Someone throws a grenade.
Bold.
I kick it back.
It detonates behind them, concussive force rattling the lobby and turning confidence into shrapnel. Smoke rolls in thick and gray. Alarms scream louder, desperate now.
“What a dumb fucking asshole.”
I move through the haze like it’s familiar territory.
A silhouette raises his weapon.
I fire first.
Another tries to flank. I bend down and steal a knife, flicking it at his thigh.His artery didn’t stand a chance.
He bleeds out in seconds, eyes wide, mouth working, no sound coming out.
They’re panicking now. Shooting at movement. Shooting at shadows. Shooting at each other.
I just guide the chaos.
One last man backs toward the doors, slipping on blood, rifle shaking in his hands. He looks at me like he finally understands the math.
I shoot him center mass.
Silence crashes down hard.
Smoke thins. Alarms keep screaming, but no one’s listening anymore.
I step over bodies, adjust my jacket, and walk to the elevator bank.
I press the call button.
Once.
Then I stand there, gum popping quietly in my mouth, breathing steady, waiting like I’m late for a meeting on the fiftieth floor.
Grim’s voice is quiet disbelief in my ear. “…Jesus Christ.”
“Lobby’s clear,” I say.
The elevator dings.
I smile and step inside.
Next stop: upstairs.
The elevator hums as it climbs, glass walls flashing past steel and night and blinking city lights. My reflection stares back at me. Blood-speckled. Calm. Chewing gum like I’ve got nowhere better to be.
Floor numbers tick up.
Twenty-one.
Twenty-two.
Twenty-three.
