《Cyberpunk 2021》


 Authors Note

    Disclaimer and Content Warning:


    This story will feature the following themes: violence, trauma, and conflict. Although the narrative will touch on these topics, it''s not intended to discriminate against any groups.


    Reader discretion is advised!


    Note from the Author:


    Hi there! :DDD This is a quick note for anyone curious about the nature of this project.


    What you''re reading is a story set in the Cyberpunk 2020 universe (the board game that inspired 2077 and Edgerunners)! This story is inspired and based on a custom campaign I played. Although it ended, it was so fun that it inspired me to bring it to completion by writing it out and sharing it online!


    Stolen story; please report.


    One thing to note: you don''t need any prior knowledge of the universe or franchise to enjoy this story!


    Though it technically qualifies as fanfiction, I see it more as a web novel. The reason is because many established characters and much of the original Cyberpunk lore have been significantly altered or removed. You''ll also find a mix of original characters and new factions alongside familiar ones. Think of Cyberpunk 2021 as an alternate timeline from the source material or perhaps even just a whole new universe altogether.


    For Cyberpunk fans, you''ll recognize many names but you might be surprised with the directions I take them in. If you''re new to the world, you''ll still get the full experience, I promise! :)))


    I''ll do my best to stay consistent with chapter uploads. My goal right now is to release new chapters every week, but if that''s not possible, I''ll aim for biweekly updates! I''m still fairly new to writing and this process as a whole, so bear with me hahaha. I hope you enjoy the journey!


    By the way, special thanks to:


    - Alena Aenami! I am using their artwork for the cover: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/8lDPQx</a>


    - Datafortress2020! Their content was used in the original tabletop campaign that I played and as such some of their material will be used as well in the story: http://datafortress2020.com/</a>

 Prologue Part 1 - Judgement Day

    September 11, 2001. 19:00. Paris.


    The city is entering nightfall, illuminated by festival lights and filled with cheerful voices: the beautiful calm before a storm. The iconic glow of the Eiffel Tower bathed the streets of Paris in radiant light, casting long shadows across cobblestone roads and glimmering off the surface of the Seine. The city thrived with life, blending old-world charm with the promise of a brighter future. But beneath the surface, it was all a poorly hidden lie.


    In recent years, humanity had made great strides in innovation, rapidly evolving over just a few years. Groundbreaking technologies, developed in the wake of the Cold War, were designed to push society into a new era of prosperity. Everywhere one looked, the darker times seemed to be fading. The world appeared to be moving forward into a future painted with optimism.


    The scars of war were healing, replaced by technological marvels that had once seemed like distant dreams. Cars were no longer confined to the ground; prototypes of flying vehicles had already begun to take to the skies. Electronics had become sleek, intuitive, and accessible to all. Cybernetic implants were now able to replace missing human limbs. Life was filled with conveniences that previous generations could never have imagined. Humanity stood on the cusp of a golden age, where innovation would supposedly solve its greatest challenges and unite people across the globe.


    Yet... beneath this surface of progress and hope, an unseen shadow loomed. What few realized was that this also marked the beginning of a new era of depression. An era that would take more than twenty years to fully unfold. Economic disparities were widening as the true rewards of progress stayed in the hands of the privileged few. Mental health issues were quietly escalating as people found themselves trapped in cycles of overwork, digital addiction, and relentless pressure to keep pace with the ever-accelerating world. For every step forward humanity seemed to take, it also stumbled several steps back.


    And tonight... was when it all truly began.


    Amidst the main roads adorned with grand buildings and the vibrant activity of Paris, smaller streets led to quieter suburban areas. In these dimly lit suburbs, rows of low residential houses and condos stood in uniform arrangement.


    All was quiet within the area. Local families were having dinner at home, while younger people had already moved to larger areas of the city to party the night away. It was a perfect night for relaxation, which made it an ideal battleground for the wicked.


    A group of armed figures moved stealthily toward a condo on one of these dimly lit streets. Five separate groups, each consisting of six soldiers, advanced toward the building with utmost precision. Their attire bore no allegiance to any nation; instead, they wore jet-black, militaristic uniforms featuring a badge reminiscent of the United Nations symbol.


    Their armour was sleek but prominent enough for the average person to recognize it as designed for heavy combat. Each soldier carried an array of heavily modified weapons that would put other militaries around the world to shame. Their faces were hidden beneath cylindrical helmets, leaving no trace of identity to be discerned.


    The only sounds that pierced the night were the distant noises from the bustling main streets.


    They swiftly took their positions against the condo. One group retrieved their equipment for grappling the building, while the others formed precise lines, leaning against each door of the condo. With practiced precision, a soldier leaned against the door and slid a tiny ball underneath it.


    Upon hitting the floor, the ball unravelled into a drone that resembled a metallic spider. The spider then proceeded to scan the building. For a few seconds, the soldiers stood in silence before one of them tapped the side of his helmet. The soldier who did so looked at the others and gave a swift hand signal. His teammates immediately moved towards the door and picked the lock.


    After a few seconds, a faint click was heard. The door was then gently opened as the team made its way inside. The other teams followed suit, entering the building through other doors, while one team stayed outside. Rifles in hand, they scanned the corners of the room, maintaining perfect synchronization and pace with each other.


    On the first floor was an empty lobby with a neatly arranged row of sofas perpendicular to the main entrance of the condo. The walls were dark concrete, and a poorly kept mailbox for the building''s residents was attached to one of them. The teams swiftly verified that they were alone before splitting up once more.


    Two of the four teams went towards a nearby staircase, while another investigated the building''s elevator, and the fourth team remained in place. One of the soldiers within the idle team tapped and held a button on the side of their helmet, activating a communication system. A young male voice, tinged with a hint of a German accent, spoke.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "R-1 reporting to Castle, we''ve made entry but there are no Tanwir in sight. Have the police arrived? Over," he said with a calm and controlled voice while waiting for Castle''s response. It wasn''t long before he got one.


    "Castle to R-1, police are on their way to support and apprehend. Continue with the mission as briefed. Over." The response came from a deeper, rougher voice belonging to a man who was likely in his late forties.


    "Acknowledged. Proceeding to second floor, over." R-1 released the button on his helmet and motioned for his teammates to follow him toward a dark staircase another team was guarding. The members of both teams nodded at each other before they continued with their mission.


    As R-1 entered the staircase, his rifle pointed upwards and carefully watching the stairs, his teammates followed him. There was no one there.


    After a few moments, one of the teammates lightly tapped R-1 on the shoulder indicating they were ready. Without saying a word, R-1 moved forward.


    Step by step, R-1''s team ascended the staircase to the second floor. The lights were off, and hushed conversations drifted from behind several apartment doors, some in English and others in French. The soldiers looked to R-1 for further instructions. He quickly used hand gestures and finger signals to assign their roles. Once assigned, the soldiers sprang into action.


    The soldiers lined up against the dark brown wooden doors, listening carefully to the conversations on the other side. Amid the idle chatter, two team members overheard a hushed conversation between two men with Middle Eastern accents. The first man, with a young and erratic voice, expressed urgency and readiness.


    "Tonight is the night, brother. We need to make sure everything is ready!" Shifting footsteps echoed through the door before a second, much older voice spoke.


    "Calm yourself, Ayaan. We must wait for the signal." One of the soldiers leaning against the door narrowed his eyes. His teammate did the same but tapped a button on the side of his helmet. The other soldiers and R-1 nodded in response.


    Within seconds, R-1 gave a thumbs-up and pointed two fingers at the door. The soldiers at the door nodded. The first soldier moved towards the door, setting his rifle aside briefly to pick the lock, while the second soldier kept his rifle ready in case of trouble.


    As the voices on the other side continued, the soldier swiftly unlocked the door. The team entered the room one by one, guns drawn at the unsuspecting pair. The two men had tattoos of small Islamic symbols on the sides of their necks. The room was a typical apartment with wooden chairs and sofas. On the wall, there was a TV and strange wooden crates stacked with the same Islamic symbols painted on them.


    Within seconds, the soldiers processed the scene and ordered, "Freeze! Hands up!"


    The two men looked at each other in panic. The younger man quickly raised his hands, dropped to the floor, and began screaming.


    "I''m sorry! I surrender," he pleaded. While his companion begged for his life, the older man ran toward one of the bedrooms. Click. Click. A gun was cocked, and then several bullets burst through the thin walls of the apartment. The soldiers took cover behind a sofa and returned fire.


    Bang! One soldier fired a single shot in return. Bang! Bang! Two more shots followed from the second soldier. Each bullet pierced the wall from which the original shots came. Silence followed, broken only by the thud of a lifeless body and the clatter of a gun hitting the floor.


    The screams of neighbours outside could be heard, but inside the apartment, a deathly silence prevailed. The two soldiers stood and looked at the young man still on the floor, frozen in fear. The first soldier quickly swept the apartment with his gun ready, while the second soldier retrieved a zip tie to apprehend the man.


    After sweeping the room, the soldier fired a shot into the man''s head, ensuring the already lifeless body stayed down. Bang. The scream from the other rooms ceased immediately. Silence followed for a few seconds. The soldier who had tied up the man on the floor tapped the side of his helmet.


    "R-5 reporting to R team: Two confirmed Tanwir members in this room. One dead; one tied up. Tanwir boxes are here. We''ll begin investigating. Out." After sending the message, additional gunfire erupted a few floors above. Hostile forces could be heard shouting, "It''s the UNSAF! Those bastards are here!" Bang! Bang! R-6 entered the room and pointed to one of the crates. R-5 nodded and addressed the man on the floor.


    "Stay on the floor and answer our questions. If you cooperate, you''ll be safe. Am I clear?" The man on the floor nodded vigorously. While R-5 questioned him, R-6 cautiously approached the crates and began unlocking them.


    "First, where are the chemicals you stole from Germany?" The Tanwir man struggled to respond, prompting R-5 to press on. "We know you stole chemical components for the ''war'' effort." Silence followed before the click of a lock was heard. The man on the floor gulped nervously before answering.


    "They''ve been split among various groups across the country." R-5 frowned at the answer and continued his questioning.


    "Which groups? Where are they?"


    "I don''t know."


    "What about your weapon suppliers? Who provides your guns?"


    "I don''t know¡ª" R-6 cut in as he sifted through the crates.


    "The crates... they''re empty." R-5''s tone shifted, becoming slightly erratic and tinged with panic as he looked at R-6.


    "What do you mean?"


    "There''s nothing but plastic in these crates... and Arasaka packaging?" R-6 radioed the discovery to the rest of the team. Meanwhile, R-5 placed his knee lightly on the Tanwir man''s body, applying a slight pressure.


    "Explain. Now." The minor but sudden pressure prompted the man to speak. When he did, his voice carried a hint of melancholy.


    "The chemicals were never with us... I thought you knew that, sir."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Our group never had the chemicals; they were given to the flight team. We were just given weapons¡ª"


    Before he could finish, R-1''s voice came over the radio, urgent and loud.


    "EVERYONE, DOWN!" R-5 and R-6 dropped to the floor immediately. Moments later, a rumbling echoed through the streets of Paris as a series of explosions ripped through several buildings and set off numerous car alarms. Judgement Day had begun, and the world would soon suffer.

 Chapter 1

    April 14, 2021. 15:30. Vancouver.


    "I hate men," I mutter, adjusting my sniper rifle on the balcony railing. Of course, I don''t actually mean it. But why do half my contracts seem to involve men in some kind of dick-measuring contest? I inspect the scope of my weapon and take a deep breath. I aim the barrel down the street and tune into my surroundings. A mess of red, brown, and grey brick apartments blends into a guttural sprawl some people would generously call a neighbourhood.


    From my vantage point, I overlook a street where cars and civilians move about. The gentle breeze, the clear sky, and the warm sun serve only as reminders that today was supposed to be my day off. The sound of people laughing and music drifting from a nearby window does nothing but heighten my annoyance. My finger twitches slightly with impatience, though it isn''t even on the trigger yet. I restrain myself.


    "Where are you, asshole? I don''t have all day." Out of the corner of my eye, I spot several black cars pulling over to the curb. Each one is different, they range from high-end to more modest. They all share one thing: a white skull spray-painted on the hood, surrounded by gaudy luxury decals. The Dead Kings. "Fashionable" as always. I quickly count the gangsters stepping out. Eight in total. Each one has the same tattoo that matches their tacky cars.


    I''m not letting them anywhere near me, despite their size and numbers. Instead, I focus on a Hispanic guy at the center of their group. Tanned skin, black hair, red round shades. He struts with the kind of swagger that screams "manslut." Mid-twenties, tops. I adjust the scope and zoom in on his necklace. Nice to see you finally show up, AXIS.


    I check the distance and wind resistance between me and my target and adjust myself accordingly. My aim and stance shift as I plant my feet firmly on the ground while leaning slightly into my rifle to counteract recoil. I hold my breath to steady my aim, timing it with the lull in my heartbeat for precision. As my breath pauses, I squeeze the trigger, feeling the rifle''s kick against my shoulder. Bang. A comforting but thunderous sound acknowledges my lone existence on this rooftop. AXIS drops to the ground; my target is finally dead.


    I take my weapon off the railing while keeping a close eye on the street below. I notice the many different civilians running for cover and the Dead Kings members who scatter in fear for their own lives. Time for me to leave. I smile to myself and disassemble my rifle into smaller parts. I place each component into a nearby suitcase and pick it up before descending a nearby flight of stairs.


    I happily hum to myself in great satisfaction, and I pass by several civilians cowering in a corner. I jump off the final step of the stairs and wind up on a street corner. A woman carrying a baby runs past me.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "W-What''s going on?! Is there-there a gang shooting?!" A confused young man cowers behind a nearby bench. I pass him quickly, my eyes keeping a close eye on the street where my target died. A Dead Kings member speaks in confusion about the situation.


    "Damn it! What do we do?!" Good. Stay confused. I count the men present around the corpse and then head towards a black pickup truck parked nearby. I take out a remote key from my baggy pants and press a button. Nothing happens and I try pressing down on the button again.


    "Of course." I groan and fish around for another remote key. I pull another one out of my pocket and hit the button. Again, nothing happens. "What the hell?" I look around to see where the Dead Kings are, but also to keep an eye on the dead body. To no one''s surprise, AXIS'' corpse remains on the cold pavement. I turn my attention back to my truck and groan. I pray to every possible god that the next key remote I pick will be the right one. Why did I bring more than one key again?


    The sound of police sirens in the distance snaps me back to reality and I quickly take out the third remote key. I mash the button with my thumb and a satisfying beep emanates from the truck. Thank God. I open the back door of the truck and throw my suitcase inside.


    I double-check my jacket''s inner pockets and remind myself that I carry a knife and pistol. Okay, good, they''re still here. I shut the backdoor and hop into the driver''s seat. "See you later, assholes." I eye the Dead Kings through the windshield and then start the engine of my truck. I hum to myself a quick tune of satisfaction and take out my smartphone to enter an address into it for directions.


    As I enter the location of my destination, my phone rings and I groan.


    "Oh for fuck''s sake." I stare at the caller''s ID on my screen. I swiftly accept the incoming call knowing full well that I won''t be relaxing anytime soon today.


    "Heyyy, Wissen. What''s up?" I drive my truck onto a busier street and I put my phone into speaker mode. The sound of a middle-aged gentleman responds promptly as I drive past a police car no doubt investigating the crime scene I left.


    "Hello, Artemis, it''s been a while. I hope this wasn''t a bad time?" I catch myself about to sigh and then restrain myself. It wouldn''t do me good to give a long-time friend sass.


    "Eh, I just finished another contract, so I got time. What do you need?"


    "I have a job for you, something that I wouldn''t entrust to anyone else." Nevermind. I snort and speed away further from the crime scene. I easily navigate around traffic and my well-maintained rig responds to my movements with ease.


    "Oh lovely," I roll my eyes with sarcasm dripping through my voice. "Please don''t tell me it''ll take up the whole damn day." I completely drop the mask concealing the annoyance in my voice.


    Normally any self-respecting individual would not let me get away with such an attitude but Wissen is a different man. Instead of giving an equal amount of sass, he simply chuckles.


    "You have five hours from now before I pick you up outside your home."


    "Can we do this tomorrow?"


    "Haha, no."


    "Will I be paid a lot?"


    "I''ll tell you later tonight."


    "Why not now?"


    "I''m unfortunately busy."


    "Can you at least tell me what this is about?"


    "I''ll see you later."


    "What the fu¡ª" The smartass then hangs up on me mid-sentence. Did he just out bitch me? I arrive at a red light and stare at my phone in disbelief.


    "Whatever," I sigh and turn off my phone. "Time to wrap this up." I drive towards the growing set of dark skyscrapers downtown.

 Chapter 2

    April 14, 2021. 16:00. Vancouver.


    It''s been a while. My eyes dart from one street to another as I drive. Tall dark buildings with neon signs and glowing advertisements bleed into view. Dozens of products ranging from the mundane to obscene scatter throughout the ridiculous amounts of screens on the large buildings. I pull over and grab my phone. My eyes scan through the notes I made.


    Groceries, jobs, appointments, reminders... what else? My fingers swipe rapidly until I find the specific note I''m looking for. AXIS place of residence details. I smile and glance at the note, then my eyes flick to the nearest street sign. Nelson Street, perfect. I stop my truck''s engine and jump out of the driver''s seat. I check the contents of my truck one more time, grabbing anything I need for the second part of my plan. My brain blitzes through a mental checklist of any items I''d like to bring before I lock the truck''s doors.


    Now to find the building. I walk down Nelson Street and occasionally check the maps app on my phone. It''s not long before my senses are assaulted by the sound and sight of screens everywhere displaying the latest product to purchase. Teenagers and adults walk from one end of a street, some eye the latest gadget or piece of clothing on a screen. Supercars cruise down the street while a hover car occasionally looms overhead. My eyes settle on a large intricately designed apartment tower with a large garden plaza surrounding it.


