Story 663: Shadow of the Warlord

The air inside the abandoned industrial complex was thick with dust and the lingering scent of decay. Broken pipes dripped rust-tainted water onto the cracked concrete floor. The flickering emergency lights barely illuminated the vast corridors, casting long, jagged shadows.

General Viktor "Bloodfang" Kruger moved through the darkness like a specter of death, his silenced pistol raised. His crimson beret barely shifted as he scanned the area, his cold, predatory gaze locking onto every possible movement.

A squad of rebel soldiers had taken refuge inside, unaware of the nightmare hunting them.

Kruger advanced, his muscles coiled, his every step calculated. A faint whisper of movement to his right—someone shifting position. His body reacted before his mind needed to process it. He twisted, raised the pistol, and fired.

The suppressed shot barely echoed, but the bullet found its mark. A rebel crumpled behind a rusted crate, blood pooling beneath him.

One down.