Adam decided to use their carelessness to his advantage. He moved through the crowded ground floor a shadow among the oblivious mercenaries. He saw a group of three men standing with their backs to him engrossed in a loud conversation.
With his stats now soaring well over 450 his agility and strength were on a completely different plane than these ordinary hired guns. He was a wolf and they were sheep.
He held the automatic rifle in one hand cradled against his chest. His face was still covered by the makeshift mask. He casually lowered his other hand to his side.
The crowd was so dense so noisy that his small movements went completely unnoticed. He summoned his combat knife from his inventory. The cold steel materialized in his hand instantly its weight a familiar comfort.
He stepped silently behind the three men. His knife was a blur a silver streak in the dim factory light. He slit all three of their throats in a single fluid impossibly fast motion.
