Darren ran for his life—sprinting down the hallway like his boots were on fire—leaving poor Matt standing alone in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by a small army of blade-wielding assassins.
That bastard.
Matt clenched his fists and cursed under his breath, slipping into a ready stance.
But before he could even move, the sound of footsteps came rushing back toward him.
Darren reappeared around the corner, face solemn, voice brimming with heroic conviction. "Matt! I thought about it—I just can't abandon a comrade to die alone. So I've decided to come back and fight by your side!"
Matt said nothing.
Because his radar sense told him the truth—Darren hadn't had some noble change of heart. He'd simply been chased back by another wave of ninjas.
From both ends of the corridor, fresh enemies emerged, advancing slowly but steadily.
And then—just five meters away—they all stopped.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea.
Out stepped a woman in crimson.
She was tall, dangerous, and painfully beautiful. Her scarlet ninja outfit was slit so high it defied gravity, showing off toned legs that gleamed under the flickering emergency lights.
Her voice was cold enough to chill the air. "Hand over the ledgers, and I might consider letting you die with your bodies intact."
Matt froze mid-step. That voice—he knew that voice.
"Your voice," he said, startled, "it sounds like my ex-girlfriend."
There was a long, awkward silence.
Darren blinked. "Bro… that's your opening line? Really?"
The woman's jaw tightened, but she didn't deny it.
"Ledger? Never heard of it," Darren said immediately, face innocent as a choir boy. "And this guy hasn't either!" He gestured toward Matt without shame.
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Then you'll both stay here forever."
She lunged forward, twin sai flashing in her hands, striking at Matt with blinding precision.
For some reason she didn't even understand, she really wanted to hit him.
"Elektra—it is you!"
Matt twisted and flipped, narrowly avoiding her attacks. The unmistakable rhythm of her fighting style, the weapons, the heartbeat—it could only be her.
At the sound of her name, Elektra hesitated for a fraction of a second, her brows knitting together.
Something inside her stirred.
Somewhere in her fragmented mind, the name Matt echoed faintly… like a memory scratching at the edge of a locked door.
But the hesitation didn't last long. Her attacks grew faster, sharper, angrier.
Darren shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Yeah, see, recognizing your ex mid-fight? Always a bad idea. The best kind of ex is the one that stays dead."
Before Matt could retort, more ninjas swarmed in from every direction.
Darren's grin vanished. "Ah, screw this."
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The Golden Desert Eagle thundered in his hand, blowing the heads off three ninjas in as many shots.
The rest immediately threw down smoke bombs. The corridor filled with thick, choking fog, shrouding everything in a gray haze.
Perfect cover—for them.
Or so they thought.
Through the mist, silent shadows darted like ghosts, slipping closer to Darren's position, blades gleaming faintly.
One of them crept up behind him, drawing a shuriken—
Only to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun already aimed at his forehead.
"Hey," Darren said pleasantly. "Wanna buy a cheat code?"
BANG!
The ninja crumpled before he could answer.
The others didn't fare much better.
Because Darren wasn't just relying on eyesight—he had the minimap.
Every single enemy was a red dot, clear as day.
He didn't need to see. He just followed the blinking dots and fired.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each shot was precise. Each red dot vanished.
When the smoke finally cleared, the corridor was littered with bodies, limbs splayed in eerie silence.
Somewhere, in the digital afterlife, a dozen ninjas were probably mashing the "report player" button in fury.
On the other side, Matt wasn't doing nearly as well.
Elektra was relentless—feral, fast, and vicious. Her strikes had no hesitation, no restraint. Matt, still hesitant to hurt her, was stuck blocking and dodging, barely keeping up.
And then came the final humiliation—
She used that infamous move.
The leg strike.
Straight for the groin.
Matt went down with a strangled groan, collapsing to one knee, the pain spreading through his soul like divine punishment.
"Elektra, it's me! Matt! Don't you remember?"
He kept pleading between gasps, hoping—desperately—that her memories might return.
For a second, she paused. Her face twitched.
"Matt?" she whispered, voice uncertain.
He looked up, eyes full of fragile hope. "Yes! You remember! You—"
CRACK!
Another kick.
Direct hit.
Matt folded like a paper crane.
Darren, watching from the sidelines, could barely contain his laughter. "Oh yeah, that's gonna wake something, alright. Step aside, counselor—time to show you how it's really done."
He holstered his gun and strode forward, rolling his shoulders.
"Hey," he said, eyes on Elektra, "do you remember who you are?"
Elektra didn't answer. Her expression was blank, eyes dead cold. She darted forward, both sai thrusting for his chest.
"Reaper's Eye."
The world slowed.
Time itself seemed to drag like molasses as Darren stepped casually aside, the blades slicing through empty air.
Then—
"Muay Thai Warning!"
His elbow slammed forward like a wrecking ball.
THUD!
The hit landed square on her face, the sound echoing down the hall.
Elektra grunted in pain, arms snapping up in reflex to block—but the sheer force sent her flying, crashing into the floor several meters away.
Still, she was tough. A quick kip-up and she was back on her feet, but her arms were already swelling red, and a dark bruise was spreading across one side of her beautiful face.
Her eyes blazed with fury.
Even brainwashed, a woman's hatred for anyone who messes with her face was eternal.
"You'll die for that!"
She leapt at him like an enraged panther, her leg whipping around in a vicious kick.
Darren caught it effortlessly, twisting his arm to block before seizing her ankle and flinging her into the nearest wall.
BANG!
The impact rattled the corridor.
Elektra hit the wall hard, gasping, her ribs screaming.
Before she could recover, Darren was already there, raining down blows like a human storm.
Skill or not, she was outmatched.
In seconds, she was beaten, bruised, and finally crumpled to the floor, her breath ragged, her strength gone.
Darren grabbed her by the collar, lifting her upper body off the ground. "Well? Remember anything now?"
She glared up at him, hatred seething in her eyes, jaw tight with defiance.
THUD!
Another punch.
Her head snapped to the side.
"What about now?!"
Silence.
THUD!
"Think harder!"
"AAAH! I'll kill you!"
THUD!
"Do you remember yet?!"
"I—yes! I remember! My name's Elektra! I remember everything!" she screamed finally, half from pain, half from survival instinct.
Fragments of memory flickered through her mind—Matt's face, her death, her resurrection, the Hand.
It all came flooding back, as if Darren had literally punched the memories into her brain.
Matt watched, completely dumbfounded.
That wasn't "memory recovery." That was a confession under duress!
Still, somehow… it worked.
Elektra had her memories back.
And Darren?
He just wiped his knuckles on his sleeve, completely unfazed.
"See? Told you. Works every time."