Back at the Nest.

In the dead of night, when all was still and quiet, a massive explosion shattered the silence with a deafening boom. 

The ground shook violently beneath, scaring birds from their roosts and sending them flocking toward the sky in panicked chaos.

Alarms blared throughout the massive estate, jolting awake those who slept and alarming those still on duty. Footsteps thundered through every corner as shouts echoed from near and far.

“What’s happening?” 

Clement burst into the monitoring room, unusually disheveled—a rare sight for someone the Nest’s residents only ever saw in crisp, perfectly ironed suits.

“Sir, the weapons room exploded!” 

The underling responsible for monitoring the estate gasped in shock. He’d been watching the screens diligently when suddenly one corner of the multiple CCTV feeds buzzed out, followed immediately by the earth-shaking explosion. He was stunned for a moment, before finally regaining his senses and sounded the alarms.

On the screens, men in suits ran toward the burning area—some carrying hoses, others wielding fire extinguishers, while more scattered throughout the vicinity, searching for whoever was responsible for this surprise attack in the middle of the night.

Ferraro sat behind his wide desk, hands clasped in a tower before his face as he leaned forward. He’d been about to retire for the night when the commotion erupted. Now, it was impossible to tell what the boss was thinking.

But the doorman standing watch could feel the room grow several degrees colder. His spine tingled with instinctive warning of something dangerous. 

For him that was watching, from within the shadows obscuring Ferraro’s face, those reddish-brown eyes glowed magma-red, like a predator poised to pounce yet barely reining himself in.

****

“Where’s Zed?”

“He’s with Matt, currently heading northwest.”

“What about the tails?”

“Ahh, that something Fangs? Nah, leave them to us.” 

The voice transmitted over the phone was languid, as if the speaker were on vacation, lazily soaking under the sun—if not for the rapid artillery fire and battle shouts audible in the background.

Of course, infiltrating the Nest wasn’t a walk in the park. But for these elite-trained soldiers/assassins, it was perhaps only slightly more challenging than a stroll—but it doesn’t mean failure, failure didn’t exist in their vocabulary.

In the forest northwest of the estate, shadows whooshed past like demons hunting for flesh. Sparks of gunfire and clashing blades intermittently illuminated the vast darkness.

“Oi, Max! Three o’clock!”

A thin blade flew through the air and struck the forehead of a man in a black suit who’d been raising his gun.

“Thanks.” Max glanced up at the branch above his head where his teammate Knox crouched.

Knox threw him a disappointed glare.

Max raised his hand defensively, then sighed in exasperation. “What? It’s the boss… Okay, okay, I know the guy was there. I was about to shoot, but you were faster.” He waved dismissively.

“Okay, update me with the details later.” An audible voice sounded from the speaker before going silent with a beep.

“Heads up, people. The real deal is coming.”

Another shadow whooshed past and landed just beneath the two, dressed in dark combat attire with two rifles strapped to his back.

“Ah, finally. Now I can really stretch my muscles.”

Max bent at the waist—backward, forward, then side to side. If one listened closely, they’d hear the slight clink of metal from the pouch on his back. He called them his treasured hunting knives, his babies—blades sharp enough to cut steel like tofu, coated with an unknown poison. The most dangerous feature was the invisible string attached to each, allowing him to control their trajectory and retract them at will.

“Where are the others?” Knox dropped from above to land beside Sam.

“Five are engaging the Jaguars head-on, while two are distracting the Twin Fangs who are trying to catch up with Matt and Zed.” Sam gave a brief account.

“Which two?” 

Max landed beside them. At close proximity, Sam could now clearly see the dark stains on Max’s suit and gloves. Only then did he notice the countless bodies scattered among the branches and on the ground, and the stench of blood dominating the entire area.

“Vince and Dev,” Sam answered, scanning their surroundings with vigilant eyes.

They really did a fine job. Or should I say an over-the-top fine job.

Actually, he’d been with the others earlier. Just a few kilometers away was a clearing where the main battle had occurred. Those who’d escaped or formed another group to assist the Twin Fangs had been intercepted by Max and Knox, who’d volunteered to finish them off. Of course, no one had argued—everyone knew how skilled and in sync these two predators were.

“They’ll be fine. Now, let’s go join in on the fun.”

The three shadows vanished into the darkness. 

The night had only just begun, and the hunters were far from finished.