    Bingo. I stride to the entrance of the building while looking at the nearby scenery. Parking lots of a variety of cars litter the area and take up any possible space for anything else. Surprisingly, there is a generous amount of greenery, but the same couldn''t be said for the rest of the city or street. In fact, it''s considered a luxury to even have a small portion of a building''s property dedicated to nature. I look at the nearby high-rises and note the dull concrete and grey architecture mixed in with a horrific blur of neon and digital billboards that flicker here and there. My pace quickens, and my eyes dart to all corners of the building.


    Cameras on the side, annoying. A nice mix of bystanders, whatever. Relaxed security, love it. Corner cameras were slapped around every intersection while well-paid but lazy security guards patrolled the blind spots. A nearby guard comes into view, and we exchange a smile. I pass by him and enter the main building''s grandiose doors.


    As I enter, a modern luxury apartment tower lobby greets me. The floors are alabaster white marble, while the wooden walls are polished light brown. Busy residents on their phones sit on a mix of grey sofas and chairs with wooden armrests. I stride past them and smile to myself as I approach the elevators.


    I press the button to call an elevator a little too enthusiastically, and a nearby person tilts their head to see what the commotion is about. Oops. I sigh and lean against the wall. I take out my phone and scroll through social media to pass the time.


    I skim the trending headlines for recent events. Mayor Gestalt campaigning to become Prime Minister of Canada. I swipe up. Rising gang war in Vancouver. I swipe again. New Militech office opens in Toronto. I sigh and scroll past the news. Same old shit. I look at another section online. New fall arrivals. My eyes light up with interest but I reign myself in to save that for later. The elevator doors then open with a ding and I step inside with a smile.


    Inside the elevator, the same polished wood from the lobby greets me. A group of young women chat away in a corner and eye me for a moment. I pull out a key fob and nonchalantly wave it in front of the elevator scanner positioned right beside a wall of buttons. The scanner gives a soft blue light that changes to green once it acknowledges my fob as legitimate. My heart races but I keep up a calm appearance; I press the button that takes me to the top floor and put the fob away. I back away from the wall and take out my phone with a smile on my face.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The girls continue chatting. I occasionally glance in their direction as they talk. They look to be around their early to mid-twenties with both their appearance and demeanour. Each of them wears luxury designer brands and I conclude that these girls are either rich or are just blowing almost all of their money on visual appearances. They mostly wear a combination of high-end leisure and business clothing mixed in with a few chic accessories. Meldstrom, Reeve, UrbanFlash. Not bad, but definitely on the cheaper end.


    The elevator slows down and arrives at a floor I''m unfamiliar with. They step out laughing about a party happening downtown later tonight. I tune them out and go back to looking at my phone. That is until two large muscular men wearing all-black pants and shirts enter the elevator with me. Just when I''m about to look back at my phone''s screen, I notice in my peripheral vision that they too have Dead King tattoos on their wrists. Fuck, great timing. I''m a third of their size too, what the hell.


    I know AXIS lives in Dead King territory, but I completely miscalculated that there would be a patrol at this time. I shift my weight a tiny bit as I watch what the Dead King members do. The one with tanned skin and a buzz cut turns to talk to his darker-skinned friend with dreadlocks.


    "Yeah, so they rushed him off to the hospital. We got no clue what''s going on with him." Oh shit. I slowly reach towards my jacket''s inner pockets. The one with dreadlocks scratches his forearm while the elevator doors close.


    "Blake won''t be happy about this." The elevator moves upward again.


    "Oh yeah, for sure he won''t be." The tanned one goes over to the elevator buttons and then freezes. His finger stops over the same floor button I pressed earlier.


    "Wait..." He turns around and looks at me. "You headed to AXIS'' place?" I mentally groan. This is what I get for not properly scoping out the place. I wasn''t expecting any Dead Kings to still be in the building, they should''ve been away. I straighten my back and lean ever so slightly against the wall of the elevator. My left arm leans against the wall with my hand in my jacket, while my right arm casually scrolls through my phone. My eyes slowly make their way to his as I scramble to think of a reasonable excuse.


    "Yeah, he buzzed me in earlier and told me to wait for him in his apartment." My eyes go back to my phone as I turn the screen off. The black screen reflects a nearby camera overlooking the elevator. "Is there a problem?" I tilt my head and look at the two gangsters. Please, just back off.


    "Well, AXIS got into some trouble or some shit like that." The dark-skinned man''s eyes scan me from top to bottom. "Didn''t know he invited a ''preem barbie'' like you up to his apartment." He makes eye contact with me again and I can practically feel his intent. His companion looks at him with a raised eyebrow and then looks back at me.


    "Look, miss, sorry to burst your bubble, but AXIS ain''t exactly doing well. Best you get going home, you can hang out with him another time." Yeah considering that I''m the one who shot AXIS in the head, I''d know. I watch Buzz-Boy walk over to press an elevator button but then Dread-Dude grabs him by the shoulder.


    "Nah man, she can hang out with us a bit, I don''t mind." He flashes me a lecherous grin. Of course. I steel myself and fake a chuckle while putting my phone into my pocket. I bat my eyelashes for a few seconds before my attention turns back to the elevator giving a small ring as it reaches the top floor.


    "How about we figure this out after we get out of the elevator, boys?" I step out of the elevator with both of the gangsters giving me mixed looks. A lavish marble hallway stretches from the elevator doors to a singular VIP penthouse suite with a set of black doors. The white surfaces of the hallway are polished to a mirror-like shine while a grey-tiled floor welcomes us. I fight the urge to cringe as I spot a camera in the corner of the room.


    Oh yeah, no getting out of this one.


    While the one who can''t keep it in his pants recovers from my voice, his partner steps forward and grabs me by the arm.


    "Hold it, didn''t you hear what I just said? AXIS ain''t feeling too hot, it''s time for you to get¡ª" I hook my foot behind his knee and yank hard. "What the fu¡ª" His legs buckle, and he crashes down with a thud. His teammate blinks in surprise as I drive my palm toward his partner''s face. I feel the jolt run through my wrist as his head snaps back, and he hits the floor with a muffled thud.


    Andddd, here we go.

 Chapter 3

    April 14, 2021. 16:30. Vancouver.


    "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU''RE DOING!?" The dumbfounded man finally responds to me tripping his friend.


    "Ohhhh¡­" The man on the floor groans and rolls onto his side. His body twitches in pain. Sorry, man. I grab his head and jerk it back. I slam his head into the floor again with as much force as I can muster. I glance back at the other Dead King member, and he''s already in front of me. Damn it. He charges at me and drives me into the wall with the weight of a freight train. I raise my arms to brace for the impact, but it''s not enough¡ªpain explodes across my back.


    I cough, and he yells, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?" He grabs me by the arm and drives his knee into my torso. I grunt, feeling my organs shift painfully. I kick as hard as I can into his groin. The man lets out a screech and releases me. I exhale sharply, a large burst of air shooting out of my mouth. I dart towards him while he reels in pain. I maneuver around him and latch onto his back. My arms wrap around his neck, and I pull as hard as possible. He thrashes around, and his elbow jabs into my side. My grip falters, but I yank even harder.


    PLEASEEEEE! I mentally scream, praying that he''ll drop to the ground any second. Of course, it isn''t as easy as I hope. He flails violently, repeatedly striking my arm and leg. I wince with each blow. I have no idea how much longer my limbs can hold out. He gasps for breath and taunts me.


    "That feel good, choombait?" Oh, he did NOT just call me that. I growl and tighten my grip even harder around his neck. I feel the urge to draw my gun and shoot him, but that would make everything I''ve done so far pointless. I hear his grunting and wheezing with each passing second. He takes a slow step back, then suddenly accelerates as he runs backward into a wall. MOTHEFU¡ª


    I''m not going to make the same mistake twice. I let go of him and shove myself off before it''s too late. He crashes into the wall, and I roll out of the way. I clench my teeth and force myself to stand, my entire body aching.


    I glare at him, as adrenaline surges within me. Without a word, I lunge forward, pushing through the pain. He''s still leaning against the wall, groaning. I drive my fist into his gut with all my strength. He coughs and doubles over immediately. I grab his head and slam my knee into his face. I repeatedly punch his face and drive his head against the wall.


    "Yeah, that feel good, dickhead?" I kick him in the shin. He stumbles forward, trying to stay upright. I don''t give him the chance to recover. I plant my feet and throw an elbow straight into his temple. His head jerks to the side, and his eyes roll back. I grab him by the head and slam him into the floor. A groan escapes his lips, telling me it''s over. I pull him up and slam his head into the floor again. This time, he goes limp. Finally.


    I exhale sharply and rub my aching stomach. I can''t waste time. I glance up at the camera, and the red light blinks.


    I shake off the fatigue and rush down the hallway. My boots echo off the polished tiles. Focus, girl, come on. My hand dives into my jacket, my fingers brushing against the key fob. I yank it out and press it against the sleek black sensor on the VIP apartment door. Beep. The lock clicks, and I push the door open. I slip inside and finally enter my target area.


    Stolen story; please report.


    As the doors shut behind me with a hiss, I''m hit by a wave of luxury. Damn. I smile as I look around. The place is over-the-top, flashy, and completely vain. Furniture with golden trimmings fills the space, each piece more extravagant than the last. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city''s skyline. Sunlight reflects off the shimmering glass, no matter where I stand.


    I walk around the suite, analyzing the walls. Each wall is lined with framed photos of the man who owns this place¡ªAXIS. In one picture, he stands on the red carpet with a sly grin. In another, he flashes stacks of cash for the cameras. Everything here screams rich asshole. I move past the paintings and make my way to the center of the room.


    A long glass table stretches across, with a cluster of luxury watches, rings, and necklaces on top. Expensive jewelry is casually scattered across the table and on the nearby plush white couches. Man treats this like pocket change. I eye some of the jewelry and shove a few pieces into my pockets. Don''t mind if I do. A wall-mounted screen, larger than anything else in the room, reflects my fully covered body in baggy black clothing. I move past the table and enter a kitchen area.


    On the countertops, a couple of standard pistols glint under the soft glow of recessed lighting. Dai Lung Streetmaster, Militech Arms Avenger, Arasaka WSA, BudgetArms Auto 3, Federated Arms X-9. My hands trace along each pistol, their sleek metal calling to me. Shame none of these are well kept.


    I brush past the guns and the remaining bling lying around. My real prize sits on the kitchen table¡ªa set of keys and a fob. A grin spreads across my face as I swipe them off the counter. Come to momma. I nod in satisfaction and make a quick exit, speeding out of the apartment without a second thought.


    I make a beeline for the elevator, jabbing the button with impatient fingers. My foot taps against the floor, my hands rubbing together anxiously. Every muscle aches, screaming at me to stop. Not yet.


    The elevator arrives, and I dart inside. I yank out the stolen keys and press the fob to the sensor. Ding! The elevator accepts my command, and I punch the VIP parking level button.


    My heart pounds in rhythm with the soft hum of the descending floors. Almost there, come on. Finally, the doors slide open, revealing a cold, dimly lit garage. The air reeks of money, and I can''t help but smile. There it is. A sleek black Porsche 911 GT3, blood-red racing stripes slashing across the hood and sides, awaits a new owner.


    I bite my lip to keep from drooling. Holy shit. The car practically purrs at me, even while standing still. I eye the beast in front of me, my lips curling into a grin. This is it. I pull the keys from my pocket and, with a flick of my wrist, the doors open and the headlights flash. Hellooo, gorgeous.


    I''m in the driver''s seat in a heartbeat. The leather wraps around me like it was made just for me. The dashboard glows with sleek, high-tech displays, and the steering wheel fits perfectly in my grip. I take a deep breath¡ªjust one¡ªto soak it all in. This is mine now.


    I flick the ignition, and the engine roars to life. I let out a soft hum of satisfaction as a shiver of excitement runs through me. I tighten my grip on the wheel, my eyes gleaming with anticipation. I speed out of the garage, the tires screeching as I leave. I drive past my truck and take out my phone. I nonchalantly aim my phone at the parked vehicle and tap my truck''s remote control app.


    The truck hums to life and follows after me alongside my newly acquired Porsche. I chuckle for a moment until the pain in my stomach reminds me that I''m on a time limit. I drive off, the damned building shrinking in the rearview.


    Time to disappear.

 Chapter 4

    April 14, 2021. 18:00. Vancouver.


    Finally, home. The elevator doors glide open, releasing a soft chime as I step out onto the upper floor of an apartment tower near downtown Vancouver. I lug the briefcase containing my sniper rifle in one hand and a bag brimming with my other tools in the other. The building seems to breathe a sigh of relief as it welcomes me back. I make my way across the hallway, which feels as familiar as the rhythm of my own footsteps. The soft carpet cushions my boots, and the sleek grey walls on the right, frame the large window on my left. The window reveals the city in all of its glory, stretching out below. Sunlight slants through the glass, casting a warm glow that hugs my figure as I walk. For a moment, I savour the view, but a sharp pain from the earlier fight brings me back to reality. I shake my head and push through the discomfort.


    I pull out my phone, swipe it across the black lock on my door, and a familiar, mechanical beep signals the unlocking. The glossy wooden door swings open smoothly, revealing my beloved sanctuary. I step into the foyer, the cool tiles beneath my feet a welcome change from the outside world. With a heavy sigh, I place my briefcase and bag down on the floor, the weight finally off my shoulders. I slip off my black boots, placing them neatly in an empty slot on a pristine white shoe rack full of other shoes.


    Crossing from the tiled entryway to the polished wooden floor, I feel a wave of peace wash over me. The spacious living area beckons, offering a temporary refuge from the chaos outside. My shelves are lined with books and personal memoirs, each carrying stories I''ve lived or lessons I''ve learned. The warm lights flick on automatically as I move past a massive TV mounted on the wall, its screen dark for now. A gaming console sits beneath it, surrounded by plush beige furniture, just waiting for me to sink in. But I move on, my tired muscles ache as I rotate my torso to stretch out the tension.


    The black coffee table, polished to perfection, has a neat stack of fashion and gun magazines. I unzip my leather jacket and remove my socks, tossing them onto the nearby sofa. I then walk toward my glorious floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the skyline of Vancouver.


    The setting sun stabs through the glass, blinding me momentarily. Squinting, I reach for my phone and tap into the app that controls the window''s opacity. As the light dims, I let out a breath of relief. That''s better. My gaze drifts toward the sleek black staircase leading to the second floor. I groan as the memory of forgetting my suitcase floods back. I''ll deal with it later.


    Rubbing my stomach, I turn around and push open a nearby white wooden door. The glossy white-marble floor gleams under the bathroom''s soft lighting and the grey-marble walls are calming. The first thing that catches my eye is the square mirror, framed in a stark white border, directly in front of the entrance. I step toward the mirror, the tiles cool my feet and catch my reflection. A lean Korean woman stares back, her sharp, angular features shadowed under a black cap and simple white shirt. My eyes, focused and piercing, scan the image before me. I don''t see the bruises from the fight yet, but the exhaustion is painted clearly on my face.


    Normally, this reflection fills me with a mix of pride and ego. But tonight? I just look tired. I blink slowly and remove my cap, tossing it onto the countertop. My black hair, tied up in a messy ponytail, falls in long strands down my back. I run my fingers through it, brushing it away from my face.


    Lifting the hem of my shirt, I examine the faint outline of my abs underneath, marred by a blotch of red against my pale skin. I wince as I lightly trace the bruise with my finger. Annoying, but manageable. I tug at the drawer beneath the countertop, revealing a collection of medical patches and small bottles. I count the remaining patches. Damn, five left. I rip one open and press it over the bruised skin, feeling the adhesive cling. The cool sensation of the medicine immediately begins to ease the discomfort.


    Next, I uncork a small bottle of gel. A thin blue liquid oozes into my palm, and I rub it over my arms and legs, the sting making me grit my teeth. But I endure it. Once the gel dries, I close the drawer and leave the bathroom, my shoulders relaxing as the pain fades.


    As I step back into the living room, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and check the caller ID. Mom. I smile instinctively and answer the call.


    "Hi, Ma, what''s up?" I say, warmth creeping into my voice. Her soothing tone comes through, a welcome comfort after the day I''ve had.


    "Gina, did you just get back from work?" she asks, her voice as gentle as ever.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Yeah, I just walked in," I wander toward the kitchen area. I put the phone on speaker and set it down on the nearby counter island. Several fashion magazines with my face on the covers line the countertops. One photo has me in a long, sleek black dress with gloves, and another in a sharp white suit. Each cover showcases a different aesthetic I wear¡ªstreetwear, beachwear, luxury fashion.


    "Did you need anything?" I ask, absently running my fingers over the black marble countertops as I head toward the fridge and open it. Not executive chef quality, but a far cry from what most people can afford. I contemplate what to eat before heading out, waiting for my mom''s reply.


    "No, just wanted to check on you. Are you free for your father''s¡­ anniversary?"


    I pause, the fridge door halfway open already, and my hand tightens slightly on the handle. "Uh, yeah, let me check," I grab my phone and flip through my calendar. December 19. I stare at the date for a moment.


    "Yeah, I''m free." I close the fridge.


    "Good! I just wanted to make sure you could join me. You''ve been so busy lately, I wasn''t sure," she adds, a touch of concern in her voice. I wander back to the living room as she continues. "Is everything okay?"


    I nod, though she can''t see it. "Yeah, Ma, work''s been crazy, but I''m handling it." My pace slows as I approach a shelf filled with photographs of me and two people who''ve been by my side for years. To my left is a beautiful Korean woman with long black hair, her doll-like features seemingly frozen in time, barely aging beyond twenty-four. To my right stands a tall, muscular white American man, his frame a clear nod to his passion for bodybuilding. In almost every picture, he wears a police uniform.


    In one, my teenage self grips a rifle nearly half my height. Memories of firearms training, and all the times I failed, flash through my mind. I stifle a laugh before my mom hears it.


