ASCADRA TACTICAL TOWER — FLOOR 27, STRATEGY ROOM
The old elevator jerked to a stop. Its doors slid open slowly, revealing a metallic corridor bathed in dim red light. Two shadowy figures stepped out—Adilof Broxtler and Shyblance. Tense faces, weapons ready, breath held.
But before they could take another step—
CLANK!
Two figures blocked their path. A burly man with piercing eyes and a deep crimson cloak. Beside him, a tall, lean woman with tightly bound silver hair, clad in flexible armor, wearing a mocking smile.
"So you finally showed up. Two ghosts from a dead city," the man said.
"Us? Ghosts?" Shyblance narrowed her eyes. "Funny. You look like tin puppets running out of batteries."
"My name is Netanyavu," the man said, stepping forward. "And this is Angela Markef. We're not soldiers. We're executioners."
Broxtler stepped forward. "Good. I was looking for someone who could talk before getting crushed."
Angela chuckled softly, then... struck first.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
UNEQUAL FIGHT — BRUTAL AND CALCULATED
Angela shot forward like a lightning bolt, hurling a plasma dagger at Shyblance. But Shyblance twisted her body, parried with a short blade, and countered with a spinning kick into the wall.
Meanwhile, Netanyavu clashed directly with Broxtler. Their punches created shockwaves that shattered panels across the nearby walls.
"You're fast," Broxtler said, dodging an elbow strike.
"And you... think too much," Netanyavu replied.
They traded blows, kicks, even blasts from small weapons. Every move calculated, yet neither gained the upper hand. Locking, dodging, hurting.
On the other side, Angela and Shyblance fought with more agile motion. Angela aimed for vital points using deceptive movement, but Shyblance responded with unpredictable patterns, even throwing Angela into a control panel.
"You think you're the only one who learned to dance through fire?" Shyblance said, wiping blood from her lip.
Angela rose, smiling. "You haven't seen my real dance yet."
At the same time, Broxtler and Netanyavu collided in a devastating crash that destroyed part of the floor and the right wall. Plasma shots flared from both sides. But nothing fell. Not yet.
"We're the same. Two shadows from a world that never wanted us," Netanyavu said quietly.
"No," Broxtler replied. "I don't kill for maps. I fight for those with no place left."
"That makes you weak."
"That's exactly what makes me unstoppable."
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
THE VOICE THAT HALTED EVERYTHING
Suddenly, a loud, commanding voice echoed from the building intercom.
"ALL UNITS — IMMEDIATELY EVACUATE THE TOWER. MISSION COMPLETE. WE HAVE THE GOLD AND THE PRIMARY TARGET."
"Take Shyblance. NOW."
That voice... Benito Mussolina.
Broxtler paused. So did Netanyavu and Angela.
In the split second after that command...
Angela slammed into Shyblance from the side.
"SHY!" Broxtler shouted and tried to rush forward, but Netanyavu blocked him with a fiery explosion between them.
Shyblance tried to resist, but Angela had already pressed a neural disruptor to her pressure point.
"I'm taking her," Angela said, lifting Shyblance's semi-conscious body.
Broxtler tried to pursue, but smoke grenades and sonic launchers turned the room into a foggy chaos.
"We'll meet again," Netanyavu said before leaping back, vanishing with Angela.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
THIRTY MINUTES LATER — ASCADRA BASE IN SMOKE
Vladimir Lenan's troops finally reached the same tower floor—too late. All they found was rubble, footprints, and one visual message left by Benito Mussolina:
"ASCADRA IS YOURS. BUT THE GOLD IS MINE. AND THE GIRL... IS NOW A RANSOM."
Broxtler stood amid the wreckage. Breathing heavily. Hands trembling. But his face... cold as steel.
On his helmet screen, Shyblance's unconscious face replayed over and over.
"I'm coming, Shy..."
"This time... I'll show them what an angry shadow really is."
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
ASCADRA — OBSCURA ROOM, 03:21 AM
The sky was still dark. Smoke from the eastern sector's ruins drifted slowly, merging with the mist of dawn. The city still trembled after yesterday's invasion. But beyond the rubble, hidden from military radar, one figure walked slowly... limping, but not broken.
Adilof Broxtler.
No full armor, just a cracked chest plate and damaged electronic gloves. Gashes marked his left arm. His helmet was shattered. Breathing labored. But his eyes... sharp as the night he made his first kill.
He dragged himself to the Shadow Base, entering an underground passage even ASCADRA systems had forgotten. When the auto-metal door opened, he walked in and dropped into a rescue chair.
"Shyblance..."
The name slipped from his lips, not as hope... but as fire.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
SHADOW BASE — 04:09 AM
His body wrapped in emergency bandages. Wounds treated. But the rage... untouched.
He sat in the tactical room. Every screen lit. Images of Benito Mussolina, Netanyavu, Angela Markef—all present. But none held his focus more than a single red dot: the last coordinates of the enemy air vehicle that took Shyblance.
Broxtler stood. Approached the weapon wall. He opened a locker sealed by history. A weapon even Vladimir warned: never touch... unless the world was ending.
A black glove of liquid metal—an experimental technology from the past.
He gripped it. And whispered:
"If I'm to be a shadow\... then I'll sink deeper than you ever imagined."
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
STRATEGY ROOM — 04:41 AM
The entire enemy city map—RAVASNA—was displayed. Broxtler sat alone, mapping weak points in the security system. He wasn't rushing. He knew battles like this weren't won with rage, but with surgical silence.
He wrote on the screen:
"Today, I don't fight for virtue. I don't seek victory. I'm after... destruction."
He began tracing supply routes, logistics channels, blind spots in Ravasna's defenses. Each route marked in red. Each point reviewed again. He prepared not one, but five infiltration paths, all high risk. All possibly fatal.
And he was ready.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
SHADOW BASE — 06:16 AM
Broxtler stood before a mirror. No helmet. No smile. No hope. Only resolve remained. He donned his old combat jacket. Not flashy. Not heavy. But enough to march into hell.
He looked at a data log in the screen's corner—a short clip from yesterday's mission—the last moment Shyblance screamed while being taken by Angela and Netanyavu.
He played it again.
And again.
Until finally, he said...
"I'll save you... or destroy anyone who touches you. Nothing in between."
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧
TONIGHT, HE WILL MOVE.
But now... now he is a shadow.
And shadows don't strike first.
And shadows... don't come to greet.
Shadows come to haunt.
✦ ✧ ✦ ✧