NOVPUB
Chapter 179: Chapter 179 Mission 3 Of 4 Completed
Detective Ryan’s head snapped around as the sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the building. It was followed by a blood-curdling scream from the lower floor. The sound was distant but unmistakable. Without wasting a second, Ryan turned to the officers with him. "You four, hold this position. The rest of you, come with me!" he ordered with a clenched jaw, voice low but urgent. He descended the stairs two steps at a time, flanked by three armed men, boots pounding hard against the worn concrete.
---
On the ground floor, chaos had already begun to take root. Two police officers, stationed by the exit, stood paralyzed, weapons drawn and eyes darting in every direction. Panic painted their faces with sweat and confusion.
"He just—he just took them!" one of the officers stammered. "Three of them. Gone. Just like that."
His partner tried to steady his aim, flashlight trembling in his grip as he scanned the corridor. But it was too late. Liam was already behind him, mimicking every single step he took with surgical precision. The masked figure moved like a phantom, blending into the dark, until he stepped into the shadows.
A hand clamped tightly over the officer’s mouth.
Before the man could make a sound, Liam dragged him backwards into the darkness, silent as death itself.
The remaining officer, now truly alone, looked beside him—but his partner had vanished. A low curse slipped from his lips as he began backing away, sweat beading down his face. Then—
Thud.
He backed into something solid.
He spun around in full panic, weapon raised and ready to fire—but stopped when he saw the face.
"Detective Ryan?" he breathed, lowering his gun in shaky relief. "Sir... I—I nearly shot you."
Ryan narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is going on down here?"
The officer’s voice quivered. "Sir, it’s him. He’s playing with us. Like a damn ghost! I thought you shot him?"
Ryan’s jaw clenched, his voice low. "I did. Right in the thigh. But apparently, that just pissed him off."
The officer didn’t respond. His fingers twitched on the grip of his weapon, unsure of what to do, how to fight something they couldn’t see.
Ryan raised a hand and ran it through his hair, frustration starting to settle in. "I called him easy," he muttered to himself. "I was wrong. Dead wrong."
He glanced at the three officers behind him, then up at the stairwell. "We’re too scattered," he said. "Everyone, on me. We move together."
They moved with grim focus, weapons drawn, footsteps echoing in unison. Ryan raised his walkie and clicked it on. "Unit Alpha, report. What’s your status on the rooftop?"
Silence.
His brows furrowed.
"Alpha, come in. This is Ryan. Report."
Still no answer. The air grew heavy with dread.
He didn’t wait. "Move! Now!"
They ran, feet pounding the steps. As they ascended, every floor felt quieter than the last, as if sound itself had fled the building.
When they finally burst through the rooftop door, they stopped in their tracks.
Eight officers—Alpha team and the ones that were abducted down—were all bound together in the center of the rooftop, wrapped tight in a thick rope. Duct tape sealed their mouths shut. Their eyes widened as they saw Ryan and the others.
"What the hell..." one of the men whispered.
But Ryan’s eyes weren’t on the tied-up officers. His gaze was drawn to the edge of the roof.
There, under the glow of the moonlight, stood a solitary figure.
Liam.
The nightcrawler.
His mask shimmered in the pale silver light. His arms were crossed casually, as if none of this was remotely difficult.
"You like the present?" he asked mockingly, his voice distorted and mechanical from the mask.
Ryan barely had time to register the words before Liam leaned backwards and fell from the roof.
"No!" Ryan shouted, rushing forward with the others.
They reached the edge and looked over—
Nothing.
Not a single trace. No body. No sound. Just darkness.
He was gone.
Again.
One of the officers turned to Ryan, his voice uncertain. "Sir, should we call for backup? Pursue him?"
Ryan stood there, still staring into the night.
"No," he said after a moment. "He beat us. In our own backyard. That man isn’t just fast or smart... he’s something else."
He turned around and looked at his officers.
"Out there... it’s his world. If we chase him now, we won’t be hunting him. He’ll be hunting us."
The weight of the failure sank into all of them as the silence of the rooftop settled once more. Above them, the stars twinkled. Below them, the nightmare had vanished into the dark.
