The Shadow Commander Returns

Chapter 2. The harvest table

The question hung in the air like a sharpened blade.

Beside the table, the corrupt doctor lowered his curved scalpel, his surgical mask twitching as he let out a dry chuckle.

"You ruined my clean workplace, boy. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a surgical field sterile in a dump like this? No matter. You're just in time to watch us take her heart. Maybe if you beg nicely on your knees, I'll let you keep her shoes."

The thugs roared with laughter, the harsh sound echoing through the place.

Two of them stepped forward, swinging heavy iron pipes in their palms, while a third person brought out revolver from his waist.

Julian didn't look at the doctor. He didn't look at Miller. His eyes remained fixed on his sister’s bruised, terrified face.

"Aurora," Julian said softly. His voice was calm, almost gentle, cutting through the thick layer of tension in the room. "Close your eyes."

Aurora blinked, tears streaming down her dirty cheeks.

"Close your eyes, sweetie," Julian repeated quietly, taking a single, measured step forward. "Count to ten."

Miller’s grin vanished, replaced by sudden annoyance at Julian’s cold indifference.

"You arrogant little bastard! You think you're a hero? Grunt, Snake—break his knees and cut his tongue out."

The two thugs armed with iron pipes lunged forward simultaneously. The first thug, a broad-shouldered brute, raised his pipe high with both hands, bringing it down toward Julian’s skull with full force, aiming to shatter his head like a melon.

Julian didn't even step back.

As the iron pipe descended, Julian’s left hand shot out like a striking cobra. His fingers clamped around the thug’s wrist mid-air, stopping the heavy iron bar dead in its tracks.

The sudden halt echoed through the room with a sharp crack—not from the weapon, but from the thug’s arm stopping so violently that his elbow dislocated.

Before the man could even scream, Julian stepped into his guard, drove his right palm straight into the thug’s sternum, and twisted his wrist.

THUMP.

The sound of breaking ribs exploded through the warehouse.

The two-hundred-pound man was launched backward through the air, slamming into an iron support pillar fifteen feet away before crumpling onto the floor like a sack of wet flour, unconscious before he even hit the concrete.

The second thug froze mid-stride, his jaw dropping in sheer disbelief. He didn't even see Julian move.

Before the man could adjust his grip on his iron pipe, Julian closed the distance in a fraction of a second. He grabbed the thug by his throat, lifted him cleanly off the ground with one arm, and slammed him face-first onto the stainless steel surgical tray.

Metallic tools, scalpels, and glass vials shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.

Blood sprayed across the cold floor as the thug’s face caved into the tray. He flopped onto his back, groaning weakly as dark red liquid pooled beneath his head.

The entire warehouse fell into a dead, terrifying silence.

The remaining six thugs backed away half a step, their faces draining of all color.

The arrogant sneers they wore seconds ago had vanished, replaced by raw terror. They had expected an easy target—a desperate, broke young man they could torture and butcher for fun.

Instead, they were standing in front of an absolute monster.

"Shoot him! Shoot him now!" Miller screamed, his voice cracking with panic as he reached for the heavy pistol at his hip.

The thug with the revolver raised his gun, his hands trembling violently as he aimed at Julian’s chest. "Die, you freak!"

BANG!

The gunshot detonated through the enclosed space.

But Julian wasn't there.

Before the trigger was fully depressed, Julian had already pivoted to the left, slipping past the bullet's trajectory. He caught the shooter’s gun-hand, snapped the man’s wrist upward with a sickening SNAP.

He took the revolver from his grip in a single motion. Without breaking stride, Julian drove the heavy steel butt of the revolver directly into the man’s nose.

Bone splintered. The shooter collapsed sideways, clutching his shattered face as blood poured between his fingers.

"Get him off me!" the doctor shrieked, backing away so fast he knocked over a stand of surgical IV bags. "He’s insane. Kill him."

The remaining three thugs drew hunting knives and rushed Julian together out of pure desperation.

They swung wildly, slashing at his throat and chest in a chaotic frenzy.

Julian moved through their blades like a shadow floating through rain. He dodged a horizontal slash by an inch, caught the attacker’s elbow, and drove his knee into the man’s thigh, snapping the femur with a wet crunch.

He spun around, grabbed the second knife-wielder by his hair, and slammed his head downward into his own rising knee.

The man dropped like a stone, motionless.

The third thug dropped his knife voluntarily, threw his hands into the air, and turned to run toward the back exit.

Julian didn't waste a breath. He grabbed the heavy revolver in his palm, flipped it around, and hurled it across the room. The heavy steel frame struck the fleeing thug directly on the back of his neck with the force of a sledgehammer.

The man went limp mid-stride and crashed face-first into a pile of wooden pallets.

In less than forty seconds, seven heavily armed men lay broken, bleeding, and unconscious across the floor.

The corrupt doctor stood paralyzed against the far wall, his white apron soaked in cold sweat. His knees knocked together so violently he could barely stay upright. The scalpel in his hand shook uncontrollable, clicking against his metal tray.

