Outside, the thundering roar of approaching helicopters shattered the air, followed closely by the deafening boom of explosions.
Inside the smoke-filled room, panic turned to blind rage. Seeing the General dead, the bodyguards of the other delegates launched a furious assault on the masked military man. Only Henry and Steve stood their ground. Ethan lunged forward to join the fray, but Henry caught his eye and gave a sharp, imperceptible shake of his head. Hold.
The rushing guards never stood a chance. The masked soldier opened fire, dropping several men in a matter of seconds. One guard managed to close the distance, throwing a heavy punch toward his jaw. The soldier dodged it effortlessly, snapping his arm up to fire a round directly into the man's throat. Moving like a lethal blur, he tore through the remaining security detail with brutal precision, striking them down before finishing each one with a bullet to the heart or throat.
When the dust settled, the only guards left standing were Ethan, Henry, and Steve. Around the table, the world's elite were trembling in terror—including Yuri. Only one man sat perfectly calm: the dignitary Steve had arrived with.
The masked soldier let out a maniacal laugh, his eyes sweeping over Ethan, Henry, and Steve.
"You three were smart not to attack," the man sneered, raising his weapon. "You had a fleeting chance to disarm me, but you missed it. Now, you'll die anyway. But first..." He swiveled the gun toward the cowering delegates. "...I'll kill them."
Before his finger could squeeze the trigger, Henry reacted. With a lightning-fast kick, he launched a woman's heavy purse off the table. It collided violently with the barrel of the gun, jerking the weapon upward just as a bullet discharged into the ceiling.
"What?!" the soldier hissed.
He spun to find Steve already on him. Steve unleashed a brutal front kick aimed straight for the man's ribs. The soldier managed to cross his forearms to block the impact, but Steve fluidly shifted the trajectory of the kick mid-air, driving his heel directly into the man's face. The strike landed with a sickening crunch, bursting the soldier's nose.
Henry caught Ethan's eye and gave a sharp nod. It was Ethan's turn.
Ethan closed the distance in a flash, unleashing a devastating, twenty-hit combination. Every single strike landed flush against the man's torso and back, the sheer velocity forcing a spray of blood from the soldier's lips.
Who the hell are these guys? the soldier thought in a panic.
Outside, the explosions raged on. The soldier's tactical radio crackled to life, static bursting through the speaker. "They're obliterating our vehicles! The military trucks are—" The line went dead.
Another frequency buzzed in. "We don't know where the attack is coming from! They're everywhere—" That line, too, was violently cut short.
Staggering backward, the soldier tried to steady his hands and level his gun. But Henry was already in his blind spot. With a precise strike, Henry punched the weapon itself, shattering the mechanism entirely. Before the man could process it, Henry drove a calculated strike into his brachial plexus at the base of his neck, followed instantly by a crushing blow to the radial nerve on the back of his arm.
Instantly, the soldier's arm went entirely limp.
Who is this guy? Steve thought, watching Henry's terrifyingly precise martial arts.
For the first time, pure terror gripped the masked soldier. I'm going to die here.
Desperate, he screamed into his radio, "Help me! I need backup now!"
Henry drove a heavy fist into the man's abdomen, sending him stumbling back, right into Steve's path. Steve delivered a devastating hook to his jaw. Then came Ethan. Vaulting into the air, Ethan brought his boot down in a colossal face-stomp. The sheer force fractured the concrete floor, sending a web of cracks through the room, displacing the heavy table, chairs, and the terrified delegates sitting in them.
Suddenly, the roof above them tore open with a screech of tearing metal. Several men dressed in tactical black gear rappelled into the room. One of them immediately swung a kick at Ethan. Ethan raised his forearms to block, but the momentum forced him backward.
Another attacker aimed a kick at Steve's face. Steve tanked the blow, barely flinching, and returned the exact same kick with double the force, sending the assailant flying back into two of his comrades.
A few of the mercenaries rushed to lift their breathless, battered leader.
"Boss, are you okay?" one asked urgently.
The military man nodded weakly, spitting blood. He watched in disbelief as Ethan and Steve absolutely dismantled the rest of his extraction team. In the corner, Henry stood like an unyielding wall in front of the cowering delegates.
"Boss, should I eliminate them?" a mercenary asked, raising his weapon toward Henry.
"No," the military man croaked, realizing the tide had turned. "We're leaving."
A extraction rope dropped down from the helicopter hovering directly above the ruptured ceiling. The leader grabbed hold of it, but before being hoisted up, he paused.
"The three of you," he shouted down over the whirring rotor blades, glaring at Ethan, Henry, and Steve. "Come work for me. Name your price."
Ethan didn't even look up, casually breaking the arm of a mercenary who tried to grab him. Steve picked up a heavy oak chair and hurled it directly at the helicopter. Henry simply stared through him with cold indifference.
The man sneered as he began to ascend. "Well, I offered you a chance to live, and you threw it away. We will meet again." The helicopter veered away into the smoky sky.
Below, the trio swiftly finished off the remaining mercenaries. Henry knelt down, ripping the mask off one of the downed men to interrogate him. He pulled the man's jaw open, only to freeze. The man's tongue had been cleanly surgically removed. He checked another, but the mercenary bit down hard on a cyanide capsule, seizing before going limp.
They cut their own tongues to prevent leaks, Henry realized grimly, staring at the bodies. Fanatical loyalty.