Liam drove through the midnight streets in Lilith’s sleek black car, the engine purring like a panther under his control. The city lights streaked past him in long, golden lines as he leaned back in the driver’s seat, his right hand gripping the wheel loosely, his left pulling away from his thigh to check the wound.
It was gone.
Only a faint pink scar remained, the skin still slightly raised from the impact and trauma of the bullet. But in less than fifteen minutes, the wound had closed up entirely. He raised an eyebrow and let out a dry chuckle.
"Damn," he muttered. "That system keeps surprising me."
Ding!
[Revenge On Your Enemies]
[Progress: 3/4]
He gave a single nod, eyes fixed on the road again. One more to go. Just one more bastard left to erase.
Jack.
The name echoed in his mind like a bell tolling for the dead. Kyle. Daryl. Sam. All three had been crossed off, their lives ripped from them with cold precision. Jack was the last one, and unlike the others, he had vanished.
After Kyle’s death, the message had been loud and clear. Someone was hunting them.
Jack was smart—smarter than the rest. He hadn’t waited to see what happened next. He’d gone into hiding, cut off his connections, changed his number, probably even his identity. The police had tried to find him too, but Jack had slipped through their fingers like smoke.
But Liam wasn’t the police.
He was vengeance. And if he found Jack first, there would be no second chances.
Liam pulled into the underground garage of Lilith’s penthouse and stepped out, moving with a slight limp that quickly faded with each step. The pain had dulled to nothing now. The system did more than just heal—it adapted him. Made him better. Stronger. Faster. More deadly.
He reached the elevator and rode it up in silence. When he stepped into the penthouse, the place was dimly lit, calm. He could hear the faint hum of the fridge, the occasional creak of the walls cooling under the night air.
He glanced down the hallway. Lilith’s door was slightly ajar, but the light inside was off. He didn’t want to wake her. She needed rest. What they had done to boss tonight was massive, and she’d need all her strength for what was coming.
Liam settled on the plush couch in the living room and turned on the TV, lowering the volume to a whisper. His eyes weren’t really on the screen, though. Every image flickering past him was replaced by Jack’s face in his mind. That smug, twisted grin. That mocking tone. That arrogant laugh.
Soon, Liam thought. You’re next.
He leaned back, arms folded across his chest, and let the warmth of the room soothe him, but sleep never came. He was too focused. Too alert. His mind was a blade honed by fury.
---
Meanwhile, back at the precinct, chaos brewed.
Chief Josh was on his knees, his large frame trembling as he cradled Sam’s lifeless body. Blood still oozed sluggishly from the deep gash across Sam’s throat, staining Josh’s uniform. His hands were soaked in crimson. He didn’t care.
His face twisted in disbelief.
"He was right here... how the fuck did this happen...?!"
The forensic team had arrived but kept their distance. No one dared speak to Josh yet. Not with the look in his eyes. Not with the absolute failure that had just occurred in his own building.
Across the hallway, Vanessa walked the precinct floors with cold composure. Her eyes scanned the crime scene reports pinned on boards, photos of the tied-up officers retrieved from the rooftop, and testimonies pouring in about what happened.
The power outage. The silent infiltration. The disabling of officers without a single fatality. The slit throat of Sam. And then the mocking departure from the rooftop. It was like something out of a fucking movie.
And it was all done by one man.
She couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled at the corner of her lips.
"Bastard," she whispered.
There was something almost... admiring in her voice.
Liam had done what they couldn’t. He walked into the lion’s den, in the middle of their stronghold, and made a mockery of them. He didn’t just kill Sam—he humiliated the entire force.
And he left a message in blood.
Josh finally looked up at Vanessa, his face a mixture of rage and grief.
"We need to find him, Vanessa. I don’t care what it takes. That masked freak is dead. You hear me? Dead!"
Vanessa stared at him in silence for a long moment.
Then, calmly, she said, "You don’t catch the Nightcrawler with barking, Josh. You don’t scream into the darkness expecting it to listen."
Josh furrowed his brows. "What the hell does that mean?"
She turned away, the heels of her boots clicking softly against the tiled floor as she walked off.
"It means... you either become part of the dark... or you stay blind."
