Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

Gunfire cracked through the warehouse.

Ethan ducked behind the crates, lungs burning, muscles aching. The air stank of gunpowder and blood.

He didn't know how many he had dropped by now—seven? Nine? Maybe more. All he knew was that the clip was down to five.

Five shots left. And too many enemies.

"Why are there so many of them?" Ethan muttered.

He didn't have time to think about the number. His breathing was shallow and controlled. Every time he peeked, he saw more boots storming in.

Reinforcements. Either Donald had too many men or these guards were multiplying like insects.

Ethan held the gun with shaky fingers, biting back the dread rising in his chest.

Across the room, Mark hadn't moved much.

He still had Donald in a tight hold, the magnum pressed against his temple. The man was pale, sweating bullets, but alive—because Mark allowed it.

And Mark?

He was still calm. Too calm. Like all of this was not something for him to be panicked.

He didn't help Ethan directly. Not often. He only fired when someone got too close, or when a guard tried to line up a shot on Ethan from a distance.

Like a shadow with a gun, Mark operated in bursts. He was cold, controlled, and deadly.

One shot, one kill.

And only when necessary.

He'd dropped maybe three men so far. That was it.

Gunfire thundered again as more guards stormed in from the side door, their boots slamming against the concrete floor like a wave of chaos crashing in.

Ethan barely had time to react.

He turned and fired. One went down. Another ducked.

He raised his gun again, but this time, he was too slow.

A shot hit his shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground behind a stack of pallets. His gun slipped from his grip and clattered a few feet away.

"Arghh!" he groaned, clutching his shoulder.

Blood leaked through his shirt, warm and fast. His breath came in quick, ragged gasps.

"Damn it!"

He reached for the gun with trembling fingers but stopped when he heard footsteps closing in.

Too many.

Too close.

They were coming for him.

He looked at Mark's direction. He wondered why Mark hadn't come to the rescue.

But before the guards could get close, a blur of motion stopped them in their tracks.

A woman appeared, her movements smooth and deliberate. She positioned herself protectively in front of Ethan, her posture relaxed yet exuding a suffocating aura.

"Don't move or you'll die," she ordered.

The guards stopped, they didn't know why they listened to her but they knew one thing. She was dangerous.

Ethan was surprised when he saw the newcomer. She was very beautiful, with bright green eyes that seemed to see everything. She moved with a calm and powerful grace that made the air around her feel tense.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, showing off her sharp cheekbones and a faint scar along her jawline, a reminder of past battles. She wore a fitted leather jacket, and her stance showed both elegance and strength.

"Who—" Ethan began, but the woman cut him off with a slight smile.

"Hello, Ethan," she said in a smooth, measured tone.

Then, turning her attention to Mark, who was a bit away from them, she added, "You're getting slow, Mark. I thought you'd have had this wrapped up already."

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"Maybe. But I was checking on something interesting." Mark glanced her way, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "By the way, good to see you here, Maya."

Donald's face twisted in shock and anger.

"Maya?" he spat. "You're one of them! One of the Five Ghosts of Nemesis!"

Maya didn't bother denying it. She simply raised an eyebrow, her expression one of mild amusement.

"You are stating the obvious, Donald."

While she was talking, gunfire erupted outside the warehouse. The sharp sounds echoed through the walls.

"More enemies?" The guards flinched, their confidence faltering further. "What do we do now?"

"Boss said they are the Five Ghosts of Nemesis..."

"We're doomed."

Maya tilted her head slightly, listening to the chaos.

Then, in a voice dripping with calm authority, she said, "Ezra's handling the front. Steve's probably working the perimeter. And Yamal…"

She smiled faintly. "Well, let's just say your guards are about to have a very bad day."

Donald's face drained of color. He looked from Maya to Mark, then back to the door, panic creeping into his voice.

"All of them? Here? No… no, this can't be."

Ethan's gaze flicked to Mark. "The Five Ghosts?" he asked quietly.

Mark's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

"I'll fill in the details later." Maya turned to Ethan with a small, knowing smile. "Let's just say you're in very capable hands."

Donald began to tremble violently as the weight of the situation sank in.

The Five Ghosts of Nemesis—Mark, Maya, Ezra, Steve, and Yamal—were legends in their field, operatives whose exploits were whispered about in the darkest corners of the underworld.

They were specialists in infiltration, assassination, and dismantling entire organizations. And now, they were all here.

