The elevator doors parted and Silas was greeted gruffly by a security guard covered in black tactical gear, his face hidden behind a balaclava. The man grabbed his shoulder and shoved him roughly ahead, digging the barrel of his gun painfully between Silas’s shoulder blades. He raised his hands and slowly placed him on the back of his head as he was marched toward the raised dais in the center of the lavish office. But other than train his gun on him, the bodyguard didn’t shake him down for any weapons.

A quick glance around displayed the blizzards ferocity raging behind the expansive windows that made up the offices walls. Only brief breaks in the snowy torrent could the city skyline be seen. Silas could feel the rumble of the wind breaking against the glass tower deep within his stomach as he was prodded forward.

He also noted that five other guards were positioned around the dais, idly watching him with their fingers resting on their gun’s triggers. Silas was kicked to his knees at the foot of the dais and he looked up to the elderly man behind the handsome desk. Without looking up from the papers he was shuffling though, the distinguished looking man spoke in a thin, airy voice.

“What is your name, boy?”

Silas cried out in pain as the guard standing over him grabbed a fistful of his hair, “Answer him!”

Silas grabbed at the man’s wrist, his violent instincts begging him to retaliate, but stopped himself before he could give in. Instead Silas cried out in Russian through his clenched teeth, “Jurek, sir, Jurek!”

“Well, Jurek, do you know who I am?”

“Yes! Yes, sir I do!” Silas hissed through pain as the guard cruelly ripped at his scalp again.

“And what is that you want from me? Work or money?” Silas stopped struggling with the guard as that question hit him. This was the question Silas had been waiting for. This is where Gavril Raikov derived his pleasure, from viciously beating down the ones who came to him seeking help or work into submission. If Silas said work, Raikov would have his men beat him within an inch of his life and if he lived without incurring any handicaps, he would get to work. If Silas said money, Raikov would send him to one of the many brothels to earn it himself at the cost of his dignity.

I  have sacrificed much, too much… no longer… He thought resolutely.

Silas had his orders, he knew what he was supposed to. He was to take Raikov up on his offer of work, let his guards begin the humiliating initiation, then strike…but he felt compelled to disobey…compelled to unleash himself on his own terms, to preserve what little dignity he still had left.

A calm settled over him as the darkness took hold and began to dictate his actions. Before Silas answered him and before the guard could force him to again, he looked up through his fringes at the haughty brown eyes above him. The man didn’t see him looking at him at first but when he did notice his eyes were riveted to Silas’s hypnotic gaze. Silas beckoned him closer with a finger and when the guard leaned in, Silas whispered softly in English as he swiftly engaged the guard’s gun safety with a fleeting pass of his hand, “You will die first.”

The guard didn’t look to understand nor did he notice his deception, his brow was drawn into confusion, but Silas could tell that the sudden change in tone and language chilled him to his core. The guard slowly let of go of his hair and settled for resting the cold metal of his gun barrel against the back of Silas’s neck.

Silas looked back to the elderly man, replying in soft, icy tones, “It isn’t a matter of want, Mr. Raikov…it is a matter of need and what I need is your life. Today you will die by my hand. ”

There was moment of silence in which Silas stared coldly into the pale, unafraid of eyes of his target. Raikov laughed dismissively and waved a hand, “An assassin, how quaint. Dispose of this filth…and quickly, I have other appointments.”

Before any of the guards could move a muscle, Silas, quick as a lightning strike, slung his guard over his shoulder and slammed him into the stairs before him as if he were a rag doll. The panicked guard leveled his gun at Silas’s chest and pulled the trigger.

Silas, smiling slightly when nothing happened, coldly repeated to the guard in Russian, “You die first.”

Scarlett blood peppered across the granite steps as Silas sliced his throat with a smooth swipe of his knife. The stark lights overhead flickered twice before giving way to the shadows as Silas stood to face the other guards, the blood dripping from the blade turned black in the dark. Silas vanished into the gloom as the two opened fire, while the other two rushed to their boss.

Screaming bullets ripped past Silas as he streaked towards the guards, the assassin resembling nothing more than a black streak racing amongst the shadows. Silas sliced the farthest guard through his hamstring before the he even noticed he was shooting at nothing. Silas danced around the man as he stumbled before he smoothly feinted to the left, acting purely on instinct. The butt of the other’s rifle whistled mere inches from his face. Another flash of steel and his attacker, now dead, hit the floor as the blood sickeningly splashed over the granite. Silas casually swatted the barrel of the gun away as it was thrust at his chest and crushed the injured guard’s throat with two brutal blows.

The shattering of glass made him look away from his kills. The two guards around Raikov simultaneously slumped to the floor, red mist haloing were the once stood. Noting his cue, Silas pulled the gun from his back and pointed it at Raikov. He slowly advanced on the whimpering man as the lights flickered to life. Raikov began to back up on his hands, slipping in his guard’s blood while his breath choked up with fear.

“No! No! Please don’t! What do you want?!” The old man’s voice cracked in fear.

“I already told you what I want.” Silas replied, his face emotionless as he stood over the man.

“I can give you money! All the money you could want!"

“It’s too late for that.” When Silas took a step in the old man’s direction, Raikov tried to scramble to his feet, only to slip in the growing puddle of his guard’s blood.“You ignored our warnings, and in your blind arrogance continued to conduct your dealings in the dark…you are only reaping what you sow, Raikov.”

Raikov shook his head frantically as he backed up still, “There have been no deals! Please, I swear!”

“Don’t lie to me!” Silas growled. The man cowered further.

“I swear…please...”

“Would you swear upon your life?” Silas asked him quietly. “Get up, look me in the eyes and tell me you haven’t been supplying weapons to the insurgents across the Middle East...”

