The shot rang out with a deafening crack that seemed to shatter the world around Jake. For a moment, everything was still. He couldn't move couldn't breathe his mind racing to process what had just happened.
Vito's head snaps back sharply, his eyes wide in shock, his lips open in a silent scream that never escapes. His body twitches once, twice, and he collapses to the floor, a pool of blood quickly forming beneath his broken skull. The sound of his body thudding into the marble is gut-wrenching, like a ragdoll tossed carelessly aside.
Jake barely had any idea as to what he was looking at. He rubbed his eyes hard, trying to chase away the fogginess in his head. He thought he almost died, but somehow, the bastard Vito disappeared.
And there, in the doorway, his gun still leveled, was the man who had fired, a figure dressed in shadows and masked so his face was a mystery. Jake could see only the glint of cold calculation in the other man's eye.
For one moment, no one moved in the room, the rest of Vito's men staring on in shock, their guns now hanging limply in their hands, unsure of what to do next.
A masked man entered the room, the sound of his boots clicking on the marble floor as he moved forward to Vito, now lying on the floor. Jake was barely on his feet; his leg felt like it was on fire, and his vision kept swimming from loss of blood. But seeing this masked man had stirred something within him, a primal instinct: this wasn't over.
As Jake readied himself to strike, one of Vito's men pulled up his gun and fired.
The masked man moved with the speed of a snake striking, sidestepping the bullet with ease and sending a shot of his own into the man's gut. The force of the impact sent the man stumbling back, his scream cut short as he collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from the gaping hole in his stomach.
"Stay down," the masked man muttered, almost casually, as he surveyed the room. His voice was low and rough a predator's tone, calculated and cold.
The remaining attackers scrambled instantly, seeking shelter, raising their guns, and crying out for directions. Chaos erupts anew, and the storm of violence takes on where it left off.
Jake had no energy to move about; his body screamed in anguish, and his vision was blurring. Blood could be seen from the wound at his leg; he felt that his consciousness was fading away.But he couldn't die here. Not like this.
He made himself crawl, dragging himself across the slick floor, his arms shaking with the effort. His eyes landed on a discarded weapon the gun from one of the men he'd shot earlier. He stretched out a hand, gripping the cold steel, the weight of it a small comfort.
As he edged himself onto his feet again, the room was filled with the crackle of rapid gunfire and cries of the damned. The masked figure was a blur of action; every footstep was precise and deliberate through the mayhem, gunning down Vito's men one at a time.
Jake tried to focus, but the world was fading around him. His thoughts were foggy, his body weak, but the one thing that kept him anchored to reality was the fact that the masked man hadn't killed him yet. If anything, he'd just saved him.
"Get up, kid," the masked man called, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"We've got work to do."Work? Jake could hardly stand. His leg felt like it was on fire, and the blood loss was starting to make his vision blur. But there was no time to waste.
With a grunt of effort, Jake pushed himself upright, still clutching his weapon. The room was alive with violence, and the air reeked of blood, sweat, and gunpowder.
He raised the gun, his arms shaking from the effort, and took aim at the nearest target: a man moving toward the masked figure.Jake pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit its mark, and the man fell, his body jerking as the life drained from him. Blood splattered the floor, and Jake's heart pounded in his chest.
But there was no time to savor the victory. The masked man had already moved on, his gun flashing as he dropped another two of Vito's men.
They crumpled to the floor without a sound."You can't kill us all!" one of the last men cried, his voice now full of despair.
"Who said I wanted to?" replied the masked man, with the sarcasm dripping from every word. "I just want you to know who's in charge now."
Another shot. The man who spoke crumpled to the floor, contorting his face into a knot of agony as blood flowed out from a wound in his chest.
Jake blinked hard, holding his head. He tried to remain steady; however, he saw flickers before his eyes. The room spun.
He didn't know who was left on his feet and who hit the floor. The only thing that registered was the masked man obliterating Vito's crew one after the other."Stay low," the masked man barked while killing another foe.
"You are far from over yet."Jake nodded weakly, trying to compose himself. His hands shook as he reloaded his weapon, his fingers slick with blood.
The fire in his leg was nearly unbearable, but somehow he was still alive. Somehow, he was still fighting.The last of Vito's men three of them were crouched behind a set of pillars at the far end of the room. They were desperate now, firing in wild panic, trying to hold their ground.
But it was too late. The masked man was closing in, methodical and ruthless. One of the men fired a shot at him, but it missed by a mile, and the masked man responded with a single shot that sent the attacker's head snapping back, his body falling lifeless to the floor.
The last two men turned to flee, their backs to the door. But they didn't get far.
The masked man's voice boomed out, "Not so fast."
He raised his gun and then fired twice; one bullet hit a man in the shoulder, and he simply fell to his knees. The second shot caught the other man by the throat, and he fell also, this one gurgling on his own blood.
The room fell silent.
Jake took a raw breath, chest heaving to watch the masked man approach in slow, deliberating steps. There was no relief in this stranger's face, no satisfaction in the bloodshed he caused. He just… was cold. Detached. Like a man doing his job.
Jake was now barely standing, his knees buckling under the weight of everything. His body was going to give in any moment, but he stood, tight-gripping the gun he had.
"You're not done yet," said the masked man as his voice turned somewhat mellow all of a sudden. "You get a chance to walk out of here, kid. But not if you just stand there.
"Who the hell are you?" Jake rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
The masked man didn't answer right away. He just looked at Jake, his eyes unreadable. "Does it matter?"
Jake opened his mouth to argue, but a voice rang out deep, mocking from somewhere behind the masked man.
"Actually, it does matter."
The masked man spun around, his gun raised. But before he could react, the walls of the room seemed to close in. From the shadows emerged a figure a man dressed in black, his hands raised in mock surrender. His smile was cruel, almost knowing.
"I think you've made quite the mess here," the man said, his voice smooth and controlled.