Paragon

⊰❉⊱ 75 ⊰❉⊱

"Growing up, I always had a soldier mentality. As a kid I wanted to be a soldier, a fighter pilot, a covert agent, professions that require a great deal of bravery and risk and putting oneself in grave danger in order to complete the mission. Even though I did not become all those things, the interest that was there still shaped my philosophies. To this day I honor risk and sacrifice for the good of others - my views on life and love are heavily influenced by this."
― Criss Jami, Healology

There were times to conceal skill and times not to bother. Of course I wouldn't expose my speed or strength, but just for the sake of this job moving quickly... or because this mortal was truly deserving–I let myself be what I couldn't under police scrutiny.

I let myself hunt targets.

I had to credit the mortals, they really did think of everything. They communicated. They were well equipped and they even considered using multiple floors to hunt and destroy me. It was impressive–but it was designed for a mortal.

What they thought was silent was loud. Each boot scrap, heavy breath, adjustment of their weapon–every murmur on the comm, every turn to each corner. Inhale. Beat. Click. Scrape.

I smiled.

I played them like the ivories of a piano. I kept them in confused circles for the first few minutes. When they claimed they saw me, they saw a shadow. When the camera feeds identified me on the first floor I was already on the third... Then I decided to get to the point.

I targeted Mack last, of course.

I cut down his team of six one by one. I created noise in one room and shot the rear man in the opposite hallway. I'd throw a loose piece of wood into a staircase and drop from a floor hatch behind two more. Rounds pierced through the walls indiscriminately. As quickly as they could rush to adapt and change their plans, I was already taking members of their team away to ruin them.

I shot the last member Mack had with him and he whirled, firing off three rounds into the plywood where I had been two seconds too late. I was already halfway through another room and went as far as to shoot out the light above him. He rolled away from the doorway and pressed himself against the wall. His breathing was relatively controlled.

"Come on, come on..." He murmured in what he thought was barely a whisper.

So, I removed a flash grenade from one of his groaning men and walked calmly in the darkness tearing off the pin. I heard the quick click of another magazine click into place and his breathing steady. He bolted around the corner as I rolled the grenade at his feet.

"Fuck." He grunted, before the room became a hellscape of white light and deafening noise.

I rounded the corner. One shot to the knee, two to the ribs and one on his shoulder simply to suggest I wasn't a perfect shot. That was my reasoning anyway.

I stood over Mack as he groaned into the concrete floor, holding his side. 

The rooms flooded green and a buzz sounded in the false house.

"Christ–just–give me a minute..."

I glanced over my shoulder at two more men in a similar state. I still had half a magazine of sim rounds in my pistol. 

"My apologies." I murmured, making the weapon in my hands safe and placing the magazine into one of the pouches at my hip.

I heard laughing and animated discussion beyond one of the plywood walls that was riddled with holes now. One of which I threw a piece of furniture through to get a better shot–nothing too forceful of course.