Even with more than 300 guards under his command, Donald knew he stood no chance. His empire, his influence, his power, it all meant nothing in the face of this team.

Donald tried to steady his voice. "Wait. Wait. We can talk. There's no need for this. We can work something out."

"Oh, we're past talking, Donald. You made the mistake of crossing someone under our protection." Maya's expression turned cold, her playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. "Well, not directly but who cares."

Ethan's eyebrows shot up at her words, but he stayed silent. His mind raced as he tried to process the situation.

Mark shifted slightly, keeping the magnum on Donald.

"You have two options," he said flatly. "Stand down and let us walk out of here, or find out just how fast we can destroy everything you've built."

The guards looked to Donald for guidance, but his expression was a mixture of fear and desperation. The sound of another explosion outside shook the walls, and the lights flickered momentarily.

"Hear that? That was the intro. I believe more is coming." Maya's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "I'd choose wisely if I were you."

Donald's face had gone pale, and his once-confident demeanor crumbled completely. His hands trembled as he raised them slightly, signaling surrender.

Beads of sweat rolled down his temple as he croaked out, "Alright, alright… I'll let you guys go. No trouble. You have my word."

"Good," Mark said.

Still, he didn't relax his grip on Donald, and the magnum stayed firmly pressed against his head.

"Move," Mark ordered.

His cold, unwavering gaze made it clear he didn't trust the man for a second.

"Wait! Wait! What is this?" Donald asked in a panic. "I've given you my words"

"Your words? You know yourself better, Donald."

The guards, sensing the shift in power, hesitated, their weapons lowered slightly as they looked to Donald for further orders.

He looked pale as he shook his head. The order was clear. They would allow the Five Ghosts of Nemesis and Ethan to walk out of the place.

The tension in the room was suffocating, yet Ethan remained silent, his mind racing as he calculated the potential outcomes. His sharp eyes darted from Donald to the guards, then back to Mark and Maya.

"Are they really going to let us walk out of here?" Ethan asked. "I mean just like that?"

Maya turned toward Ethan with an expression that was both curious and deadly serious. She didn't answer him but she wanted an answer from him.

"Ethan," she said, her voice smooth yet laced with steel. "Is this how you want things to end?"

Ethan blinked, caught slightly off guard by the question.

"What do you mean?"

Maya's green eyes locked onto his, unflinching and probing.

"If you want us to leave it here, we'll walk out, no problem," she continued, gesturing casually toward the door. "But if you think this isn't enough… if you want us to kill everyone here, we can. That's what we do."

Her words were calm, almost casual, but the weight behind them was suffocating. Besides, she had released her killing intent toward the others.

The effect was too much for Donald and his guards to take. They were trembling in fear. Some of them were on the brink of fainting.

"Can you really do that?" Ethan asked.

"Of course," Maya replied, her tone softer now as she glanced at Mark. "Mark's done more for us than you can imagine. If you want it, we'll burn this place to the ground and make sure no one ever dares to come near you or the Moores again. For him."

Ethan looked at Mark and then at Donald and the enemies. The sound of gunfire and explosions could still be heard outside.

Mark's grip on Donald tightened slightly, but he didn't speak. His steady presence, however, made it clear that he trusted Ethan's decision.

Whatever Ethan chose, Mark would back him.

Ethan inhaled slowly, holding his breath in his chest for just a second longer than usual.

Maya's words echoed in his mind, sharper than any bullet.

He kept his face neutral—no twitch, no flinch—but inside, his thoughts clashed like a storm behind locked doors.

This wasn't just about Donald anymore. Or the Moores. This was about the road ahead. About what kind of man he was becoming with each step down this path.

'I should let them handle it. Let them kill the rest. At least… not by my own hand,' he told himself, trying to rationalize. 'I've already killed. Isn't that enough?'

But even as the thought settled, another voice pushed through.

'Giving the order… is still blood on my hands. It doesn't matter who pulls the trigger. I'd still be the one who let it happen.'

His jaw tightened slightly.

The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant thud of gunfire and the mechanical hum of something running outside the warehouse. It felt like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for his answer.

Was this leadership? Was this what power looked like?

Making decisions that could not be undone.

He glanced down at his hands—one still trembling faintly from the recoil, the other smeared with blood from his wounded shoulder. 'How many more times will I have to make choices like this?'

Then, he raised his head.

His voice didn't shake. He had made his decision.