Chapter 22 - SHADOWS IN THE YARD
The rain fell in sheets, blurring the line between earth and sky, turning the rail yard into a ghostly monochrome world of gray and black. Arthur moved through the shadows with the silent, predatory grace of a ghost. Every step was calculated, every breath controlled to avoid giving away his position in the damp, heavy air.
A beam of a high-intensity tactical flashlight cut through the mist fifty yards to his left.
"Sector three is clear," a harsh voice hissed through a suppressed radio channel that Arthur’s modified comms unit managed to intercept. "Keep moving. Blackwood wants the general alive, but the girl and her mother are expendable."
Arthur’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure ice. He unholstered his sidearm, slipping around the corner of a rusted boxcar just as a pair of operatives swept past his position, their rifles raised, scanning the darkness with nervous efficiency.
Arthur didn't hesitate. He stepped out silently behind the rear operator, clamping a heavy hand over the man’s mouth while sweeping his legs out from under him with brutal efficiency. The operative hit the gravelly ground with a muffled thud, unconscious before he even realized what had hit him.
The second operative spun around instantly, raising his carbine—but Arthur was already there, kicking the barrel upward and driving the butt of his pistol hard into the man’s temple. The second mercenary collapsed into the mud without a sound.
Arthur stripped their encrypted radios and spare magazines, pocketing them quickly before pressing deeper into the rail yard toward the central switching tower where the thermal scan had indicated the highest concentration of heat signatures.
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That was where Victor Blackwood would be. A commander always watched the battlefield from the highest ground.
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