    "Yeah, ma, I''ve been getting booked a lot by agencies lately." Not entirely true, but not a lie either. "Y''know how it is." My gaze settles on the last photo of all three of us together. A melancholic smile tugs at my lips, but I snap back to the present when I hear her voice.


    "Tsk, tsk, my baby is so popular nowadays. Your profile''s shot up! Three million followers and counting! Pretty soon, you won''t¡ª"


    I chuckle, cutting her off. "Ma, I''ll always make time for you." My voice remains lighthearted, knowing she''s trying to guilt-trip me in jest. "Anyway, how''s everything on your end?"


    "Oh, the usual. Ever since you moved out, I''ve had too much free time." She lets out a jolly laugh. "I just enjoy myself with my girls."


    I chuckle, rolling my eyes as I back away from the photos on the wall. "Well, at least you''re enjoying life." I glance at the kitchen but decide to save cooking for later. Instead, I head back to the foyer to grab my weapon suitcase. "I''m working my butt off¡ªfor both of us."


    "Thank you, sweetie." Her warm chuckle keeps me company as I lug my gear upstairs. "Oh! Do you have plans tonight?"


    I reach the top of the stairs, passing railings that overlook the first floor. My spacious bedroom lies ahead, lined with dressers and drawers. To my left is a king-sized bed with stuffed animals. Further down, a well-equipped gym area stands with weights, cables, bars, and punching bags. I keep walking toward a row of three doors along the far wall while spinning my next half-truth.


    "I got called by a friend to hang out."


    "Oh? When are they coming over?"


    "I''m not sure yet. They''ll be here in a few hours." I push open one of the doors, entering a dark room bathed in red, moody lighting. Guns and screens are plastered across the walls. "I''m just getting ready before they show up." The lights brighten slightly and change from red to a warm yellow as I set the suitcase down on a desk cluttered with equipment and a large green mat, measurements etched into its surface.


    "Alright, I won''t keep you long. Take care, sweetie."


    "Bye, Ma." The phone clicks off. I turn toward the screens as a keyboard and mouse unfold from the wall. I stare at the website displayed. Artemis, my crowning achievement. A sleek, minimalistic design with a logo made from guns forming the letter A under a circle. I log into the admin panel, analyzing my active contracts. A familiar rush of euphoria fills me. A ridiculous amount of people are always willing to pay obscene amounts to erase someone from existence. What began as a simple Canadian-based assassination service on the dark web has now expanded to North America and Europe.


    My thoughts drift as I reminisce on my career journey. Leveraging my modelling career for travel excuses and combining that with my skill in makeup artistry for perfect disguises, I''ve made a name for myself far beyond the average mercenary. I smirk in satisfaction with what I''ve accomplished so far and let my ego reinforce itself.


    Speaking of my modelling career. I turn to another screen, where a flood of emails fills the inbox for my public persona. Fashion brands from all over are eager to book me for their next big campaign. I scroll through the offers, my name attached to high-end labels and rising streetwear brands alike. Despite the rush of opportunities, the pressure of maintaining two lives weighs heavily on me. I let out a sigh as I begin unpacking my gear, carefully laying each weapon aside on the workbench. My fingers move methodically, but my mind is elsewhere.


    My stomach growls, pulling me back to reality, and I click my tongue in frustration. I haven''t even had time to retouch my makeup after today''s job either. I furrow my brows in frustration.


    "Damn, almost forgot about the car." I groan, smacking my forehead lightly with the palm of my hand. "I''ll need Nano to take a look at that Porsche." Pulling out my phone, I jot down a reminder to handle the stolen vehicle later.


    For now, food takes priority. Then, I''ll deal with Wissen.

 Prologue Part 2 - The Fall of Paris

    September 11, 2001. 13:00. Paris.


    ¡­


    ¡°The objective is to raid the Tanwir supply in Paris. Intel suggests that they¡¯ve been moving chemicals and weapons to and from Paris for weeks. Most likely, this is their area of operation. For this mission, we¡¯ll be using equipment with built-in chemical and agent protection. We have authority to shoot on sight if any of them do not cooperate. Intelligence will continue tracking the shipments while we carry out the operation across the city,¡± said Castle, a tall Caucasian man with a muscular frame and short black hair, as he pointed at the projected screen along the white wall of an almost entirely darkened room. The atmosphere of the room was grim, and nobody felt like cracking a joke. The room itself was dimly lit except for the cold glow of the projection screen. It illuminated the serious expressions of everyone present.


    Shadows gathered in the corners and the air was filled with heavy tension. Rows of UNSAF soldiers paid attention to the presentation while dozens of liaison officers from various countries stood against the wall. R-1 sat with his team as their eyes scanned the contents of the presentation from Castle. Castle¡¯s stern voice echoed slightly off the bare walls. In this room, the deadliest and most well-trained soldiers from countries all over the world had gathered under the mission to eliminate a global threat using the best equipment available.


    Pictures of intel on the Tanwir played on the screens¡ªimages of men and women, with faces twisted in zealotry, exchanging propaganda against capitalism and the rise of technology. The photographs were grainy but effective; they captured the desperation and anger in their eyes. An overarching hatred of corporations and a warning of the dangers of technology were grafted into the mission motto of the Tanwir. A flag with the Arabic words ''The Enlightened,'' accompanied by an illustration of a robotic arm being torn apart, was raised above an assembled crowd in one of the pictures. Meanwhile, another showed the beheading of kidnapped humans with destroyed robotic limbs, their terrified expressions frozen in place. A final set of images showed stolen chemicals from various corporations, loaded hastily into unmarked trucks.


    ¡°We will be using our regular equipment provided by Arasaka and Militech, as usual. The police will be assisting in this operation to ensure minimal civilian panic.¡± Castle paused and looked at the crowd, then pointed at the line of ambassadors beside him. ¡°Arasaka and Militech have sent some of their executives to oversee the operation; as such, they will have special authority over certain tactical decisions.¡± Although no one dared to speak up, many were uncomfortable with working so closely with the corporations.


    R-1 especially narrowed his eyes as he looked at each of the corporate members. They wore tailored suits, and the clean-cut confidence on their faces contrasted with the gritty practicality of his team. He did not like this one bit. How could he? The UNSAF might be funded by them, but being directly controlled by the corporations for this operation was a bad sign. They didn¡¯t understand the risks of being in the field; they made decisions from the comfort of their boardrooms.


    R-2 noticed R-1¡¯s discomfort and gently nudged his captain, whispering in a low tone, ¡°Everything all good?¡±


    R-1 shook his head with an expression of distrust. He wanted no part of whatever the corpos had in mind; politics and economics be damned. ¡°I don¡¯t trust them, but they have our hands tied.¡± They spoke only briefly before Castle continued the presentation.


    ¡­


    September 11, 2001. 19:30. Paris.


    R-1¡¯s gaze focused on the room before him as R-2 and R-3 finished apprehending several Tanwir. His thoughts were a disorganized mess as he recalled the earlier debriefing, but he forced himself to concentrate. Bullet casings and holes were scattered throughout the room. Puddles of blood had started to form underneath the Tanwir killed in action, while a few had been smart enough not to open fire on the UNSAF.


    A nearby crate had been opened, revealing standard assault rifles from Militech and Arasaka. R-1 stared at the collection of weapons in contemplation while other members of his team radioed him updates from their sections of the building. The logos gleamed under the dim overhead lights, alongside serial numbers etched into the barrels. These weren¡¯t just stolen goods¡ªthey were fresh, untouched by black-market trade.


    ¡°They shouldn¡¯t have this,¡± R-1 muttered aloud to no one in particular. In previous encounters spanning over months, the terrorist group had relied on older weapons produced by NATO and the Warsaw Pact. It unnerved R-1 to see his enemies now wielding equipment similar to his own. ¡°How did Intel never catch this?¡± Gunshots from several floors above rang out, accompanied by the screams of civilians. Red and blue police lights flickered outside. R-1 paid no mind to the noise and stepped further into the apartment.


    ¡°R-1 to Castle, the Tanwir have Arasaka and Militech weaponry,¡± R-1 said, tapping the button on the side of his helmet. He waited for Castle¡¯s response, walking closer to a wall with windows to inspect the streets. Police officers were moving arrested Tanwir out onto the streets, while nearby pedestrians watched nervously. Castle¡¯s response came shortly after.


    ¡°...Arasaka and Militech? Acknowledged. This makes no sense¡ªkeep your eyes open, R-1.¡±


    R-1 frowned, his eyes continuing to scan the streets and rooftops of the nearby buildings. He paused, double-checking that his helmet was transmitting only to Castle.


    ¡°Copy that, Castle¡­ but if even you weren¡¯t notified of this, then something¡¯s gone wrong with the intel. This shouldn¡¯t have been a surprise.¡±


    ¡°I agree. This stays between us, R-1. But I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a coincidence that corporate executives are overseeing our mission. I¡¯ve been reviewing the intel, and the information we have on Paris is far more vague than any of our other operations.¡±


    The exchange deepened R-1¡¯s unease. There was little information on the Tanwir now, and it was strange that corporate executives had been sent to check on the situation. The fact that even the stolen weapons belonged to the corporations made it clear that something was off.


    Had the Tanwir really stolen the weapons, or had they been given to them? If it was the former, it would mean the Tanwir had somehow bypassed modern military-grade security and heavily armed convoys¡ªa plausible but difficult feat, albeit expensive.


    If the Tanwir could pull it off, it would mean they had grown significantly in size and power. But in that case, the UNSAF would have caught wind of it. But if it was the latter...


    R-1 shifted uncomfortably at the thought. If the weapons had been supplied, it meant someone on the inside of both corporations was equipping a multinational threat.


    Dread built inside him as he sank deeper into thought. Was he just overthinking this? A distant car horn echoed from the street below, pulling R-1 from his spiralling thoughts. In the corner of his eye, a black van barreled toward the building¡¯s entrance.


    Police officers at the entrance shouted and raised their handguns, but the driver showed no intention of stopping. Some civilians ran for cover, while others froze on sight. The van slammed into the police and their cruisers with brutal force. The side doors slid open, and small drones zipped out.


    The drones then scattered with precision, homing in on crowded areas, as the van screeched to a halt directly in front of the entrance¡ªa tactic all too familiar to R-1.


    "EVERYONE, DOWN!" R-1 screamed into his team¡¯s communications channel.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The buzzing of the drones grew louder, even through the closed windows, as they scattered toward different parts of the street. Although R-1 couldn¡¯t see them clearly, he knew exactly what each drone carried.


    There was barely enough time for R-1 to throw himself onto the floor. The van erupted in a deafening blast. Fire and debris tore through the entrance, and the officers were swallowed in a blaze. Rumbling ripped through the streets, buildings crumbled and car alarms went off.


    All around R-Team, broken glass rained down from shattered windows, and flames licked the edges of crumbling walls. Each fragment of glass caught the fading daylight as the screams of civilians echoed everywhere. The explosions were like deafening roars, drowning out the panic.


    R-1 forced himself up from the ground. His ears rang, and his limbs felt heavy. R-1 desperately called out to his team over the radio. The cries of people inside the building, the frantic footsteps on the staircase, and the distant wail of sirens merged into a soundtrack of terror.


    ¡°R-1 to R-Team, are you okay?! Report!¡± His voice strained against the backdrop of chaos. The building shook violently, dust and chunks of plaster falling from the ceiling. Additional male voices came to life over the radio, one by one.


    ¡°R-4, doing good!¡±


    ¡°R-3, fine. What the hell was that?!¡±


    ¡°R-2, still standing!¡±


    ¡°R-5, at the ready!¡±


    ¡°R-6, good to go!¡±


    Right after each member of R-Team responded, Castle then radioed R-1.


    "Castle to R-1, we need you and your team on the ground ASAP. Command will redeploy the other teams shortly, but I need you to head out first. I''ll be deploying¡ª" A new voice cut in over the radio, interrupting Castle. It was younger, male, and patronizing.


    "Move, Castle! R-Team, I suggest you all get your asses moving, if you don''t want Paris gone in the next thirty minutes! The Tanwir are assaulting the city and the police can¡¯t handle them all. Kingston, out." Kingston''s voice dripped with arrogance, each word infused with an unbearable sense of superiority. The transmission ended abruptly, leaving an unsettling quiet in its wake. The radio then filled with the confused voices of various teams all shouting for any form of clarity. Civilians screamed and rushed for cover as R-1 looked out the shattered window.


    All he could see was an orange glow illuminating the streets.


    A woman¡¯s voice, tinged with panic, cut through the confusion over the radio.


    ¡°Command to all teams, Tanwir assault on Paris has begun. Each team will be repositioned.¡± Radio chatter exploded with many teams expressing confusion and panic. By the time the message was broadcast, R-1 had already begun regrouping his soldiers. The apprehended Tanwir members were taken away by the police who had just arrived on the scene.


    R-Team wasted no time rushing down the building''s stairs. The concrete steps were cracked, bits of rubble making each step uneven as the team descended rapidly. The echoes of their boots pounded against the stairwell walls and then another explosion went off, followed by more rumbling. As the team burst through the building¡¯s exit doors, the cold night air quickly greeted them, only for it to be overpowered by the horrid stench of burning cars and the unmistakable sound of fear.


    On the streets, civilians screamed and officers shouted orders, their voices a desperate attempt to restore some semblance of order. People ran to wherever they could find safety, their faces pale with terror, their movements frantic.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, people! Disconnect from the main comms network! We¡¯re listening to Command only!¡± R-1 shouted and waved at his teammates. He then started running toward a nearby intersection. Each member of R-Team tapped the sides of their helmets and followed after him. Cars drove past in disarray¡ªsome veered off-road, crashing into lampposts, while others screeched to a halt as terrified citizens ran across intersections. As R-Team neared the main streets of Paris, a black van appeared around a corner, its tires screeched in protest before it slammed into a bus full of civilians. A half-dozen gunmen in thick clothing and masks poured out of the black van. They wore dark-coloured clothing, various balaclavas, and carried an assortment of rifles that gleamed under flickering streetlights.


    The sound of distant gunfire barely registered amidst the sirens, explosions, and panicked cries.


    ¡°Tanwir!¡± R-1 quickly tapped the side of his helmet and slid behind a parked car as bullets ricocheted off its frame. Angry sparks in the dark bounced off the car while the rest of R-Team took cover behind walls and corners of nearby buildings. Around them lay broken glass and splashes of crimson on the pavement, the bodies of innocent people scattered at their feet. Explosions continued to shatter large towers in the distance. The nearby gunmen opened fire on R-Team, albeit with little precision or grace. The recoil of their rifles caused some of them to lose control, their shots spraying wildly along the street. The more stable shooters aimed at R-1.


    ¡°Need covering fire!¡± R-1 radioed his team. Without hesitation, R-5 and R-4 leaned out from their respective cover and laid down suppressive fire. They took shots at the hostile forces together. R-5 made sure no civilians were nearby and then flicked a switch on the side of his rifle, switching to burst fire mode. He took down a Tanwir soldier, then another soon after as R-4 followed suit. R-6 did the same, unleashing a hail of bullets that forced the Tanwir down the street to retreat for cover. R-1 used the chaos to quickly peek out and fire at the fleeing Tanwir. R-2 and R-3 also emerged from their cover, firing at the exposed enemies. The attackers dropped one by one. Just as R-Team finished off their targets, the same woman¡¯s voice came over the radio.


    ¡°Be advised, all teams, expect heavy resistance. The Tanwir are rallying at the Eiffel Tower; please make your way there. Reports show¡ª¡± The transmission cut off, leaving R-Team in confusion. R-1 scanned the area, ensuring there were no enemies left, while R-2 stared up at the night sky.


    ¡°What was that?!¡± R-2¡¯s sudden reaction drew his teammates'' attention, R-1 being the last to look. He checked their surroundings one more time before glancing upward.


    ¡°What are you¡ª¡± R-1¡¯s gaze was pulled upward as the roar of multiple planes filled the air. The night sky was suddenly cut by streaks of gas. ¡°God help us all.¡± He whispered under his breath, his eyes widening in horror. A horrifying mix of yellow gas, shimmering mist, and oily iridescence descended from the sky, drifting rapidly toward the city. A plane above sped ahead, crashing into the streets beyond R-Team¡¯s position. A shockwave rippled outward from the crash and shattered nearby windows. Water pipes burst from the ground and geysers of water erupted from beneath the streets nearby.


    ¡°R-Team, we need to move, now!¡± R-1 began sprinting toward the Eiffel Tower, with his team following close behind. Above them, the roaring of multiple planes filled the air as they rained down the missing chemicals over the city. The chemicals worked perfectly with the wind direction and altitude. The squad ran past another crowd of fleeing civilians. There was barely anything they could do. A man wielding a large rocket launcher aimed at a bus full of people, but was gunned down by R-2 and R-3 before he could fire. Destruction and chaos surrounded them.


    Near the end of the street, R-Team spotted a wounded dog limping in agony. Its fur was patchy, matted with blood and dust, and its eyes¡ªnormally full of vitality¡ªwere now dim and unfocused. R-1''s eyes narrowed as he noticed something off about the dog''s behaviour. It was struggling more than an injured animal should, and its swollen belly pulsed unnaturally. Around R-Team, the sight was grim, and the rapidly rising casualty count weighed on all of the soldiers. The feeling of helplessness crept into their minds, but for R-1, he was overwhelmed by thoughts of the intelligence¡¯s failure. UNSAF had not been prepared for a large-scale terrorist attack on the city.


    As R-1 got closer to the dog, he noticed its stomach was grotesquely deformed, with a faint light pulsing beneath the skin. R-1¡¯s eyes widened in horror, as the grim realization hit him, and he twisted awkwardly to come to a sudden stop. He saw R-3 and R-4 moving ahead, getting dangerously close to the dog.


