Chapter 4 - Darkness and SteelThe sudden plunge into darkness sent Marcus’s guards scrambling. Flashlights flared to life, cutting erratic white beams through the rain-slicked labyrinth of shipping containers.
"What the hell happened to the power?" one of the guards shouted, sweeping his light across a stack of rusted metal boxes.
"His wife," Vincent growled, emerging from the security office with a tactical shotgun in his hands. "She runs his corporate tech infrastructure. She’s locked down the entire perimeter. We need to find Daniel before he reaches the main gate override."
"He can't walk, Vincent!" Marcus snapped, holding a handkerchief against his bleeding shoulder. "He’s a cripple crawling in the mud!"
"You don't know him," Vincent replied, his eyes scanning the shadows. "Daniel isn't a man you can kill just by breaking his legs. As long as he has a breath in his lungs, he's a war."
Silence settled over the yard, broken only by the rhythmic drumming of rain against metal and the crunch of gravel under heavy boots.
Ten yards away, crouching behind a towering stack of refrigerated containers, Daniel unbuckled his tactical leg braces. They were too heavy, too loud, and too restrictive for close-quarters combat in the dark. Letting them hit the ground with a dull thud, he pulled himself forward using his upper body strength alone, dragging his dead legs behind him like dead weight.
He moved like a ghost through the wet gravel, relying entirely on muscle memory and the layout of a yard he had designed himself ten years ago.
Footsteps.
Two men approached his position, their flashlights sweeping low.
"Check behind those crates," one muttered.
Daniel waited until the first beam of light swept past him. As the guard stepped close enough to touch, Daniel lunged upward from the ground, grabbing the man’s tactical vest, yanking him forward, and driving a heavy hunting knife upward into his chest with lethal precision.
The guard dropped without a sound.
Daniel caught him before he hit the ground, gently lowering him into the mud, and stripped his semi-automatic rifle and extra ammunition magazines.
The second guard turned around just in time to see the muzzle flash.
Thud-thud-thud.
Three suppressed rounds dropped the second man instantly.
Daniel wiped the rain from his eyes, picked up the dead guard's tactical flashlight, and clicked it on for a single second to check his bearings.
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He was fifty yards from the security office.
And Vincent was waiting for him.
