A Weapon That Walks
Barely pausing after cutting down the last assassin, Lane moved like shadows at dusk - same calm rhythm, same blade precision. Her steps now, deliberate as before, echoed that earlier stillness when steel met throat without warning. Each motion flowed into the next, unhurried yet never delayed. Silence clung close, a companion more loyal than any ally ever was. Even in aftermath, there was no shift, only continuity - the way breath follows heartbeat.
Now the silence settled into the alley behind her.
Beneath a silver glow, stone paths soaked up pale light. Roofs wore shapes of stillness, where motion once lived. Shattered tile cracked under silence. A thin trace of iron hung low in the air. Night breathed without hurry through Fantom City.
Lane moved right away, collecting the bodies one by one.
One by one.
