Trent swallowed hard. His hands were sweating inside his tactical gloves. He followed Wyatt closely, keeping his gun raised.They walked behind a massive, rusted car-building machine. The machine was the size of a small house. It cast long, terrifying shadows on the wet floor. The rain dripped from the ceiling, splashing loudly in the puddles. Splash. Splash."I don't like this, Wyatt," Trent whispered. "It is too quiet.""Shut up," Wyatt hissed. "Shine your light over there."Trent pointed his flashlight at a pile of broken wooden crates. Nothing was there."There's no one here," Wyatt said, sounding disappointed. "It was probably just the wind knocking a pipe down. Let's go back."Wyatt turned around. He expected Trent to be standing right behind him. But Trent was gone.Wyatt blinked. He looked left. He looked right. "Trent?" Wyatt asked quietly.There was no answer. There had been no scream. There had been no sound of a struggle. Trent had simply vanished into the thin, cold air.

The bright, white lights of the underground military bunker in Washington, D.C., were painful to look at. The room was made of thick, cold steel. It smelled like old coffee and nervous sweat. General Marcus Hayes paced back and forth across the grey floor. His heavy black boots clicked loudly. Click. Clack. Click.Sitting at the center of the metal table was Knox.Knox was a tough, cruel mercenary. He was a man who used to laugh while hurting people. But right now, Knox was not laughing. He was wrapped in a thick, grey wool blanket. He held a small white paper cup of hot coffee in his hands. His hands were shaking so violently that the hot coffee spilled over the edges, burning his fingers. He did not even feel the burns.Knox’s eyes were wide. They stared blankly at the metal wall."Tell me again," General Hayes demanded, stopping his pacing. He leaned over the table, glaring at the shivering mercenary. "Tell me exactly what happened in that factory."Knox swallowed hard. His teeth

Sniper Six stared at his radio. "Command, this is Sniper Six," he whispered urgently. His breath came out in fast, white clouds of fog. "I have lost contact with the entire roof team. None of them are answering the radio.""Sniper Six, this is Ground Command," a harsh voice answered from the radio. "Hold your position. The target has not crossed the barricade. Your team is probably just experiencing radio interference from the storm.""It's not the storm!" Sniper Six argued, his voice rising in panic. "They are gone! Something is up here with me!"Sniper Six turned around. He raised his heavy rifle, pointing it wildly into the dark, rainy shadows of the roof."Show yourself!" the sniper yelled, his finger trembling on the trigger.From the shadows, Jayden stepped into the dim light.Sniper Six gasped. He recognized the grey coat. He recognized the face."Halo!" the sniper screamed. He aimed his rifle directly at Jayden’s chest. "Stop right there! I will shoot!"Jayden did not stop. H

The cold, heavy rain poured down from the dark, cloudy sky. It washed the broken streets of the giant American megacity.The city was a prison. The world governments had dropped massive steel walls across the highways. They had turned off the internet. They had blocked the cell phone towers. Three million innocent people were trapped inside. They were cold, hungry, and terrified. They hid inside their dark, freezing apartments, listening to the terrible sounds of the war outside. But tonight, the streets were not completely empty.Jayden walked right down the middle of the main avenue. He did not hide in the shadows. He did not sneak through the dark alleys. He walked in the open, directly under the flickering, broken streetlights.His long grey coat was heavy with rainwater and old blood. His boots splashed loudly in the deep puddles. Splash. Splash. Splash. His face was pale, tired, and covered in dirt.His eyes were plain, normal human brown. He had no glowing golden shield. He ha

A mercenary stood in his path, shivering, holding his rifle across his chest like a shield. Tears poured down the mercenary’s face. He saw the ghost of his own brother standing behind Jayden.Jayden did not hit the mercenary. He simply looked into the man’s terrified eyes."Feel what I feel," Jayden whispered. His voice was soft, but it carried the absolute weight of a billion broken hearts.The mercenary screamed. He dropped his rifle. He grabbed his own helmet, clawing at it, trying to rip it off his head. He fell to his knees in the bloody puddles, rocking back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably."I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the mercenary wept, burying his face in his hands.Jayden stepped past him. He walked through the crowd of sixty elite killers. It was a scene of absolute, complete psychological destruction.Men and women who had laughed while burning down homes were now curled into tight balls on the ground. They cried for their mothers. They screamed at the empty air. They scratc