บท 17: Chapter 17: The Summons
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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘌𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦.
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He'd been standing by the window, lost in thought, staring out at the empty street below. The early morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room—a stark contrast to the chaos that was about to be unleashed.
He reached down, grabbing the phone with a swift, almost instinctive motion. The screen blinked with a single line of text from Umbrella: "𝘙𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺. 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦." His grip tightened, the faint crackle of his knuckles breaking the stillness as the message sent a jolt through his system.
Ethan's heart thudded once, a heavy, deliberate beat. The calm exterior he had fought so hard to maintain began to crack ever so slightly, but only for a fleeting second. He let out a slow breath, forcing the tension down, burying it under layers of discipline and training.
Without hesitation, he moved. The apartment, with its worn furniture and dim light, faded into the background as his focus honed in on the task ahead. He crossed the room with purpose, his mind already shifting gears, instinct and habit driving his actions.
The closet door slid open with a smooth hiss, revealing a meticulously organized array of gear. Everything was in its place, from the Umbrella Custom 1911 .45 ACP Pistol hanging on the wall to the advanced combat suit folded neatly on a shelf. Each item was a reminder of the life he led—a life defined by violence and survival.
He dressed quickly, pulling on the lightweight Kevlar vest first, feeling the familiar weight settle against his chest. The suit followed, its nanofiber mesh underlayer clinging to his skin like a second, armored hide. Every movement was precise, efficient, honed by years of repetition. As he strapped on his boots, the reinforced plating clicked into place, providing stability and protection.
Ethan reached for his primary weapon, the Umbrella Custom 1911. He weighed it in his hand, checking the magazine before sliding it into the holster at his side. The cool metal felt reassuring against his hip, a constant companion in a world where trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.
His fingers brushed the grip of the HK416 Assault Rifle, but he hesitated for a moment. He'd been on edge since the last mission, the one that had gone south in ways he still couldn't fully grasp. The rifle, outfitted with an advanced suppressor and smart holographic sight, was more than just a tool—it was a lifeline. But today, it felt heavier, as if it carried the weight of the mission before it even began.
Ethan shook the thought away, locking down the errant emotions threatening to surface. This wasn't the time for reflection. The job required precision, not sentiment. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, the strap settling into a familiar groove.
He grabbed the rest of his gear—night vision and thermal goggles, the Umbrella Nano-Smoke Grenades, and the enhanced multi-tool—packing them into the compartments of his tactical vest. The first aid kit slid into the side pocket, its regenerative serum nestled within easy reach. Each item had its place, its purpose, and Ethan ensured they were all in order before heading toward the door.
As he reached for the handle, his phone vibrated again. The second message was as cold and impersonal as the first: "𝘌𝘛𝘈 10 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴. 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦."
He stared at the screen, the words a stark reminder of the control they had over him. Umbrella had always been like this—distant, demanding, and unyielding. They didn't care about the toll it took on him, or the scars that layered over his psyche. All that mattered was the mission, and his success was their only concern.
Ethan's jaw clenched, his mind flicking back to the moment of vulnerability he'd felt earlier. There was no room for that now. He tightened his grip on the door handle, the cold metal grounding him in the present. He was Umbrella's most dangerous asset, and he had a job to do.
Before he stepped outside, he took one last look around the apartment. It was a simple space, devoid of personal touches, yet it had become his sanctuary between missions—a place where he could pretend, however briefly, that he was just a man and not a weapon. His eyes lingered on the spot by the window, the place where he had stood moments ago, lost in thought.
With a final, deliberate breath, he turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit hallway. The apartment door clicked shut behind him, sealing off the world he desperately tried to hold onto.
The morning air hit him as he stepped outside, cool and sharp. The street was empty, a quiet calm settling over the neighborhood. But there was an undercurrent of tension in the air, a subtle shift that set his nerves on edge. Ethan's instincts sharpened, his senses stretching out to detect anything out of the ordinary.
His phone buzzed once more—a third message flashing on the screen. The text was brief, but the words sent a ripple of unease through him: "𝘜𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘉𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨."
Ethan's pulse quickened, a familiar rush of adrenaline flooding his system. The cryptic warning was nothing new, but it was enough to heighten the tension that had been building since the first message. Whatever awaited him wouldn't be straightforward, and he had to be ready for anything.
His mind raced, assessing potential scenarios, each more dangerous than the last. He adjusted the grip on his rifle, the weight a comforting reminder of the firepower at his disposal. The thought of what he might face—a new threat, a trap, or perhaps even a test from Umbrella—fueled his resolve.
As the minutes ticked by, Ethan found himself pacing the sidewalk, the anticipation gnawing at him. He hated this part—the waiting. It was the only time when doubt could creep in, when the ghosts of past missions whispered in his ear, reminding him of the cost of his loyalty to Umbrella.
A sleek, black SUV rounded the corner, its tinted windows hiding the occupants from view. It slowed as it approached, the hum of the engine barely audible. Ethan straightened, his body shifting into a ready stance, every muscle coiled and prepared for action.
The vehicle came to a stop a few feet away, the passenger side door clicking open. Inside, the interior was dark, the only light coming from the dashboard, casting a blue glow across the face of the driver—a nondescript man in a black suit, his expression unreadable.
Ethan hesitated for a split second, his gaze locking with the driver's. There was something off, a subtle tension that set his nerves on edge. He scanned the street again, looking for anything out of place, but found nothing.
With a silent exhale, he stepped forward, sliding into the backseat of the SUV. The door shut with a soft thud, sealing him inside the cold, sterile interior. The driver didn't speak, didn't acknowledge him in any way. The vehicle pulled away from the curb, merging into the sparse traffic with practiced ease.
As the city blurred past the window, Ethan felt the weight of the impending mission settle over him like a shroud. The warning in the last message replayed in his mind, a constant reminder that this wasn't just another routine assignment. He could feel it in his bones—something was different this time.
His gaze flicked to the driver, who remained silent, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Ethan's hand tightened around the grip of his pistol, the cool metal a reassuring presence. Whatever was coming, he would face it head-on. There was no other choice.
The SUV sped through the city, the streets gradually emptying as they approached the outskirts. The buildings became fewer, the landscape shifting from urban sprawl to desolate industrial zones. The tension in Ethan's chest tightened, his instincts screaming at him to stay alert.
And then, just as they passed the last of the warehouses, the driver finally spoke, his voice a low, even tone that sent a chill down Ethan's spine.
"Prepare yourself, Drake. It's going to be a long night."
Ethan didn't respond, his gaze hardening as he stared out into the darkened horizon. He knew what that meant—Umbrella wasn't just sending him on a mission. They were sending him into the unknown, into something far more dangerous than anything he'd faced before.
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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥: 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭. 𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘜𝘝 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘌𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯—𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘯𝘰𝘸.
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