    ¡°GET AWAY FROM THE¡ª¡±


    With a final whimper, the dog disintegrated in a flash of fire. The explosion that followed deafened anyone nearby. A crater was left in the street and anything around the dog was obliterated. R-3 and R-4 were flung backward, their bodies slammed into the pavement with bone-jarring force as R-1 ducked for cover.


    Nearby civilians screamed in agony as the first wave of chemicals descended, while the larger mist had yet to arrive. A yellow haze seeped through the streets, bringing with it the stench of chlorine and burning flesh. Rapid blisters erupted across bare skin while hacking coughs tore through the lungs of those caught without protection. The sound of children crying was cut short by their painful gurgles of suffocation, and the elderly convulsing. Their bodies were rendered helpless by paralysis, and they soon fell. Their hands clawed at their throats and blood seeped from their orifices.


    R-1 clenched his fists in frustration, his knuckles turning white inside his gloves. The weight of failure pressed heavily on his chest as he watched the horror unfold. A relentless pressure built up within him that made each breath he took feel laboured. He was powerless to stop any of this. Although the UNSAF were safe from the chemicals, the same couldn¡¯t be said for the citizens of Paris. The screams, the sight of it all¡ªthis would haunt him for a long time. R-1 forced himself to look away and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.


    Paris had officially become hell.

 Chapter 5

    April 14, 2021. 20:00. Vancouver.


    I impatiently tap my right foot against the wooden floor of my penthouse. A faint hum from a nearby air conditioner fills the room. The air softly blows my hair as I hold a game controller in my hand. ¡°Man, where the hell is he?¡± I glance at two phones: the black one for my life as Artemis and the white one for my life as Gina, both resting on the coffee table as I wait for a notification that never comes. In front of me, a widescreen TV sits in a game menu.


    It¡¯s the latest first-person multiplayer shooter to hit the market. I stare at the leaderboard, locking on the name in the middle of the leaderboard, Speedweed, and then at my horrifically mediocre score. For the past hour, I made a light dinner and then rearranged my gear for whatever mission Wissen would throw my way. Now, I¡¯m sitting on my sofa playing video games¡ªonly to be average.


    ¡°C''mon, Wissen, hurry up.¡± I reach for the white phone, checking my reflection on its darkened screen to make sure everything¡¯s still in place. My makeup is fresh, and I¡¯ve changed into loose black clothing. Once satisfied, I unlock the phone and scroll through social media. I sift through messages with friends and clients, skimming posts and photos of people on vacation or in other parts of the world.


    Curious, I flip to the trending pages. Remi, the rising artist. V strikes again in Surrey. Cyberpsychosis spreading in Vancouver. I open one of my business conversations to check the latest update.


    Jinguji photoshoot in Italy¡ªnew fall release. I scan the conversation between me and a brand representative, flicking through several back-and-forth exchanges about my availability. I tap the screen to double-check that I confirmed the proposed day, August 4, 2024. Satisfied with the outcome, I swipe to the next chain of messages.


    Zetatech¡ªrecent release. I smile as I skim through several messages from the agent, thanking me for agreeing to model for an upcoming magazine. He¡¯s even offering some of their clothing as a bonus on top of the pay. I chuckle and respond with a, ¡°Thank you!!! <3¡± before setting the black phone down. I swap the white phone for the black one and thumb in the password with a practiced motion. But what greets me this time isn¡¯t my life as Gina¡ªit¡¯s my life as Artemis.


    I tap in the password, and a smaller selection of apps reveals itself. Some are for ordering replacement weapons and parts, while another links directly to the website I own. I ignore both and open the app dedicated to emails. Militech Executive Assassination Contract, €$25,000. Skimming the details, I note the simplicity of the contract¡ªjust a middle-tier corporate man. Bro here is asking for a quick death. The email includes several attachments, which I open one by one. Each outlines recent scandals, disgusting business practices, and ethical horrors. I shrug, exhaling in disappointment at yet another greedy man. At least I won¡¯t feel bad for offing him.


    A text message pops up at the top of my phone screen from one of my favourite netrunners, Nano.


    ¡°Heya! I erased the vid and already fixed the car records.¡± I smile at the speed of her work and respond to her.


    ¡°Yuh thx for speed. How much is it this time?¡±


    ¡°6,000 for the hack, 13,000 for the car spoof.¡±


    ¡°...ur kidding¡­?¡±


    ¡°<3.¡±


    ¡°????? Ily but kys."


    ¡°Industrial Liability Yield but Kinetic Yield Stabilizer?¡±


    ¡°I. Love. You. But. Kill. Your. Self.¡± Air shoots out of my nostrils as I chuckle. Nano is always a brat and a jokester to deal with, but she¡¯s undeniably good at her job. ¡°Sending u the eddies now LOL xD¡±


    ¡°Kk, 12,000 total plz :))))¡± I sigh as my funds dip slightly.


    ¡°Done!¡±


    ¡°Yayyyy! Oh, also, ur site will be down for a day. I¡¯m updating some code.¡±


    ¡°Thx, gotta run for a job soon. Need anything else?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯ll send the new license over later. Cya!¡±


    "Thxx." I close my eyes in satisfaction and stretch my limbs. God, I love netrunners. I make a mental note that the Artemis website will be down for maintenance, then continue scrolling through my emails. Several more contracts appear¡ªeach one enough to cover all my monthly bills. I hop off the sofa, landing softly on the wooden floor, and head toward my upstairs armoury and gun workshop. While ascending the stairs, I respond to each assassination contract email, notifying the senders that their contracts are being processed. A nice way to buy some time.


    I approach the row of three doors near my spacious bedroom and enter the first one. Red lights flicker on as I step into the chamber of grey and black, but I flick a switch on the wall, bathing the room in a warm orange glow. Wasting no time, I double-check my inventory: high-quality ammunition, tools, kits, parts, and consumable items. Restocking everything would run me around €$10,000.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    The various guns along the wall glint in the soft light, but my eyes settle on a heavily modified revolver propped on a stand near a mat for gun maintenance. Although it started life as a Colt Python¡ªa relic that should no longer be in service. I run my fingers over the cold, smooth steel of the barrel, the faint hum of an electronic system reassuring me of its readiness. It has been carefully upgraded with modern parts to keep pace with contemporary firearms.


    My inner gun-nut swells with pride as I recall the hours spent sourcing parts from contacts around the world and tweaking the barrel and firing mechanisms. Flashes of memory surface¡ªcleaning and restoring the cylinder and hammer, only to later upgrade them with a magnetic reloading system and a custom heat-management frame. What began as a standard-issue service weapon for police officers has been transformed into a unique antique, one that far surpasses anything related to it on the open market. Above all, it¡¯s something that would¡¯ve made Dad proud. I smile, bittersweet, only to be yanked back to reality by the vibration of my phone. Wissen¡¯s finally arrived.


    I grab a pistol off the wall, along with some other concealable gear, while answering the call. ¡°Hey, where you at?¡± I secure the pistol inside a holster beneath my hoodie, fastening everything to the belt around my waist. The rest of my essentials get stuffed into the pockets of my black sweatpants or tucked into a black shoulder bag, which I sling across my body.


    On the other end of the line, Wissen¡¯s voice comes through, accompanied by the soft clink of ice cubes swirling in liquid.


    ¡°Good evening to you too, Artemis. I¡¯m nearby, parked at our usual spot on Burrard.¡±


    ¡°Alright, give me a few minutes to head over!¡± I close the armoury door and bolt down the stairs from the upper floor. Smacking the light switches along the way, I reach the front foyer and quickly slip on my black running shoes.


    ¡°Excellent. See you soon.¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡± I finish tying my shoes and grab a keychain from the hook on the wall. With a quick tap on the control panel, the penthouse lights flicker off, plunging the space into darkness. I step out, locking the door behind me.


    Time to meet him.


    ...


    20:30


    The elevator ride is quick, and the light evening traffic is surprisingly kind for once. Wind blasts me in the face as I step outside. It¡¯s chillier than I thought. It bites through my hoodie. The sky has darkened, leaving the streets buzzing with neon lights and scattered energy¡ªpeople eager to finish their business and head home. But for someone like me, this is where money¡¯s made.


    I weave through a crowd of tired wage slaves and spot a dark, armoured limousine parked along the street, not too far from my building. As I approach the back doors, I catch the reflection of the front mirror, revealing the gaze of a man I don¡¯t know. I flash him a polite smile, and the back door automatically swings open in front of me, inviting me inside with red velvet seating.


    Inside, a well-dressed European man with aging features and greying slicked-back hair swirls an orange liquid in a glass. Wearing his signature grey suit, tie, and designer shades, he offers me a faint smile of acknowledgment as I slide into the spacious interior.


    The door closes behind me, and I sink into a nearby chair as the soft and warm cushioning gives way beneath my weight. His legs are crossed, and a suitcase rests beside him on the seat. The limousine is roomy enough for us to move freely, with enough space to sit on opposite ends without needing to hunch over. Wissen swirls his drink again, letting the aroma of aged whiskey drift through the air, tantalizing my senses.


    ¡°Care for a drink?¡± he offers.


    ¡°As tempting as that is, I¡¯ll pass.¡± I lean back against the limo¡¯s wall. ¡°So, what did you need me for?¡±


    ¡°Why so eager to skip the pleasantries? We haven¡¯t seen each other in a while.¡±


    ¡°Fine, how have you been? Did the kids graduate from high school yet?¡± I scoff, feigning curiosity with exaggerated enthusiasm. My hands dance through the air like I¡¯m catching up with an estranged relative. Wissen chuckles and sets his glass down.


    ¡°Let¡¯s avoid diving into fiction. How has life been treating you?¡± He waves a hand vaguely around us.


    ¡°Honestly? Pretty good¡ªthanks to you. Nano¡¯s a godsend, Harper made my penthouse happen in under a year, and Adam is one hell of a merchant.¡± I pause, crossing my legs and giving a playful kick with my right foot. ¡°And my modelling career¡¯s been steady too, thanks to you, of course.¡± Wissen nods along, sipping from his glass.


    ¡°That¡¯s good, you¡¯re acclimating well.¡± Beneath his almost completely black shades, his eyes glow a mesmerizing blue before dimming again. The limousine starts moving shortly after. One would expect a jolt of momentum, but the transition is almost seamless. Instead, I hear the soft whirr of motors, followed by the gentle hum of magnetic and dampening systems reducing any inertia.


    ¡°My life has been pretty hectic ever since I had kids.¡±


    ¡°Naturally.¡± I glance at Wissen, then shift my gaze to the changing scenery as we leave the wealthy heart of downtown and enter the middle-class suburban streets. ¡°So, where we headed, anyways? You never told me.¡±


    ¡°Ah, right.¡± Wissen opens the briefcase beside him and hands me a folder of papers. ¡°This would be a lot easier if you had a neural implant, but I¡¯ve taken the liberty of printing this out for you.¡±


    I chuckle at his remark¡ªit¡¯s a familiar conversation that always ends the same way regardless of who I talk to.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even try.¡± I flip through the folder¡¯s contents, my eyes skimming past pages of infographics and news reports. A phrase catches my attention¡ªPrototype Railgun. I pause, raising an eyebrow at the words. Shouldn¡¯t this tech still be years away from reality?


    ¡°Implants are a hard no. Never trusted them, never will.¡± I rest the folder on my lap and look back at the aging fixer, waiting for his response.


    "A respectable, albeit risky choice." Wissen leans back in his seat, his mechanical eyes glowing briefly beneath the dark lenses. "One moment." He raises a finger. Although I''m no implant expert, I suspect he''s sending messages to various contacts in rapid succession.


    While I wait, I let my gaze drift to the city outside. My fingers trace the red velvet of the seat until they find a familiar switch. I press it, and the seat reclines slightly, inviting me to sink deeper into its comfort.


    I pull out the folder again, this time reading more thoroughly. I find the page with the word railgun and begin absorbing the information. To my disappointment, there¡¯s no picture of it¡ªjust a different image. The unfamiliar logo stares back at me, a sleek black crane cutting through stylized red wings. Sharp and deliberate.


    I frown, studying the unfamiliar symbol. What the hell is this? Just as I¡¯m about to dive deeper into the folder, Wissen¡¯s voice cuts through the quiet.


    ¡°Autumn Blade, that¡¯s the name of the organization.¡±

 Chapter 6

    April 14, 2021. 20:40. Vancouver.


    ¡°The hell is ¡®Autumn Blade¡¯?¡± I stop reading the document and turn to Wissen, confusion clear on my face. ¡°Never heard of these guys before.¡± Everyone knows the big corporations like Arasaka, Militech, and Kang Tao. They practically control everything related to weapons, but even the most advanced publicly announced weapons are just improved versions of older models. The mention of a railgun is something you¡¯d only find in fictional media like movies or games. I stop crossing my legs and lean forward toward Wissen. ¡°Are they legit?¡±


    Wissen gives a brief, confident nod. I know better than to doubt his intelligence or his methods of acquiring information.


    ¡°I assure you, they¡¯re very real,¡± Wissen says, pointing at the folder in my lap. ¡°The pages you¡¯re holding contain everything I currently know. Take a closer look.¡± Following his instruction, I move aside the page I¡¯m on and turn to the next one. Each page was crisp, suggesting recent printing. A few coloured pictures of various news articles and videos detail a mysterious organization. Boogeyman? Internet horror story? Just a myth? The headlines dismiss the concept of Autumn Blade as if it were an urban legend. I put the page aside and look back.


    ¡°Okay, so a mysterious organization that people think is just a fun name to say around a campfire. Give me the short version¡ªI¡¯ll read the rest in my spare time.¡± I close the folder; I¡¯m not one for reading long mission debriefings unless absolutely necessary. Thankfully, Wissen knows me well.


    ¡°Autumn Blade, for the past few years, has been a niche internet horror story. An organization that exists only on the darkest parts of the internet. They¡¯re a service that offers its skills to the highest-paying clients for either protection or assassination.¡±


    ¡°Big deal, bunch¡¯a organizations already do that. They lend out elite bodyguards or small armies all the time.¡± I shrug skeptically but keep my focus on him. ¡°What makes these guys special?¡±


    ¡°What if I told you they also manufacture weapons, equipment, vehicles, and even implants on the same level as other major corporations?¡± I blink twice in rapid succession. ¡°And the earliest mention of their existence was five years ago.¡±


    ¡°Wait, how is that even possible? You¡¯re telling me a ghost company¡ªthat can compete with the big corpos¡ªhas only been around for five years?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the first mention of them based on my sources; it doesn¡¯t necessarily mean they¡¯ve only been around for five years.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but still¡ªwhere are they getting their buyers or recruits? How the hell are they funding this operation and accessing such high-end technology?¡±


    ¡°As of right now, I¡¯m in the dark on that too. I¡¯m not sure how Autumn Blade recruits or makes contact, but I¡¯d imagine it¡¯s an invitation-only network, maybe something on the dark web or through specific brokers who act as intermediaries.¡± Wissen taps the side of his glass in contemplation. ¡°Even my best agents have struggled to dig up any data on them.¡±


    ¡°So even your best netrunners and local fixers have come up with nothing? No leads on the internet or on the ground?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. My netrunners have been trying to trace their presence online, but so far, they¡¯ve had no luck. Any contacts I have across the globe know as much as we do. People who ask too many questions either hit a dead end or¡­ go missing.¡±


    I shudder at the thought. I¡¯ve had my fair share of missions go sideways, but it¡¯s never fun to track down missing people. ¡°Alright, hard to track, and they¡¯re good at staying hidden. So, how did they even get discovered?¡±


    ¡°I suspect it to be intentional. They first surfaced in the East Asian black market, with local gangs getting their hands on Autumn Blade gear. Whenever we tried to trace a common vendor, that person would disappear.¡±


    ¡°Alright, so what about the services they provide? Is it the same story¡ªan unknown contact, and somehow word gets out that it¡¯s Autumn Blade?¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡±


    ¡°Realistically, no company can rise to power that quickly without serious backing. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they have support from other organizations or even governments.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s likely.¡±


    ¡°So then what¡¯s up with this mission? You¡¯re not planning on flying me to China or something, are you?¡± Wissen pauses to refill his glass. He opens a new bottle of whiskey, and I fight the urge to ask for a glass as well.


    ¡°No, and that¡¯s the concerning bit. For the past few months, they¡¯ve been spreading across the globe.¡±


    I tilt my head, surprise evident on my face. ¡°Worldwide, huh?¡± A suspicion creeps into my mind. ¡°Let me guess, they¡¯re here in Vancouver?¡±


    ¡°Correct again. Arasaka and Militech are especially on edge. The rumor of a new megacorporation capable of creating weapons on their level¡ªor better¡ªhas been the talk in executive circles.¡±


    ¡°So, you want me to prove if it¡¯s true?¡± I show Wissen the page with the words prototype railgun printed on it.


    ¡°No, we know it¡¯s real. There have been multiple reports worldwide that they¡¯ve released it and have even provided live firing tests. What I need you to do is acquire one.¡±


    ¡°Wait¡­ what?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you noticed, but there was a gang shootout in Richmond earlier tonight.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ I was gaming at the time.¡± I laugh sheepishly. Wissen raises an amused eyebrow and takes a sip from his glass.


    ¡°A few street gangs in Vancouver have been informed they¡¯ll have a chance to buy a railgun. You can imagine the chaos that¡¯s stirred up.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°So you want me to take it from whoever ends up with it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But you won¡¯t be doing it alone. You¡¯re my ace in a team of contracted aid. I¡¯ll introduce you to them.¡±


    At this point, the limousine passes through the dense suburban area and stops near a large, bustling shopping mall that I know well. People are coming and going in the vast parking lot, loading shopping bags into their cars or heading inside. The mall is an architectural behemoth, illuminated by neon lights and plastered with advertisements¡ªa hub for shopping and entertainment, with multiple towers connected by a massive central building.


