And they were closing in.
Martin edged forward, careful not to make any noise as he peeked around the tree. Three figures emerged from the darkness, their bodies shrouded in black tactical gear. Their movements were precise, methodical—no wasted steps.
Assassins.
One of them raised a hand, signaling the others to stop. They surveyed the clearing, their weapons at the ready. Martin watched closely, waiting for the right moment to strike. His breathing slowed, and he centered himself, ready to unleash the full extent of his abilities.
Then, without warning, one of the assassins turned sharply in Martin's direction, raising his gun. The night erupted into gunfire.
Martin reacted instinctively, moving with inhuman speed. He rolled to the side, avoiding the spray of bullets as he fired back, his shots precise and deadly. The first assassin fell, a clean shot to the head.
