thanh.nguyenhoang.1403@gmail.com
Stories
14
Chapters
126
Words
171.5 K
Comments
0
Reading
14 h, 17 m
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ROWAN The scent of blood was no longer a clinical observation; it was the atmosphere itself. The Red Dogs had torn through the bunker with the mindless savagery of starving wolves. Shelves had been overturned, glass cabinets shattered into dust, and the sterile white tiles of my medical bay were now slick with the debris of a life systematically dismantled. Marcus, the man with the scarred lip, stood over me, his rifle barrel pressed hard against my collarbone. "The boss wants you to watch,…-
12.5 K • Completed
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ROWAN The sound of the final gunshot echoed, but it did not tear through flesh. Instead, the heavy steel door at the far end of the corridor exploded inward, not from fire, but from the coordinated strike of an elite tactical unit. The smoke in the bunker was suffocating, swirling in thick, gray plumes under the harsh, rhythmic flashing of red emergency strobes. Silas Thorne, caught in the sudden vacuum of the breach, didn't even have time to turn before he was pinned to the wall by a hail of non-lethal…
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12.5 K • Completed
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— The Sound They Hunt Jax The machine in my chest lies every twelve seconds. Tick. Tick. Tick. Then silence. For one perfect breath, I can pretend my heart belongs to me. The next tick shivers through the steel table beneath my spine, and Silas smiles from the other side of the glass. “Still alive,” he says through the intercom. “How disappointing for you.” White surgical light burns above me. Restraints bite both wrists, one ankle, and the base of my throat. Somebody has cut my shirt…-
11.9 K • Completed
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The acid rain of the Ashlands does not wash away sins; it just burns them deeper into your skin. I sprint through the narrow, twisted alleys of Sector 4, my boots slipping on the slick, toxic mud. Every breath I drag into my lungs feels like inhaling shattered glass. But the burning in my chest is nothing compared to the rhythmic, mechanical betrayal echoing from inside my own ribcage. Tick. Whir. Click. It is a faint sound, masked to anyone else by the relentless downpour and the distant groan of dying…
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11.9 K • Completed
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A corpse is a known variable. It does not speak, it does not panic, and most importantly, it does not draw fire. The trembling kid on the floor of the garage, however, is a catastrophic liability. My targeting laser paints a steady crimson dot between his wide, terrified eyes. My HUD scrolls through rapid tactical assessments, overlaying green data streams onto my organic vision. The three mercenaries bleeding out in the dirt belong to Silas. That means the perimeter will be swarming with reinforcements…
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11.9 K • Completed
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The monomolecular blade on the concrete floor taunts me, catching the dim, fractured light of the garage. Twenty seconds. The heavy, rhythmic pounding of armored boots echoes just outside the ruined perimeter. Silas’s hounds are methodically closing the net. I can already hear the high-pitched whine of their plasma torches cutting through the reinforced steel of the main blast doors. I drop to my knees and snatch the blade from the grease-stained dirt. The hilt is still slick with the black blood of…
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11.9 K • Completed
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My internal chronometer registers exactly three hours and twelve minutes since the breach at the garage. We are five miles deep into the subterranean transit lines, moving through the skeletal, concrete intestines of the old mag-lev tunnels. The kid—Jax—is walking ten paces ahead, his uninjured hand clutching his heavily bandaged left arm. I observe his gait through the pale green wash of my night-vision optics. It is uneven, favoring his right side, yet his footfalls are deliberately, almost…
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11.9 K • Completed
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The safehouse room Ryn provided above the black market is little more than a suspended metal shipping container. It smells of stale ozone, cheap synthetic gin, and the pervasive, inescapable dampness of the Ashlands. The single flickering neon tube on the ceiling casts harsh, bruised shadows across the corrugated walls. Ever since we left the checkpoint, the silence between us has been suffocating. Kaelen stands by the single, heavily grated window, staring out into the toxic downpour. He has not…
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11.9 K • Completed
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The acid rain always falls harder when you are marching toward a slaughter. I move through the flooded arteries of Sector 4, my heavy boots crushing discarded tech beneath the contaminated water. The rhythmic hum of my spinal servos is the only sound keeping me anchored to reality. In my right hand, I grip the modified EMP-driver I took from the safehouse table while Jax was sleeping. It is an ugly, volatile piece of scavenged garbage, wired together with spit and desperation. But it works. My combat…
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11.9 K • Completed
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The chains suspended from the ceiling dig so deeply into my wrists that I can no longer feel my fingers. The pain in my shoulders is a dull, tearing fire, but it is nothing compared to the absolute, hollow void expanding in my chest. Blood drips steadily from my chin, splashing onto the pristine white floor of the operative theater. Silas is standing behind the command console, his tailored suit immaculate, his smile sharp and satisfied. Ryn is leaning against the wall, swirling his green gin. But my eyes…
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11.9 K • Completed
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