The city was burning.

From the rooftop of the abandoned factory, Kane could see it—military checkpoints, floodlights scanning the streets, smoke rising from distant clashes. The Dictator had locked everything down. They weren't just being hunted anymore. They were being suffocated.

Ghost knelt beside him, scanning the skyline through her scope. "They're sweeping every block. Drones, armored patrols, air support."

Doc adjusted his gear, still shaken from what they had seen underground. "We need to get the hell out of here before they box us in."

Kane nodded, keying his radio. "Viper, we need exfil. Now."

Static.

Then, Viper's voice, tight with urgency. "Negative. Every route's compromised. They've locked the whole city down."

Kane clenched his jaw. They had known this mission would be dangerous. But they had never expected this.

Ghost's voice was low. "We have one option left."

Kane turned to her. He already knew what she was going to say.

"We go through the Red Zone."

The Red Zone.

A no-man's-land in the heart of the city. Bombed-out ruins, collapsed highways, streets ruled by the worst remnants of war. Even the Dictator's forces didn't go there unless they had to.

But it was their only way out.

Viper came back over comms. "That's suicide."

Kane exhaled. "Not if we move fast."

A pause.

Then Viper muttered, "There's an old train yard on the far side. If you can make it, I'll get you out."

Kane looked at the others.

Doc wiped sweat from his face. "Through monsters, soldiers, and a war zone. Sounds about right."

Ghost checked her weapon. "Then let's move."

They had no choice.

They climbed down from the rooftop and vanished into the city's shadows.

The streets were silent.

Not normal silence. The kind that came before something bad happened.

Ghost took point, leading them through alleyways and shattered buildings. They moved fast, but the tension in the air was suffocating.

Kane's instincts screamed at him.

Something wasn't right.

Then—a faint click beneath his boot.

His stomach dropped.

A mine.

He froze.

Doc's eyes went wide. "Don't move."

Ghost scanned the ground. "Shit. There are more."

A trap.

They weren't just being hunted. They were being led into a killing ground.

Then, from the rooftops—

Gunfire.

An ambush.

The first bullet snapped past Kane's ear.

Then the night erupted with gunfire.

Muzzle flashes lit up the rooftops, shadows darting between ruined buildings. The ambush was perfectly timed. They had walked right into it.

Kane's boot was still on the mine. One wrong move, and he was dead.

Doc was already moving, dropping to a knee and laying down suppressive fire. Ghost spun, her rifle snapping to a target above.

Two shots. A body fell.

The enemy wasn't standard military. These weren't the Dictator's forces.

Ghost's voice was sharp over comms. "Red Hand."

Kane gritted his teeth. Of course.

The warlords who ran the ruins of the Red Zone weren't about to let Specter stroll through their territory. Now they had them pinned down.

And Kane?

He was standing on a bomb.

The mine was old, but still deadly.

Kane could hear the faint, high-pitched whine of its trigger mechanism.

Doc slid beside him, keeping low. "Pressure plate. Step off, and you're gone."

Bullets tore through the air above them. No time.

Ghost reloaded and pressed herself against a burned-out car for cover. "We can't stay here. Figure it out."

Kane's jaw clenched. "Doc?"

Doc worked fast, his hands steady even as gunfire rained down. He pulled a small toolkit from his vest, carefully brushing dirt away from the mine.

A crackle over comms—Viper.

"You guys still breathing?"

Ghost snapped back, "Not the time."

Kane's leg burned from staying frozen in place. His instincts screamed at him to move, but moving meant dying.

Doc took a slow breath. "Alright, I can disarm it. But you're not gonna like it."

Kane didn't hesitate. "Just do it."

Doc slid a thin metal wedge under Kane's boot, working carefully. A single bead of sweat ran down his temple.

Another burst of gunfire from the rooftops. Ghost took one down, but more were coming.

Doc exhaled. "Alright. On my count, step back—exactly when I say."

Kane's pulse pounded.

"Three... two... one—MOVE."

Kane shifted his weight back.

Doc slammed his hand down on the mine.

A long, frozen second passed.

No explosion.

Doc grinned, breathing hard. "Lucky bastards. Let's move."

Kane didn't waste time.

He grabbed his rifle and laid down fire, taking out two Red Hand soldiers trying to flank them.

Ghost was already on the move, leading them toward an alley. "Go! Now!"

Doc tossed a grenade behind them.

A blast of fire and shrapnel ripped through the street.

They didn't wait to see who survived.

They ran.

The Red Zone loomed ahead.

The real nightmare was just beginning.

And they were running straight into it.

They ran.

