CHAPTER 46

Ethan stood quietly against the cold outer wall of the convenience store, eyes narrowing behind his hood. He traced the layout in his mindbased on his earlier reconnaissanceand located the thin wall separating him from the cashier counter. One precise move through this spot and he could take out the gunman without harming the hostage.

Inside, the lead robber kept his pistol aimed at the trembling cashier. He scanned the store, alert, paranoid. He had the twitchy mannerisms of someone expecting interferencenot fearing it, waiting for it.

BOOM!

A chunk of concrete exploded inward as a fist ripped through the wall like it was paper. The robber with the gun barely had time to gasp before Ethan's punch caved into his chest and hurled him backward, knocking into the second man digging through the register. Both collapsed in a heap of limbs and grunts.

Crack! Crack!

Without pause, Ethan smashed through the rest of the drywall, forcing a jagged man-sized opening. Dust scattered. He stepped through, his black silhouette emerging from the haze like something out of a nightmare. Venom's tendrils writhed like smoke behind him.

His voice came out low and mechanical: "Run."

The "cashier"sweaty and plumpdidn't need to be told twice. With uncanny speed, he scrambled through the hole Ethan made, his portly frame squeezing through faster than expected. Something about that flexibility made Ethan pause.

"Found you."

Ethan's head snapped toward the voice. The first robbernow standing againgrinned as he massaged his bruised chest. His voice was calm. Expectant. Like he'd been waiting for this moment.

That grin set off alarm bells in Ethan's mind.

He narrowed his eyes, but before he could demand an explanation, Venom flared up inside himscreaming danger.

"AMBUSHLEFT SIDE!"

Ethan dove instinctively to the right just as a storm of gunfire erupted through the hole behind him. Rounds shredded the convenience store shelves, cracking tiles, splintering metal and glass.

BRRRRRT! BRRRRRT!

A coordinated spray of automatic fire poured from hidden gunners outside. The three "robbers" moved quickly, retreating a few steps while grabbing light machine guns from beneath a knocked-over duffel bag. Without hesitation, they opened fire again.

Bullets howled like hornets. Ethan dashed between cover, Venom's armor absorbing what it could, the rest ricocheting off the floor and walls. He ducked behind a refrigerator unit, its glass shattering beside him.

Plaster turned to dust. Neon signs burst in sparks.

Two endless minutes of chaos.

Thenclick. Click. Click. The storm stopped. Their magazines finally ran dry.

The convenience store was destroyed. The air reeked of smoke and melted plastic. Shattered snacks and bullet casings covered the floor like debris after a warzone sweep.

One of the masked men lowered his empty weapon and laughed darkly. "Plan's working. That much lead would turn even Spider-Man into a spaghetti strainer."

The fat cashiernow standing confidently beside the gunmenwiped his forehead and grinned. "And I thought this job would be tough. With a commission like this, I expected lasers or ninjas or something."

The one who had held a gun to the cashier earlier clapped him on the back. "Acting was solid. He didn't see a thing."

The chubby man puffed up proudly. "You kidding? If Hollywood didn't hate fat guys, I'd have an Oscar already. I've been practicing fake sobs since I was twelve. You think it's easy looking that scared?"

The third man snorted. "Please. You keep bragging like that, and I'll upload your performance to Pornhub. The angle's the only award-worthy thing in your 'director' career."

They all burst into laughter.

But their humor was premature.

What they didn't knowwhat they couldn't see in the lingering hazewas that the shadows were already coiling again.

Ethan wasn't done yet.

After finishing his crude joke, the greasy-faced thug chuckled with depraved glee, licking his lips. "Heh… now that we've secured the payday, I'm gonna treat myself later. Been holding it in too damn long."

The man who had played the role of the helpless cashier rubbed his side with a wince. "Ugh. I think I pulled my back during that fall."

The one who had been stuffing goods into a duffel bag slapped him on the shoulder and sneered. "Looks like you'll be sitting this one out tonight. Don't worry, I'll play an extra round for you. Just for you, buddy."

He didn't get to finish his sentence.

With a sickening CRACK, a black tendril tore out from the darkness and smashed into the back of his head. His skull burst like a ripe melon, showering red and gray matter across the cashier-impersonator's face.

The lower half of the victim's face was still locked in a smug smirk, but the top half had been reduced to pulpbone fragments embedded in the ceiling tile.

His body slumped unnaturally, head twisted grotesquely at an angle as he hit the ground with a lifeless thud.

The fake cashier stood frozen, his face dripping with blood and what remained of his comrade's brain. The heat of it still clung to his cheeks, steaming slightly in the cold store air.

"AHHHHH!" he screamed, finally jolting to life. He spun, wild-eyed, towards the rear of the store, hoping for backupbut was met with an even worse sight.

His other two teammates were already dead.

Their heads had been crushedone into the shattered countertop, the other against a vending machine. Crimson soaked the floor beneath them, their weapons lying useless beside limp fingers.

"AAAAAGHHHHHHHHH!" he shrieked again, this time in pure terror. His instincts screamed to run, but the blood-covered floor betrayed him. As he spun toward the exit, his foot slipped, and he crashed down hard, his palms smacking into the sticky mess of gore.

Gagging, he tried to scramble to his feetonly to be yanked violently upward.

A black tendril coiled around his torso and throat like a living snake, wet and cold. It squeezed tighter and tighter, crushing his chest, making every breath a painful labor.

Then from the thinning dust at the far end of the ruined shop, a figure emerged.

He was completely unscathed. The same black hood. The same glistening eyes glowing faintly white. Not even a scratch on his body.

Impossible… the thug thought in disbelief. He'd witnessed it himselfthousands of rounds fired, the store turned into rubble. And this monster hadn't taken a single hit?

This wasn't a man. This was something else.

"W-Who are y?"

The voice that cut him off was colder than the tendril squeezing his windpipe.

"Tell me who set this trap," Ethan growled from beneath the hood, voice laced with restrained fury. "Who sent you?"

The robber's breath hitched. The pale eyes boring into him were merciless. He wanted to lie, but his throat couldn't form words.

Ethan stared into the man's quivering face, barely containing his rage.

He didn't care about being ambushed. He didn't care that the media would twist this into another "vigilante menace" story tomorrow.

What burned in his chest was what he'd seen behind the counterwhen the bullets tore through the storage wall.

A body. Hidden. Left to rot.

A young man, stripped to nothing but his underwear and a store cap. A bullet hole straight through the cap and forehead. His expression was still frozen in the moment of deatheyes wide in terror.

That was the real cashier.

The one whose shift ended in execution. The imposter outside had been wearing his uniformsloppily. Ethan had thought the cap was worn low out of fear. Now he knew it was because it had a bullet hole. It couldn't be worn properly anymore.

No wonder the shirt was tight. The body didn't fit.

These bastards hadn't just staged a trap. They had slaughtered a civilian just to play a role.

Ethan's jaw clenched. Venom hissed from beneath his skin, eager for vengeance.

"Tell me who you're working for," he said again, voice deadly calm. "Or I let him handle the rest."

The tendril around the thug's neck twitchedtightening one more time.

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