The Quiet Purge

When the gunfire ceased, the building sank back into silence.

But this silence was not an end

…it was the shallow breath of the storm to come.

When the five bodies hit the floor, Cole took a deep breath.

But before he could let it out fully…

Footsteps echoed.

Heavy. Hurried. Laced with panic.

Someone had heard.

And now, the other corners of the dark were waking up.

Cole remained within the thinning smoke.

Visibility was still poor dangerous for most… but not for him.

He had lived within chaos.

Mist spoke to him. Darkness guided him.

But this time, he was alone.

And this building... it had a hunger for those who walked alone.

The first wave burst in with rage.

Screams. Curses. Rushed movements.

But Cole knew wars were not won with bullets alone.

Sometimes, invisibility was a deadlier weapon than any gun.

He positioned himself.

A shadow nearly unseen, nested within the heart of smoke.

The attackers rushed in

And Cole's bullets tore through them.

One. Two. Three.

Bodies fell.

And Cole vanished once again.

But the danger hadn't passed.

The ones that followed weren't as blind as the first.

They moved cautiously, descending the stairs with practiced tension.

Cole held his breath.

Shifted position.

Like a ghost wiping away footprints, he moved without leaving a trace.

Among the shadows, being invisible required more than stealth.

It required intent.

And Cole…

He was no longer a man.

He was a ghost with purpose.

Just as he was about to slip away

A new group entered from behind.

These steps were different.

Trained. Steady. Military.

His focus wavered for just a heartbeat.

And in that breath

Crack.

A sharp pain.

A bullet grazed his left arm.

His balance faltered

But he did not fall.

Pain was no stranger.

Pain was merely information now.

Not death.

He ducked into the nearest hallway.

Pressed a palm over the trail of blood.

He needed a way out.

A shelter. A shadow. Anything.

But silence… silence could be deceitful.

Every step could trigger a scream.

At the end of the corridor

Two figures stood.

Guns raised. Directly facing him.

Time froze.

A single breath. Life or death.

Cole didn't think.

His reflexes outran thought.

Two pulls of the trigger.

Two bodies.

They hit the wall and slid down.

Cole was already moving.

He ran.

Not in panic but with purpose.

Every stride was a direction.

Not escape. Resolution.

Then… an opening.

A wall climbing upward, a half-collapsed staircase, a rusted pipe what it was didn't matter.

Only that it led out.

Cole climbed.

Blood dripping from his arm.

Each step scraped his skin with cold iron kisses.

But his mind was clear:

He had to get out of this hell.

Because if the building held him any longer…

…it wouldn't let go again.

But Cole was no longer moving downward he was climbing.

Not into the smoke, but toward the darkness above.

Because sometimes, the way out isn't down.

Sometimes... something far worse waits at the top.

And Cole could feel it.

Before he could leave this building, he had to purge whatever filth lingered inside.

He was hurt, yes.

But still standing.

And in a city like this, only those who learn to walk with their wounds survive.

Pain shot through his arm with every step.

He'd need to deal with it eventually find a way to stop the bleeding.

But not now.

Now was for cleansing.

He moved quietly, cautiously, with practiced precision.

Each step was measured.

Each breath controlled.

Because in a building like this, even a whisper could get you killed.

And Cole had no room left on his back for another bullet.

Then, he spotted it

A heavily secured room on the upper floor.

Steel door. Tinted glass. Reinforced edges.

This wasn't some lowlife's hideout.

It looked like a control center.

Cole's mind started running numbers.

Someone important might be inside.

Take them out... and the whole place might collapse.

But first, the guards.

Two stood at the entrance

One alert, the other half-asleep.

Cole took a deep breath.

Slipped into the shadows.

And waited.

Not with patience, but with focus

The kind born from training and necessity.

The plan was simple.

Lethal, but simple.

Create a distraction.

Eliminate the first.

Neutralize the second before he could react.

His steps made no sound.

His soles moved in rhythm with the dust.

The shadows parted for him

And the dark seemed to breathe with him.

Slowly, he reached for his belt.

Pulled out a rusty screw he'd pocketed earlier.

And tossed it toward a distant pipe.

Clink.

A short, sharp sound.

The first guard turned his head.

The second tensed, trying to listen.

But Cole had already moved.

Now behind the first,

One hand clamped over the man's mouth

The other drove a blade into his chest.

The only scream came from the guard's eyes.

The second didn't even get to react.

Cole turned and struck

The rifle butt slammed into the man's jaw.

His head snapped back into the wall.

And then stillness.

Cole dragged both bodies away.

Cleared the entrance.

And peered inside.

The darkness here was no different than outside.

But something hung in the air

Heavier. Sharper.

And Cole was about to walk straight into it.

Because sometimes, before you leave a place behind...

...you have to face every ghost still hiding inside it.