    The limo maneuvers past the main area and heads toward a dimly lit section near an alley, where I spot two people waiting. One is a tanned man with a mullet and a partially open vest, revealing a toned physique covered in tattoos: anchors, sharks, and other aquatic themes. Seems like someone that¡¯s comfortable in his skin. He¡¯s got the build of a brawler but doesn¡¯t look like a merc. The other is a pale woman with long white hair tucked under a green beanie, dressed in baggy, functional streetwear. She wears a cropped top, light jacket, and cargo pants, giving her a casual yet practical look. Skinny and casually dressed. She doesn¡¯t seem like much of a fighter, she¡¯s probably the brains.


    Wissen notices my gaze. ¡°Two of your teammates. You¡¯ll have a few more later.¡± I turn back to look at him.


    ¡°Where are the others?¡± Wissen¡¯s eyes glow blue, and a faint whirr fills the air as a polished metallic arm extends from the red velvet. The arm takes his glass as the door swings open and he steps out.


    ¡°They¡¯re on the way,¡± he says, gesturing for me to exit. The door on my side opens. ¡°Come.¡±


    I step out, careful to avoid puddles on the wet concrete as we approach the two figures. The alley is shadowed, lit only by a flickering streetlight at the corner. The figures of my teammates are casted in stark, shifting shadows. The girl with white hair waves energetically, speaking in a playful, expressive tone. ¡°Heyyy! Name¡¯s Shock.¡± Her grin is wide and bright, matching her energy, and her nails flash a holographic sheen of purple and blue. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Hello.¡± I smile back at them. ¡°I¡¯m Artemis. Pleasure to work with you.¡± The man nods at me with a laid-back attitude.


    ¡°Tetra. How¡¯s it going?¡± He extends his hand for a handshake. I raise an eyebrow out of surprise; I rarely see someone do such a thing. I accept Tetra¡¯s incoming handshake, noting his firm grip.


    Wissen clears his throat and appears on my side.


    ¡°Tetra, Shock¡ªthis is the solo I mentioned. She¡¯s a trusted gun-for-hire and will be additional support for your team.¡± Tetra and Shock nod in acknowledgment. Just then, the door behind us swings open, and two more people step out, both in formal attire but with distinct styles.


    The first is a European man with a fair-skinned neck covered in tattoos and slicked-back hair. His sharp features and dark, sunken eyes belong to someone seasoned in the art of killing. He has a cold, serious demeanor and wears black gloves, stained with blood. Piercings and necklaces featuring crosses and skulls suggest a religious streak. A religious man who has no problem getting his hands dirty. Interesting. The other one wears a strange motorcycle helmet that completely covers their face, with a large trench coat draped over their suit and tie. The helmet itself has a visor that reflects the surrounding lights in a warped, indistinct way, obscuring any hint of identity beneath the metallic gleam. Height and build especially seem to blend in with the clothing, as if they don¡¯t want anyone to pay attention. Wissen turns to look at them and smiles politely in their direction.


    ¡°Artemis, meet Dante and Mister,¡± he introduces them. Dante, the man with sunken eyes, nods.


    ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Artemis,¡± Dante says, then shakes Wissen¡¯s hand. The one with the motorcycle helmet looks directly at me. When they speak, it¡¯s a male voice, but heavily filtered by vocal edits produced by the helmet.


    ¡°Good evening, Artemis.¡± He speaks with a calm demeanor, but his voice is so heavily distorted that it takes me a second to process it.


    ¡°A-Ah, pleasure to meet you both.¡± I slightly dip my head in acknowledgment. Wissen and Dante enter into a conversation shortly after.


    ¡°I assume the others are arriving?¡± Dante looks at Wissen while removing his bloody gloves. Wissen¡¯s eyes brighten as he talks to Dante.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be here shortly. While we wait, I¡¯ll introduce each of them.¡± Wissen turns to point at me. ¡°Artemis will be your solo¡ªher skills and reflexes are some of the best that Canada has to offer.¡± I smile but keep my hands at my sides.


    Dante nods with approval, and then Wissen points to Tetra. ¡°Tetra is a nomad from the Thelas nation. His connection to his international family will be a useful asset, as well as his experience as a physical laborer.¡± Oh, I see. So he¡¯s a nomad. That explains his look. Tetra crosses his arms. Wissen continues with the introductions.


    ¡°Shock, your netrunner,¡± Wissen says, turning to look at the rest of us. ¡°She¡¯s Dante¡¯s sister, by the way.¡± They do NOT look related. What the hell. I blink twice in surprise, and Shock does a theatrical bow with a smile.


    ¡°Mister, the local fixer of Vancouver. His anonymity is his greatest strength.¡± Mister gives a quick nod in response. I then hear the faint sound of a motorcycle approaching from some distant streets. The revving of the bike catches my attention. Whoever¡¯s on that thing must be having fun. I notice a faint figure approaching us in the alleyway. Nobody else seems to notice them. The faint sound of their steps and silhouette in the night become a noticeable speck that I easily focus on.


    ¡°As for the remaining two. The local techie¡ª¡± Before Wissen can continue, the sound of the motorcycle gets closer, and my head snaps to the other end of the alley. The rest of us turn to see an incoming bike. Is that a Kawasaki? I watch as a lone figure in a racing jacket and jeans on a black motorcycle comes to a stop near Wissen¡¯s limousine. They rip off a black helmet and set it on their bike, revealing a young man with snow-white hair and icy blue eyes. Who the hell...? His features are almost angelic, with a combination of sharp and soft lines in his nose and jawline that hint at both Asian and Caucasian heritage. He raises his hand in a casual wave.


    ¡°Yo.¡± I raise an eyebrow but then turn back to look at the faint figure approaching us, taking in her appearance.


    A pale Asian woman with dark hair, cut into a bob with short bangs, and styled into two small buns on top. She wears a confident, lopsided grin that makes her seem carefree and spirited. Her outfit is dark and minimal: a sleek turtleneck with simple pleated pants. Her steps are deliberate, with a slight swagger that exudes self-assurance, as if she owns the space around her. She winks at me and walks closer until the sound of her footsteps and voice draws the attention of the rest of the gang.


    ¡°Hope I wasn¡¯t too late. I came here as fast as I could.¡± Wissen turns to look at the woman and the man before continuing.


    ¡°As I was saying,¡± he points at the woman, ¡°Azure, one of the best techies in the city.¡± At this point, Azure joins us, standing just a bit behind me. Wissen then turns to point at the young man by the bike. ¡°And that is Remi, the rising star of Vancouver, a real rocker.¡± My jaw drops. That kid is a local CELEBRITY? Memories flash before my eyes of scrolling past trending headlines about a 21-year-old gaining prominence on social media. I was still fumbling around university at that age, but, to be fair, I''m a 26-year-old model and assassin now.


    Wissen turns back to look at Dante and gestures to the collective of us.


    ¡°And this is your team of edgerunners for tonight.¡±

 Chapter 7

    April 14, 2021. 21:50. Vancouver.


    This has got to be the most wild team composition ever. It''s like something straight out of a game. I blink at the odd collection of edgerunners assembled here¡ªa solo, nomad, netrunner, techie, fixer, and rocker. I stare at Remi a little bit longer than I should. Actually, it¡¯s just the rocker. What the hell is he doing here? Will he even be useful?


    Luckily, Wissen immediately jumps into his debriefing, cutting off my thoughts.


    ¡°Now that everyone is here, I¡¯ll explain the details of tonight¡¯s mission.¡± Wissen points at Dante. ¡°Dante is a member of the Neapolitan Camorra.¡± I cross my arms and relax my shoulders while listening. It doesn¡¯t look like many of us here know what that organization is, except for Mister, who raises his hand.


    ¡°One of the largest mafia organizations in Europe, correct?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Dante is a friend of mine and has requested aid in a very delicate manner.¡± Wissen then steps to the side to let the mafia man speak.


    ¡°I doubt any of you care about the context, but it may be beneficial to know I¡¯m one of the chosen successors to lead the Camorra.¡± Ahhh, a runner-up for the godfather. He certainly fits the stereotypical mafia image. ¡°However, many within the organization don¡¯t believe I¡¯m capable, and so I¡¯ve been tasked with acquiring this ¡®railgun¡¯ as a means to prove myself.¡±


    Dante¡¯s eyes have a hard glint, his hands moving in sharp, deliberate gestures as he speaks, every bit the mafia prince he claims to be. I¡¯d bet his confidence is a survival tactic¡ªwhether the others buy it, who knows. Dante then looks at each of us one by one for a few seconds. ¡°That¡¯s where each of you comes in.¡± Wissen¡¯s eyes glow blue as Dante begins to pace back and forth. ¡°Each and every one of you has your reasons for being here¡ªor so I¡¯ve been told by Wissen.¡±


    Wissen nods, placing his hand on Dante¡¯s back as he retakes the role of speaker. ¡°Earlier tonight, a vendor claimed to be selling an Autumn Blade railgun. Many of the local street gangs were invited to bid for it. What started as a civil auction quickly turned into a violent fight for the railgun.¡± Wissen¡¯s eyes pulse blue as he speaks, dimming and brightening in a rhythmic pattern. ¡°You will be paid handsomely to get your hands on the weapon. The methods you use to acquire the railgun are of little concern, as long as you deliver results. You¡¯ll each be paid seven thousand eddies.¡± That explains why each of us is here. Now it¡¯s my turn to raise a hand.


    ¡°Since we¡¯re dealing with gangsters, that¡¯s already a risk to us. I say bump it up to ten thousand for extra insurance. Plus, we may need it for additional supplies.¡± Dante raises an eyebrow and looks at me with surprise. Wissen nods to my request while my teammates look at me in disbelief or amusement.


    ¡°Fair enough reasoning. I¡¯ll adjust the payout accordingly.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Any other requests?¡± Wissen waits for a response, but no one speaks up. ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ll create a group chat with everyone and send the address for where to get started. Dante and I will remain here, but we¡¯ll keep an eye on incoming calls or messages in case you need help. We want this done properly, with minimal complications. If you need a ride, let us know; otherwise, we¡¯ll assume you have other methods of transportation. Good luck.¡± I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. Wissen¡¯s eyes finally stop glowing, and his shades return to a simple black without the blue hue.


    I stretch my arms and take a deep breath. Alright, guess it¡¯s time to move.


    Wissen and Dante exchange a look, then head into a nearby building to talk in private. Damn, bringing just a handgun won¡¯t be enough if I¡¯m going into a firefight. I pull out my phone and look at the location. Imperial Landing Dock, Richmond. Damn it, that¡¯s a bit far from here. I¡¯m about to click my tongue in annoyance when Shock grabs my attention.


    ¡°Okay, guys, sooo, how should we get there? By the way, Artemis, that was, like, pretty ballsy.¡± She looks at me as she says that last part. I nonchalantly shrug in response while scrolling through an app I use to call my vehicles remotely.


    ¡°To be fair, we go way back, so it¡¯s easier for me to negotiate.¡± A few four-door vehicles and trucks appear as selectable options. I spend less than a minute scrolling before selecting the truck I was using earlier. Tetra slides into my view.


    ¡°So, uh, how do we plan on getting there?¡± Remi asks as he returns to his bike, slapping his helmet back on with a quick, practiced motion. ¡°I can take one more person.¡± He points to the back seat of his ride.


    There¡¯s a moment of silence, and then a lingering gaze between Azure and Remi. Neither says a word, but something unspoken passes between them¡ªsomething I can¡¯t quite place. I narrow my eyes, raising an eyebrow in their direction. Azure¡¯s eyes narrow slightly, her lips curling into a faint, unreadable smile. Remi¡¯s gaze holds steady, unflinching, almost like they¡¯re testing each other. The moment stretches, neither willing to look away, until finally, Azure shrugs with that easy, unaffected grin and heads over to him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.¡±


    Mister then chimes in. ¡°I can arrange a ride for the rest of us.¡± Tetra nods and gives a quick thanks, while Shock claps her hands with excitement. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Slayyy, perfect!¡± I shake my head in response to Mister¡¯s question.


    ¡°I¡¯ll drive myself¡ªI¡¯ve got some equipment I want to bring.¡± Mister starts walking toward the end of the alleyway, and a car engine hums in the background.


    ¡°Sounds good. We¡¯ll see you there.¡± Tetra and Shock follow after him.


    My eyes follow my team as they head to their respective rides. Interesting bunch. I lean against the wall and wait for my ride.


    ¡­


    23:00. Richmond.


    ¡°Well, this is boring as hell,¡± Remi says, kicking a can on the ground. Yeah, no kidding. I¡¯m seated on the hood of my black truck, staring out at the bloody aftermath of a car-strewn parking lot. The docks stretch out under low, flickering lights, shadows pooling in every corner. In the distance is the harbour and several warehouses for import and export. Orange cranes are off to the right, while closer to my left are pools of blood and scattered bullet casings.


    The tang of salt and rust hangs in the air, mixed with a faint metallic scent of blood and gunpowder. It¡¯s clear that a firefight broke out; nearby vehicles are riddled with bullet holes. I tilt my head in confusion and curiosity at the absence of dead bodies. Someone was here recently, and it wasn¡¯t just the gangs.


    The lack of police presence doesn¡¯t surprise me, considering how far we are from downtown, where most of the police are stationed. Despite Mayor Gestalt¡¯s best efforts, the city can only progress so much in so little time. That¡¯s not to shame or judge his work; he¡¯s done a lot to aid the housing crisis both economically and logistically in Vancouver by having corporations help out with tax breaks and loans. Memories of my mother¡¯s stressful financial situation when I was much younger surface. It¡¯s thanks to him that we were able to survive until I finally got a job. He¡¯s the one pushing for a better future for the city¡¯s invisible people. Damn shame that Richmond is beyond his reach, though. Maybe things will change once he becomes Prime Minister.


    I glance at the time on my phone, hoping maybe more time has passed than I thought. Unfortunately, it¡¯s only been thirty minutes since we arrived. A cold dock wind sends a cool breeze my way, blowing my hair all over the place. Annoyed, I tie my hair with a rubber band from my shoulder bag and pull my hood up. As much as I¡¯m happy to help Wissen out, a part of me wishes I were home, working on the Porsche I stole. Instead, I start recalling any important details the team might¡¯ve missed.


    The entire team arrived earlier, only to find an empty lot and warehouse. Since then, we decided to split up. We¡¯re in the middle of nowhere¡ªa literal slump with little law enforcement. The local area here is roughly ¡®controlled¡¯ by a group inspired by the Mox from Night City, a gang of abused sex workers, sexual minorities, and general rebels supporting their cause. They¡¯re called the ¡®Velvs,¡¯ or Velvet Fangs. As for the other gangs, the only ones I¡¯m really familiar with are the Dead Kings, given that I live closer to them. I sigh to myself, tapping my fingers along the truck hood.


    Shock and Mister went to nearby buildings with security systems to see if they could grab any recordings, while Azure and Tetra searched the vacant area for anything we might¡¯ve missed earlier. Remi and I are waiting here as backup in case things go south. Fortunately for the team, there¡¯s no need for me to do anything at the moment. Unfortunately for me, there¡¯s barely any action so far. I¡¯m no security system expert, and my current job isn¡¯t talking to people; it¡¯s babysitting. I groan and hop off my truck.


    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake.¡± Remi looks at me with a mix of boredom and curiosity as I land. I¡¯m going to freeze my ass off if I keep standing still.


    ¡°What up?¡± He puts his hands in his pockets, continuing to pace around.


    ¡°Nah, just bored out of my mind right now.¡± I turn my head from him to the nearby bullet casings. ¡°Weird as hell that there¡¯s no bodies. Wasn¡¯t this a few hours ago? Cops ain¡¯t here, but someone moved the bodies.¡±


    ¡°Dunno.¡± Remi shrugs, leaning against a chain-link fence. ¡°Not exactly what I had in mind for my evening.¡±


    ¡°Same, I was hoping to chill out for tonight.¡±


    ¡°You got some other jobs to do later?¡±


    ¡°No, not really. I finished another mission earlier today.¡± At this point, Tetra and Azure finally return, and I call out to them.


    ¡°Anything?¡± Azure shakes her head.


    ¡°Nothing on our end.¡± Damn it. Hopefully, Mister and Shock found something. Tetra speaks up after Azure.


    ¡°Yeah, the warehouse had nothing that we didn¡¯t see already. The nearby area didn¡¯t have anything either.¡± I frown and start tapping my foot on the ground.


    ¡°Great. So we¡¯re stuck here waiting for¡ª¡± Suddenly, all of our phones ring, and I¡¯m the first to pick up.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I put my phone on speaker so the others can listen in. Mister¡¯s electronic voice comes through on the other end, crisp and formal, sounding more like a business meeting than a raid plan.


    ¡°Hello. Shock and I made some discoveries.¡± Why is this guy so formal? ¡°The gangs involved tonight are the Dead Kings, the Byte Raiders, the Blak Dragoons, the Banshees, and the Melders. It doesn¡¯t seem like the GTown Boys or the Velvs are interested in this.¡± Hmm, I guess that makes sense; GTown Boys are farther away from here, and the Velvs wouldn¡¯t care. ¡°Shock was able to acquire data¡ªsome Dead Kings members managed to grab a large briefcase while fighting off a bunch of the others. After that, it was complete chaos: gunfire and explosions all over. The ones with the railgun barely managed to escape.¡± I can hear Shock shouting in the background.


    ¡°Tell them the cameras didn¡¯t catch where the car went! Tracking it down would take too much effort and time.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, Shock says trying to track down the Dead Kings via the cameras would be too inconvenient.¡± I shift uncomfortably, recalling my earlier encounter with two Dead Kings members. I¡¯m not particularly keen on a rematch with them; thankfully, this time I can shoot. ¡°We know who took the railgun, at least. I suggest we go straight to the source and try to negotiate for it.¡± Damn it. I raise an eyebrow as I look around at the others, then respond.


