Instinct took over. I ducked, dodging the attack, and brought my weapon up, ready to fire. But the figure was fast, moving with a speed and precision that matched my own. We circled each other, eyes locked, each of us calculating the other's next move. The dim light from the warehouse's few working bulbs flickered, casting ominous shadows on the cracked concrete floor. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline surging through my veins as I sized up my opponent.
He was dressed in all black, his face partially obscured by a balaclava, but his eyes were sharp, focused, and filled with intent. This wasn't just a hired thug; this was someone trained, someone who knew exactly what they were doing. Every movement was deliberate, controlled, and deadly.
