Chapter 5 - Footsteps in the Dark
The screech of the fire door echoed like a gunshot through the empty, darkened corridor.
Stallone gripped the doorframe of the hospital room, his eyes scanning the pitch-black hallway. Through the dim emergency lighting, three figures in black tactical gear could be seen moving in a coordinated wedge formation. Their faces were obscured by dark balaclavas, and each carried suppressed submachine guns held close to their chests. They swept the hallway with practiced efficiency, checking every room along the way.
Inside the room, Jonathan pressed himself flat against the wall beneath the window, trying to make himself as small as possible. His chest heaved with shallow, frantic breaths.
"They're at thirty-four," Jonathan whispered, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "That's three doors down. We have less than thirty seconds before they clear this room."
Stallone didn't look back. His focus remained locked on the advancing shadow silhouettes. He reached down to his belt, his fingers brushing against a heavy tactical flashlight. Without a sound, he clicked it on, keeping the beam angled downward against the floor to avoid immediate detection, yet preparing for close-quarters engagement.
"Listen to me very carefully," Stallone murmured, keeping his tone steady and authoritative. "When I move, you grab the nurse's rolling medical tray and push it into the hallway to create a distraction. If you hesitate, you die."
Jonathan stared at Stallone in sheer horror. "Are you out of your mind? I’m a surgeon, I don’t fight mercenaries!"
"You're a criminal who thought he was untouchable," Stallone corrected coldly. "Now you either fight for your survival or you become fertilizer for your father's empire."
Outside, a muffled voice spoke through a radio comms unit. "Room thirty-eight is clear. Moving to thirty-six."
The tactical team was right outside the threshold. The soft crunch of rubber boots on dust signaled they had reached the doorway.
Stallone counted the seconds in his head. Three. Two. One.
With explosive speed, Stallone stepped out into the doorway, swinging the heavy metal flashlight upward to blind the lead operative with a blinding beam of white light, while simultaneously kicking the heavy steel door outward with devastating force.
The door smashed directly into the second operative, sending him crashing backward into the drywall with a sickening thud.
Jonathan, driven by pure terror, grabbed the rolling medical tray and shoved it violently into the corridor just as Stallone engaged the lead gunman in close combat, blocking a knife strike with his bare forearm and delivering a brutal elbow to the attacker's jaw.
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The lead gunman dropped instantly, unconscious before he hit the ground. But as the smoke and dust began to clear, the third operative stepped around his fallen comrade, raising his suppressed weapon directly at Stallone’s chest, pulling the slide back with a sharp metallic click.
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