The city of Albu Kamal sat under a blanket of darkness, its quiet streets betraying nothing of the chaos about to unfold. Marcus moved through the shadows like a ghost, his breathing steady despite the tension thrumming in the air. He had spent hours studying the compound Khalid bin Zahir called home. Guards moved in pairs, their patrols tight but predictable. Inside the walls was Khalid—a key player in the network that had shattered Marcus’s life. Tonight, Marcus would end his role in the game.
From his position on a rooftop, Marcus studied the guards through his binoculars. A total of twelve, armed and alert, but not expecting what was coming. Marcus adjusted his Glock and knife, checked the suppressor, and made his move.
---
The first guard went down silently, Marcus’s blade sliding across his throat as he dragged the body into the shadows. The second guard was harder; he turned at the last moment, catching a glimpse of Marcus in the corner of his eye. Before he could shout, Marcus lunged, driving his blade into the man’s chest and twisting until the struggling stopped.
As Marcus slipped closer to the compound, he felt the shift in the air. The guards were starting to sense something was wrong. Two men near the back entrance had stopped their patrol, their rifles up, scanning the darkness. Marcus crouched low, calculating his approach.
A faint crunch of gravel betrayed his position. One of the guards shouted, raising his weapon. Marcus fired first, the suppressed shots dropping the first man before his finger even touched the trigger. The second managed to fire a wild burst, the bullets grazing Marcus’s shoulder as he rolled to the side. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Marcus returned fire, hitting the guard center mass.
Blood seeped through his jacket, the wound burning as he pressed a hand to his shoulder. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it would slow him down. He pushed the pain aside. There was no room for weakness now.
---
Inside the compound, chaos was brewing. The muffled sounds of gunfire had reached the men inside, and they were scrambling. Marcus moved quickly, entering through the back door and making his way down a dimly lit hallway. A guard stepped into his path, his rifle already raised, but Marcus was faster. He fired twice, the shots tearing through the man’s chest. Another guard rushed him from the side, swinging the butt of his rifle. Marcus ducked the swing, driving his knife into the man’s ribs before finishing him with a clean shot.
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By the time Marcus reached the main room, his shoulder throbbed, blood dripping steadily, but his movements remained precise. He kicked the door open, his Glock raised, and found Khalid at the head of a table with three lieutenants. The men froze, their eyes wide with shock.
Marcus didn’t give them time to react. His first shot dropped one of the lieutenants, the second hit another in the throat. The third dove for cover, his rifle spitting bullets in a panicked burst. Marcus ducked behind a column, returning fire and hitting the man in the leg. The lieutenant collapsed with a scream, his weapon clattering to the ground. Marcus stepped out, finishing him with a single shot.
Khalid had drawn a pistol, but his hands were shaking. He pointed it at Marcus, his finger on the trigger, but Marcus fired first. The shot hit Khalid in the shoulder, sending the pistol flying as he cried out in pain and fell to the floor.
---
Marcus crossed the room quickly, kicking Khalid’s weapon away before dragging the man to a chair. Blood seeped through Khalid’s shirt, his face pale and glistening with sweat. Marcus stood over him, his Glock steady.
“You’re Khalid bin Zahir,” Marcus said, his voice cold. “And tonight, you’re going to tell me everything.”
Khalid gritted his teeth, his fear barely masked by defiance. “You think you can kill your way to the truth? You’ll never stop this.”
Marcus leaned closer, his tone sharp as a blade. “I’m not stopping until I know who’s behind this. Who finances you? Who gives the orders?”
Khalid hesitated, his eyes darting around the room. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I swear. The money comes through intermediaries. The orders come from one man.”
“Who?” Marcus pressed.
“They call him Al-Ra’ib,” Khalid said, his voice trembling. “The Phantom. He’s the one who coordinates everything. No one knows who he is. He speaks only through others.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened. He activated the System, feeling the cold surge of energy as the notification appeared in his vision.
**Skill Activated: Interrogation (Base Potency). Duration: 60 seconds.**
Khalid flinched as Marcus grabbed him by the collar, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “You might not know who Al-Ra’ib is, but you know someone who works for him. Someone who handles the money. Who?”
Khalid’s breathing quickened, his resistance wavering under the pressure. “There’s… there’s a man,” he stammered. “His name is Karim Hassani. He’s in the city of Dehloran, near the Iranian border. He’s one of the intermediaries. That’s all I know.”
Marcus released him, his cold gaze never leaving Khalid’s face. The timer on his skill ticked down, the influence fading, but the information was already burned into his mind.
“You’ve been helpful,” Marcus said, his tone flat.
Khalid’s eyes widened. “Wait—”
The silenced shot echoed in the room as Khalid slumped forward, lifeless.
---
Marcus stood over the body for a moment, his breathing steady despite the pain in his shoulder. He rifled through the papers on the table, gathering anything that could be useful. Maps, shipping manifests, and coded communications—all evidence of the network Khalid had been running. He pocketed the most critical pieces before slipping out the back door.
As he disappeared into the night, one name echoed in his mind: Karim Hassani. His next target.