The shattered glass hung in the air for a heartbeat, a glittering promise of freedom. But before Ned and his team could plunge into the fiery abyss below, a sound froze them in place.
The door to their quarters blew open with a thunderous crack, followed by heavy footsteps that seemed to shake the very foundations of the burning building.
Ned's gut churned. Part of him, the part that had kept him alive through countless missions, screamed to go, to slide down the building and take their chances with the inferno below.
But another part, the curious bastard that had gotten him into more trouble than he cared to admit, wanted to see who or what had managed to bring down their entire organization in mere moments.
The footsteps grew closer, climbing the stairs to their position. Ned glanced at his team, huddled in the makeshift bathtub-sled. Their faces mirrored his own conflict – fear warring with a morbid curiosity.
"We should go," Atara whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackle of flames.
Ned nodded, but found himself paralyzed, eyes fixed on the darkened staircase. The figure that emerged was something out of a nightmare.
He stood imposingly tall, his body was a mass of muscles. His skin was an unnatural ashen white, stark against the vivid black tattoo that snakes across the left side of his body from face to torso. His bald head gleams in the light, offset by a thick, well-groomed beard.
Deep-set eyes burned with intensity beneath a heavy brow, while numerous scars crisscross his flesh.
He wore little - just a simple leather loincloth and sandals, leaving most of his battle-hardened physique exposed.
In his hands, he wields twin short swords. Each blade was roughly the length of his forearm, with a distinctive, jagged shape. The metal was a redirect- red-orange, as if still hot from the forge.
The blades widen from the hilt, curving outward to form two sharp prongs at the tip, giving them a forked appearance. Intricate, flame-like patterns are etched into the metal, seeming to writhe and dance in the light.
The hilts are wrapped in leather, ending in a hook from which thick chains extend, coiling around his arms.
A collective gasp went up from the team. Even Zeta, usually unflappable in the face of danger, let out a small squeal of terror.
[Chances of survival: 0.0%]
'That fucking 'Kratos' in the flesh. This game really doesn't disappoint even if you clearly want it to, does it?' Ned felt his heart hammering against his ribs.
He'd seen some shit in his time as a gamer, controlling agent xXx_SpyGod69_xXx, but this... this was something else entirely. For a moment, his life flashed before his eyes – a pitiful parade of missed opportunities and half-assed missions.
"Go!" Ned yelled, snapping out of his trance. "Fucking go!"
As if his words had broken a spell, the team surged into action. Ember and Ursula, positioned at the front of the tub, pushed off with all their might. The makeshift sled teetered on the edge for a heart-stopping moment before gravity took hold.
They plunged down the sloping side of the building, the wind howling in their ears. Ned's stomach lurched as they picked up speed, the ground below rushing up to meet them at an alarming rate.
But their problems were far from over. A thunderous crash from above made Ned look back, and what he saw made his blood run cold. The Kratos-like being had leapt after them, his massive form hurtling down the building with inhuman speed.
"Fuck me," Ned muttered, his mind racing. They had no weapons, no plan, nothing that could possibly stand against this monstrosity. All they had was a bathtub and a prayer.
As they careened down the building, narrowly avoiding flames and debris, Ned's thoughts whirled. The creature pursuing them... it had to be Quantum. The strike force created by the corporations to control the parameters of deadlock.
But if he remembered correctly, the Kratos AI was created to annihilated the Awakeneds and other rogue AIs after the Prometheus virus was set off by Barton's death. So why were they after Ned and his team? None of them were awakeneds, none that he knew about at least.
'How would I fair against this twisted version of Kratos?' Ned asked the system, a desperate plea for some glimmer of hope.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Very Bad! You are a spy, hence, that's what your combat is calibrated on—Quick and stealthy. He is a frigging arch-AI programed for annihilation. You won't stand a chance.]
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Ned grumbled, earning confused looks from his teammates.
The thought of fighting this beast was out of the question. Their only hope was to somehow outrun it, to reach the bottom of the building before it caught up to them. But even as the thought formed, Ned knew it was futile. The creature was moving with impossible speed, eating up the distance between them with every passing second.
"Ned!" Tinsley's scream cut through his thoughts. "He's coming!"
Ned looked back to see the Kratos-like being almost upon them, his blades glinting in the firelight. Time seemed to slow as Ned watched Zeta prepare to throw herself at the creature, a desperate, suicidal attempt to buy them time.
Without thinking, Ned reached out and grabbed Zeta, yanking her back into the tub. In the same motion, he pushed himself up, ready to take her place. His hands were clenched unto fists.
"Ned, no!" Paige yelled, reaching for him.
But Ned was already moving, launching himself towards the pursuing monster. As he flew through the air, time seemed to stretch.
He saw the look of surprise on the creature's face, quickly replaced by a savage grin. He saw his team's horrified expressions, their mouths open in silent screams. He saw the city below, oblivious to the drama unfolding above.
In that moment, Ned thought of all the choices that had led him here. The missed opportunities, the half-assed missions, the constant dance between duty and self-interest.
He thought of Ms. Jenkins and the Director, of their warnings about Quantum and the Awakened. He thought of his team, the women he'd come to care for more than he'd ever admit.
And as the Kratos-like being's blade swung towards him, Ned had one final, absurd thought: I'm going to die a virgin. But...
"Bring it on 'Ghost of Sparta!'" He growled, swinging out his fist.
***