Miller, the lead thug, backed up against the operating table, his hand clawing wildly at his empty holster. His breath came in ragged, terrified gasps as he stared at Julian.

"What...what are you? Who sent you? You're just a nobody. You're Nicholas Bennett's worthless son."

Julian didn't answer. He walked toward Miller with slow, deliberate steps, his boots crunching on the shattered glass and pool of blood covering the floor.

"Please... please." Miller stammered, dropping to his knees and raising his hands in surrender, his voice breaking into pitiful whines.

“It wasn't my idea. We were just hired by Chadwick Lincoln. He gave us two hundred thousand dollars to fetch the girl. The politician wants her heart for his daughter, Donna. I don't know where your mother is, I swear. Only Chadwick knows."

Julian stopped three inches from Miller. He leaned down, his dark eyes locking onto the thug’s soul. The absolute coldness in Julian's gaze was far terrifying than any blade or gun.

"You spoke about my father," Julian whispered, his voice low enough that only Miller could hear. "You spoke about my sister."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" Miller wept, hot tears cutting clean lines through the dirt on his face. "Please, spare my life. I'll tell you everything!"

Julian reached out, grabbed Miller by the collar of his jacket, and lifted the two-hundred-pound man off the floor with a single arm. He drove him downward into the concrete with devastating force.

CRACK.

Miller’s body twitched once before going completely still, his collarbone broken and his mind slipping into unconsciousness.

Julian turned his gaze to the doctor.

The doctor gasped, his eyes rolling back into his head out of pure terror.

Before Julian could even step toward him, the doctor’s knees buckled, and he collapsed sideways onto the floor, passing out cold from sheer fear.

The silence returned to Cold Storage Facility Three.

Julian let out a deep long breath. He turned around, stepping over the groaning bodies, and walked over to the metal operating table.

Aurora was staring at him, her wide eyes unblinking, her chest heaving as she tried to process the total annihilation that had just taken place in front of her. She had known her brother was away in the military, but she had never imagined he possessed such terrifying, inhuman strength.

Julian’s cold, lethal aura melted away instantly as he looked at his sister. His face softened into that of a protective older brother.

He reached down, gently peeled the thick duct tape from her mouth, and pulled a pocket blade from his belt to slice through the heavy leather straps binding her wrists and ankles.

"Julian!" Aurora sobbed the moment her hands were free. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. "Julian. I thought... I thought I was going to die. They were going to cut me open."

Julian wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest, shielding her from the horrific sight of the room. He rubbed her back, his hand steady and warm.

"I know, sweetie. I know. You're safe now. I'm right here. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again."

"Mom..." Aurora wept, her voice muffled against his jacket. "Julian, they took Mom. A group of men in black suits grabbed her first. She fought them, Julian, but they dragged her into a black SUV. They said... they said if I didn't stay quiet, they'd kill her."

Julian’s eyes darkened slightly, but his voice remained gentle as he stroked her hair. "I will find her, Aurora. I promise you, I will bring Mom back home safely to you."

"We have to call the police." Aurora pleaded, pulling back to look into his face, her eyes filled with desperation. "We have to go to the police station right now."

Julian shook his head quietly. "The police in Sunspire City belong to Chadwick Lincoln, Aurora. They won't help us."

Before Aurora could ask what he meant, the heavy industrial halogen lights overhead flickered violently.

BZZZT.

A sharp metallic hum rang out as the main power grid for Pier 14 was abruptly cut off.

The yellow light died instantly, plunging the windowless warehouse into absolute, suffocating darkness.

"Julian!" Aurora gasped, her hands clutching his shirt tightly in the pitch-black room. "What's happening?"

"Stay behind me," Julian commanded quietly, pulling her behind his frame.

A second later, bright crimson beams of light cut through the dark, icy air.

Dozens of red laser sights flickered through the high ventilation windows near the ceiling, dancing across the concrete floor and painting red dots across Julian’s chest and arms.

Outside the warehouse, the heavy, rhythmical thud of combat boots echoed against the wet ground.

Dozens of heavily armored men were surrounding the place, their movements fast, synchronized, and professional. These were not street thugs or low-level kidnappers. These were highly trained tactical mercenaries.

CLICK.

The high-pitched noise of a heavy bullhorn shattered the darkness outside, echoing through the broken iron entrance.

"Julian Bennett!" a harsh, amplified voice boomed from the storm outside. "This is Tactical Unit Alpha! The property is completely surrounded. We have thirty heavy assault rifles trained on every exit."

Aurora whimpered, hiding her face against Julian’s back as the red laser dots multiplied across the room.

"Governor Chadwick Lincoln sends his regards!" the speaker shouted, his voice dripping with cruel authority.

"He knows you returned to Sunspire City, and he knows you're inside. Hand over the girl's heart willingly. You have thirty seconds to decide whether you both burn to ash."