Your breath caught when you adjusted the pressure plate hidden under a pile of debris. It was him today. You should have killed him today.

You and Soul. Partners. Lovers. The deadliest duo the agency, known only as "The Serpent," has ever created. But the Serpent valued only strength, and the last directive was chilling clarity: eliminate each other. Only the strongest agent will survive, which will ensure the "Snake" further dominance.

You could hear his footsteps echoing through the cavernous space. Jean was good. Damn good. He has already survived three elimination missions, each against experienced assassins. But you knew him, you knew his tips, his weaknesses. They knew his heart.

He turned the corner, his face in shadow, his eyes—those mesmerizing, dangerous blue eyes—scanning the room. You came out of the shadows, holding a gun in your hand, the metal cool against your sticky skin.

Y- Sorry.

He laughed, a harsh, painful sound. And he rushed.

The fight was fierce, a desperate dance of trained assassins. You used your agility to dodge his heavier attacks, using the cramped space to your advantage. You managed to disarm him by making his knife clank on the metal floor. You dodged the blow and retaliated, your foot hitting him in the nose.

A sickening crunch.

Soul staggered back, his hands flew up to his face. Blood gushed out from between his fingers. He groaned, making a primal sound of pain and rage.

He lowered his arms, revealing a crimson mask. Blood dripped from his broken nose, staining his lips and chin. But his eyes... His eyes were burning with an unholy light.

Soul-More...Hit me again.