Aegis Core

The Sinner

London, The city may shine with elegance and beauty, but beneath its surface, it harbored shadows that only a few dared to confront. I sat at an outdoor café, one of those picturesque spots that tourists loved, sipping on a coffee that tasted like bitterness wrapped in nostalgia.

Tonight was crucial. No distractions, no mistakes. I had a mission, and it needed to be executed with absolute precision. My target? Four of the most notorious smugglers in England, responsible for funneling weapons and illegal goods across borders for years.

This was no ordinary job. Taking them all out in one night meant ending a chain of operations that stretched across Europe. The organization had tasked me with it because no one else could handle it-or so they said.

I glanced at my watch. 18:45. The sun had begun its descent, casting a warm golden hue across the streets. The kind of serene evening that would lull most people into a false sense of peace. Not me.

The plan was simple: each smuggler had a specific meeting point. First, the café-my current location. Then, a warehouse in the 7th arrondissement. They'd never see it coming, all four of them converging on separate locations. They had no idea they were walking into their final night on earth.

I adjusted my jacket, feeling the reassuring weight of my concealed weapons. Just then, I spotted the first target-Jean-Luc Vasseur. Slim, in his mid-forties, with a sharp suit that screamed "money laundering" rather than "smuggling." He sat down two tables away, unaware of the hunter in his midst.

Focus.

I took a sip of my coffee, observing him from the corner of my eye. The man's demeanor was relaxed-too relaxed. He had no clue tonight would be his last.

My phone buzzed. A brief glance showed a message from HQ: "Move at 19:00. Timing is critical."

I pocketed the phone and leaned back, watching as Jean-Luc's associate joined him. The second smuggler. Two birds with one stone, I thought.

Across the street, the shadows were lengthening. It was almost time. The city hummed with life, blissfully unaware of the blood that would be spilled tonight. The smugglers had no idea the noose was tightening.

As the seconds ticked by, I mentally prepared myself. This was routine-mission in, mission out. Tonight wasn't about the past or any personal vendettas. It was about cleaning up a mess and leaving no loose ends.

The clock struck 19:00.

I stood up from the café table, throwing a few euros down as I slipped into the growing crowd.

I moved with purpose, weaving through the bustling streets of London, my senses sharp and focused. The soft glow of street lamps illuminated my path, casting long shadows that danced around me. As I approached the poker club where Jean-Luc sat, I felt the weight of my mission bearing down on me.

In my mind, the plan was already unfolding. I had studied their routines and their weaknesses. Jean-Luc was a known risk-taker, often flaunting his wealth and connections in plain sight. He thrived on being untouchable, a game I was more than willing to play.

As I neared their table, I caught snippets of their conversation, but my mind was elsewhere, calculating my approach. With a deep breath, I slipped my hand into my jacket, feeling the cool metal of my gun, a reassurance of the control I held over the situation.

"Jean-Luc," I said, interrupting them with a casual tone, feigning the air of an old acquaintance. He looked up, surprise flickering across his face before he masked it with a forced smile.

"Leo White! What a surprise," he replied, his voice dripping with insincerity. His associate's eyes darted between us, suspicion etched on his features.