The explosion rocked the ruined corridor, sending shockwaves through the crumbling infrastructure. Flames engulfed the area, painting the night in shades of orange and black. Smoke billowed, thick and suffocating, swallowing everything in its path.
A broken figure stumbled from the fire.
Eva "Black Widow" Morales barely managed to stay on her feet, her body battered, her uniform torn, blood trailing from a deep gash on her side. The grenade had bought her seconds—nothing more.
Through the haze of smoke and fire, a shadow moved.
Heavy footsteps. Unrelenting. Purposeful.
Then, through the burning wreckage, General Viktor "Bloodfang" Kruger emerged.
Unafraid. Unstoppable.
His blackened uniform smoldered, embers clinging to the fabric, but his body had already begun to regenerate. His exposed arms, riddled with burns and shrapnel, mended before her eyes. The beast had survived—again.
Kruger exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. He felt the pain. He welcomed it. It fueled him.
"You really thought that would kill me?" His voice was almost amused, but beneath it lurked something darker—anger.
Eva clenched her fists, her breaths shallow. Her body screamed for her to run, but she stood her ground. "No," she admitted, wiping blood from her mouth. "But it sure as hell slowed you down."
Kruger smirked. "Did it?"
Before she could react, he moved. Faster than before.
A blur of raw muscle and power crashed into her. His fist slammed into her midsection, lifting her off her feet and hurling her into a collapsed pillar.
The impact sent cracks through the stone. Eva choked on the pain, collapsing to her knees. Her vision blurred.
Kruger loomed over her. No longer amused.
"You've always been a problem, Widow," he said, his tone laced with deadly finality. "But even problems have solutions."
His hand shot forward, wrapping around her throat, lifting her effortlessly.
Her hands clawed at his grip, but he was too strong. The world began to darken at the edges.
A high-powered sniper round tore through the air, slamming into Kruger's shoulder. The force was enough to make him stagger. His grip loosened just enough—
Eva drove her knee into his ribs, twisting free. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
Kruger turned toward the direction of the shot. His eyes narrowed.
Sergeant Darius "Hellhound" Rook stood atop a nearby wrecked building, sniper rifle in hand. Smoke curled from the barrel. His stance was calm, professional.
"General," Rook called out, voice cold. "I'd back off if I were you."
Kruger's lips curled into a snarl.
Eva coughed, struggling to rise, as Rook reloaded his weapon.
"You really want to test me, Rook?" Kruger growled.
Rook didn't lower his rifle. "Maybe I do."
The battle wasn't over. It was just beginning.