    ¡°So, you think we should head to Dead Kings HQ?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Shit.¡± Never mind, I¡¯m not going guns blazing in there.


    ¡°Or options are to either trade it off or steal it.¡± At this point, Remi speaks up.


    ¡°Is this a bad time to say that the Dead Kings hate me?¡± The whole group goes silent for a few seconds. Wait, why do they hate him? I blink at him in surprise while Azure places her hands on her hips, an amused look on her face. Tetra breaks the momentary silence.


    ¡°Wait¡­ what?¡±

 Chapter 8

    April 14, 2021. 23:20. Richmond.


    ¡°Yeah, so¡­ I got beef with one of the head honchos of the Dead Kings.¡± Remi awkwardly folds his arms as he explains. ¡°Long story short, I ended up with this rivalry thing going, and I basically told this gonk to go ¡®fuck himself.¡¯ He¡¯s dead now, though, so they all think I¡¯m the one who did it.¡±


    I interrupt, curiosity piqued. ¡°Wait, who¡¯s the guy?¡±


    ¡°AXIS.¡± Holy shit, no way. What are the odds of that?


    ¡°Wait, really? I killed him earlier today.¡±


    ¡°OH SHIT, THAT WAS YOU!? MY FUCKIN¡¯ CHOOM!¡± Remi¡¯s jaw drops in excitement, and he practically has to stop himself from jumping up and down. I blink in surprise; it¡¯s always interesting to see how others react once they find out I kill in cold blood. Remi, though, seems ecstatic. I raise an amused eyebrow.


    ¡°You don¡¯t mind that I killed him?¡±


    ¡°Nah, fuck that guy. I¡¯m happy you zeroed his ass.¡± Azure chuckles in the background, her attention fixed on Remi.


    ¡°This is exactly the reason why your main bike is in my shop.¡± Wait, shop? Remi looks back at Azure with glaring eyes.


    ¡°Hey, they asked for it.¡± Azure snorts, placing a hand on her hip.


    ¡°Yeah, and you¡¯re paying for it.¡± While Azure and Remi bicker, I glance at Tetra and see he¡¯s just as confused as I am. I smile and shrug at him. I have no clue what¡¯s going on with them either, man. Mister cuts in before anyone else can speak.


    ¡°Good to know, Remi. I suggest we get going, though. We¡¯re wasting time.¡± I nod in agreement and glance at the rest of us gathered here.


    ¡°Yeah, Mister¡¯s right. We should get going. So, should we go together, or are we heading there separately?¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re going to the headquarters of the Dead Kings, it¡¯s probably better that we arrive together. Wait for Shock and me to return.¡± I sigh, knowing that I¡¯ll have to leave my truck behind.


    ¡°Kay, see you in a bit.¡± I end the call and look back at the others. ¡°Alright, since we¡¯re moving together, I¡¯m gonna grab some gear from my truck.¡± Tetra nods in the direction of my ride.


    ¡°Need any help?¡±


    ¡°Nah, just figured I¡¯d mention this now so I don¡¯t surprise you all.¡± I stride toward the trunk of my vehicle and pop it open. Inside is a fairly large black duffle bag with a solid heft to it. I lift it with casual ease, slinging it over my shoulder before locking up my truck. As I do, I spot Mister and Shock returning to us. I nod in their direction, and all of us head toward the same large silver Mercedes-Benz Sprinter with tinted black windows. Mister is the first to arrive at the van and slides the door open for all of us to enter.


    I¡¯m immediately hit with a pleasant car freshener smell, reminiscent of walking in a pine tree forest in autumn. I take a deep whiff of the aroma and find a spot to sit, setting down my duffle bag. I plant myself on a black leather chair, my feet resting on the black carpeted floor. The rest of my team follows shortly after, with Shock sitting beside me. Mister takes the wheel, Azure sits shotgun, and Remi and Tetra sit behind me. The door closes, and the engine hums to life.


    I feel the gentle acceleration of Mister¡¯s driving. Not bad. We pass by buildings of grey and neon advertising, and not once do I feel any abrupt stops. I lean back in my chair, observing Mister¡¯s careful driving. The way he perfectly slows to a stop at a red light is both satisfying and professional¡ªyet strangely caring. He drives as if we¡¯re all on a family trip. Shock then breaks the peace of the ride.


    ¡°Soooo, while we¡¯re on the way there, we should get to know each other some more!¡± She looks at me with excitement in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll go first.¡± She places a hand over her chest. ¡°I¡¯m my brother¡¯s netrunner and part of the specialized cleanup crew for the Camorra.¡± Oh, we¡¯re doing icebreakers, huh? I maintain my professional composure with a calm smile.


    ¡°Consider me Wissen¡¯s preferred solo. Otherwise, I¡¯m a paid assassin¡ªyou can find my website if you look hard enough.¡± A moment of silence follows, but Tetra bites.


    ¡°Uh, yeah, I¡¯m not from Vancouver. I¡¯m from the Thelas Nation.¡± Tetra awkwardly fidgets with his fingers, to my surprise, struggling to find the words to continue. ¡°We kind of move all over the place, but I¡¯m here since Wissen promised to help me out.¡± Fair enough. I nod along with his introduction, satisfied with what I heard. Wissen is not only rich but has connections all across the world. It makes sense that someone would ask for his help. Shock, however, doesn¡¯t seem satisfied and prods Tetra with a playful tone.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Oh? It¡¯s not money?¡±


    Tetra shakes his head and pauses. His face contorts into one of conflict, but he relents after a brief moment of contemplation.


    ¡°He¡¯s helping me find someone who went missing¡ªmy brother.¡± I raise an eyebrow but keep staring out the window, watching the passing buildings. Shock twists in her chair to look back at Tetra. I catch a blur of her reflection in my window.


    ¡°Oh. Em. Gee. What happened? Did y¡¯all, like, have a fight or something?¡± Tetra tilts his head in confusion, and I struggle not to snort in amusement.


    ¡°He left the family a few months back. Some of us think he just straight-up left for good.¡± Tetra pauses again, carefully choosing his next words. ¡°But I don¡¯t think so¡ªhe¡¯s not a family man, but he wouldn¡¯t just up and leave without telling me first. That¡¯s why I need Wissen¡¯s help. I¡¯m willing to do anything for a lead.¡± I subtly nod along in silence, ensuring no one sees. I cross my legs and casually flick my foot against the floor every so often. Family is always an emotionally charged topic for me, and my heart goes out to those who stick to their loved ones. Remi then interjects.


    ¡°Damn, choom, I just signed up for the side hustle money. But shiiiit, good luck though.¡± Azure and Mister have been the quietest, listening from the front, until they finally join in.


    ¡°Yeah, I only signed up for the additional eddies.¡± Azure looks back, nodding in agreement with Remi. Mister is the last one to speak, his voice calm.


    ¡°As did I. It just so happened that my sources told me Mister was hiring, and I decided that getting additional contacts never hurts.¡± Hmm. Networking. Fair enough.


    Shock, ever the chatterbox, keeps the energy lively as the van cruises through the city. ¡°Hmmm, what about you, Azure? What¡¯s your deal? You haven¡¯t said much.¡± She leans forward, poking her head between the front seats to look at the two in front. Azure glances back and smirks at Shock.


    ¡°There¡¯s not much to say. I¡¯m a woman of very little,¡± she chuckles, raising her hands with a shrug. ¡°I¡¯m just here for the cash. I run a mechanic shop in Burnaby if that interests you.¡±


    ¡°Ohhh, are you also interested in getting your hands on some cool tech?¡± There¡¯s an awkward pause after that. Others might not have noticed it, but I did¡ªthere was hesitation in Azure¡¯s response.


    ¡°Yeah, this ¡®Autumn Blade¡¯ business interests me.¡± I narrow my eyes when she says Autumn Blade. There¡¯s a strange sense of familiarity in the way she speaks about the company. I suspect Shock will press her further, but Mister interrupts, and the van begins to slow down.


    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±


    I direct my head away from Azure and instead to the window on my side. My eyes widen at a sight I haven¡¯t seen in years since my childhood and adolescence.


    ¡­


    23:50. Vancouver.


    Mister parks the van on a nearby street, and the rest of us lean against the windows, taking in the sight of the stadium. BC Place¡ªa name that once held nostalgia for sports fans and event-goers¡ªnow stands as a monument to the Dead Kings¡¯ power in Vancouver. The massive structure looms ahead, its LED-lit exterior casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the surrounding buildings. Gone are the banners of sporting teams or corporate sponsorships; in their place are flags bearing the gang¡¯s white skull insignia, outlined in black and gold for a touch of arrogance.


    Around the stadium, the streets are alive with movement. Neon lights from nearby clubs and bars reflect off expensive cars parked along the curbs: sleek sports cars, luxury SUVs, and heavily modified imports. Groups of sharply dressed individuals roam between venues, their laughter and chatter mingling with the smell of alcohol and street food.


    I raise an eyebrow at the scene, scanning the crowds. The Dead Kings may call themselves a gang, but this¡­ this is more like a high-end social club. The expensive cars, the nightlife, the constant buzz of activity¡ªwho wouldn¡¯t want to end up here? Armed guards patrol the streets, their casual movements masking their vigilance. Beneath the designer hoodies, leather jackets, and ripped jeans are glimpses of body armour. Their necks and hands are inked with tattoos of the gang¡¯s insignia, a bold declaration of their allegiance.


    Tetra chimes in with the curiosity of a tourist. ¡°Wait, I don¡¯t get it. These guys are so close to the police¡ªhow come they haven¡¯t been shut down?¡±


    I open my mouth to answer, but Mister beats me to it, his tone calm and collected. ¡°They don¡¯t sell drugs or traffic people, but they¡¯re heavily armed and fiercely territorial.¡±


    ¡°So they¡¯ve got a bunch of weapons and men? I thought the police were funded by the corporations here?¡±


    ¡°They are, but the Dead Kings aren¡¯t worth the trouble¡ªnot when Vancouver is still recovering from a financial crisis. Only recently did Mayor Gestalt alleviate housing problems by having corporations assist in construction. The primary focus of the city is growth right now. The police only just received their increased funding a few weeks ago.¡±


    ¡°Ah, damn. So what do the Dead Kings do, then?¡±


    ¡°Well, they started as neighbourhood hoodlums trying to make it big. That part¡¯s stayed consistent, even now. They make their money as bouncers and bodyguards, but they¡¯ve recently expanded into show business¡ªarranging parties and events. What makes them stand out from other gangs is their appeal.¡±


    ¡°Appeal?¡± Tetra leans forward, intrigued.


    Mister nods. ¡°They¡¯re not just a gang¡ªthey¡¯re a brand. To join the Dead Kings is to sign up for a chance to make it ¡®big.¡¯ Connections, parties, status¡ªthey offer it all.¡±


    Tetra still looks confused, so I step in. ¡°Joining the Dead Kings means climbing the social ladder, gaining connections, and partying like royalty. But if they need to get violent and break a few rules to get things done, they have no problem doing it.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Tetra leans back, processing the explanation. Shock takes this as her cue, enthusiastically sliding the van door open.


    ¡°Alright, history lesson¡¯s over¡ªtime to move!¡± She hops out first. How the hell does she manage to stay energetic? Unlike Shock, I hesitate; I glance at my duffle bag. Don¡¯t worry, mommy won¡¯t be gone for long. I lovingly pat my bag and then step out into the cool night air.


    I''m so fucked if anyone recognizes me.

 Prologue Part 3 - The End of an Era

    September 11, 2001. 21:00. Paris.


    The city was ablaze, consumed by fire all the way to the skyline. Reds and oranges flickered wildly, staining the darkened Parisian night. The streets were a vision straight from hell, strewn with corpses of civilians and Tanwir fighters alike, tangled among the wreckage of burnt-out cars and toppled streetlights. Apartment homes and storefronts stood hollow, their windows shattered and doors blown off their hinges. Smoke hung heavy in the air, choking out any possibility of hope, while the acrid stench of burnt flesh and chemicals seared the lungs of those still breathing.


    Sirens echoed endlessly, a grim soundtrack to the aftermath of chaos as police and paramedics moved between apprehended Tanwir fighters and injured civilians. Firefighters fought a losing battle against the flames, dragging what little remained of the living from the ruins.


    Castle stood amongst the carnage, staring at the lifeless body of a woman hunched protectively over her child. Her stillness was haunting, a painful reminder of the UNSAF''s failure. He caught his reflection in the shattered glass of a nearby storefront¡ªa herculean man with black buzzed hair and beige skin. Castle''s UNSAF combat uniform was caked with grime and streaked with blood that wasn''t his own. His tired eyes flicked back to the street, where bodies of friends and comrades lay scattered among the rubble. The sound of sirens and distant cries filled the air, but to Castle, they felt muted.


    This was the aftermath of the battle between the UNSAF and the Tanwir¡ªa multicorporation-funded special forces unit representing many nations. The best of the best? What a joke. That night, their supposed expertise had culminated in a massacre. Several thousand lay dead, and countless more bore wounds, both physical and mental, that would never heal. Castle had spent the last few hours trying to plug as many leaks as possible, but it was all in vain.


    Castle looked around the destroyed city while wandering aimlessly near the base of the Eiffel Tower. Earlier, the landmark had narrowly avoided destruction. The Tanwir rigged it with explosives and used it as a staging point for their assault, turning a symbol of French pride into a monument of terror. Now, its legs were scorched, with cables and detonators still strapped haphazardly along their length¡ªa once-majestic presence now overshadowed by the devastation surrounding it.


    The operation had been a disaster. Intelligence had been faulty¡ªno, worse, it had been suspiciously incompetent. Hijacked flights, stolen weapons and chemicals, thousands of terrorists slipping through the border, and Paris''s infrastructure rigged to blow. How in the hell could they have pulled it off without foreign aid?


    Castle couldn¡¯t shake his conversation with R-1, a trusted friend he had known since before the UNSAF was even formed. In hindsight, the information they had been fed reeked of half-truths¡ªas if someone had wanted them to fail. What he had initially suspected now felt more certain than ever, especially after his time overseeing previous UNSAF operations. Even during the debriefing hours before today, Castle had felt a gnawing sense of dread, and now he was sure: this wasn''t just a tactical error; it had been sabotage. But who was behind it, and why?


    Castle''s thoughts were interrupted as UNSAF engineers moved tirelessly past him, carrying deactivated explosives. Several dozen devices were still rigged to blow all around the Eiffel Tower, and only recently had the UNSAF even secured the area. At the rate they were going, it was clear they wouldn''t finish before dawn. The entire infrastructure of Paris had been destroyed by an enemy everyone had thought was under-equipped, but in reality, they had gear almost on par with the UNSAF.


    An engineer briefly bumped shoulders with Castle. "''Scuse me, sir," the man said quickly. Castle stepped aside to give him room, nodding.


    "You''re all good," Castle replied. His voice was calm, but his chest felt heavy. Nearby, he saw the remnants of R-Team moving among the wreckage, carrying the limp bodies of fallen soldiers. R-1 caught his eye while dropping a stretcher alongside another soldier. R-1''s movements were sluggish. Although he still wore a full uniform with a helmet covering his face, it was clear to Castle that he had lost a piece of himself today. When their eyes met, R-1 straightened and offered a weary salute. Castle waved him over. "R-1?"


    R-1 approached, his movements stiff with fatigue. His usually sharp movements were dulled by exhaustion. The two men exchanged a look that conveyed more than words ever could. For a moment, the chaos around them seemed to quiet.


    "How many do you think are dead?" R-1''s voice was hoarse, and Castle noticed fresh blood on his gloves¡ªsomeone else''s, no doubt.


    "Too many," Castle muttered, his voice low and heavy. "Civilians, soldiers¡­ this whole thing''s a slaughterhouse."


    R-1 nodded grimly. "This city''s gone to hell. We''re still finding bodies..." His words trailed off, swallowed by the inferno around them.


    Castle didn''t respond, but his silence spoke volumes. He surveyed the scene: survivors of the attack being escorted by UNSAF soldiers, children clinging to their parents with wide, terrified eyes. In the distance, a group of soldiers worked tirelessly to clear nearby rubble, their movements sluggish with exhaustion.


    Then something caught Castle''s attention¡ªa teenager, brown-skinned, male with black hair, dressed in regular civilian baggy clothing, standing just a little too still amidst the chaos. He was watching the soldiers, his gaze a strange mix of fear, hesitation, focus, and calculation. Something about him felt wrong. The boy occasionally glanced at several street corners. Castle''s eyes narrowed at the odd behaviour.


    "You see that kid?" he asked R-1, nodding toward the teenager.


    R-1 followed his gaze and stiffened. "Yeah. Something''s off."


    They both watched as the boy moved toward the rubble, his movements not frantic but deliberate, purposeful. Nearby paramedics and UNSAF soldiers continued to clear debris, too focused on their tasks to notice the boy''s presence.


    Time seemed to slow as Castle''s and R-1''s instincts kicked in. He''s one of them. The child soldier crept closer to the corpses of dead Tanwir and nearby UNSAF soldiers. From beneath his baggy clothing, he pulled out a handgun¡ªsmall enough to have been hidden discreetly. He raised it, aiming at someone nearby.


    Before R-1 and Castle could act, chaos erupted. A gunshot rang out, and a UNSAF soldier crumpled to the ground. Blood gushed from a wound in his neck. Another soldier turned around, noticing his fallen teammate. He too was shot, in the stomach, and collapsed with a scream of pain. Shouts of confusion filled the air as Castle spotted the teenager grabbing something off the ground¡ªa remote detonator. Nearby civilians scattered for cover again, while others frantically turned toward the source of the commotion.


    "Shit!" Castle roared, already moving. "Stop that kid!" He hadn''t anticipated a second round of chaos after the initial firefight had died down. His tired body ached, but he forced himself to chase after the boy.


    The boy bolted toward the Eiffel Tower, clutching the detonator as if his life depended on it. Soldiers shouted and scrambled to pursue him, but he was fast. He weaved through the rubble with the agility of someone desperate. He reached the elevator first, and the doors slid shut just as Castle and R-1 arrived.


