Crimson Down

For three whole days, Aiden had scouted the surroundings of Ajax's mutant manufacturing facility. It was a factory standing on the outskirts of New York City, which to any casual observer seemed long abandoned. But anyone digging deeper would discover its hidden depths.

Twenty-one mercenaries guarded the factory in three shifts, maintaining a strict rotation schedule. However, their attitude wasn't as disciplined as the rules might suggest. Occasionally, one could spot an unarmored mercenary, laughing and joking around, confident in their skills. After all, there had never been an incident at the factory—a testament to their covert effectiveness. But Aiden, having infiltrated the premises, now had their routines down pat.

What troubled Aiden the most was the unpredictable arrival of patients being delivered to the factory. Variables were what Aiden hated most. You never knew when some field operative might bring in test subjects, potentially adding a few extra soldiers to the mix just when Aiden was making his move. Not that he couldn't handle a few extra grunts, but even a well-oiled machine can be troubled by an unnecessary part.

His Hydra elite training told him to stay cool until he identified all potential dangers. Yet the impulsive part of Aiden was urging him to act, confident he'd made sufficient preparations. Some risks were unavoidable; the best he could do was to minimize them.

Now, Aiden watched as Ajax and a convoy departed. Three black jeeps, four motorcycles, and a truck hauling a large container. Aiden surmised Ajax had produced a new batch of mutants—likely five of them—enough for a deal. Today was the day for "cash on delivery."

Judging by the ratio of test subjects to successful creations, those eighty-six corpses had yielded merely five mutants. The success rate seemed abysmally low.

Aiden's gaze shifted from the scope, and he adjusted his position slightly, slinging the M107A1 sniper rifle over his shoulder. The Super Soldier Serum granted Aiden an exceptional baseline, keeping his blood flowing smoothly even after lying prone for a full day. He checked the P226 pistols strapped to his thighs—weapons brought from the "Avengers Universe"—along with the close combat short blades, spare tactical daggers, and the Scorpion submachine gun.

Calming his nerves, Aiden sat motionless for a full half-hour before finally stirring.

He descended slowly from the service ladder, tugging down the black ballistic goggles from his forehead to cover his eyes. With the goggles and the black half-face mask, Aiden's features were well-concealed. At this moment, save for his lack of disheveled hair, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the Winter Soldier's striking debut in the movies.

"Thirteen patients, six staff, seven mercenaries," Aiden recited their positions in his mind. The black goggles hid his emotions well, and the darkness of the night provided perfect cover. Like a ghost, Aiden quietly followed a worker disposing of trash towards the metal back door.

The unfortunate worker never knew what hit him before he was dead. Aiden gently laid the body down and wiped his bloody tactical dagger on the corpse before stealthily entering the facility.

"Hey, check that out. The camera seems to be blocked by something," one of the mercenaries nudged his companion.

Just as the words left his mouth, he realized something was off. The camera, positioned high in a corner, shouldn't have been obstructed by anything. Could it be an insect?

The mercenary roused his colleague, and the moment they opened the door, a pillow struck the mercenary's face, followed by a flurry of crimson down feathers. The bloody feathers and the two wide-eyed corpses sank into a pool of blood.

Aiden's long stakeout and the six surveillance screens in front of him now gave him an intimate knowledge of the factory's layout.

But Aiden didn't act rashly. He chose to exit quietly. As he passed another ward, a middle-aged patient, pale and gasping for breath, fixed his gaze on Aiden. Too ill to speak, the man could only watch helplessly.

"Thanks for the pillow," Aiden whispered, tossing the bloodied, tattered cushion onto the patient's face. He crossed the ward, opened the door on the other side, and slipped out.

As Aiden's shadowy figure passed through the ward, he cracked open the door ajar. After a quick scan, he kicked it open. The mercenaries inside were highly skilled, instantly aware of the danger, but their weapons slipped from their hands as Aiden advanced swiftly. Pushing one mercenary's face against the wall, the strength from Aiden's metal arm erupted, crushing the man's skull.

Aiden drew his pistol and fired rapidly at the bathroom door. The loud shots echoed through the dark yet immaculate bathroom.

Seconds later, Aiden let go of the lifeless body, the head caved in from the pressure. The mercenary inside the bathroom was just as cleanly dispatched.

Upon opening the bathroom door, Aiden faced a worker crouched on the floor, hands over his head, pleading, "Don't kill me, please."

But Aiden saw something different in the eyes peeking through the worker's fingers. It wasn't pure despair or submission; there was a hint of defiance. Without hesitation, the crouching man was laid out in a pool of blood.

After that shot, the remaining workers gave up any illusion of hope, collapsing to the floor, their pants soiled with fear.

"You can only blame your boss, Ajax, for conditioning you too well. You're not as submissive as you appear," Aiden said as he fired several shots, stepping over the bodies. His pace was so measured it was as if he were sleepwalking through a deep dream.

And Aiden walked out, leaving behind a trail of blood and silence, a solitary figure moving through a world that had just become a bit more desolate.

Tips:

For some reason, some special episodes cannot be uploaded here.

I uploaded the whole thing on Patreon, plus 20 new chapters.

If you're interested, check out Patreon

Website:patreon.com/Xiaosheng634