In a world ravaged by destruction, a ruthless villain seeks to dominate all, fueled by an insatiable lust for power. His sinister ambitions are deeply personal, driven by a centuries-old vendetta against a some people with extraordinary abilities.
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Lee yn pov: The alarm's shrill tone pierced the silence, abruptly rousing me from slumber. As I slowly regained consciousness, my hand instinctively reached for the nightstand, closing around my phone with a familiar grasp. Squinting against the bright screen, I checked the time, my gaze lingering momentarily before I sat up in bed.
With a languid stretch, I arched my back, extending my arms above my head in a gesture of awakening. The duvet slid off my legs as I swung them over the side of the bed, my feet dangling in the chilly air. The cold floorboards beneath my toes served as a bracing reminder of the new day, and I felt my senses gradually coming online.
/:Few moments later:/ As I dressed for the mission, my attire transformed me into a stealthy operative. The black leather jacket, crafted from supple, high-tech material, hugged my physique, providing flexibility and protection. Beneath it, a fitted, moisture-wicking black top regulated my body temperature, ensuring peak performance.
My legs were clad in leather skinny jeans, reinforced with Kevlar threads for added durability. The jeans' streamlined design allowed for maximum mobility, while the leather itself provided a sleek, low-profile appearance.
A utility belt, concealed beneath the jacket, held various tools of my trade: a lockpick, a micro-camera, and a slender, high-carbon steel blade.
The belt's clever design kept these implements hidden from view, yet readily accessible. On my feet, I wore black, lightweight combat boots, equipped with non-marking soles and a low-profile tread pattern.
The boots' ankle-high design provided support and stability, while their breathable membranes kept my feet cool and dry.
As I completed my outfit, I felt a sense of transformation, as if I had donned a second skin. My attire was more than just functional – it was a symbol of my profession, a declaration of my skills and expertise. I was a spy, a ghost, a shadow. And I was ready.
My eyes locked onto their reflection, and for a moment, I was taken aback by the strength and determination staring back at me. A slow smile spread across my face as I acknowledged the transformation within myself.
As I stood there, my smile suddenly faltered, and my mind was hijacked by the memories of last night's unsettling phone call. The person's menacing words and sinister tone echoed in my brain, reigniting a firestorm of emotions within me. My fists clenched involuntarily, my nails digging deep into my skin as I struggled to contain my rage.
I couldn't shake off the feeling of helplessness that had settled over me like a shroud. The blackmailer's words had struck a raw nerve, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was backed into a corner, with no clear escape route in sight.
My eyes narrowed as I retrieved my phone from my pocket, the screen glowing with the notification from the unknown number. The message was brief and to the point, conveying the address of a meeting point. I felt a surge of irritation and resentment as I realized I had no choice but to comply.
