The dim room reeked of sweat and blood, the stench of suffering clinging to the air like a ghost. Marcus sat slumped in a heavy metal chair, his wrists and ankles shackled, his breathing slow but steady despite the fresh wounds that marred his battered body. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead, streaking down his face, but his eyes burned with defiance. No matter what Al-Ra’ib did, Marcus refused to break.

Amir Qadir—known as Al-Ra’ib,mpaced the room with calculated steps, a knife glinting in his hand. He was a man who thrived on control, on the art of unraveling his enemies one thread at a time. But this man—this Marcus—was different. He had faced countless prisoners, soldiers, and insurgents, each of them folding eventually under his skillful hand. But Marcus? Marcus was an unyielding wall, a force Amir hadn’t encountered before.

“You’re an enigma,” Amir said, his voice smooth but edged with frustration. “A single man who dismantled years of work in mere weeks. My safe houses, my men—all gone. Tell me, who gave you the intelligence? Who sent you?”

Marcus didn’t respond, his expression cold and unflinching.

Amir crouched in front of him, the knife hovering near Marcus’s face. “You know, this silence of yours—it doesn’t make you strong. It makes you stupid. I’ve carved secrets out of men far stronger than you.”

Still, Marcus said nothing. The defiance was a thorn in Amir’s pride, an insult he couldn’t ignore.

Amir stood abruptly, motioning to one of the guards stationed by the door. “Bring the prod.”

The guard, a hulking man with a thick beard, stepped forward with a length of metal wired to a car battery. Sparks flickered as he tested the device, the faint smell of ozone wafting through the room.

“You think you’re invincible?” Amir said, stepping back to give the guard room. “Everyone breaks. It’s just a matter of time.”

The guard pressed the prod against Marcus’s chest, the current jolting through him. His muscles seized, his body convulsing violently, but no scream escaped his lips. The guard stepped back, the air heavy with expectation.

Marcus sagged in the chair, breathing heavily, but his eyes met Amir’s with a cold, steely determination. “You’ll need a bigger battery.”

The guard hesitated, glancing at Amir, whose expression darkened with fury. Amir grabbed the prod and stepped closer, his knuckles whitening around the handle. “Enough of this bravado. Who sent you? Harrington? The CIA? Who?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Marcus gritted his teeth, his voice low and mocking. “No one sent me. I came for you.”

The words sent a shiver down Amir’s spine, though he wouldn’t admit it. He slammed the prod onto the table, his patience unraveling.

The System’s faint hum returned to Marcus’s mind, a lifeline in the abyss.

Energy Levels Depleting. Skills Available for 30 Seconds.

The notification flickered in his vision, a reminder that his window of opportunity was brief. His body ached, his mind screamed for rest, but he knew this was his moment.

The guard stepped forward again, reaching for Marcus’s arm to hold him in place. Marcus moved with explosive force. His shackled hands snapped upward, the metal cutting into his skin as he yanked the guard closer. With a sharp twist, Marcus grabbed the man’s throat, shoved his fingers as deep as he could and ripped the guards larynx out.

The sound of panicked gasping and air escaping trough the ripped out throat was the only sound in the room.

Amir stumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock and fear. “What the—how—?”

Marcus turned toward him, his bloodied hands gripping the chair tightly. His eyes burned with a fire that made Amir take an involuntary step back.

“You wanted answers?” Marcus growled, his voice ice-cold. “Come closer. I’ll give you one.”

Amir froze for a moment, his mind racing. Then, without another word, he turned and bolted for the door. His guard were dead, and the man before him was something far more dangerous than he had imagined. Marcus was no ordinary operative—he was something else entirely, and Amir wasn’t about to stay and find out what.

Amir’s boots echoed against the concrete as he sprinted through the hallway, his breath ragged. He barked orders into his radio, his voice shaking. “Lock down the compound! Reinforcements to the lower levels now!”

There was no response, only static. His heart pounded as he realized just how thoroughly Marcus had dismantled his operation. The guards above wouldn’t save him; they were as unprepared for this man as Amir had been.

He stopped in a small office, slamming the door behind him. His hands shook as he grabbed a satellite phone, his mind racing with questions. Who the hell is Marcus? What is he?

Amir had heard rumors—whispers of men who were more than soldiers, men who thrived on death and chaos. But those were stories, nothing more. Yet the man sitting in his interrogation room had made those stories feel terrifyingly real.

He pressed a button on the phone, dialing a secure line. It rang twice before the familiar, icy voice on the other end answered.

“Harrington,” the voice said.

Amir’s breath hitched, but he forced himself to speak. “We have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Harrington asked, his tone flat.

Amir hesitated. “The man you told me to deal with—Marcus—he’s not... normal. He killed one of my men while shackled to a chair. He’s like a demon.”

Harrington’s silence was cold and deliberate. Finally, he said, “I told you he was dangerous.”

“I thought I could handle him!” Amir snapped. “But this—this is something else. He’s not just dangerous—he’s... unstoppable.”

“Is he dead?” Harrington asked.

Amir swallowed hard. “No. Not yet. But if he gets out—”

“He won’t,” Harrington interrupted. “Contain him. Kill him. Or I’ll find someone who can.”

The line went dead, leaving Amir alone with the crushing weight of his failure. His hands trembled as he set the phone down. He didn’t know what Marcus was or who had created him, but one thing was clear: Amir had taken on more than he could handle.

And now, it might cost him everything.