    Castle slammed his fist against the elevator door. "FUCK!" Panic and frustration laced his voice. "Radio the squads! That kid''s got a damn detonator¡ªhe''s heading to the top!" His tone was a mix of fury and urgency. "Cut the power!"


    R-1 nodded sharply. "We''ll take the manual route!" He turned to R-Team and barked an order. "Grapples, now!"


    Within seconds, R-Team moved as one, readying their climbing gear. They pulled out grappling guns and fired upward with practiced precision, while other UNSAF squads followed suit or charged toward the tower''s staircases. One by one, the various teams latched onto metal beams and railings, their equipment hissing and clinking as they ascended. R-Team zipped upward at a pace that matched the elevator''s, closing the gap with disciplined determination.


    On the ground, Castle snagged a headset and barked orders into his comms. Multiple squads joined the pursuit, their silhouettes darting across the Eiffel Tower''s skeletal frame as they scaled its heights.


    "Eyes only! Do not fire unless I give the go-ahead!" Castle shouted. In the distance, he spotted pairs of UNSAF soldiers leaping across rooftops, trying to position themselves. Was Paris really going to face one more disaster before the night was over? Castle''s heart raced as the cacophony of voices in his headset merged into a chaotic symphony. He forced himself to push past the fear and keep giving commands.


    Most civilians in the area fled from the Eiffel Tower, their panic palpable. However, some lingered at a distance, drawn by morbid curiosity. They gathered behind barricades of police cars and SWAT vans, their eyes fixed on the unfolding standoff. The flickering flames in the distance painted their faces with a haunting glow as they waited to see how the night would end.


    Not wasting any more time, Castle ran toward a nearby armoured truck and jumped into the back, where multiple screens were plastered to the walls. The entire truck was connected to numerous cameras throughout the city and was also capable of controlling nearby drones. Each screen displayed a different angle of the city, and only a few soldiers were manning the station. Castle quickly moved over to one of the operators and pointed at one of the middle screens.


    "Eiffel Tower, I want every camera nearby on it!" he ordered.


    The operator gave a quick nod and rapidly switched between camera feeds stationed throughout the area. On the middle screen, Castle watched as the teen''s elevator jerked to a halt¡ªthe power had been cut by UNSAF. But by then, the boy had already pulled out a handgun and shot through the elevator''s glass, climbing out to reach the next floor.


    R-Team was the first to make it to the same floor, and they chased after him. Castle''s mouth went dry as he watched the scene unfold on the screen.


    The boy aimed his gun at the incoming UNSAF and opened fire. The wild shots forced the soldiers to dive for cover behind metal beams and railings. The boy retreated into a utility room, slamming the door shut behind him. Castle tapped another screen and looked at the operator.


    "Get a drone on this one. I want a view of the room."


    The operator nodded and took control of one of the drones, piloting it closer to a window overlooking the utility room. Castle leaned forward, his eyes glued to the feed, and pressed a button to increase the volume.


    The drone''s camera feed showed the boy inside, breathing heavily, his gun trained on the door. Behind him, a man cowered in the corner, while a woman and two children remained trapped under the rubble.


    Castle''s stomach twisted. "Shit. He''s got hostages."


    The boy moved quickly, shooting the man in the thigh and grabbing him by the neck just as the door opened. The man let out a scream of agony, collapsing to the floor and writhing in pain. R-Team entered the room cautiously, their rifles raised and trained on the boy, who yelled at them.


    "I-I WILL KILL THIS MAN!" he screamed. One of his arms held the handgun aimed directly at the man''s head, while the other clutched the detonator tightly.


    R-Team froze, their movements halted by the impossible tension in the room. Castle gritted his teeth and took control of the radio.


    "All teams except R-Team, back away from the room," he commanded. On the nearby screens, other UNSAF squads stopped advancing and pulled back. Castle bit his lip, nervously swallowing hard as his heart pounded in his chest.


    "R-Team, he has a gun in one hand and the detonator in the other. No sudden moves."


    The tension on the ground had reached a breaking point as the sound of a vehicle pulling up cut through the chaos. Castle frowned and glanced outside to see a black armoured vehicle come to a halt. Militech. The company insignia gleamed ominously in the flickering firelight. Out stepped Kingston, a young white man with sharp features that matched his tailored suit and long slicked-back hair. His glasses caught the reflection of the distant flames. Flanked by armed guards and accompanied by other corporate executives, Kingston exuded an aura of control that made Castle''s blood boil.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    The moment Kingston arrived, UNSAF soldiers deferred to him. His presence was a grim reminder of who truly called the shots. Castle''s jaw clenched as Kingston approached, his gaze sweeping over the destruction with a calm detachment that felt almost cruel. Kingston raised an eyebrow at Castle and spoke in a tone that managed to be both professional and condescending.


    "Status, Castle?"


    Castle straightened, forcing himself to keep his composure. "Kid''s holed up on the first floor with a detonator. He''s got hostages. We''ve cut the power, but he''s armed. R-Team is holding position."


    Kingston adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. "Are the snipers in position?"


    "Yes, but I''ve ordered them to hold fire."


    Kingston''s eyebrow arched as he turned his cold, unyielding gaze on Castle. "They''re paid to take the shot if necessary. Let''s not waste resources debating morality."


    Castle''s fists tightened as he stepped between Kingston and the truck with the screens. His voice came low but firm. "He''s just a kid, Kingston. You really want to add ''killing a child'' to tonight''s headlines?"


    Kingston smirked faintly, the hint of amusement not reaching his eyes. "The world''s watching, Castle." He moved closer, tapping Castle lightly on the chest with his finger. "What matters is results, not sentiment."


    Beyond the barricades, a growing crowd of survivors and reporters gathered. News helicopters circled overhead, their spotlights illuminating the chaotic scene below. The noise was overwhelming¡ªshouts from the crowd blended with the mechanical drone of helicopters. Fear, anger, and confusion rippled through the mob, their emotions feeding off each other. Castle felt his heart rate spike as he surveyed the situation.


    Shooting bad guys? That was easy¡ªhe''d done it countless times and had personally trained most of the UNSAF soldiers here. But handling the shit show tonight? Who could even manage that? The world was watching, and any misstep could mean catastrophe¡ªnot just for the mission, but for everyone involved.


    UNSAF soldiers and local police struggled to keep the crowd back. Every camera lens was fixed on the Eiffel Tower, broadcasting the standoff to the world. Castle''s mind raced. This couldn''t end in bloodshed¡ªnot here, not like this.


    Kingston lightly pushed Castle to the side and stepped into the truck. "Move, Castle."


    "I¡ª" Castle balled his hands into fists but fought the urge to punch Kingston on the spot. Too many eyes were on him, and he needed to remain composed. Instead, he followed Kingston inside the truck to watch the feed.


    Inside the utility room, R-Team held their position, their weapons at the ready but lowered slightly. The boy''s voice rang out, trembling but defiant. "S-Stay back! I''ll¡ªI''ll blow us all up!"


    In the corner of the room, a woman sobbed while clutching two wailing children. A man lay on the floor nearby, his thigh forming a deep red pool as he struggled to breathe. Kingston stared at the screen with cold indifference plastered across his face. He reached over, grabbed one of the headsets, and placed it on his head.


    "This is Kingston to team," he began. Castle glanced at a few of the other screens, which displayed various angles of snipers positioned on nearby rooftops. Kingston continued without pause. "Sniper team, keep your rifles trained on the kid. If R-Team screws up, take the shot¡ªhead only. Make it quick."


    Castle grabbed Kingston by the shoulder, barely able to contain his anger. "Do you even hear what you''re saying?! That''s a FUCKING CHILD!"


    Kingston brushed Castle''s hand off with a casual motion. His expression didn''t change. "Castle, as far as I''m concerned, that ''child'' has hostages and a detonator that could blow the Eiffel Tower sky high. He gave up his rights the moment he signed up to be a terrorist."


    "He doesn''t know any better! He''s wrapped up in a fucked-up conspiracy!" Castle''s voice was raw, his desperation clear.


    "Castle, are you questioning me?" Kingston''s tone carried a razor edge. "Don''t forget who calls the shots. If needed, I can pull you off the team right now and ruin any chance you have of employment ever again."


    "You''re threatening me?" Castle asked, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief.


    Kingston almost smirked, but the expression quickly faded as his gaze drifted back to the screens. "No, I''m stating the facts."


    Castle took a deep, steadying breath and backed away from Kingston. He lowered his voice, forcing himself to sound calm. "Alright, I apologize. Just¡­ give R-Team a chance to de-escalate," he said. It took everything in him to not assault Kingston right then and there. Instead, Castle lowered his head in a gesture that felt almost pitiful. "Please, sir."


    Kingston considered for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Of course, I''m nothing if not generous."


    Back on the screen, R-1 took a cautious step forward, lowering his weapon slightly. "Listen, kid. You don''t want to do this. We can help you, but you''ve got to let those people go." The rest of R-Team nervously shifted their gazes, but R-1 kept his composure.


    The boy''s gun wavered, his resolve cracking under the weight of the situation. Behind him, the woman clutched her children tightly, with tears streaming down her face. R-1 gently lowered his rifle, placing it on the floor. He locked eyes with the boy and continued speaking in a steady, soft voice.


    "Kid, what''s your name? How old are you?" The boy''s dark eyes darted between R-1 and the hostages, his hand twitching on the detonator.


    "Y-Yasir. I''m turning ten soon," he stammered, his voice cracking. As R-1 took a singular step forward, Yasir raised the gun and pointed it at him. "Don''t come closer!"


    "Okay, Yasir." R-1 crouched slightly, lowering his profile. "I hear you. You''ve been through hell tonight, haven''t you? All this chaos¡­ this isn''t where you wanted to be." R-1 remained still, his hands slowly raised in the air.


    Yasir''s lips quivered, his resolve faltering. "They promised¡­ they said it''d bring my family back."


    Behind him, the woman sobbed quietly, clutching her children. R-1 glanced at her briefly before focusing on Yasir again. "Who promised? The Tanwir? They lied to you, Yasir. Look around¡ªthere''s no bringing back anyone this way. You''re just another tool in the shed, same as us."


    Castle''s chest tightened as he listened to R-1''s words over the comms. He glanced at Kingston, who showed almost no reaction, his attention fixed on the screen. The only sign of emotion Castle could detect was the faint clicking of Kingston''s tongue¡ªa subtle display of impatience.


    Over the radio, one of the snipers'' voices broke through, barely masking their discomfort. "Permission to disengage, sir? I¡ªhe''s just a kid. I don''t think I can¡ª"


    "No," Kingston interrupted coldly, pressing the headset closer to his ear. "You''re paid to take the shot, so take it if R-Team fails. This isn''t a debate¡ªend of story."


    Castle''s jaw tightened as he glared daggers at Kingston from behind. The urge to knock the man out simmered just beneath the surface, but Castle forced himself to stay composed, his fists clenched at his sides.


    On the screen, Yasir''s grip on the detonator loosened. His shoulders shook as he sobbed openly, the weight of the situation crashing down on him. "I just¡­ I didn''t know what else to do," he whispered.


    "You''re not alone, Yasir," R-1 said gently, stepping closer. "Let''s fix this together. Just put the detonator down, and we''ll figure it out." R-Team stayed behind their leader, cautious not to risk escalating the situation by moving forward. Yasir, on the other hand, looked at R-1 with uncertain eyes. He hesitated, his fingers trembling over the trigger.


    "What will happen to me?" he asked, his voice cracking.


    "We''ll take you somewhere safe, and then we''ll figure this whole mess out."


    "Promise?"


    "Promise."


    Slowly, Yasir lowered the device to the floor. A collective sigh of relief swept through the comm channels. R-1 moved carefully, separating the boy from the injured man, who was still bleeding profusely.


    "Hostages secured," R-1 reported. "Kid''s cooperating. Send medics for the injured."


    Castle leaned against the truck, exhaustion pressing down on him as the adrenaline drained from his body. The rest of the events blurred together. Yasir was escorted out by UNSAF soldiers, his small frame dwarfed by the armoured figures surrounding him. The woman and the children followed, clinging to each other as paramedics rushed to assist them and the injured man. The faint sound of cameras clicking and reporters speaking into microphones echoed in the background.


    Kingston, flanked by the other executives, stepped forward to address the gathered media. The crowd roared with questions, their cameras capturing every detail. Castle stayed back, watching the spectacle unfold. The UNSAF had done their job, but this wasn''t a victory¡ªit was theatre.


    To Castle''s relief, R-Team returned, their shoulders slumped with fatigue. For the first time that night, R-1 removed his helmet, revealing the soft, gentle features of a young blonde German man. His hair was damp with sweat, and his face bore the weight of the night''s horrors. The rest of R-Team sat nearby, quietly decompressing, but R-1 seemed to have something else on his mind.


    His face, lined with exhaustion, also carried a flicker of anger. "Permission to speak plainly, sir?" he asked, with a steady voice despite the turmoil in his eyes. Castle nodded, straightening up to give R-1 his full attention.


    "Granted."


    "Austin, what the fuck was this all for?" R-1 muttered, dropping the pretenses of their roles.


    Austin sighed, letting his facade as Castle fade away. He nodded, sadness etched deeply into his face.


    "I don''t know anymore. This entire night feels like a shitty dream."


    R-1 leaned against a crumbling wall, his gaze distant. "What do you think this was all for? The bad intel, the Tanwir being so well-supplied. They couldn''t have pulled this off alone."


    "No, they couldn''t. This was a setup, it''s¡ª" The realization hit R-1 mid-sentence. His eyes widened as he looked toward the executives basking in the media''s spotlight. When he spoke again, his voice was calm but laced with unmistakable fury. He figured it out. "A goddamn marketing scheme..."


    Castle saw where R-1''s mind was going, and it clicked for him too. He turned sharply toward the armoured truck. They didn''t even need to speak; years of working together had honed their ability to understand each other without words. They had arrived at the same conclusion.


    "Oh¡­ fuck no¡­" Austin growled as he waved for R-1 to follow him.


    The truck, now emptied of operators, was eerily quiet, with only the inactive hum of its computers breaking the silence. Austin sat at a terminal, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Search results began flooding the screen almost instantly. R-1 leaned in, reading the headlines aloud with rising anger.


    "''UNSAF: Tragic Heroes Without Enough Funding.''"


    Castle scrolled further.


    "''Nations Grant Corporations Additional Funding and Freedom of Expansion for National Security.''"


    Another scroll.


    "''Corporation Market Values Skyrocket to New Heights.''"


    R-1 stopped reading out loud after the third headline. A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the hum of the computers. Both men stared at the screen, their faces a mix of anger and quiet horror. After a long pause, Castle finally spoke, his words dripping with bitterness.


    "And we were the pawns. Convenient."


    The weight of their realization settled over them like a suffocating blanket. Anger and helplessness churned within both men. Castle''s fists clenched as his thoughts drifted to the executives outside, revelling in the chaos they had orchestrated. For a fleeting moment, the idea of punching¡ªor even killing¡ªthose responsible flickered in his mind, and he suspected R-1 was thinking the same.


    But both of them knew it wouldn''t matter. The damage was done. The corporations had already won. No action they took now could undo what had happened.


    R-1 let out a low growl, then sighed heavily, closing his eyes and tilting his head back toward the ceiling of the truck. "What''ll you do now, Austin? What''s next? I doubt the UNSAF will be around for much longer."


    Austin turned to his friend, his expression hollow and dejected. His voice was soft, barely audible.


    "I''ll stay until they disband us. But after that? I have no clue¡ªmaybe find work back home. You''ve never met my family, but I''ve got a wife and daughter waiting for me,"


    "Oh?"


    "My wife, she''s beautiful." Austin let out a chuckle, an attempt to lighten the mood now that they were talking about something more personal. The thought of his family brought a genuine smile to his face. "And my daughter, she''s got a gift¡ªfast reflexes, heightened senses, and she''s a quick learner. The doctors say she''s ''gifted.'' I''d like to see her grow up."


    Noah opened his eyes and looked back at Austin. "Haha, she takes after you. Maybe I could meet your family someday."


    "You''re always welcome, Noah. I''m only a phone call away."


    "Much appreciated."


    "What about you? What do you plan on doing?" Austin asked, tilting his head slightly, curiosity etched on his face.


    "I don''t know," Noah admitted, his gaze hardening. "But I know this won''t be over. I have no intention of joining the corporations in whatever future they want." Austin raised an eyebrow.


    "How do you plan on doing that?"


    "I''m done being their tool," Noah said firmly. "I don''t know how or when, but I''ll fight back. One day, they''ll regret using us. It doesn''t matter if it takes a year or several decades¡ªI''ll find a way."


    Austin smiled at Noah, a mix of pride and quiet hope. He knew better than to try and stop him. Besides, maybe Noah really could make a difference someday.


    Noah returned a thin smile, a moment of mutual understanding passing between the two men.


    "Anyways," Noah said, his voice softening, "I think for now, I just want to rest. I wish you the best wherever you go."


    "Agreed¡ªand likewise, Noah. Good luck; I think you''ll need it." The two men exchanged one final handshake before parting ways.


    The rest of the night blurred by for everyone. R-Team and many other UNSAF soldiers gathered quietly, their conversations subdued. Some spoke about quitting, the weight of the night too much to bear. Others sat in silence, lost in their thoughts. Regardless of their feelings, each team was eventually loaded into armoured trucks and sent out of the city to rest¡ªor at least attempt to.


    Austin stayed behind, watching as the soldiers filed into their transports. One by one, their silhouettes disappeared into the hulking vehicles. In stark contrast, the executives lingered, basking in the spotlight. They spun their narrative with polished ease, manipulating the masses through interviews. The crowd, desperate for clarity or perhaps simply something to believe in, seemed all too eager to swallow the lies. The world was moving on from the so-called "terrorist plot."


