Bab 16: Chapter 16: Ethan’s Solitude
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𝘌𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵.
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The apartment sat high above the city, a fortress of solitude hidden in plain sight. Morning light filtered through the narrow blinds, casting slatted shadows across the room's stark interior. Every item had its place—meticulously arranged, with not a single object out of line. The walls were a deep shade of gray, lined with tactical gear and an impressive array of weapons. Monitors mounted above a sleek black console displayed live feeds of the outside world—traffic patterns, weather updates, and encrypted messages scrolling through like ticker tape. The hum of electronics filled the silence, a constant, subtle reminder of the world beyond these walls.
Ethan's eyes flicked open at precisely 5:00 a.m., no alarm needed. His body, a finely tuned machine, needed little sleep. He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, as the weight of another day settled onto his broad shoulders. The soft whir of the apartment's automated systems initiating their morning sequence was the only sound, a faint mechanical symphony of security checks and status updates.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet meeting the cold floor with a muted thud. The sensation grounded him, the chill running up his spine as he rose, every movement precise, calculated. He reached the bathroom with the efficiency of a man who'd long ago learned to avoid unnecessary motion. As the lights automatically adjusted to his presence, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.
Onyx-black eyes stared back, unfathomable and cold. The face in the mirror was handsome, if only in the way that a sharpened blade is beautiful. Scars marked his tanned skin—subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who didn't know where to look. Each one told a story, though Ethan had long since stopped reliving those tales. His expression was unreadable, a mask forged through years of necessity.
He brushed a hand over his jaw, feeling the coarse stubble beneath his fingers. A reminder that time, despite all his efforts, continued to march forward. As he turned on the shower, steam filled the small space, and the water cascaded over his muscular frame, hot enough to burn away the remnants of the night. Ethan's mind, usually disciplined and compartmentalized, wandered briefly, unbidden, to the memories that haunted him. The loss of his parents, the relentless training, the missions that had left indelible marks on his soul. But he pushed those thoughts away with the same force he would use to dispatch an enemy—swift, decisive, and absolute.
Dressed now, Ethan moved through the apartment like a shadow. Dark jeans, a fitted black t-shirt, and a leather jacket made up his daily uniform. Even in civilian attire, he was always prepared. A tactical knife concealed in his boot, a compact pistol holstered under his jacket—his casual appearance a carefully constructed facade. A man could never be too careful, especially a man like Ethan.
He entered the kitchen, where the counters gleamed under the overhead lights. Everything was in its place—spotless, orderly, efficient. The state-of-the-art appliances stood ready, but Ethan opted for simplicity. He moved with fluid precision, preparing a protein shake and a cup of black coffee. As he sipped the bitter liquid, his eyes darted to the monitors that lined one wall, their flickering images a window into a world that was always just a step away from chaos.
The city below teemed with life, ignorant of the dangers lurking in its shadows. Traffic crawled along the streets, the rhythm of normalcy that never failed to unsettle him. Ethan's fingers drummed absently on the counter as he reviewed the feeds, his mind processing the information with mechanical efficiency. The encrypted messages from Umbrella, barely noticed, streamed across the screens—routine updates, status reports, nothing out of the ordinary.
Yet, despite the calm, an undercurrent of unease lingered in the air, gnawing at him. The silence of the apartment, once a source of comfort, now felt oppressive. It wasn't the kind of silence that offered peace—it was the kind that hung heavy with expectation, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Ethan could feel it, the tension just below the surface, the sense that something was coming. Something inevitable.
He downed the last of his coffee, but the taste lingered, bitter on his tongue. The monitors showed nothing out of the ordinary, but Ethan's instincts told him otherwise. He'd survived this long by trusting those instincts, by knowing when to act and when to wait. Today, though, the waiting felt like a trap, a snare tightening around him with every passing second.
He stood, his muscles coiled with latent energy, and crossed to the window. The view from his apartment was expansive, the city sprawling out in every direction, but Ethan wasn't interested in the scenery. He scanned the skyline, eyes narrowing at nothing in particular, his mind elsewhere. Always elsewhere.
Outside, the world moved on, oblivious to the storm brewing within one man's mind. A storm that had been gathering for years, fueled by loss, forged in battle, and now threatening to break. But Ethan Drake wasn't the type to let storms shake him. He'd weathered worse and would do so again.
The sudden chime of a notification cut through the silence like a gunshot, jolting Ethan from his thoughts. His heart skipped a beat, adrenaline surging as he turned toward the source of the sound. His phone, lying on the counter, displayed a single, pulsing message icon. Ethan's body tensed, every nerve on edge as he approached. The unease he'd felt all morning crystallized into a sharp point of focus.
He reached for the device, but before his fingers could close around it, the power in the apartment flickered. The monitors went dark, plunging the room into an eerie half-light, illuminated only by the dim glow of the emergency backups kicking in. Ethan froze, instincts taking over. His mind raced, calculating possibilities, assessing threats. The apartment was supposed to be a sanctuary, impenetrable—but in his world, nothing was absolute.
The lights sputtered back to life, but the monitors remained black, save for one. It flickered back on, displaying a single line of encrypted text. A message from Umbrella, unmistakable in its brevity and the weight it carried. Ethan's eyes locked onto the screen, the unease he'd felt earlier now a full-blown sense of foreboding. Whatever was coming, it wasn't good.
His hand finally closed around the phone. He unlocked it with a swipe, revealing the message that had interrupted his morning. As he read it, the world seemed to narrow to a single point, everything else fading into the background. The words were simple, but their implications were anything but.
Ethan Drake was being called back into the shadows.
He stood there, phone in hand, staring at the message as if it could somehow change if he looked hard enough. The silence of the apartment returned, but it was no longer the oppressive quiet of before. Now, it was the calm before the storm, the moment of stillness before everything he knew was torn apart once again.
Ethan's mind raced, already planning, already calculating. The message had shattered the fragile sense of control he'd clung to, but it also brought with it a strange sense of clarity. He knew what he had to do, even if it meant walking back into the darkness he'd tried so hard to leave behind.
The apartment felt smaller now, the walls closing in as the weight of the mission ahead pressed down on him. He wasn't afraid of the danger—it was the uncertainty that gnawed at him, the knowledge that this mission could cost him more than he was willing to give.
But that was the life he'd chosen, the life that had chosen him. And so, as the final seconds of calm ticked away, Ethan Drake prepared to step back into the shadows, where he belonged.
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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵—𝘌𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦.
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PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
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