But before Devon could react, an armored man emerged from the smoke like a specter, his black helmet gleaming under the streetlights, rifle slung across his back, boots pounding the pavement with purpose. His visor hid his face, but his movements were swift, ruthless, a predator closing in.
Devon froze, the man swung his rifle butt down like a sledgehammer, cracking it against Devon's head with a thud that exploded white-hot pain through his skull. Stars burst, the world spinning black, and Devon's knees buckled, his body crumpling like a broken doll. Darkness swallowed him whole, his last thought the system's warning fading into silence.
The armored man grabbed his collar with a rough yank, dragging him across the pavement, Devon's heels scraping asphalt, his limp arms trailing through glass and dirt, leaving a smeared trail of blood.
