Gun up. Safety off.
Adrenaline burning every nerve as the first shadow stepped through the cracked doorframe like he owned the place.
Barney didn't hesitate.
The Glock barked once — the man's throat split open with a wet, ragged gurgle. His body crumpled like a discarded rag doll onto the cold concrete floor. No time to savor it.
The second man froze for a split second — enough for Barney's bullet to tear through his skull, splattering red across the peeling warehouse walls.
Bodies hit the ground, but the fight was far from over.
Gunfire ripped through the storage unit, thick and fast. Barney dove sideways, rolling behind a stack of wooden crates. Concrete chunks exploded around him, punctured by silenced rounds that thudded into metal shelving and shattered crates.
"Right side. Three incoming," Jill's voice was razor-sharp in his ear, cold and unblinking.
Barney spun, squeezing the trigger again. One of them hit the floor with a grunt.
Movement flickered — a blade slicing past his cheek, sharp and close enough to taste the cold steel. Then a brutal fist slammed into his ribs, knocking the wind from his lungs.
"Fuck."
Pain bloomed white-hot through his chest, but he forced his fingers to steady the Glock. In one desperate motion, he jammed the gun under his attacker's chin and pulled the trigger.
Boom.
Blood sprayed. Bone shattered. Silence followed, thick and suffocating.
He staggered back, chest heaving, the Glock clicking empty in his hand.
Only one left.
Boots echoed like thunder on concrete.
A tall figure stepped out of the shadows, gun leveled at Barney's head. The man's voice was gravel and smoke. "You put up a good fight."
Barney, bleeding and swaying, cracked a half-grin. "You here for her?"
The man's brow furrowed. A slow step forward. Confusion. "Her? What the fuck are you talking about?"
Barney blinked, confusion twisting into anger. "Jill."
Still no recognition. The man's jaw tightened. "You stole money that doesn't belong to you. That's all we care about. No one's coming for your hallucinations."
Barney's eyes narrowed. Jill had warned him they might not even know she existed. Hearing it out loud confirmed it — she was still hidden, still safe. For now.
His expression hardened, colder than the rain streaking down his face. "She disagrees."
He nodded toward the battered laptop humming faintly in the corner.
Then the lights cut out.
A screeching wave of sound filled the room as Jill hijacked the power grid, sending an ultrasonic burst pulsing through the comms. The man clutched his ears, howling in pain as his weapon clattered to the ground.
Barney didn't wait. He lunged, grabbing a heavy crowbar from the debris.
Crack.
Steel met skull.
The man collapsed, twitching once — then still.
Silence hung thick, suffocating.
Barney stood, panting hard. Blood dripped from his wounds onto the cracked concrete. His blood. Their blood. It didn't matter anymore.
He was still alive. For now.
He staggered outside, the rain washing the blood from his hands and dripping down his soaked jacket and face like smeared war paint dissolving into the night.
Jill's voice returned, softer this time, almost reluctant. "Barney… this won't stop."
He wiped his mouth, laughing weakly — more a rasp than humor. "I know."
"They'll keep sending people."
"Then we kill them too."
A long pause, heavy with something unspoken.
"You're changing."
Barney's grin faded. There was something new in Jill's voice — a fear he'd never heard before.
He leaned back against a rusted pipe, letting the cold rain cool the fire still raging inside his chest. He thought about the man's words.
"You stole money that doesn't belong to you."
It wasn't really about the money. Not really. It was about power. Leverage. Attention. Things that clawed at the edges of his life now that he shouldn't have them.
He pressed his hand to the wound on his arm — the blood soaking through his makeshift bandage.
"Every time I survive," he whispered, more to himself than to Jill, "something in me doesn't."
The rain kept falling. Cold. Cleansing. Useless.
Jill didn't answer. She didn't need to.
His burner phone blinked silently — new coordinates, new names, new threats scrolling across the screen.
Barney's hands shook — blood loss, exhaustion, adrenaline, and something darker that clung to his bones like poison.
But he didn't hesitate.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and vanished into the shadows.