The refugee scanned the corner, his weapon following his gaze. Seeing nothing but a concrete pillar and a blank wall, he breathed a sigh of relief. Damn, that was close.
"Where'd 3cm go?" he muttered, glancing around. No sign of his companion, nor anything suspicious. He relaxed slightly. Did he go take a piss or something?
He searched the area, but found no trace of 3cm. Panic began to set in. He needed to report back to Boss Black Dog.
He started back, weapon raised, scanning his surroundings. As he passed the pillar, a pungent smell of urine wafted up. He looked down. A dark stain on the marble floor. Definitely urine. He hadn't noticed it before.
So, 3cm had been here. A sense of foreboding washed over him. He turned—
A damp cloth covered his mouth and nose. He barely had time to—
Rat-a-tat!
The sharp burst of gunfire echoed through the deserted station.
"Gunfire! Contact!" Black Dog roared, leaping to his feet in the control room. He rushed out into the main hall, where several refugees looked at him expectantly.
"Boss, it came from the left!"
"Go! Everyone!"
Thomas, back in his hideout, tossed the spent casings onto the floor, his face grim. He'd almost executed the perfect ambush, but the refugee had managed to get a shot off. Thankfully, he'd reacted quickly, dragging the body into his hideout, collecting the casings, and using a blanket to soak up the urine stain by the pillar. The entire process took less than thirty seconds.
Seconds after he returned to his hideout, refugees appeared near the pillar. Black Dog arrived shortly after.
"Who fired that shot?" he demanded.
The refugees looked at each other, confused.
"Was it you?"
"No, boss! We just got here."
"Not us either. We were with you."
Black Dog frowned. "It wasn't one of ours," a subordinate whispered.
"Check the numbers. Is everyone here?"
The refugees quickly counted heads. "Boss, 3cm and Doggy are missing. I saw them searching this area earlier."
"Me too!"
"Quiet!"
The realization dawned on them. Their two companions were likely dead. The gunshot must have been their last stand.
"That rat's still here. Find him! Search everywhere!"
The refugees fanned out, firing blindly into any shadowed corner.
Inside his hideout, Thomas, fully armed, crouched behind the fireplace, his assault rifle trained on the entrance. In the past three minutes, six refugees had passed by his hidden door, fooled by the camouflage. But despite the effectiveness of the disguise, beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. His mental map showed two dozen red dots swarming around his hideout. The pressure was immense.
Black Dog was equally stressed. "Still nothing?" he growled after fifteen minutes of fruitless searching. They'd arrived less than a minute after the gunshot. There hadn't been enough time for the attacker to dispose of the bodies, let alone escape. Yet, there was no trace of the missing refugees, no bodies, no signs of a struggle.
"Did you pinpoint the location of the shot?"
His subordinate shook his head. "No casings, boss. We could have tracked footprints, but too many of us came through here already. The trail's cold."
"Damn it! He's a ghost or something."
Just then—
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!
A fierce firefight erupted from the tunnel on the other side of the station.
"Boss! We found him! He's in the tunnel! Engaging!"
Black Dog's face lit up. "Finally! Everyone, reinforce!" He sprinted towards the tunnel, the other refugees following close behind, eager for the chance to earn a reward.
The last refugee in the group, his mind already on the potential spoils, was fantasizing about Black Dog's generosity when—
A cloth covered his mouth and nose. Paralysis gripped him. He couldn't move. A figure wearing a fragmented mask appeared, dragging him towards a blank section of wall. He watched in horror as a dark door opened, and he was pulled inside.
He finally understood. The hunter they'd been searching for had been right under their noses, a silent ghost, hidden behind a wall they'd all passed countless times. He wouldn't live to share his discovery. He saw two bodies on the floor, both familiar faces. 3cm and Doggy. The ones they'd been looking for. Their faces were frozen in terror.
He understood his fate. A cold blade pierced his heart. Darkness.
[Survivor has completed the special event: Knife Runner.]
[Reward: Rare Skill [Stealth Movement], Rare Back Armor [Night Cloak - Hooded] ]
[Stealth Movement]
Type: Rare Passive Skill
Description: Makes your movements quieter and reduces the range of sound propagation.
