The wooden stairs creak under his weight as he descends into the underground. Dust curls in the air with every step, catching in the flickering overhead light like falling ash. His sensors register the scent of damp concrete, rust, and something coppery and thick in the air—blood.
[ TARGET LOCATION: NEARBY. HEART RATE DETECTED. SEVEN SIGNATURES REMAINING. ]
He doesn't pause. Doesn't breathe. Doesn't blink. Every fiber of his body is locked in on one singular truth—
You're here.
And so is the assailant.
His grip adjusts around the stolen rifle, still warm from the last assault. Footsteps echo somewhere ahead—boots shifting, voices murmuring. His audio input isolates the sounds: fragments of laughter, muttered complaints, the metallic clicks of readied weapons.
Connor steps around the corner without hesitation.
Two clean shots.
Two bodies hit the floor, cut down mid-sentence before they even raise their weapons. The first dies confused. The second slumps forward in the middle of a sentence, dead before the words leave his mouth.
Shouts erupt from deeper inside. "Shit! He's here—MOVE!"
Another figure lunges at him from the shadows, a knife glinting in hand. Connor sidesteps and meets the man's charge head-on, slamming his knee up into the man's gut with a bone-crushing crack before slamming him into the wall.
Bone cracks against concrete. He strips the handgun from the man's grasp and fires a single round into his skull.
A shot rings out from behind. A bullet grazes Connor's upper arm, tearing through synthetic skin. Bright Thirium leaks down in a slow trickle.
He glances at the damage once before turning toward the source. The shooter is already retreating, hands shaking around the trigger.
Connor lunges forward. His foot connects with the man's knee, sending the weapon clattering to the floor. He follows with a crushing elbow to the face, sending the attacker reeling.
The man stares up at him in terror as Connor's hands close around his throat. One brutal twist. A sharp crack. Silence.
The last man charges at him with skill and aggression. His movements are sharper than the others, trained.
Connor lifts the gun to fire, but the man anticipates it. He crashes into Connor before the trigger can be pulled.
"You fucking machine—!"
Connor doesn't react.
The attacker grabs the weapon, forcing the barrel downward as shots fire uselessly into the floor. They struggle for control, movements fast and brutal—strains of muscle, scraping boots, grunts.
Connor redirects the momentum, aiming to disarm, but the man counters with raw strength, ripping the gun free and locking his arms around Connor's neck.
They stagger. Connor subtly adjusts his stance, narrowing his eyes as he calculates the optimal response.
In one seamless motion, he twists the pistol and presses it against his own abdomen. He fires.
The bullet tears through him, precisely angled to avoid vital damage. Behind him, the man lets out a strangled gasp as the bullet punches into his body.
And before he can collapse, Connor drives his head backward, slamming his skull into his opponent's face with brutal force.
The man stumbles, dazed.
YOU ARE READING
Saved || Bodyguard Connor x Reader
Fanfiction❛❛ My mission is to protect you, and I always accomplish my mission. ❜❜ As the daughter of a famous celebrity, you've spent your life trying to escape the suffocating spotlight. But when threats to your safety grow more dangerous, your father calls...
