The moment James stepped through the ruined entrance, the first burst of gunfire ripped through the smoke, forcing him into a sharp dive behind a toppled steel door. Bullets rattled off the walls, kicking up sparks and sending shards of concrete flying.

  He had expected resistance—but not this fast.

  James peeked out, his glowing blue eyes cutting through the haze. At least a dozen guards had taken up positions behind overturned tables, makeshift barricades, and reinforced cover. Flashlights from rifles sliced through the dark, sweeping the ruined entryway, searching for movement.

  “He’s inside! Lock down the upper floors!” one of them shouted.

  James grinned. They weren’t trying to drive him out.

  They were trying to keep him from going deeper.

  A quick scan told him everything he needed to know: two teams—one holding the main corridor, another on the flanks, trying to box him in. A few were better equipped—body armor, military-grade weapons—but the rest were just security grunts, expendable.

  James popped up, bracing his HK416, and let out a quick, controlled burst.

  The first guard staggered back, his chestplate catching the rounds, but the force sent him crashing into the floor. Before anyone could react, James rolled out of cover, switching to full auto.

  The entire entryway erupted into chaos.

  Guards shouted, scattering for new positions, but James was already moving. He vaulted over a broken table, swinging his knife in a brutal arc, slicing deep across the nearest soldier’s throat.

  Blood sprayed.

  James ripped the man’s rifle from his hands, spun it, and fired it one-handed at the next closest target.

  The second man barely had time to flinch before a burst of rounds tore through his torso.

  More gunfire lit up the room, the deafening cracks of automatic weapons drowning out the screaming.

  James ducked low, moving fast and unpredictable, weaving between cover as bullets chewed through everything around him.

  He grabbed a dead guard’s smoke grenade, yanked the pin, and tossed it into the center of the room.

  The choking gray fog exploded outward, plunging the firefight into near-blindness.

  James thrived in this. They however did not.

  He rushed forward, silent, cutting down two men before they even realized he was there.

  A panicked MGI guard spun in the mist, spraying blind fire.

  James grabbed him by the back of the neck, slammed him face-first into a steel bulkhead, and left him twitching on the floor.

  The smoke was starting to clear. The ventilation cleaning it out quickly.

  Two remaining guards had fallen back toward the hall, trying to regroup. James reloaded, chambering a fresh round, and pressed forward.

  The first floor was a sprawling facility—barracks, mess halls, and staff quarters. Low ceilings, tight corridors, perfect for ambushes.

  James moved through the wreckage of the battle, stepping over shattered bodies as he cleared each room.

  A dim light flickered above, casting long, shifting shadows.

  Some areas were empty, the occupants having fled deeper into the bunker. But others…

  He passed a mess hall, half-eaten meals still steaming on metal trays. Papers and supplies had been knocked over in a rush.

  There were signs of a hurried evacuation.

  James heard movement ahead.

  He raised his rifle—

  And a gunshot punched into his chest.

  A solid, concussive impact.

  James stumbled back, breath hitching. His entire torso felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer.

  For a split second, he thought it had gone through—but then he felt it.

  The thick, reinforced plate armor beneath his vest, the three-inch plasteel catching the round.

  James exhaled sharply—then grinned.

  “Nice try.”

  The guard who had fired went pale, realizing his mistake.

  James charged. The man scrambled to reload, but James was already on him.

  He grabbed the barrel, jerked it aside, and slammed his elbow into the guard’s face.

  Cartilage crunched. The man staggered back, nose shattered, blood pouring down his chin.

  James didn’t stop. He drove his knee into the guy’s ribs, lifted him by the vest, and threw him straight into a steel table.

  The guard tried to rise—James stomped on his neck, ending it instantly.

  He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. The shot left a bruise, but nothing worse.

  He kept moving. James swept through the sleeping quarters, rifle up, checking every corner. The rooms were empty, bunks overturned, sheets left in disarray.

  Some lockers were still open, uniforms and gear half-pulled out.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  They had evacuated in a hurry.

  He moved to the next wing, stepping into a hall lined with doors—some marked for officer quarters, others leading to security offices.

  A noise behind him. James turned—just in time to see a knife coming for his throat.

  He leaned back, barely dodging the blade as it whizzed past his jugular.

  The attacker was fast, moving with precise, trained efficiency.

  James blocked the next strike, catching the soldier’s wrist before twisting it hard.

  A sharp pop—the wrist snapped, the knife clattering to the floor.

  The soldier gasped—James grabbed him by the collar, spun him, and slammed his skull into the wall.

  The body slid to the floor, unmoving.

  James exhaled, rolling his hurt shoulder again.

  Then he saw it. A door at the end of the hallway—marked "Lab and Testing."

  James stepped forward, checking his ammo. The next floor was waiting.

  James pressed forward, stepping through the command access door as it slid open with a mechanical hiss. The hallway beyond was different—no longer a military barracks, but something colder, sterile, lined with reinforced doors and observation windows.

  Prison cells. Labs. It was a testing ground for this facility.

  The air was thick with antiseptic and blood, a metallic sting that settled deep in the lungs. Flickering overhead lights cast long, distorted shadows, making the already claustrophobic hall feel endless.

  James moved cautiously, rifle up, scanning the rooms as he passed.

  Most were empty but then he reached the first occupied cell.

