He had to do this the old-fashioned way. Trust the senses, not just the IBM ghost, he reminded himself.
He didn't use the fire escape, it was too noisy. Instead, John found a blind spot between two security floodlights. He dropped, a silent shadow falling through thirty feet of air, his landing dampened by a roll that made no more sound than a falling leaf.
He pressed his back against the cold corrugated steel of the warehouse's rear wall. The vibration of the idling trucks traveled through the metal and into his spine. He could hear the muffled shouts of men inside and the metallic clatter of weapons being readied.
He counted heads by the loading docks first. Eight men were handling the crates, muscles mostly, but their stances were wide, their hands never far from the holsters at their hips. Another four paced the perimeter in pairs.
John dealt with this gang before and understood they were fond of "The Crow's Nest" defense, placing long-range support in the rafters or on neighboring rooftops to catch intruders in a crossfire. He tilted his head back, scanning the verticality of the industrial park.
Sniper One, a faint glint of moonlight off a glass lens. West water tower. Distance, 150 yards. He was well-positioned to cover the main gate.
Sniper Two, a shadow that didn't match the jagged silhouette of the warehouse roof. North-east corner. This one had a thermal scope; John could see the faint red pulse of the device's power light.
"Two spiders in the web," John whispered to himself. They were his priority. If he engaged the ground floor now, he'd be ventilated before he reached the doors.
With a plan firmly set in mind, John retreated to a safe distance, careful to keep himself out of immediate sight. His focus narrowed until the world seemed to fall away, all of his attention pouring into his IBM as he took full control. Through its perception, his gaze locked onto the man just as he reached into his pocket and pulled out another stick of candy, the wrapper crinkling softly in the quiet.
John acted.
He activated his Adrenal manipulation, sending out a subtle wave that washed over the man's mind. Almost instantly, the tension drained from the man's posture, his shoulders sagged, his grip on the candy loosening as a sense of unnatural calm settled in. John held the effect steady, counting the seconds in silence. One full minute passed, the calm deepening, rooting itself into the man's thoughts and muscles alike.
Then John reached out through the IBM.
It moved with precision, closing the distance in a blink before manifesting shortly and lightly tapping a specific acupoint along the man's body. The touch was sudden, just enough to register. The man turned toward the source, but there was no spike of panic, no startled shout only mild confusion dulled by the imposed serenity.
At that moment, he yawned.
The sound was involuntary, stretching wide as his eyes watered. His jaw snapped shut as if embarrassed by the weakness, and he straightened, trying to shake it off. He raised his camera scope, scanning John's last known position, forcing his eyes to stay open.
Another yawn followed, deeper this time.
His body betrayed him, fatigue rolling in like a heavy tide. He growled under his breath and slapped himself across the cheek, the sharp sound echoing faintly.
"Come on," he muttered harshly, blinking hard. "Stay awake."
But even as he said it, his eyelids drooped again, and the calm pressed down on him like a weighted blanket, smothering his resistance bit by bit.
Sadly, this was something the man could not fight.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the rooftop floor, consciousness slipping away completely. Before the camera could clatter against the concrete, John's IBM shot forward, catching it mid-fall with effortless precision. John studied the unconscious man for a brief moment, expression unreadable, then calmly adjusted the camera's angle. He positioned it so the lens faced the factory below, its lights and entrances clearly framed.
With a single, deliberate motion, he pressed the video option again.
Only then did John fully return to his body, the strange dual awareness snapping back into one. The IBM didn't pause, it launched skyward in a silent arc, locking onto the position of the first sniper. At the same time, John moved, scaling the ventilation structure with practiced ease as he headed for the second.
Neither sniper ever realized they had been compromised.
The IBM struck first.
It tore clean through the chest of the first sniper, the force punching a hole straight through him. A muffled, shocked groan escaped the man's throat as his body sagged forward, lifeless before it hit the ground. That sound soft but unmistakable was enough to draw the attention of the second sniper.
He shifted his scope, searching for the source.
That was when confusion flickered across his face, he was staring at his own back.
A fraction of a second later, John was there. The second sniper never even had time to scream.
John remained methodical and precise but there was someone far more careful than he was watching the situation unfold. The gang leader after seeing John in action had taken John's threat seriously from the very beginning. So he had a lot of precautions going forward.
The moment both snipers died, a monitor sitting in a distant room began to scream.
Flat lines replaced steady pulses. Heartbeat indicators dropped to zero, one after the other. The beeping grew louder, harsher, impossible to ignore.
All signs of life were gone.
Meanwhile, John turned his attention to the holdout itself. Normally, this was where he would disappear into the shadows thinning their numbers until no one was left standing. Clean. Efficient. Safe.
But tonight, he had a different objective.
Grandmaster stage.
Grandmaster, as defined before was the absolute peak of human martial arts. What separated a mere master from a grandmaster wasn't strength or speed, it was control. Specifically, the ability to successfully channel one's chi directly into the brain. When done correctly, it elevated perception, reaction time, and bodily coordination far beyond conventional peak-human limits.
When done incorrectly…
It ruined you.
Finding the optimal chi-pathway was a high-risk endeavor. A single misstep in routing could leave the nervous system locked in place paralyzed, catatonic, or worse, cognitively fried. If John attempted this alone in his apartment and failed, that would be it. No help. No recovery. Just an unresponsive body trapped by its own broken circuitry.
Which was exactly why he wasn't doing it there. Because this battlefield gave him something no training room ever could: an automatic reset.
If he misrouted his chi and his body seized or his mind went blank, the gang wouldn't hesitate. They'd see weakness, panic, rage and they would kill him instantly. Gunfire, blades, blunt force, it didn't matter.
And that killing blow would trigger his Ajin reset.
Death would rewind the damage. His brain would be restored. His chi pathways cleared. Another chance. Another configuration. Another round.
Trial and error, paid for in blood but never permanent.
With that certainty grounding him, John calmly climbed down from the rooftop and headed straight for the front gate. He made no effort to hide his presence. No shadows. No cover. His silhouette was fully exposed beneath the harsh industrial lights.
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