Through the narrow alley, past rusted-out cars and the skeletal remains of buildings long since reduced to rubble. The city was closing in on them, the streets crawling with mercenaries, drones, and the Dictator's enforcers. The Red Hand had sprung their trap, but Specter wasn't dead yet.

Ghost led the way, cutting through side streets with the precision of someone who had been in too many cities like this before. Kane followed, his rifle up, scanning the rooftops. Every shadow was a potential shooter.

Behind them, gunfire roared as more Red Hand fighters closed in.

Doc sprinted beside Kane, breath ragged. "We need to lose them before we hit the Red Zone."

Kane wasn't sure that was possible.

The Red Zone loomed ahead, a wasteland of collapsed buildings, rusted shipping containers, and scavenged vehicles. It was a place where no law existed—just the rule of whoever had the most bullets.

And right now?

Specter was running low.

They cut through a ruined department store, glass crunching beneath their boots. Inside, the place was a graveyard—shelves toppled, mannequins lying in pieces, walls scorched from old firefights.

Ghost signaled. "Upstairs. We get higher ground, we can ambush them."

Kane nodded. "Move."

They took the stairs two at a time, reaching the second floor just as the Red Hand mercenaries burst into the store below.

Ghost knelt near the railing, sighting down her rifle. "Wait for it..."

The Red Hand moved fast, sweeping through the ground floor with brutal efficiency. These weren't just street thugs. They were professionals.

Ghost's finger hovered over the trigger. Five... four... three...

A voice below barked out a command.

Kane's stomach turned.

It wasn't Red Hand.

It was the Smiling Demons.

Ghost fired first.

A clean headshot, dropping one of the Demons before they even knew they were being hunted.

Then all hell broke loose.

The second floor erupted with gunfire, bullets tearing through broken displays and shattered windows.

Kane took out two mercenaries, dropping them before they could find cover. Doc tossed a flashbang, blinding the rest.

They moved fast, precise, brutal.

Within seconds, the ground floor was a kill zone.

Then—silence.

The last Smiling Demon lay still, his mouth twisted into a grotesque grin even in death.

Ghost stood slowly, reloading. "We need to go. Now."

They climbed out a shattered window and dropped into a back alley.

Ahead, just past a chain-link fence, the Red Zone stretched before them like the mouth of a beast.

No more cover. No more safe havens.

Just war.

Kane exhaled.

"Welcome to hell."

The night came alive with gunfire.

Kane heard the distinct whine of suppressed shots, followed by the unmistakable thwack of rounds slamming into the brick wall beside him. The Dictator's personal death squad wasn't just tracking them anymore.

They were here to finish the job.

Ghost cursed, ducking behind a burned-out truck. "They found us."

Kane already knew that.

A single red laser sliced through the darkness, sweeping across the alley.

Doc barely managed to yank Kane out of the way before the spot where he stood exploded in a shower of concrete.

A precision shot.

They weren't dealing with normal soldiers.

"Keep moving!" Kane barked.

They vaulted the fence, boots hitting the cracked pavement of the Red Zone. The Smiling Demons didn't stop.

They followed. Silent. Unrelenting. Fast.

A burst of rounds tore into the chain-link fence, slicing through like paper.

Kane turned and fired blind into the dark, but the Demons were already gone. Ghost dropped to a knee, lining up a shot.

One of them stepped into view.

No hesitation. She fired.

The Demon twisted unnaturally mid-step, dodging the bullet with inhuman speed.

Kane's blood ran cold.

"Go. Now!"

They sprinted through the ruins.

The Red Zone swallowed them.

Collapsed buildings loomed overhead, shadows stretching like claws beneath the flickering glow of distant fires. The smell of smoke and decay hung heavy in the air.

Kane knew this place.

It was a graveyard.

Ghost led them through a collapsed underpass, skidding to a stop at an old subway entrance.

"Down," she said. "We can lose them in the tunnels."

Kane didn't argue.

Anything was better than being caught in the open.

The tunnels were worse.

The air was thick, humid. The walls dripped with moisture, and the only sound was the distant echo of water dripping from somewhere unseen.

No one spoke.

They just moved. Fast and quiet.

But Kane could feel it.

A presence.

The Smiling Demons weren't just chasing them.

They were herding them.

Straight into something worse.

Doc's voice was low. "You feel that?"

Ghost exhaled sharply. "Yeah."

Then the radio crackled.

Viper's voice. Urgent. "Specter, get the hell out of those tunnels. Now."

Kane's stomach twisted.

"Why?"

A pause.

Then Viper whispered, "Because you're not alone down there."

And the lights went out.