The attacker didn’t respond, just continued pressing forward with increasingly desperate attacks. <b>I </b>could see <b>the </b>growing confusion in <b>their </b>movements–they’d expected an easy target<b>, </b><b>not </b>someone who could not only defend against their techniques but predict them.
A particrly aggressive lunge left them off–bnce. I seized the opportunity<b>, </b>grabbing their wrist and twisting sharply. The knife ttered to the floor. I kicked it under the bed, then delivered a precise strike to their sr plexus, followed by a sweep that took their legs out from under them.
The intruder hit the floor hard but immediately rolled toward the window. I intercepted them<b>, </b>mming my foot
down on their ankle with enough force to make them gasp in pain.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I said calmly, retrieving their fallen knife from under the bed.
The figure made onest desperate attempt to escape, lunging for my legs. I sidestepped and brought the handle of the knife down hard on the back of their head. Not enough to kill, just enough to stun.
They copsed face–down on the floor, breathing heavily. I straddled their back, using my weight to pin them down as <b>I </b>removed their mask.
Short dark hair, sharp features, male, mid–thirties. No one I recognized.
I patted him down thoroughly, finding two more knives, a garrote wire, and a small pistol with a suppressor attached. Professional kit. I disarmed everything methodically, cing the weapons on my nightstand.
“Open your mouth,” I ordered, pressing the de of his own knife against his throat.
Heplied reluctantly. I reached in and extracted a small device wedged between his mrs and cheek–a
subdermal transmitter.
I dropped it into <b>a </b>ss <b>of </b>water on my nightstand<b>, </b>adding a white powder that caused the liquid to bubble and dissolve the device<b>. </b>
Next<b>, </b><b>I </b>turned my attention to the back of his neck, making a small incision just below the hairline. My fingers found what I was looking for–a tiny GPS chip embedded in the tissue. I removed it carefully and dissolved it in the same solution.
The man remained silent throughout this process, his breathing controlled despite what must have been considerable pain. Professional discipline. I respected that<b>, </b>even in an enemy.
With a swift motion, I tore open the back of his tactical shirt. There it was–a series of numbers and symbols tattooed between his shoulder des. The coding system was familiar to me; it indicated rank, specialty, and unit within Shadow Organization.
“Six years with Shadow Organization,” I observed, reading the markings.
<b>11:09 </b>Wed, Sep <b>24 </b>
His eyes widened slightly. “How did you-”
:
“You’re in my bedroom,” <b>I </b>cut him off. “I ask the questions.” I twisted his arm behind his back, just shy <b>of </b>dislocation. “Do you know who I am<b>?</b>”
He swallowed hard. “Titan leader,” he muttered.
Iughed softly. “Is that all?”
“How do you know about our transmitters<b>? </b>The GPS imnts?<b>” </b>His voice was barely above a whisper now.
<b>92 </b>
“Because I know Shadow Organization well.” I traced the edge of his knife along his abdomen<b>, </b><b>just </b>enough pressure to break the firstyer of skin. “Now, why would SPECTER send someone to watch me? What does he want?”
The man’s eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape that didn’t exist. “I can’t—”
<b>I </b>pressed the knife deeper, drawing a thin line of blood across his stomach. “Wrong answer.”
He struggled against my grip, but there was nowhere to go. I made another cut, parallel to the first, <b>just </b><b>as </b>shallow but twice as painful.
<b>“</b>The next one goes deeper,” I promised. “What does SPECTER want?”
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought through the pain. I made a third cut, slightly deeper than the others. His breathing became ragged.
“Please,” he gasped. “They’ll kill me.”
‘I’ll kill you,” <b>I </b>corrected him. “The difference is, they’ll make itst for days. I’ll make it quick if you tell me now.”
I positioned the knife over his abdomen again<b>, </b>ready for a fourth cut that would do real damage. His eyes locked onto the de, terror finally breaking through his training.
‘I’ll talk!‘ he screamed. “I’ll talk…”
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