already standing right in front of me."
BANG.
Darkness.