SSS-Rank Corporate Predator System

Silence.

A heavy, listening silence fell over the loading dock, broken only by the confused grunts of the thugs as they untangled themselves.

"Where the hell is he?" the one with the knife snarled, his head whipping back and forth.

They were disoriented.

Their perfect, simple plan had just evaporated into thin air.

They were looking for a scared kid.

They had no idea they were trapped in here with a monster.

Miles stood on top of a stack of rusted shipping containers, twenty feet above them, completely hidden in the deep shadows.

The world below looked like a training simulation.

The system painted each of the four thugs in a faint red outline, their heat signatures glowing in the dark.

[TARGET ACQUIRED: HOSTILE 1. THREAT LEVEL: LOW. ARMED WITH MELEE WEAPON.]

This was the one who had lunged with the knife.

He was closest to Broker, still looking around in a panicked circle.

Miles decided to make an example of him.

He pushed off the edge of the container, dropping into the darkness like a stone.

He landed on the pavement behind the man without a sound, his body absorbing the impact with practiced ease.

The thug didn't even know he was there.

Miles summoned his weapon.

[ACTIVATING: PHANTOM EDGE.]

A blade of pure, shimmering darkness, a slice of the night sky, formed in his hand.

It made no sound.

It reflected no light.

It was the perfect tool for a ghost.

He stepped forward.

The blade swung in a silent, fluid arc.

It passed through the man's back as if it were made of smoke.

The thug froze.

He let out a small, confused grunt.

He looked down, but there was no wound.

No blood.

Then he pitched forward, collapsing onto the concrete like a puppet with its strings cut.

He never made another sound.

One down.

The other three saw their companion fall.

Panic, raw and electric, flashed across their faces.

"What was that?" the one with the wrench yelled, his voice cracking. "Vince? Get up!"

But Vince wasn't getting up.

Broker had backed away, his face pale, his hand reaching inside his suit jacket.

He was no longer the smug salesman.

He was just another scared man in a dark place.

[TARGET ACQUIRED: HOSTILE 2. THREAT LEVEL: LOW. ARMED WITH IMPROVISED WEAPON.]

This was the wrench-wielder from the crane cab.

He was staring in horror at his fallen friend, his back completely exposed.

Another amateur.

Miles moved.

[ACTIVATING: PHANTOM DRIFT.]

He became a blur of motion, a shadow flowing over the cracked concrete.

He appeared directly behind the man.

This time, he didn't use the blade.

He wanted to make some noise.

To sow more terror.

He pulled his fist back.

[ACTIVATING: PULSE BREAK.]

A faint blue light flickered around his knuckles.

He slammed his fist into the man's spine.

THUMP.

It was a dull, resonant sound, like hitting a drum filled with wet sand.

The thug let out a high-pitched shriek as he was launched forward, his feet leaving the ground.

He flew a full ten feet before crashing headfirst into the side of a metal dumpster with a sickening, metallic clang.

He slid to the ground in a boneless heap, silent and still.

Two down.

The remaining two thugs, the ones from the rooftop, were now in a full-blown panic.

They stood back-to-back, their weapons raised, their eyes darting wildly into the oppressive darkness.

"Show yourself, you freak!" one of them screamed, his voice thin and reedy with fear.

Miles obliged.

He used [Echo Step], not to move, but just to create the brief, stuttering shimmer of his afterimage in the open, right under the flickering orange lamp.

Just for a second.

A ghost appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye.

It was enough.

The two thugs yelled and opened fire.

Their weapons weren't guns.

They were low-grade, black-market energy projectors, firing bolts of crackling red plasma.

The plasma bolts ripped through the air, sizzling where the afterimage had been, leaving scorch marks on the concrete.

They were firing blindly, wildly, spraying energy into the shadows.

Idiots.

While they were distracted, Miles circled around them, a phantom in the night.

He closed the distance silently.

He reached the first shooter, who was still firing at shadows.

He brought the hilt of his [Phantom Edge] down hard on the back of the man's skull.

A solid, satisfying crack.

The man dropped without a word.

Three down.

The last thug heard his partner fall.

He spun around, his eyes wide with terror.

And he finally saw him.

Miles was standing right there, the blade of pure darkness held loosely in his hand, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood.

The thug let out a terrified sob and fired his weapon, a desperate, point-blank shot.

Miles didn't even move.

He just raised the flat of his blade.

The plasma bolt hit the [Phantom Edge] and simply… vanished.

Absorbed.

Consumed.

The thug stared, his mind unable to process what he had just seen.

That brief moment of shock was all Miles needed.

He stepped forward and drove his foot into the man's knee.

There was a wet, snapping sound, and the man screamed, collapsing to the ground, his leg bent at a horrific, unnatural angle.

Four down.

The fight was over.

It had taken less than thirty seconds.

Miles let the [Phantom Edge] dissolve back into harmless smoke.

He turned his attention to the last man standing.

Broker.

The data-chip dealer was frozen in place, his hand still inside his jacket, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated terror.

He had just watched his entire ambush team get dismantled by a ghost.

Miles began to walk toward him, his steps slow, deliberate, and loud in the sudden silence.

Broker finally snapped out of his paralysis.

He fumbled inside his coat and pulled out a small, ornate data-chip.

The Aegis Shield.

He threw it on the ground between them.

"Take it!" he shrieked, his voice cracking. "It's yours! Just… just let me go! Please!"

Miles stopped.

He looked down at the data-chip, then back up at the terrified man.

He walked past the chip, not even giving it a second glance.

He closed the distance until he was standing just inches from Broker.

He reached out, grabbed the front of the man's expensive suit, and slammed him hard against the brick wall of the warehouse.

Broker's head hit the bricks with a dull thud.

He whimpered, tears of fear and pain streaming down his face.

Miles summoned the [Phantom Edge] again, the blade of darkness appearing in his hand with a silent, terrifying finality.

He pressed the impossibly sharp tip against Broker's throat.

Broker squeezed his eyes shut, sobbing openly now.

Miles leaned in close, his voice a low, cold whisper that cut through the night.

"You wanted a deal," Miles said.

"Let's negotiate."

"You're going to tell me everything you know about the people who supply you."