Dimitri picked up a knife from one of the fallen bodies...a good blade, ten inches of surgical steel, and moved deeper into the warehouse.
A man came at him from the left with a baton. Dimitri sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, twisted until the bone snapped, then drove the knife into the soft underside of the man's throat. The man made a wet choking sound and collapsed.
Three more men tried to pin him down using overlapping fire from different angles. Dimitri grabbed the corpse of the man he'd just killed and hurled it at one of the gunners. The body tangled the man up, threw off his aim just enough. Dimitri covered the distance and stabbed him twice...once in the abdomen, once in the heart.
The firefight became a blur.
Muzzle flashes lighting up the darkness. The smell of gunpowder and blood. The wet sounds of bodies hitting concrete. Men screaming. Men dying.
This wasn't combat anymore. This was execution.
