Krane stood at the head of the table, gloved hands behind his back. Still. Silent. Watching.
On the screen: a live feed — glitching static — Mira, bloodied and victorious. Glyphs still burned faintly on her skin.
Jonas lounged nearby, boots on the table, flicking a silver coin through his fingers.
"Damn. She's not dead." He shook his head. "I owe Evelyn twenty bucks."
Evelyn leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on the screen. Her voice was calm — but tight.
"She awakened the glyphs. The real ones. That's… not good."
Dave stood near the door, tense and silent. He hadn't said a word since they arrived.
Krane's voice was steady.
"She's getting closer."
Jonas scoffed.
"To what? Losing her damn mind?"
Krane turned slowly. No emotion. No humor. Just precision.
"To remembering who she is."
The silence thickened like smoke.
Krane's gaze slid from Jonas to Dave.
"You felt it too."
Not a question. A confirmation.
Jonas's grin faded. Dave swallowed hard.
Krane nodded once.
"Then let's give them a proper welcome."
Without glancing at the monitors, he continued:
"Six targets. Ground level. Closing in.
Two from the left corridor. Three behind the generator wall. One pacing the outer ring.
All trained.
I can hear it in their step rhythm. Shallow breathing. Foot pressure."
Jonas blinked.
"You just figured that out by listening? Man… you're like a murder bat with Wi-Fi."
Krane didn't respond.
"Positions. Three-on-six. Kill if you must."
He paused.
"And when it's over… I'll take my whiskey neat."
Jonas stood, cracking his neck.
"You got it, boss. A little blood, a little bourbon."
He glanced toward Evelyn.
"Lock the door. Don't open it unless it's one of us."
Evelyn nodded once and turned the lock without a word.
Krane exhaled slowly —
Like a man settling into something familiar.
"Let's begin."
The hallway outside the control room was silent.
Too silent.
Then—
A low rumble.
Boots.
Six shadows creeping through the dim-lit corridor like wolves on a hunt.
They didn't know they were prey.
Inside the control room, Krane adjusted his gloves.
"No guns. Let them feel it."
Jonas cracked his knuckles.
"Music to my damn ears."
Dave stayed quiet. He'd fought these kinds before—mercs, darkhunters, soul-hunters.
But tonight?
Tonight felt different.
The first team of three breached through the side entrance.
Bad move.
Before the first man even cleared the threshold—
Krane moved.
Fast. Silent. Lethal.
He grabbed the man's wrist mid-lunge, twisted, and slammed him into the steel wall.
Hard enough to dent it.
Crack. Neck. Done.
Another swung—Krane ducked low, swept the legs, and drove a knife under the jaw in one clean motion.
The third managed to raise a blade—
Only for Jonas to flick a coin straight into his eye socket.
"Deadshot with pocket change. I'm goated."
The second wave hit harder.
Three highly-trained bastards. Smart enough to split.
But Dave was waiting.
The first came from behind, blade drawn.
Dave caught it. With his bare hand. Blood dripped, but he didn't flinch.
Just leaned in.
"You missed my heart."
He slammed the attacker into the floor—hard enough to shatter bone.
Another leapt from the shadows—
Only to be caught mid-air by Jonas, who grabbed his collar and flung him into the glass wall. The monitor behind them cracked.
The last one tried to run.
Bad idea.
Krane flicked his wrist.
Something unseen sliced the man in half.
He never even blinked.
The room fell still.
Six bodies.
Blood pooling.
No time wasted.
Krane pulled off his gloves, wiping them clean.
"Sloppy," he muttered. "But effective."
Then—
Silence.
The bodies on the floor—
Twitched.
Moved.
Rose.
All six.
Cracking. Standing again.
Jonas:
"Yo… what the hell?"
Their eyes were empty now. Faces blank.
But they stood like puppets, strung by something far beyond the grave.
And then—
The door creaked.
A shadowed figure stepped into the room.
Tall. Calm. Hoodie pulled low. Boots echoing on the metal floor.
His voice was low. Controlled.
"Impressive. You managed to drop six of my best."
Jonas raised his weapon slowly.
"So what… you the clean-up crew?"
Krane narrowed his eyes.
"Who the hell are you?"
The figure didn't answer.
He just smiled.