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His body is still twitching as I saw off his hand and throw it at the feet of the fucker standing directly in front of the door I need to pass through.
He looks down at the severed limb as I pounce. From my spot in the darkness, I throw my knife right at his lower forehead. It connects between his eyes, the sharp blade digging into his skull.
His eyes remain open, eternally petrified, as he collapses to the ground. I take him and the hand and bring them inside with me, using their dead weight as a doorstop to keep anyone from getting inside too quickly.
Stalking through the halls, I quickly find the door I’m looking for. Unfortunately, it’s half-hidden behind three stone-faced watchmen.
One knife won’t do here, but I can’t bring out the guns yet. This needs to be a silent job.
So, I go back and grab the bloody severed hand and then I put it to use one more time. Fortunately, the ceilings in this place are high enough that I can put a good arc on it. And it falls with a thud in a little circle of darkness just on the other side of the hall.
The three watchmen all perk up. And after a little meeting, one decides to go check on the sound. The other two keep watch, but human nature forces their eyes to follow their friend. That gives me all the space I need to sneak up on them.
I’ve never been one to dance, but it feels like a ballet as I slice one of their throats, then immediately spin around to slice the other’s too.
I leave the dead men writhing on the ground as I go after their friend.
… But I’m too late to keep him quiet.
A terrified wail rips down the hall when he sees the hand.
Fuck. The coward. What kind of soldier screams like that at the simple sight of a severed body part?
Luckily, I get to him before his shaking hands can pull out his radio. My blade digs into his temple and I help him to the ground.
Just like that, the three men are dead. But there’s no way that coward’s last wail didn’t alert someone. I need to hurry before reinforcements arrive.
Wiping the fucker’s blood off of my blade, I stick the knife in my pocket and leave him to bleed out on the floor. If he hadn’t screamed, I might have taken the time to hide his body. But there’s no point in wasting any time now.
I’m not here to clean-up, I’m here to take the man we’re almost certain is being held in the cellar downstairs.
Kicking aside the bodies in front of the heavy basement door, I slip through as silently as possible. The stairs are dark, but I can see a light at the bottom… and a shadow.
Quietly closing the door behind me, I finally take my gun out. It’s already fastened with a silencer.
If the Greeks are smart, this whole basement should be soundproofed already. No one wants to hear their hostages screams from upstairs.
Creeping through the dark stairwell, I wait until I can see the feet of the guard standing in the hallway. After carefully aiming at the artery in his ankle, I shoot.
With a ragged curse, the man crumples to the ground. The second that his head is in sight, I take it off with another quick shot.
His blood stains my footsteps as I slip past his body, towards the door I’m here to break through.
Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I push.
To my surprise the door isn’t locked, and it slowly creaks open.
Immediately, I know I’m in the right place.
The cold pavement walls are lined with restraints. In the center of the room, a long blood-stained wooden table stretches out beside a smaller desk. The top of that desk is covered in tools of torture.
A cold shiver runs up my spine. This is not somewhere I want to be for long.
Fortunately, my search is quick, and it ends when I spot the metal bars of a makeshift prison cell at the far end of the torture chamber.
Inside, I can see a broad-shouldered figure sitting on the floor, head tucked between his knees.
I walk right up to the bars of his cage and I shake them.