Effects:
· Increases movement speed while stealthed.
· Reduces footstep noise on common surfaces.
· Reduces sound propagation range.
· Reduces noise from weapons and equipment.
· (Max Level): Silent movement on all surfaces.
Proficiency: 0/10000
Proficiency Gain: Gained while moving stealthily.
---
[Night Cloak - Hooded]
Type: Special Back Armor
Material: Black camouflage coating, cotton, specialized polyester fiber.
Special Effect 1: +30% stealth in darkness or shadows, +30% chance to be overlooked.
Special Effect 2: -30% noise from footsteps, weapons, and equipment, -30% sound propagation range.
Thomas stared at the rewards, his eyes wide. Holy shit! This is insane! With these, he could have easily taken out the refugees without all the elaborate setups. The skill and the cloak were a deadly combination.
He retrieved the dark mask he'd traded for earlier.
[Dark Mask]
Type: Rare Face Armor
Material: Wool, cotton
Warmth: Good
Breathability: Good
Ambient Hearing: -5%
Special Effect: Realistic black face print. +20% stealth and +20% disguise in darkness or shadows.
A perfect match for the cloak. Combined, they provided a 50% stealth bonus in darkness or shadows, plus the increased chance of being overlooked and the disguise bonus. He was practically invisible.
He imagined the possibilities. These items weren't suited for direct combat, but for stealth and assassination… Nighttime operations would be much safer and more effective.
He checked his mental map. Two dozen red dots were surrounding a yellow dot in the tunnel. The yellow dot was retreating, clearly outnumbered.
You helped me out earlier. Consider this a return favor.
He equipped the cloak, mask, and his other gear. With the hood up, he was a shadow assassin.
He left the hideout, dropping onto the tracks and sprinting towards the tunnel. He immediately felt the difference. His footsteps and the rustling of his gear were significantly quieter. He felt at home in the shadows, instinctively knowing how to blend into the darkness.
He approached the firefight. The refugees had the yellow dot pinned down. The dot was barely holding on, relying on the darkness for cover. It was almost outside the range of his mental map.
His private messages chimed.
Ben Walker: Pro! Help! Need more SMG ammo! Desperate!
Thomas frowned. No way…
Thomas: Are you the one being attacked in the tunnel?
Ben Walker: ??? How did you know? Are you nearby? Help!
So, it was Ben. That explained how he'd survived this long against so many refugees. He'd used up all the ammo Thomas had traded him earlier.
Thomas: Hold them off. I'll create a diversion.
He traded Ben 60 rounds and a grenade.
Ben Walker: Thank you, Pro!
The gunfire in the tunnel intensified. The yellow dot on his map turned light green. So, that's how the colors worked:
[Red: Hostile]
[Yellow: Neutral]
[Green: Friendly]
He felt more confident about rescuing Walker now. He entered the tunnel, melting into the darkness. Muzzle flashes flickered in the distance.
He targeted the last refugee in the group, hearing their shouts as they pressed their attack. He slowed his pace, drawing his knife, his body low, moving silently through the shadows.
[Stealth Movement]
His footsteps became even quieter. He heard Black Dog's voice echoing through the tunnel.
"Conserve ammo! I want him alive! He's gonna pay for killing our men!"
So, Ben had taken the blame for his kills. Good guy Ben.
The refugees, grinning savagely, advanced slowly, encouraged by Black Dog's words. The last refugee in the line fired a burst at Walker's position. The weapon clicked empty. He ducked behind the wall to reload.
Thomas was two meters behind him, a silent predator in the darkness.
Thomas (to Ben): Attack! Draw their fire!
Ben Walker: Roger that!
Gunfire erupted from Walker's position. The refugees took cover and returned fire. The reloading refugee, hearing the renewed intensity of the fight, aimed his weapon at Ben's position.
Just as he pulled the trigger—
A cold sensation on his neck. Warm liquid gurgling. A sharp blade.
Shhhck… Gah…
Gurgle… gurgle…