Finally, the day had arrived.

The shadow had been spotted within the mansion, hunting down the war criminal partying inside.

All five operatives waited until the sign to begin the operation came.

And that didn't take long.

Soon, all of the party goers dropped dead, a clear sign that the shadow had just killed its target.

Three dark figures were approaching the lavish mansion in the middle of the expansive courtyard, entering from the left wing. Using the intricate décor and shrubbery dotting the area, they slowly neared the mansion, remaining hidden.

Each of the figures maintained a clear line of sight between each other, ensuring a strict line of silent communication.

The confidence of their steps and their lack of hesitation showed two things. Firstly, this group was extremely experienced, and secondly, this operation was extensively planned, down to each individual step.

Their every movement was timed, coordinated silently, even their blinks were taken in turns. The degree of preparation screamed overkill; micromanaging an infiltration to the extent that it allowed no room for human error should be impossible.

Above them, the skies were clear, free of clouds. A crescent moon was hanging in the sky, providing just enough moonlight for them to see, but nowhere near enough for them to be spotted from the mansion. Even the weather seemed to be in accordance with the team's plan. Without electronics, the light provided by the moon was vital to ensuring communication would remain uninterrupted, as they were using agreed upon hand signaling to communicate.

The target was believed to have a way to locate any device with a current in a massive area surrounding them. Without information about the method the shadow used, it was too dangerous to risk bringing along any technology.

From the rear of the mansion, a lone man was walking.

His back was straight, his eyes trained on the windows of the mansion with clarity. Were it not for the matching clothing, designed to blend into the specific scenery of the area, it would be hard to connect him to the group in the left wing.

Though he was only casually walking through the area, it nearly looked as if he wasn't there.

He blended in, his figure nearly hazy and almost translucent as he floated over the grassy backyard of the mansion.

If the untrained eye didn't know he was there, it would be almost impossible to spot him.

Even a professional would have difficulties finding him.

Nearly everything was prepared. Minutes were the only part of the mission remaining.

The plan was going perfectly, until the support member in the outcrop of trees outside of the courtyard signaled to the group of three that there was an emergency at the rear of the mansion.

The team was cursing in their minds, blaming the fool in the rear if anything went wrong. Their clean plan thrown to the wind; two of the three shadows split off to head to the rear of the mansion.

They saw a man on his knees, casual as could be.

Sam wanted to scream. Everyone had agreed, no matter how dismal and impossible the mission was, they wanted to die with honor. Everyone would give their all. Everyone would die in the heat of a battle.

The last man he expected to give in was the man known as the calmest killer, the man known only as 6. With rage filling his head, he decided if the mission was going to be fucked over like this, he would just kill the man himself.

Just as he rose, getting ready to confront him, his colleague grabbed his soldier.

Suppo's face was serious, grave was an understatement. He pointed at the world's calmest killer with body language that screamed "somber".

A tall silhouette, appearing to be covered in a layer of black smoke billowing off of it, was behind him.

It was twice as broad as 6, at least a foot taller than him, even when he was standing.

Sam wanted to fall to his own knees at this point. 6 was in the most strategically important position in this operation, and by far he was the best at hiding his presence.

40% of the plan hinged on him, their best, the man who could kill the entire rest of the team on his own.

Their best, their greatest chance at having a fighting chance, couldn't even get within 30 yards of the facility before being discovered by the target.

"Fuck it. Fuck this shit," Sam said.

"Sam, we kne-"

"Fuck what we knew. We knew we'd die, we knew fuck all, who gives a shit. Why are we even fucking here, this bastard has done the world a damn favor. I just...we wanted to die honorably here? What's the honor in dying protecting a broken, fucked up world. And failing at it," Sam whispered through a hoarse throat.

"I know. But its better than doing nothing. It's not over, Sam. You give him hell, you show him how angry you are. We don't give up. 6 did, but we do not give up," Suppo said, gripping Sam's shoulder to bring him back to reality. "We die, but we die once he's bleeding and broken. We die when he's as fucked up as we feel."

Sam took a deep breath as he fought the urge to scream. He beat his chest, redoubling his courage, and began preparing to fight. He took one step forward, but immediately froze once again.

He wasn't the only one. No one moved. All of them stared at 6. They grieved. They grieved at their deaths, at the deaths of their short-lived friendships. At the death of 6, with a dagger sticking through his forehead, slumped onto the sickly red manicured (lawn).

Sam was the first to move again, letting out the pained scream he had been holding back. He broke into a sprint, forgoing strategy in his rage. He rushed to the shadow, determined to return the favor.

Suppo immediately responded upon seeing this, taking a shooting stance. The shadow could dodge bullets, but they could use that to lead it in the direction they wanted. Support was the best he could offer for Sam.

As Sam neared the shadow, it began moving. It was far faster than him, spanning the yards between them in an instant.

The deliberation the shadow had when killing 6 was gone, instantly moving to grab Sam's neck.

Moments before it reached Sam, a shot split the air between the two, forcing the shadow to withdraw its hand to avoid the bullet.

Grabbing a hold of the opportunity, Sam made his move. Taking advantage of his low posture from the charge, he slammed into the shadow's waist, aiming to take it to the ground and remove its mobility.

It was a tactic they had all agreed upon, if someone could bring it to the ground, everyone would open fire, disregarding their comrade in the line of fire. It was a suicide attack.

Sam's hands connected, putting the full brunt of his change and rage into the shadow. The shadow took one single step backward to regain his balance, raising both hands and slamming them down onto Sam's vulnerable back.

Bullets flew at the shadow, from the comrade supporting Sam and the man who hadn't moved since the shadow was first noticed, forcing the shadow to miss the moment to finish off Sam. It started another mad dash, nearing the distance to Suppo in fractions of a second. Several shots flew by him, slowing his approach.

Suppo was desperately shooting, praying Sam would get up and pull the shadows aggro. As the shadow reached him, fiercely kicking toward his head, he rolled to the side, abandoning his rifle. Taking a moment to glance at Sam, he shook. Sam was laying like a corpse, sprawled across the ground as mutely as 6 was.

Suppo stopped his quick movements, coming to a stop in the middle of a fight for his life. With his eyes closed and his head down, he waited.

"You're fast." the shadow uttered, as it blew out the last breaths of the soldier named Suppo.

The unnamed mercenary was now in a complete panic, firing their weapon madly. The shadow barely had to try as he dodged, grabbing Suppo's rifle before firing two quick shots that ended their life, piercing their head and heart, leaving them as the fourth corpse to fall.

With only one member of the team of 5 left, the shadow ceased its movements. He peered at the girl across the courtyard, curious about why she hadn't shot or supported her teammates a single time so far.

The two gazed at each other for several moments, before the last of the suicide team bowed toward the shadow, pulling out her pistol. She turned the barrel toward herself, firing the first and only shot she would take tonight.

Slowly, the shadow stumbled out of the courtyard. It moved with purpose, but it seemed so much smaller than it had during the fight, its body slowly evaporating. With the crescent moon the only witness in the clear skies above, it left the sad scene it created, thinking that the rain dropping on its face fit the disaster that it was leaving.