Ashen Cole moved through the city like a ghost with a purpose. The streets were slick with recent rain, neon signs reflecting off puddles like fractured stars. Corporate towers loomed overhead, glass and steel cutting into the night sky, each window a potential threat, each shadow a hiding place. The air was heavy with exhaust and electricity, with the faint scent of fried street food wafting from vendors closing up for the night.
This was the city that had erased him. The city that had betrayed him, cheered for Marcus's promotions, and allowed Lena to smile while selling his life for comfort.
And tonight, it would see its first lesson in fear.
Nyx Vale's voice crackled in his earpiece.
"You're unsanctioned. Everything you do from here is on you. But we have assets who can help."
Ashen's smirk was faint. "Assets, distractions… semantics matter little to me."
"Use them wisely," she warned.
The assets arrived: Aria and Selene, twin assassins, identical and lethal. Their bodies moved with grace, curves and muscle honed to perfection. Every motion calculated to seduce, distract, and dismantle, yet Ashen knew better than to fall for it.
Aria leaned against a lamppost, black leather hugging her like a second skin. "Ashen Cole," she purred, letting her gaze linger. "Nyx told me you'd be interesting."
Selene appeared behind her, shadows mimicking shadows, eyes like a predator sizing up prey. "I hope you're worth our trouble," she said with a faint smile.
Ashen raised an eyebrow. Not prey. Tools.
Lesson learned long ago: charm is a weapon, and I am the wielder.
The mission: retrieve a corporate scientist selling illegal military tech. His lab was on the 47th floor of a glass tower in the heart of the city. From this height, the streets below looked like veins carrying the lifeblood of commerce—lights, cars, people—all utterly irrelevant to the game being played above.
The twins went to work. Aria brushed a guard's chest lightly, perfume filling his senses. "You're far too tense, darling," she whispered. The guard's rifle slipped from his grip.
Selene approached another, voice soft, eyes wide, tilting her head innocently. "I think you dropped something… your focus." The man froze, fingers trembling.
Ashen moved behind them, neural implant mapping cameras, sensors, patrols. Every step was precise, every kill pre-calculated.
Observation: humans are fragile. Charm amplifies weakness. I exploit both.
Inside the lab, the scientist cowered behind consoles, believing the height of his security and his own intellect could protect him. Ashen's blade caught the dim light as he moved silently. One slash, a precise cut across the throat, and the man's life ended. No screams. No panic—just mathematics executed cleanly.
"Polite," Ashen muttered under his breath. "Almost like a handshake… with consequences."
Then the unexpected.
A heavy footstep echoed.
A figure emerged from the shadows—broad-shouldered, middle-aged, confident, dressed in dark tactical gear. A scar ran from temple to jawline, teeth bared in a shameless grin.
"Ah! The famous Ashen Cole," the man said, twirling a knife. "I was wondering when I'd get to teach you a lesson in humility."
Ashen paused, tilting his head. So, not everything goes smoothly. Interesting.
This was the scientist's personal guard—older, experienced, and dangerous. But he had the arrogance of someone who had survived long by thinking he was invincible. Ashen recognized the familiar scent of overconfidence.
The fight began.
The guard struck first—a wide swing of his knife. Ashen sidestepped, barely, countering with a flick of his blade aimed at the man's chest. The guard laughed, blocking with the hilt of his own knife.
"You move well for a glorified recruit," the guard teased, ducking under Ashen's follow-up strike. "I was told you were the apocalypse. You're more like a mild inconvenience!"
Ashen smirked, ducking a knife thrust that would have split his ribs. "Mild inconvenience? I like that. Makes my work more entertaining."
The fight danced through the lab. Ashen used the environment: counters to vault, glass to shatter for distraction, and calculated angles of attack. Every move was precise, every kill attempt calculated, yet he had not yet taken the man seriously.
This man is skilled, shameless, and unafraid. I like that.
The twins contributed: Aria flipped over a counter, landing near the guard, forcing his attention. Selene tripped over equipment, drawing him toward her. Both distractions were subtle, seductive, but Ashen ignored their allure. Instead, he used them strategically.
One precise flick of the wrist sent the guard stumbling into the lab bench.
Ashen kicked a metallic chair into the guard's legs, tripping him just enough.
He drew a blade across the man's arm, leaving a shallow but painful gash.
All while muttering quietly:
"Careful, old man. That's a wrinkle you're messing with."
"Ah, yes, wisdom and agility combined. Not recommended."
"You really should have retired with dignity."
The guard laughed each time, clearly amused. "You're funny. Too bad you're also going to die."
The fight escalated.
Glass shattered. Sparks flew. Ashen dodged a knife embedded in a console. The guard barreled into a wall, then lunged again, energy undiminished despite the cuts.
Ashen realized—this was not like the others. Unit Seven was an accident. Marcus and Lena were predictable. This man… challenged him. Tested his limits. Made him feel the thrill of imperfection.
Interesting.
He adjusted, calculating, patience sharpening. He forced the guard to overextend, using his own weight against him, slamming him into equipment.
But the man countered with unexpected cunning—he grabbed a vial of chemicals, throwing it at Ashen's head. The liquid sizzled on contact with the floor.
Ashen quipped dryly: "Really? Toxic tricks? Amateur."
He used the moment to disarm him, spinning into a high kick that sent the guard staggering.
The twins continued their distractions flawlessly. Aria's hand grazed the guard's shoulder, fingers light as a feather, whispering words designed to confuse his attention. Selene laughed softly, letting her shadow flirt with his peripheral vision.
Ashen moved with precision, exploiting every distraction, every lapse in judgment. He left minor cuts and bruises—enough to hurt, not kill, forcing the guard to respect him.
The fight escalated into a brutal ballet:
Ashen flipped over tables to gain momentum.
Rolled under a swinging knife.
Slammed the guard into a console wall.
Twisted his wrist, disarming him.
Through it all, he quipped sarcastically:
"You fight like my grandmother… furious but predictable."
"Keep smiling, old man. It suits your impending demise."
"Ah, hubris. Delicious, if slightly overcooked."
But despite the precision, the guard survived, agile, clever, shamelessly laughing through the pain.
Ashen realized something important.
I am not invincible. Not yet. But that… excites me.
The guard's resilience awakened something dark in Ashen—a hunger not just for survival, but for power, control, domination.
Finally, both combatants paused, breath heavy, sweat and blood mixing on their faces.
"Not bad, boy," the guard said, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth. "You might actually be worth the hype. But don't get cocky. The city is bigger than you think. I could kill you, and there'd be ten more."
Ashen straightened his jacket, wiping blood off his blade. "Then I'll make sure there aren't ten more."
The twins watched silently, impressed, dangerous, poised. Aria whispered to Selene: "He's… something else."
Selene nodded. "He's officially dark. But still… human."
Ashen's gaze returned to the guard.
Perfect.
Humanity is weakness. I will exploit it. I will surpass it.
As the guard lunged again, knives flashing, the building alarmed. Red lights strobed the glass tower, warning of incoming security.
Ashen smirked, neural interface humming.
"Finally," he whispered. "A real challenge… and the city is just getting started."