CISPA:Sons of Storm

Fifteen months earlier.

The world shattered for the Thompson brothers, on the very night Colonel David Thompson was betrayed and murdered cold-blooded in a rain-soaked jungle, another shadow moved through the quiet streets of upstate New York.

The same storm that flooded the jungle rumbled above the Thompson family home—half a world away. The air was thick, consisting of tension. Lightning spread across the sky, casting an unstable light over the neighborhood. Somewhere in the trees bordering the edge of a property not far from the Thompson's, a figure crouched high in the branches like a panther.

Sergeant Kyle Brenner.

A soldier. A killer. And David Thompson's second-in-command.

He'd been sent to finish the 'legacy of the colonel': eliminate the family.

David was dead—burnt too. The jungle was silent. Team Omega-9 had been wiped smooth from the records like chalk under rain. No member survived except the very one who sold them out.

And now, Kyle was to sever the last thread—Margaret, Liam, and Ethan.

He watched from the tree's shadowy cradle, his breath measured, his rifle slung across his back. He had been watching for nearly two hours now. He could see momentary movements in the house. He saw David's first child sitting on the couch gently moving the dog tag in his hands.

His earpiece buzzed faintly, Vex's voice a low growl in his ear.

"Status, Brenner. Are they in sight?"

Kyle didn't answer immediately. His eyes were locked on the warm glow of the house beyond the tree line. Through a crack in the curtain, he could see a woman pacing. Margaret, he wondered what she'd be going through. The boy was still visible too.

"Brenner."

He exhaled through his nose. "In position."

"Do it quick. No mess. No noise."

He almost said something. Instead, he thumbed the earpiece off, muting Vex. He had always hated the man. He needed the money he was being offered, so he kept dealing with his 'shit'.

It wasn't the mission that made his stomach twist. It was them. He knew the Thompsons. He had visited this house. David had once poured him coffee in that very kitchen. Margaret had sent him a Christmas card.

And Liam—the older boy—had trained with a wooden sword Kyle had bought him during a base visit years ago. Ethan had once painted his face with army camo and called him "Uncle Shadow." He was more or less a part of the family. The uncle they never had.

Now, he was supposed to erase them. To kill them with his own hands...after the damage he had caused them by killing David. It wasn't fair.

Kyle closed his eyes.

The rifle stayed on his back.

He climbed down from the tree like the ghost he had been trained to be and moved silently through the wet grass, every step methodical, silent but leapy. He still felt pain from the injury he sustained in the jungle. The drizzle masked his sound, but even without it, Kyle made no noise. He reached the edge of the street and stopped beneath a streetlamp.

There—through the living room window—he saw Liam.

The boy sat on the couch near the fireplace, back straight, as if holding up the walls of the house. His face was pale, unreadable. And in that expression, Kyle saw David. He realized something he hadn't noticed before:the boy was David all through.

He didn't move. Didn't aim. Didn't breathe. He turned away.

"Target in sight," he whispered to no one. "Mission aborted."

Then he crushed the earpiece under his boot and walked into the dark.

---

Three blocks away, in a black car parked beneath a flyover, three men waited.

They weren't military. They weren't mercenaries. They were Vex's men. All wore black throughout blending with the night effortlessly.

And Kyle had just broken protocol.

The radio crackled. "He's gone off comms."

"Orders?"

"Clean him up."

The doors opened. They stepped out, weapons drawn.

---

Kyle heard them before he saw them. Years of jungle warfare, of assassination missions, had honed his awareness to something almost supernatural. A member of the invincible Team Omega-9.

One man raised a silenced pistol, nodding at the rifle. "Drop it."

He did.

The first man started the show as he moved in to shoot, Kyle closed the distance before he could breathe —no hesitation, no warning. A step forward and he slapped the pistol hand wide just as a bullet hissed past his ear, a duck, a twist—he drove a sharp elbow into the man's jaw. That attacker was thrown off balance. A jab to the throat. The first man folded. Kyle grabbed his hair and drove his head into his rising knee—once, twice. The man dropped flat on the pavement. Everything happened in a flash.

No time to breathe.

The second man already had a clean angle. Firing twice. One round grazed Kyle's shoulder,tearing his jacket.

"Bad aiming," Kyle muttered.

Kyle gritted through it. He reached down and grabbed the first man's weapon just as the third shot rang. A sharp turn on one foot. Three quick shots. One to the heart and the other? A clean headshot. The last was to the third man's thigh. Pinning him down. He never wastes bullets!!!

The third was smarter for he knew it was a losing fight. He pulled away, radioing frantically.

Kyle moved like wind, cornering him through a side street. He emerged behind the man and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him into the alley.

"You work for Vex?" Kyle asked.

The man nodded, trembling.

"Tell him this," Kyle growled, voice like gravel, "I'm not his dog. I don't kill kids. And I'm off the game. I'm out! Also, I'll surely come for my cash!"

He knocked the man out cold.

---

By morning, Kyle was gone.

His apartment—burned.

His name—scrubbed.

He became a ghost. A rogue asset. Hunted by Vex's cartel, disclaimed by the military. No longer soldier, no longer patriot.

Only one label remained.

'Shadow Walker'. A name given to him by the very friend he shot.

And in the year that follows, whispers would emerge in the criminal underground of a man in black taking down safehouses, intercepting deals, freeing trafficked children. No name. No pattern. Just smoke, blood, and silence. Some said he was a former CISPA agent. Others, a betrayed soldier. All feared him. No one knew him for sure.

This would be his new purpose...to redeem himself for all the lifes he destroyed. Kyle had made it his mission. He couldn't bring back David. But he could dismantle the empire that murdered him—brick by bloody brick.

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