Red Strings

Red Strings : Daniel strings

The line went dead, leaving Daniel staring at his phone, the anonymous threat echoing in the sudden silence of his room. The playful innocence of the holiday morning was completely gone, replaced by the grim reality of a dangerous plot. He no longer knew which way to run.

The chilling urgency of the anonymous call, combined with the vision of Jae-on stalking Dayuen, left Daniel with no choice. He scribbled the address onto his hand, shoved his phone into his pocket, and raced out the door, abandoning the idea of finding Dayuen on the street.

He arrived at the given location minutes later, having run full-out. It was an abandoned, sprawling factory complex on the edge of the city, its windows smashed and walls stained with rust. It was exactly the kind of place where 'irreversible things' happened.

Without pausing to consider the obvious trap, Daniel used his perfect strength to force open a bolted side door and quickly slipped inside.

The Ambush

The interior was a labyrinth of shadows, decaying machinery, and stale, metallic air. Daniel moved with the controlled stealth of the vigilante, his eyes scanning for any sign of Dayuen.

He walked deeper into the main floor for what felt like an eternity, but the place was completely silent. There was no sign of a struggle, no captive, and no obvious trap. Just dust and rust.

Where is she? Was that voice lying? Daniel thought, frustration and fear clawing at his gut.

He stopped, turning slowly to check the hallway behind him.

That was his mistake.

A crushing force slammed into the back of his head. It was fast, heavy, and completely silent-a blunt instrument delivered with professional, brutal efficiency.

A searing bolt of pain exploded behind Daniel's eyes. His vision instantly tilted and blurred. He let out a choked gasp, his knees buckling as he lost all physical control. He didn't even have time to fall gracefully; he simply crumpled onto the cold, damp concrete floor.

He lay there, utterly disoriented, a thick stream of blood already pooling from the wound on his head. The dizziness was overwhelming, turning the factory floor into a spinning vortex of shadows.

Through the haze, Daniel forced his body to turn, his muscles screaming in protest.

He saw them.

A semicircle of figures was silently closing in. There were at least six of them, all clad in matching black tactical gear and featureless masks. They were lean, strong, and moved with synchronized menace. They weren't street thugs; they were soldiers. They had waited, they had planned, and now they had him. Daniel was caught in a highly organized, professional ambush.

Daniel forced his eyes open, the sight of the masked figures spinning in his field of vision. The pain in his head was a throbbing hammer, and the metallic tang of his own blood was sharp in the stale air.

Desperate Stand

With a guttural shout of raw effort, Daniel managed to scramble onto his hands and knees, pushing himself to stand. His legs were wobbly, his perfect balance shattered by the damage to his inner ear.

The six black-clad men moved in, silent and swift. They were highly trained, aiming not to brawl, but to incapacitate.

Daniel fought back, relying on pure instinct and the immense, untrained power of his body. He launched a wild, looping punch that caught the nearest attacker square on the jaw, sending him stumbling back. He followed up with a kick that was supposed to be precise but came out awkward and high due to his dizziness, yet it still connected, forcing another assailant to retreat.