  Inside, a man sat slumped against the wall, his body covered in grotesque surgical scars, tubes still attached to his arms. His eyes were glazed over, staring at nothing.

  James tapped the glass with his knuckles.

  The man didn’t move. He was already dead, sitting upright like a discarded doll.

  James exhaled through his nose, stepping past.

  The next few cells held more horrors—mutated figures, bodies twisted beyond human recognition. Some were missing limbs, others had mechanical implants fused directly into their flesh.

  Some were still alive—whimpering, twitching, eyes pleading through the glass.

  James kept walking. He couldn’t save them. Then, he stopped. The last cell was different.

  It was smaller, the restraints built for something tiny.

  James stepped closer and saw the kid.

  A boy—maybe nine or ten—strapped to a gurney, his body a patchwork of scars and mechanical grafts. His skin was gray, stretched thin over protruding bones. His eyes one light blue, the other an MGI-enhanced optic blinked weakly as he turned his head toward James.

  A slow, shuddering breath left the kid’s lips.

  “It hurts,” he whispered. James clenched his jaw.

  He looked at the restraints, the IV lines feeding the boy something thick and black.

  There was no fixing this. James slowly knelt beside the gurney, placing a steady hand on the kid’s head.

  The boy didn’t flinch. Didn’t beg. He just waited.

  James inhaled, then pressed his knife to the kid’s neck.

  A quiet second passed.

  Then, a single muffled cry. The boy went still.

  James stood up, turned toward the next door, leading deeper into the bunker.

  James stepped into what had to be the floor the power plant was on. The dim light from emergency fixtures casting long shadows against the steel walls. The hum of the reactor vibrated through the floor, a deep, pulsating thrum that signaled raw, barely-contained energy.

  He scanned the area, searching for the reactor room, the place he’d either overload or set charges to destroy this entire bunker.

  Then he heard footsteps. Slow. Measured. Confident.

  James turned just as a woman stepped into the hall.

  Silver hair. Cherenkov blue eyes.

  His muscles tensed. His grip on his combat knife tightened.

  She smiled—not friendly, not cruel, but like she had been waiting for this.

  "Of all the people to come… it’s you." Ava’s voice was smooth, laced with amusement, as if this was just another day in her life.

  James didn’t return the sentiment. His eyes burned cold, his expression unreadable.

  "Was it you, Sister, who killed Kelly?" Ava’s smirk widened.

  "Yeah," she admitted without hesitation. "She was the first I was able to track down."

  James stared at her. "Why?"

  Ava tilted her head slightly, like it was the stupidest question in the world.

  "Because you’re all traitors." James didn’t react. Didn’t argue. Didn’t even blink.

  Ava moved first. James barely had time to duck as her blade slashed for his throat, the air hissing from the sheer speed of her strike.

  She was fast. James barely rolled aside, spinning on his heel as she lunged again—a low, brutal thrust aimed straight for his gut.

  He parried, metal screeching against metal as their knives locked together.

  Ava’s grin widened. Then she kicked him in the ribs—hard.

  James staggered back, feeling the shock rattle through his core.

  She came in fast, pressing the attack—a flurry of rapid slashes, precise and lethal.

  James dodged, blocked, countered, but she wasn’t just fast she was also brutal.

  Ava feinted left, then twisted her entire body—her knife sank deep into his side, slicing through the fabric of his shirt, digging into flesh.

  James gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain as he wrenched himself free, blood dripping from the wound.

  He countered immediately, slamming his elbow into her jaw, then grabbing her wrist and twisting hard.

  Her knife dropped—but she didn’t even flinch.

  She headbutted him—hard enough to make his vision blur.

  James staggered, but he refused to fall.

  Ava wiped blood from her lip and picked up her knife, grinning. "What’s wrong, Brother? Getting slow in your old age?"

  James said nothing. Talking was a distraction.

  He lunged forward, kicking her knee, forcing her to adjust her stance.

  She countered—a brutal slash aimed at his ribs.

  James turned with the attack, taking the cut along his side instead of through his stomach. The pain was sharp, hot, but it didn’t stop him.

  He used the momentum, grabbing her arm and driving his knife toward her throat.

  She blocked at the last second, twisting free—but James had already predicted it.

  The moment she moved—he struck.

  A quick, sharp stab under her ribs, driving deep into her lung.

  Ava’s eyes widened.

  For the first time, her smirk vanished.

  She stepped back, her breath hitching as she looked down at the knife buried in her side.

  James ripped it free, blood spilling onto the steel floor.

  Ava stumbled, her balance finally failing. She fell against the reactor wall, panting, her body shaking.

  And then for the first time she looked afraid.

  "James…I—" Her voice wavered, her head twitching slightly.

  James narrowed his eyes. Something wasn’t right.

  Her optical implants flickered, and she clutched her skull, gasping like she was drowning.

  It clicked. She wasn’t in control. James pulled his hacking module from his belt, moving quickly. He grabbed the exposed port near the base of her neck, connecting the device, overriding whatever MGI had planted inside her mind.

  Ava screamed. Her body seized, her fingers clawing at her own skin as the system reset.

  Then—silence. She slumped forward, gasping, her glowing blue eyes dimmed, softer.

  James caught her before she hit the ground, holding her upright.

  Ava looked at him, truly looked at him, her expression stripped of all malice.

  Her voice was weak, but real.

  "Thank you."

  James said nothing.

  He just held her steady as life faded from her eyes.