High Rise Invasion Sniper Mask Face 소설 & 이야기

I mouthed, taking of the face mask “Oh my Gawd…..jeez Ax…….”He almost screamed, but I was swift to cover his mouth “Hey…quiet..you won’t want crazy fans coming here right” I scoff putting on the mask, he chuckled “Yea..yea..come on, let’s go to the VIP section….they got expensive dresses over there…and those crazy fans can’t come there. So you will be free to take off that ugly mask” He smirk “My mask isn’t ugly, I know thousand of girls will die to get a hold of it” I boasted

He was tall, oh God, so tall – easily 6 feet 3 inches of pure, unadulterated masculinity. The kind of height that made my 5'5" frame feel utterly delicate in comparison. A mask, sleek and black, hid the upper half of his face, leaving only the sharp, sculpted line of his jaw and the full, almost bruised-looking curve of his bottom lip exposed. It was a cruel tease, that mask, hinting at a face that I just knew would be devastatingly handsome, an echo of the rugged, dark allure I'd only ever seen in pictures or descriptions of men in some mafia novels or dark romance.

Nezeira looked at them and said in an icy tone, “Are you guys done? Because if UV rays are something you thought you could use to subdue me because it's night-time, then I afraid it is not going to work.” Then she started to walk towards them. The two masked people started to retreat with the shorter one suddenly turning around and jumping off the window escaping, leaving his companion behind. The taller person, saw that their plan failed, and tried to flee but Nezeira, in lightning speed caught the person by the collar hoisted up and with one swift move snatched away the mask revealing a handsome face. She coldly stared at the dark brown eyes and spoke,

“Somewhere fantastic.” The road narrowed into an alley barely wide enough for the SUV. There were no pedestrians, there were no other cars, just high stone walls on both sides, and the smell of salt and rotting seaweed drifting through the vents. He slowed then stopped, the engine idled low and menacing. He shifted into park as he reached up and pulled the baseball cap off. My heart slammed so hard I thought it would crack a rib. He peeled away a thin hyper-realistic silicone mask the kind used in high-end espionage films. The face underneath was leaner than I remembered, scarred along the jaw, but unmistakable.

The sniper instinctively tried to fight back, but his speed was completely inferior compared to Harvey’s. Slap! A loud slap was heard when he slammed into the ground. “Guh!” A mouthful of blood spurted from the sniper. He simply had no strength to fight back anymore. His face mask slowly fell to the ground. Harvey could see his eagle-like eyes under the night sky. They did not seem human at all… “Genetically enhanced soldier?” Harvey wondered while squinting.

"We're talking sniper. Professional-grade equipment, a suppressed barrel, positioned at least two hundred yards out, probably on one of the rooftops across from the parking structure." Harper's breath caught in her throat. "A sniper?" she echoed, her blood running cold in her veins. "You're saying someone planned this.” Reyes nodded, his expression grim. "That's exactly what I'm saying. But it gets more complicated." He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, then angled it toward her. The still image was grainy—clearly pulled from enhanced CCTV—but unmistakable. A woman dressed in black from her fitted tactical-style jacket, dark jeans, black ball cap to her face mask.

Only the cold rush of air as she sprinted toward the back exit. Ten more steps. A blur of black. A hand caught her by the throat mid-sprint and slammed her against a pillar. She gasped. Air fled her lungs. The glass dropped from her grip. And she looked up into eyes the color of burning winter. Silver. Brutal. Hungry. “Little human,” the voice was low, cruel. “You run well.” He didn’t wear a mask anymore. His face was carved from fire and war. A scar ran from his temple to his jaw. His mouth twisted in a smirk that wasn’t amusement — it was a warning.

⸻ Sienna frowned. “I already saw this.” ⸻ “Wait,” the technician said. ⸻ He rewound slightly. Paused. Zoomed. ⸻ The image sharpened as much as possible. ⸻ The masked man stood half-turned. His head angled slightly toward the camera. ⸻ The technician clicked again. ⸻ The frame froze. ⸻ Then— slowly— the image shifted. Enhanced. Brightened. ⸻ The mask no longer covered his entire face.

I snap back, just as the door swings fully open. The man in front steps inside, holding a cattle prod, its metal tip gleaming ominously. He moves just enough to allow another man to enter, who silently sets a jug of water down on the rickety table before turning to leave. “Wait!” I shout, my voice sharp and urgent. The men pause, glancing back. “We will negotiate. What do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my tone calm despite the tension in the air. The man at the front turns his masked face toward me. His expression is hidden, but his posture radiates control. “We want nothing,” he says, his voice distorted, processed through some kind of modulator. It’s deliberate—a calculated move to ensur