Wrath Of The Legendary Warlord!

0004-Blood In The Rain

The rain fell in fierce, heavy sheets across the dark mountain highway, splashing against bulletproof glass.

Inside the center black SUV of a three-car motorcade, Senior National Security Official Nathan Cole wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead.

His knuckles were tight as he clutched a reinforced steel briefcase to his chest, its digital lock glowing with high-level military encryption.

"Status on the backup detail?" Cole barked, his voice tight with rising panic as wind whipped through the mountain pass outside.

In the front passenger seat, his lead security officer tapped desperately at a ruggedized tactical radio, only to be met with a harsh, rhythmic hiss of static.

"We're completely cut off, sir!" the officer shouted back over the roar of the engine. "All encrypted channels are dead! It's a localized jammer, heavy-grade military tech!"

Before Cole could even draw breath to curse, the night exploded.

A deafening roar shattered the storm as a heavy armored truck slammed directly into the lead vehicle of the motorcade, sending it spinning off the slick asphalt and crashing violently into the concrete barrier.

Flames erupted instantly from the wreckage across the rain-slicked highway.

"Ambush! Get down!" Cole's guard roared, drawing his sidearm as automatic gunfire chewed mercilessly through the doors of their SUV.

Glass shattered into a million heavy fragments.

Bullets ripped through the metal frame like paper, instantly cutting down the driver and plunging the vehicle into chaotic darkness.

From the shadows of the tree line, a squad of elite, heavily armed mercenaries wearing unmarked tactical gear advanced with chilling, mechanical steps.

They moved like ghosts in the downpour, assault rifles raised, sweeping the remaining security detail with a cold, ruthless agenda.

Cole’s remaining guards fired back desperately, but within seconds, the tactical advantage was entirely lost.

One by one, the national security agents slumped lifelessly against the seats, blood mixing with the rainwater pouring through the shattered windows.

The rear door of Cole's SUV was ripped off its hinges with a sickening screech of tortured metal.

A massive mercenary grabbed Cole by the collar, dragging him out into the freezing mud and rain like a ragdoll.

Cole gasped for air, his glasses smashed, his suit soaked and ruined.

"Hand over the case, Cole," a voice hissed through a built-in voice modulator, cold and devoid of any human mercy. "Or your execution ends right here in the mud."

Cole gritted his teeth, refusing to break, even as the cold steel barrel of a silenced pistol pressed firmly against his temple.

"You... you won't get away with this," Cole spat, blood trickling down his cheek from a gash on his forehead. "The director knows I have these codes. The whole network will—"

"The network is blind, and you are dead," the lead mercenary interrupted, his finger tightening slowly on the trigger. "Pity a patriot had to die in the rain."

Just as the hammer clicked back for the fatal shot, the entire highway plunged into an absolute silence.

The roaring wind seemed to die down.

The lead mercenary bulged his eyes, his instincts screaming a sudden, violent warning that wasn't there a microsecond ago.

He snapped his rifle toward the treeline.

"Who's there? Identify!" the mercenary barked, motioning for two of his subordinates to sweep the darkness.

A single pair of boots stepped smoothly out from the heavy curtain of pine trees and falling rain.

The figure wore a simple, dark trench coat; his face loomed in deep shadow under the brim of a damp cap.

He carried no weapon in his hands, yet his mere presence radiated a crushing, suffocating weight that made the hardened killers hesitate.

"Step away from the man," a voice cut through the dark.

It wasn't loud, nor was it filled with empty threats or fake anger.

It was deep with the absolute authority of a god looking down at mere men on a sidewalk.

"Interference. Eliminate him," the lead mercenary snapped, waving his hand forward.

Two elite killers instantly pivoted, raising their assault rifles to cut the stranger down in a hail of lead.

They didn't even get to pull the trigger. Before their fingers could flex, the stranger vanished from their sightline like a ghost across a broken screen.

A sharp, sickening crack echoed over the highway.

The first mercenary's neck snapped backward with bone-shattering force before his lifeless body hit the ground.

Before the second killer could swing his barrel around, an iron grip seized his throat, crushing his windpipe instantly and lifting him off his feet before he tossed him aside like a broken toy.

Total carnage, executed in less than ten seconds.

No hesitation or motion. Pure, terrifying military lethality.

The remaining mercenaries panicked, opening blind, desperate fire into the darkness, but the bullets only punched harmlessly through space where the man had stood a heartbeat before.

Bang! Bang!!

Two silent flashes from the shadows dropped the front-line gunners into the mud.

Within twenty seconds, the elite squad, trained killers who had slaughtered Cole's security detail without breaking a sweat, were completely wiped out.

Only the lead mercenary remained, his hands shaking violently as he dropped Cole into the mud and turned his rifle toward the advancing figure.

"Who... what are you?!" the mercenary stuttered, backing away step by step, terror finally piercing his ice-cold expression.

The man in the trench coat stepped into the orange glow of the burning vehicle.

Water dripped from the brim of his cap, revealing a carved jawline and eyes that burned with an intense aura.

It was none other than Andrew Lloyd.

The mercenary's breath hitched in his throat. He had studied the dossiers. He had seen the official news reports branding this exact man a disgraced, broken outcast.

This wasn't a broken outcast. This was an apex predator wearing human skin.

"You're... you're supposed to be—" the mercenary choked out.

Andrew didn't let him finish.

With a blur of motion, Andrew closed the distance, caught the barrel of the mercenary's rifle with one bare hand, and twisted it with crushing torque.

The metal shrieked and snapped in half. Before the man could scream, Andrew drove the palm of his hand straight into the mercenary's chest, sending him flying backward through the air to crash hard onto the pavement, unconscious and broken.

The highway fell quiet again, save for the crackling of flames and the steady hum of the rain.

Nathan Cole scrambled backward in the mud, clutching his briefcase, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and profound disbelief.

He looked at the dead elite mercenaries scattered across the asphalt, then slowly lifted his gaze to the man standing tall above him.

As Andrew stepped closer and reached down to offer a strong, steady hand, the dim light caught his features clearly.

Cole's breath caught. His knees buckled under him, not from fear of Andrew, but from the overwhelming realization of who stood before him.

"Colonel..." Cole whispered, his voice trembling uncontrollably as tears mixed with the rain on his face. "They... they told the entire country you were finished. They said you were cast out."

Andrew gripped Cole's arm, pulling the senior official effortlessly to his feet with firm strength.

Cole stood there, shaking, staring at the legendary commander who had once saved the nation a hundred times over from the shadows.

Andrew adjusted his collar, his expression cold and focused

"I am dead to the world, Nathan," Andrew said softly; his voice had a trembling aura that made Cole's spine freeze. "Keep it that way."

Cole swallowed hard, clutching the steel briefcase tightly against his chest. "Yes, Colonel. But... the men who ordered this hit. They wanted these codes badly. It leads straight up to the high council of the Spectre Entity. They're trying to destabilize the entire grid."

Andrew turned his gaze toward the dark horizon, where the distant lights shimmered through the cloudy rain.

A faint, dangerous smile clung to his lips.

"The Skyfall Network intentionally allowed the Spectre Entity to play their little games," Andrew chimed in with dangerous intent, his eyes flashing with a lethal aura. "Find out which specific Spectre member funded this hit, and report back to Scoffield."

Cole swallowed his awe, snapping a rigid salute despite his soaked suit. "Understood, Colonel!"

Without another word, Andrew turned his back and walked away into the heavy rain, blending back into the shadows as silently as he had arrived, leaving a terrified government official and a ruined battlefield in his wake, while the world remained blissful, still blind to the storm he was about to unleash.