Episode 10 — Black Ops Executioners
Nexus City was quiet for the first time in weeks. No riots, no sirens, no bounty hunters storming every alley. The smoke from Purge Night had thinned, the skyline glowing clean again like nothing happened.
But Kairo Shin knew silence better than anyone. Silence wasn't peace. Silence was a trigger being pulled in the dark.
He sat in a half-collapsed skyscraper, boots on a broken table, cigarette glowing against the shadows. His new "crew" — terrified gangsters and ex-cops — whispered near the stairwell.
"They stopped sending junkies," one muttered.
"They stopped sending mercs," another said.
The third whispered, voice shaking: "That means something worse is coming."
Kairo smirked through the smoke. "Finally. Took 'em long enough."
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The Arrival
At midnight, the city trembled. Dropships didn't land this time — they cut through the sky, black and silent, no logos, no insignias.
Black Ops.
Only the Multiverse Police Council could authorize them. Shadows in human skin. Officers bred in labs, trained from birth to kill. Soldiers who weren't supposed to exist.
Ten of them. Fully armored in liquid obsidian. Eyes glowing red through their helmets. Their weapons weren't rifles or pistols — they were experimental things: railguns humming with antimatter, blades forged from collapsing stars, nets of energy that could slice matter apart.
Their leader's voice was distorted, robotic. "Kairo Shin. By decree of the High Council, your existence ends tonight."
Kairo flicked his cigarette into the rubble, stood, and stretched. "Cute speech. You practice that in the mirror?"
The First Clash
The Black Ops squad didn't waste words. They moved.
Faster than anything he'd fought yet. One fired a railgun, the round tearing through the skyscraper, collapsing half the building. Another blurred across the rubble, blade cutting space itself.
Kairo dodged smooth, calm, his immortal agility bending him through the chaos. Tentacles lashed out, spearing through one soldier's chest — but the body dissolved into smoke. A decoy.
The real strike came from behind — three blades slicing into his spine.
Kairo dropped to one knee, blood spraying. The soldiers moved in, silent, surgical.
And then his body stitched itself back together, black steel veins sealing the wounds.
Kairo laughed, voice echoing across the rubble. "Immortal, assholes. Did your bosses forget that part?"
⸻
The Gore Ballet
The battle turned savage.
One Black Ops soldier fired an antimatter charge. Kairo's tentacle caught it, absorbed the blast, and spat it back into his chest. The explosion vaporized the man, leaving nothing but smoking armor.
Another threw an energy net. The glowing threads sliced into Kairo's skin, sizzling, burning. He gritted his teeth, smirked, and ripped his own flesh open wider — letting the tentacles slither out through the wounds, shredding the net and the soldier holding it.
Three more rushed him in unison, blades cutting through his tentacles. He laughed, even as blood sprayed. "You cut one, I grow ten."
Tentacles erupted from his back, from his ribs, from his legs, stabbing through their helmets, lifting them like trophies before snapping them in half.
Blood painted the ruins. His laughter never stopped.
Explicit Comedy
One soldier tried to retreat, calling into his comm: "Fall back, target is—"
A tentacle whipped his comm unit out, shoved it down his throat, and split him open so the device crackled inside his guts.
Kairo smirked, exhaling smoke. "Message received."
The last three fought harder. One pinned him with collapsing-star blades, cutting into his arms. Another fired charges into his chest. The third tried to sever his head.
Kairo let them.
He laughed through the blood, eyes glowing, tentacles bursting out of every wound. He wrapped all three at once, crushing their bones until armor cracked like glass.
They screamed. He stayed calm.
And then he snapped all three in half at once, tossing their corpses aside like trash bags.
⸻
The Leader
Only the leader remained.
He moved faster than the rest, railgun humming, blade glowing like molten sun. His voice rasped, distorted: "You're not justice. You're not order. You're disease."
Kairo smirked, calm as ever. "Funny. I was thinking the same about you."
The leader lunged. Blades cut deep into Kairo's chest, nearly splitting him in two. The railgun roared, blasting through his skull.
Kairo staggered, half his head gone.
Then he started laughing.
His body stitched back together, eyes glowing brighter. Tentacles erupted like a storm, dozens lashing in all directions.
The leader fought hard — cutting tentacles, dodging strikes, firing shots that tore chunks from Kairo's body. But no matter what, Kairo healed, calm, laughing.
"You can't kill what's already dead," Kairo muttered, wrapping the leader tight. Tentacles crushed his armor, cracked his ribs, snapped his neck.
Blood poured out of the helmet as it caved.
[Black Ops Unit Eliminated.]
[Level Up: 18.]
[Intelligence Increased.]
The Aftermath
Silence fell over the ruins. Smoke drifted from burning armor. Blood pooled in the cracks. The Black Ops squad, the Council's best, lay shredded and broken.
Kairo stood in the middle of it, calm, cigarette glowing again between his lips. His tentacles retracted, skin sealing back to normal.
His intelligence burned sharper than ever. Now he didn't just see betrayal. He saw strategy. He saw the Council's playbook. Every move they'd make. Every asset they had left. Every trap before it even set.
He exhaled smoke, grinning. "You fuckers sent your best. And I'm still here. Which means you're fucked."
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The Commander's Reaction
Back at HQ, the Commander sat in his office, watching the reports flood in. Entire divisions whispering about Shin. Black Ops annihilated. The Council humiliated.
The Commander poured whiskey, chuckling dark. "You're not a cop anymore, Shin. You're a goddamn revolution."
⸻
The Anti-Hero's Climb
That night, on the rooftop, Kairo looked at the stars. His empire was forming. His legend was spreading. His intelligence was sharper than god's.
The galaxy had unleashed its deadliest assassins. And he killed them all.
Now they had nothing left but desperation.
And desperation made enemies sloppy.
Kairo smirked through the smoke. "Checkmate, assholes."
⸻
[Current Level: 18 | Intelligence Status: Beyond human. Reads strategies before they form. Predictive, manipulative, and untouchable. Cold. Lethal. Laughing at death itself.]