Pain. It crawled through Sergeant Darius "Hellhound" Rook's body like fire in his veins, a slow-burning torment that refused to die out. His muscles twitched, still adjusting to the unnatural strength coursing through them. Voss's serum was meant to make him a weapon—a pawn in Kruger's grand game. But they underestimated him. He wasn't just their experiment. He was their reckoning. The cold steel table beneath him was slick with blood—his own, or someone else's, he wasn't sure. His mind was fractured, torn between instinct and reason. He could hear the pulse of the facility around him, the rhythmic hum of machinery, the distant echoes of boots marching in formation. They thought he was still sedated. They were wrong. The door hissed open. Two guards entered, clad in Kruger's elite black-ops gear. Their rifles gleamed under the dim red lighting. Rook's body moved before his mind gave the command. With an explosive burst of speed, he snapped his restraints free. The first guard barely had time to react before Rook was on him. A savage elbow to the throat, a knee to the ribs—the soldier crumpled, choking on his own breath. The second lifted his rifle, finger on the trigger. Too slow. Rook lunged, grabbed the barrel, and yanked the weapon sideways. The gun discharged, the bullet ricocheting off the steel walls. A brutal backhand sent the guard sprawling. Without hesitation, Rook grabbed the fallen man's combat knife, flipping it between his fingers. One quick, clean motion. The blade plunged into the soldier's throat, silencing him forever. Rook exhaled. Focus. Keep moving. He grabbed a sidearm from the dead guard's holster, checking the magazine. Full. Good. He had no idea how much time he had before reinforcements arrived, but he wasn't leaving without one final debt to settle. Dr. Sylvia Voss. She had played god for too long—warping flesh, breaking minds, turning men into monsters. Rook could still hear her voice, her mocking words as he fought against the serum's grip. She enjoyed this. She was going to pay. Rook slipped into the corridor, keeping low. Shadows were his ally. The facility was vast, its walls lined with reinforced metal, the stench of sterilized death lingering in the air. He had spent weeks trapped in this hellhole. Tonight, it burned. A red warning light flickered overhead. The intercom crackled to life. "Containment breach detected. All personnel, lockdown protocol is in effect. "Good. Let them come. Rook's grip tightened on the pistol as he reached the control room. He could see her inside, monitoring the chaos with that same eerie calm. He kicked the door in. Voss turned, her lips curling into a smirk. "My, my, Sergeant. Still standing? I'm impressed. "Rook raised the gun, finger tightening on the trigger. "Not for long.