At dawn, Fred stood on the rooftop overlooking one of Selene's prized holdings—a fortified black site disguised as a shipping company. Beneath the stacks of crates and humming forklifts, information flowed: weapons deals, bribes, threats. Every illegal operation Selene ran passed through this place in whispers and steel containers.
Mira appeared beside him, rain dripping from her hood.
"This is it," she said. "Hit this, and she'll bleed. Publicly. Badly."
Fred nodded, jaw set.
He felt the weight of the choice press down on him.
If they did this, there would be no way back.
Selene would unleash hell.
And Specter would come.
Exactly as they wanted.
"Ready?" Mira asked.
Fred glanced at her, saw the fierce determination in her eyes—and the sliver of fear she tried to hide.
"Born ready," he said.
They bumped fists once—an unspoken pact—and disappeared into the storm.
---
The plan was brutally simple.
First, kill the power.
Then, sow chaos.
Finally, grab the files and torch the evidence.
Mira worked the electrical grid, bypassing ancient security systems with brutal efficiency. Sparks showered as she yanked a main cable free, and the entire compound plunged into darkness.
Shouts rang out from confused guards.
Fred moved like a ghost through the confusion, disabling men with cold, precise strikes. Mira wasn't far behind, her silenced pistol flashing like a viper's fang.
Within minutes, the security was crippled, their radios jammed, their chain of command shattered.
Fred and Mira slipped into the main office building, breathless and running on adrenaline.
Inside the control room, servers blinked with encrypted data.
Mira got to work immediately, downloading everything onto a black drive.
Fred watched the door, pulse hammering in his ears.
Come on, come on, come on…
A heavy boom shook the floor beneath them—someone had finally realized something was wrong.
"Five minutes," Mira gritted out.
Fred nodded, checking his weapon.
And then he heard it.
A faint sound.
Not boots.
Not gunfire.
But something... softer.
A whisper against the storm.
His blood ran cold.
Specter.
He was already here.
---
They barely made it out of the building before the first shots rang out.
Not wild gunfire—precision strikes.
Guards fell, throats slit before they even saw their killer.
Fred shoved Mira into cover behind a stack of shipping containers.
"Go!" he shouted.
She hesitated only a second before nodding, sprinting for the extraction point.
Fred stayed behind, heart hammering.
He had to draw Specter out.
Had to give Mira the chance to escape with the files.
He slipped deeper into the maze of containers, baiting the shadow that stalked him.
Every sense was screaming.
He knew he was being watched.
Hunted.
---
Fred ducked behind a metal crate just as a blade flashed by his face.
Specter landed silently a few feet away, cloaked in black, mask featureless and cold.
No words.
No warnings.
Just death.
Fred fired twice.
Specter dodged, the bullets sparking uselessly against steel.
Then he moved—too fast, too fluid—and Fred barely blocked a brutal strike aimed at his throat.
Steel met steel as Fred parried with his knife.
The fight was vicious, silent, beautiful.
Each move meant to kill.
Each breath a gamble.
Fred felt himself slipping—Specter wasn't just good, he was inhuman.
Faster than anyone Fred had ever faced.
But Fred had something Specter didn't.
He had rage.
And rage, when wielded carefully, was a weapon no training could overcome.
---
Across the yard, Mira rigged explosives on the fuel tanks.
She knew Fred was stalling Specter.
She knew she had only one chance.
Heart pounding, she finished the wiring and whispered a silent prayer.
For Fred.
For herself.
For everything they had lost.
Then she hit the detonator.
The night exploded into fire and chaos.
Containers hurled through the air like toys.
Shockwaves knocked men flat.
Screams tore the air.
And amidst the carnage, Fred lunged with everything he had.
His blade found flesh.
Specter staggered—just for a second.
Enough.
Fred ran.
---
They regrouped at a secondary hideout hours later.
Both were bruised, bloody, and shaking.
Fred slumped against a wall, trying to catch his breath.
Mira dropped the black drive on the table between them.
"We got it," she said hoarsely.
Fred managed a weak smile.
They had wounded Selene.
Badly.
And somewhere out there, Specter was bleeding.
But Fred knew the truth.
This wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning.
Selene would retaliate.
Specter would come again.
And next time, there would be no second chances.
---