Silas motioned with his gun when the man didn’t move. Raikov slowly got to his feet and reluctantly met Silas’s dead stare. They stared at each other for a moment before Raikov suddenly darted for the elevator in a burst of panic. Silas scoffed and trained his gun on the back of Raikov’s head.

“Betrayed by fear.” Silas whispered and he squeezed the trigger without hesitation. The shot echoed in the silent office like a deafening clap of thunder. Silas emotionlessly watched the back of Raikov’s head explode in a grisly red mist littered with bits of gray matter and bone. Raikov’s body fell as if its strings had been cut and landed face first on the hard, elegant floor with a sickening slap.

Silas turned away from the corpse as it twitched. He holstered the gun as he headed towards the dais, kicking the bodies out his path and sidestepping the growing pools of blood. Another powerful gust of wind rocked the office as he wearily climbed the steps. With a deep sigh Silas sunk into the lush chair and pulled the keyboard to him. The screen flared to life after he typed in a few commands. When prompted to input a password he quickly typed in a long string of commands that he was assured would be able to bypass the entire security system.

Once in, Silas uploaded the virus that would destroy Raikov’s entire system and hopefully forfeit any pending deals the man had. Silas stood as the screen distorted and went black. His quiet footsteps were drowned by the howling wind as he stepped lightly from dais and headed to the elevator. He slowly came to stop when he passed by Raikov’s body. He cast a swift glance down at the red soaked clothes before taking a deep breath. His stomach began to roil at the bitter smell of blood.

Silas stood there in the quiet for a long moment before saying aloud, “You go first…I’m sure I’ll follow soon enough.”

His words, words he recited after every kill, seemed to remain in the air long after they faded away. The kills were becoming harder …his skill remained just as lethal as ever, but it was his fractured mental armor that made it all the harder to justify. The words were just words without meaning or inflection; he merely recited them out of habit. Empty words to reflect the emptiness he felt as he came to stop in front of the elevator. This was just another bloody heap to pile onto his towering mound of taken lives.

His finger was an inch away when the elevator doors parted with a soft ding.

A hulking figure strutted past Silas as if he wasn’t there. He was twirling a silver revolver western style around his index finger. Silas recognized the man as Alexei Davidenko, Raikov’s head of security. He knew the man was wanted by the Echelon for a great many crimes. From what he knew; the man was responsible for carrying out Raikov’s illicit deals with the Chinese triads, amongst others. He might be able to shut down the entire operation, right here and now. Silas let his hand fall to his side as he watched the man obliviously walked among the dead.

“Gavril, I still…” the man faltered when his boot hit the soft flesh of Raikov’s temple. Davidenko looked down and a horrified gasp escaped his mouth. He slowly reached down and turned the corpse over. The full extent of the damage his shot made was suddenly and horribly clear to Silas; the right half of Raikov’s face was a bloody crater. His jaw was torn in half and was hanging by a thick flap of skin. For a brief moment, Silas could see straight through the skull where the eye had once been. Silas’s stomach roiled again at the sight.

Davidenko jerked his hand back and stumbled backward. Silas was slightly surprised to see tears form at the corners of the man’s pale blue eyes. The man’s grief-stricken face filled with rage as he caught sight of the assassin. He leveled the gleaming revolver directly at Silas’s heart.

“Who are you?” Davidenko demanded in Russian.

Silas shrugged, indifferent to the gun pointed at him, “No one of importance.”

“Did you do this Gavril!?”

“Of course.”

Silas’s blunt, honest answer seemed to confuse the man. Silas wondered if Davidenko expected him to deny it. He was sure the security head would have loved to torture the truth out of him.

“Why?” The word came out in a weak whisper.

Silas fixed his burning stare on Alexei Davidenko, his whisper thick with menace, “Death comes to us all….rarely do we choose how we meet our end…however, the moment you saw my face you chose yours.” With that terrible proclamation, Silas took a step toward him. Davidenko roared in rage and fired the revolver.

Silas dodged the shot so fast he didn’t even miss a step; he kept coming with all the unstoppable force of impending judgment. Davidenko fired again and again but the bullets seem to past through Silas’s chest with no ill effect for his reflexes were like lightning flashes. Soon the revolver clicked with no gunshot, heralding the end of Alexei’s pitiful resistance.

“Ghost…You’re a ghost!” Davidenko cried in a panic as he backed away. The useless gun clattered against the granite as the head of security darted for the elevator, only to trip over his boss’s corpse. He grunted in pain but flipped over quickly and kicked his feet until he rammed into the elevator doors. He frantically flailed for the button but Silas grabbed him viciously by the throat. Davidenko fought with all his strength, hammering down on Silas’s arm and punching him in the ribs over and over, but the pain was fleeting and Silas didn’t slow as he pulled the man to the window.

Effortlessly dragging the hulking man, Silas pulled his gun from his back once more. Two shots rang out and a million fissures fractured the surface. Silas whipped the Davidenko around until he was staring into his fear crazed eyes. Silas leaned in close and whispered, “I am no ghost… I am very much alive…this isn’t a dream, Alexei…you won’t wake up when you hit the ground. Give my regards to Raikov.”

Without giving him any time to beg or fight, Silas hurled Davidenko through the weakened glass. The crash was lost in the howling wind and the shards of glass disappeared into the snowy tempest. It was only a few seconds before his body was swallowed by white. Silas couldn’t even hear him scream.

His coat whipped around his legs and the snow stung his face as he stared into the storm. He hadn’t meant to be so ruthless but there was no other way. The last of the evidence was erased and now it would appear that Davidenko jumped to his death after killing his boss and guards. The man had a long history of violence after all. Silas turned away from the gaping void and walked over to the elevator, taking care to skirt the growing pools of blood. He punched the button and the chrome doors opened with a soft ding.