    Should he be moving on too? Austin stared at the crowd, barely able to keep himself awake. With a weary sigh, he lowered himself onto the damaged road. He rested his elbows on his knees as he contemplated. Noah wasn''t moving on, that much was certain. But Austin wasn''t Noah. He shook his head, exhaling slowly. He was no longer a young man with the time or energy to fight battles that seemed impossible. He was a married man nearing forty, with responsibilities waiting for him at home. Not that he was complaining¡ªhe loved his wife and daughter dearly.


    Noah, still in his twenties though, had the fire and freedom to defy the corporations. But how far would he get? That much was uncertain.


    And so, Austin sat alone as the distant hum of trucks faded into the night. The once-chaotic sounds of the city had given way to an eerie quiet. His thoughts drifted to his family. Would they be proud of him? Or ashamed of the things he''d done in the name of duty? Could he even bring himself to tell them the truth about what had happened, or would he simply let sleeping dogs lie?


    He didn''t know. All he knew was that he wanted to go home.

 Chapter 9

    April 14, 2021. 23:55. Vancouver.


    We march toward the building entrance, brushing past a large crowd dancing the cool night away. The LED-lit structure reflects off nearby sports cars and luxury SUVs near the entrance. Smoke and expensive cologne linger in the air longer than they should, making me scrunch my nose. Coughing, I wave the smoke away and follow the rest of the party. The mingling and faint bass of music only deepen my desire to get this over with.


    My boots crunch against the pavement while Shock hums a tune to herself, fidgeting with a strange handheld device about the size of her palm. It¡¯s definitely not a phone; it looks more like a black rectangular box with small wires running into her bag. I raise an eyebrow but don¡¯t ask¡ªprobably one of those portable netrunner computers. She notices my gaze and lightly jabs me in the side with a childish grin.


    ¡°Interested? It¡¯s what I use for hacking!¡± She¡¯s surprisingly friendly, more so than I expected for someone related to the mafia. I shake my head, quick to reject the offer.


    ¡°A little, eh, it¡¯s not really my thing.¡±


    ¡°Oh, how come? I¡¯d love to teach you.¡± Shock raises a finger in the air as we walk. ¡°Y¡¯know, it¡¯s actually simpler than people expect! Ever heard of Python? It¡¯s a good start for learning code!¡± She looks at me with an excited twinkle in her eye. I know I have to reject the offer, but part of me feels guilty. It¡¯s like I¡¯m kicking a puppy.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard of it. Got a few friends that know a thing or two about code. Personally, though, I just don¡¯t really care for it.¡± I can see her shoulders droop and her voice lowers.


    ¡°Oh.¡± I snort out of amusement and let out a soft chuckle at Shock¡¯s sudden disappointment. I also make a mental confession that I tried to learn programming but got way too impatient and that¡¯s the reason why I asked Wissen to introduce me to someone like Nano. But no one else will know the truth about that. Shock tilts her head in confusion and furrows her eyebrows. Despite my lack of interest, I at least don¡¯t want to make the conversation too awkward for her. So, I¡¯ll at least humour the idea of it.


    ¡°Still though, if I do decide to learn, I¡¯ll let you know.¡± I give her a slight smile.


    ¡°Yay!¡± Shock happily nods along to my response and we continue walking with the party. Tetra follows after us not saying anything. Is it just me or does he seem nervous? Azure and Remi keep exchanging glances with one another for some reason but at this point, I¡¯ve given up on trying to learn more.


    Instead, my eyes dart between groups of well-dressed men and women laughing and drinking near the Dead Kings'' guards stationed by the massive double doors to their headquarters. Some wear streetwear, while others are in formal attire. Dressing nicely for events is fine¡ªI love it too¡ªbut my gaze lingers on the faint outlines of concealed weapons beneath their jackets and dresses.


    Although my heart beat steadily, my mind raced. It was a good call to not bring my duffle bag; too many people even if I brought my gear. The faint laughter of a woman grabs my attention and I turn to look. She wears a sequined dress and clings to a man in a tailored suit, both far removed from the Dead King¡¯s more violent side.


    Mister, walking ahead of the group, gestures for us to stay close. He exudes confidence and some¡­ casualty? Regardless, his stride remains unbroken as he approaches the main entrance. ¡°It¡¯ll be alright,¡± he muttered just loud enough for the party to hear. ¡°I¡¯ve got this handled.¡±


    I don¡¯t necessarily share Mister¡¯s optimism, but then again, he¡¯s the local fixer, not me. My gaze flicks to a pair of Dead Kings guards lounging near the doors.


    One of them, a tall, chocolate-skinned man with a gold chain, notices our group. His eyes narrow as he straightens his posture. Next to him, a shorter, broad-shouldered man with a neatly trimmed goatee scans the group uneasily, his hand hovering near his holstered weapon.


    ¡°Mister?¡± the tall guard says, his voice tinged with surprise. His gaze shifts to the rest of the group. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect the sudden visit. These your friends?¡±


    Mister steps forward, his expression calm but businesslike, and offers a brief nod. ¡°Good to see you, Royce.¡± He then points to the rest of us with a swift wave. ¡°They¡¯re with me. I¡¯m here on urgent business. I need to speak with Blake¡ªpotentially lucrative for the Dead Kings, and time-sensitive.¡±


    Royce hesitates, his gaze lingering on our group before returning to Mister. ¡°You know how it works, Mister. Blake doesn¡¯t just take unannounced meetings¡ªor randoms.¡± Royce¡¯s watchful gaze locks onto all of us as he says that.


    Mister doesn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°I understand, but I wouldn¡¯t be here without good reason. Let him know it¡¯s about a major distribution deal, one that could expand the Dead Kings¡¯ influence. I wouldn¡¯t waste his time.¡±


    The shorter guard with the goatee glances at Royce, then back at us, his hand still near his weapon. Royce considers Mister¡¯s words for a moment before speaking. ¡°Stay here. I¡¯ll let him know.¡± Royce disappears inside while the rest of us remain near the doors. Before the doors close, I spot Royce taking out his phone to make a call, Blake, I assume.


    I take the opportunity to scan the area again. The opulence around us doesn¡¯t do much to calm my nerves, but Mister looks unfazed, his confidence unwavering. Tetra avoids making eye contact with anyone while Azure and Shock seem to be enjoying the partying. Remi on the other hand constantly makes sour faces toward nearby Dead Kings guards but no one does anything. The man with the goatee stands on guard still but brings his hand down to the side once it¡¯s clear we don¡¯t plan on doing anything else until his partner returns.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    A few minutes pass by of us just standing around, waiting. I¡¯m tempted to ask why Remi decided to go in with us despite having bad blood with the gang, but I never get the chance to. Royce returns to us with a casual nod and waves towards the entrance. ¡°You¡¯re lucky you¡¯re in good standing. Blake is down to talk. But you know the rules¡ªdon¡¯t make me regret this.¡± The goatee guard especially looks at Remi when Royce mentions this. I avoid glancing back but I can only guess that while Mister¡¯s reputation will get us in, it might be Remi¡¯s that will land us in trouble later. Both guards step to the side and usher all of us in without any further issues.


    As the doors swing open, the thumping bass increases, almost a physical presence. The party moves inside, flanked by the guards¡¯ watchful eyes. I don¡¯t let my guard down for even a second, my senses twist in agony and it takes me a moment or two to adjust to an interior with bright lights. My eyes focus on the expensive decor around us, while my ears pick up a mix of laughter and loud conversations.


    The stadium floor is a sprawling party scene, with music thumping from massive speakers and lights flashing in sync. Groups of partygoers move between bars, dance floors, and lounge areas set up with plush seating and VIP sections. Booths selling Dead Kings merchandise are scattered throughout, featuring everything from branded hoodies to custom knives.


    I sweep over the crowd, analyzing every corner and exit. It didn¡¯t matter that Mister had gotten them through the front door, I was not taking any chances, not like earlier with AXIS¡¯ car. Although my wounds have healed, my damaged pride won¡¯t let me be as cocky again so soon. There are a few windows and probably some fire exits from when this place used to be more than just a gangster base. Mister slows down and walks closer to Azure to strike conversation with her.


    ¡°Azure, you said you run a shop in Burnaby, right? Later, would it be possible for me to send some equipment you could modify?¡± Azure takes short but confident strides alongside the fixer.


    ¡°Of course!¡± She nods and her lips curve into a grin. ¡°What did you want?¡±


    ¡°I have a vehicle that could be looked into and also,¡± Mister points at his helmet, or rather, the bottom of it. ¡°I¡¯d like an adjustment.¡±


    ¡°Oh, adjustment? It seems to suit you just fine.¡±


    ¡°No, the modulator.¡±


    ¡°Ahhh, afraid that your identity will be revealed? Is this the right time to ask here?¡± Azure tilts her head to the side while looking all around the area. Her strides remain small, but her hips have a certain methodical sway. ¡°Still, I¡¯d never say no to a potential client.¡± Her eyes relax but her smile remains. She¡¯s a damn fox, I don¡¯t trust her.


    I zone out the remaining details of their conversation and we move through the chaos. We pass by scantily clad partygoers and overly eager people trying their luck. Thanks to Mister, it doesn¡¯t take much for us to talk to the right people for them to escort us to a sleek elevator. Heavily armed Dead Kings guards wearing tactical armour appear more frequently as we get closer to our destination.


    The elevator ascends smoothly, taking us to a long hallway with dark velvet curtains and a polished interior accompanied by warm lighting. The loudness of the ground floor is muffled but still present even up here. Several golden statues of skulls wearing crowns and other jewellery are slapped onto them. Shock lets out an exaggerated gasp.


    ¡°Oooh!! Look at the lighting!¡± She points at the nearby lights and spins around on her foot. ¡°Y¡¯all ever just¡­¡± She doesn¡¯t even finish her sentence and instead does an exaggerated walk down the hallway. The party looks at her with confusion and amusement. Some nearby Dead Kings members chuckle while others stare at Shock. Tetra frowns and looks at the rest of us.


    ¡°Uh¡­ am I missing something?¡± Shock puts a hand on her hip and brings out one of her legs forward.


    ¡°Well?¡± Remi can be heard laughing in the background but I just move forward. All things considered, her runway walk wasn¡¯t bad. Azure follows after me and calls out to Shock.


    ¡°Not bad, you might have a second career in fashion.¡± I nod in Shock¡¯s direction. A little rough on the edges, especially the way she moves as it¡¯s a bit uncoordinated at points, but the passion is there.


    ¡°Yeah, you got some energy in your step. Maybe an agent will find you, one day.¡± I dare not mention anything further for fear of exposing myself, but at least, that should be considered general knowledge and encouragement for her. Shock¡¯s smile grows into a child-like goofy smile.


    ¡°You think? Yay! Maybe I¡¯ll retire and become a star.¡± Azure rolls her eyes and laughs as we finally catch up to Shock.


    ¡°Focus, princess. We¡¯re about to meet their boss.¡± Speaking of boss, I look back at Mister.


    ¡°By the way, have you ever met with Blake before? What¡¯s he like?¡± The masked fixer shakes his head.


    ¡°No, I never got the chance to. I¡¯ve only ever made connections to the middle management.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± I cautiously look at the nearby guards lined up against the wall as I talk. My voice lowers and I make sure that only the party can hear. ¡°Did you have a business deal with him or was that just an excuse?¡± Some fixers might consider this an insult to their work but I just want to know in case I need to make a quick escape. Just like earlier, Mister is hard to read and his response remains calm.


    ¡°I did. There was another matter in Vancouver I wanted to deal with.¡± I wait for a bit to see if he¡¯ll add more, but he doesn¡¯t.


    The hallway ends at a pair of massive doors guarded by two more Dead Kings, their body armour glinting under the soft overhead lights. They open the doors, revealing an expansive lounge with red velvet walls, polished black floors, and oversized windows offering a full view of the stadium below. Plush leather couches and gold-trimmed tables complete the luxurious scene. And then, I saw him.


    A man, no, a thing remains seated on one of the couches. He¡¯s massive, a large figure even while sitting down¡ªwith a completely cybernetic body save for his human head. His youthful porcelain face, adorned with sharp, almost playboy-like features, contrasts starkly with the black, industrial frame of his mechanical body. His dark hair, styled in a trendy two-block fade, gives him a modern, almost suave appearance despite the unnerving bulk of his cybernetic form. Surrounding him is a group of stunning women dressed in elegant, provocative outfits, each one radiating poise and confidence. Azure whistles a low tune.


    We all pour into the room with the guards closing the doors behind us. I have no clue how implanted Blake is, but it doesn¡¯t take a genius to know that his body is meant for heavy lifting. Despite sitting down, he takes up the entire damn couch and just a single woman looks like a stick compared to him. I can see the charm of his face, but personally, I¡¯m not a fan of someone with a massive body like that. Shock on the other hand is practically starstruck.


    ¡°Oh. My. God. He¡¯s like a real-life action figure. Where do I sign up?¡± What the fuck. I look at her with a side glance but make no vocal judgement. I keep my expression neutral and wait for Mister to step out to handle the discussion.


    Before Mister can even speak, Blake raises a glass on a nearby table beside him. An artificially deep and gravelly robotic voice is carried across the room. ¡°Welcome. I hear you¡¯ve got business with me.¡±

 Chapter 10

    April 15, 2021. 00:10. Vancouver.


    I stare at the freakishly large cyborg in disbelief. I won¡¯t lie, Blake¡¯s voice is strange but also oddly relaxing. It scratches at my ears. The women beside him remain silent, clinging to him like trophies. Tetra¡¯s eyes widen as he takes in Blake¡¯s imposing form.


    ¡°Is he even human anymore? Damn¡­¡± he murmurs.


    Azure tilts her head, inspecting the cybernetics. ¡°Barely. That body¡¯s built for heavy lifting or combat. You don¡¯t implant that much for show.¡±


    Mister clears his throat. ¡°Blake, thank you for seeing us. We¡¯re here on business and I¡¯ll just get right to the point. The Autumn Blade railgun, we know the Dead Kings have it, and I¡¯m prepared to negotiate a trade.¡±


    Blake leans back, his glowing red eyes narrowing as he processes Mister¡¯s words. Slowly, he rises to his full height. The room seems to shrink around him as he towers over everyone¡ªa solid seven feet of cybernetic power. I can barely hear the subtle whirring of cybernetic joints beneath his armour plating.


    ¡°Ahhh, I see. Before we do,¡± Blake says, gesturing toward a nearby bar. ¡°How about some drinks first?¡±


    The group exchanges glances, and most of us politely decline.


    Azure shakes her head with a polite smile.


    Tetra nervously stammers, ¡°Uhh, I¡¯ll pass.¡±


    Shock hesitates, pondering for a moment, but ultimately shakes her head. ¡°Nope! I¡¯m good.¡±


    Mister responds calmly, ¡°No thank you.¡±


    I remain quiet but lightly shake my head.


    Just when I think we¡¯re about to move on with the meeting, Remi grins like an idiot and opens his mouth. ¡°YOOOO! I¡¯ll take one. Somethin¡¯ strong, boss.¡±


    I have no clue how Remi isn¡¯t shitting himself, considering he¡¯s likely on the gang¡¯s watch list. But judging by Blake¡¯s reaction, maybe Remi isn¡¯t as infamous as I assumed.


    Blake chuckles, the mechanical rasp in his voice adding weight to his words. ¡°I like this one,¡± he says, walking to the bar along the wall of the room with surprising grace for his size. He grabs a bottle from the shelf and pours the contents into a glass.


    I watch him carefully. Despite his accommodating demeanour, Blake is a clear threat. This man¡ªif you can even call him that¡ªwasn¡¯t to be trifled with. I have nothing on hand that could deal with someone implanted like that. If things go south, I¡¯ll have no choice but to rely on my teammates¡ªif they can even help. My hope is that Shock has something to counter a cyborg like him, but my plans dissolve when I notice her practically drooling in awe of Blake.


    What is she, a high school fangirl? I lightly elbow the starstruck hacker, and she snaps back to reality.


    ¡°Huh? What?¡± Shock blinks at me with dog-like innocence, and I hear Azure giggle behind me.


    I turn to raise an eyebrow at her, but she just keeps laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. Then I hear it¡ªbeyond the laughter and the sound of pouring liquid, the rapid thud of footsteps. I immediately face the main doors we came through, and Tetra does the same.


    The doors swing open, and two more Dead Kings step inside. My heart skips a beat as memories of the afternoon flood back. It¡¯s the same pair I fought earlier.


    For a moment, I freeze as my mind races. My disguise and makeup are top-notch, altering my features just enough to make me look like another generic Asian woman. But would it be enough? Surprisingly, they seem alright, despite me kicking their asses earlier. Unlike me, though, they look worse for wear.


    The perverted dreadhead has multiple bandages and bruises along the spots I hit him, while the tanned buzzcut man sports a large bandage wrapped around his head. I won¡¯t lie, a part of me feels bad since I only went to AXIS¡¯ apartment to steal his car. They just ended up as collateral because I got careless. But at the same time, I have no loyalty to any of these guys.


    I discreetly take small steps backward, trying to blend into the rest of my party, making myself seem smaller and less noticeable. The dreadhead scans the room, and his gaze lands on Remi. His expression darkens, and he points at the rocker boy.


    ¡°What the fuck is he doing here?¡± Andddd now I get ready for violence. I slowly cross my arms and gently ease my dominant arm closer to where I holstered my gun.


    The buzzcut guard bristles. ¡°Remi, you got some big fucking balls to walk into our HQ after what you pulled.¡±


    Blake doesn¡¯t intervene. Instead, he leans casually against the bar, watching the scene unfold with a quizzical look.


    Mister raises his hands out, trying to de-escalate the situation. ¡°Gentlemen, we¡¯re here on business. Let¡¯s keep this civil¡ª¡± But, of course, Remi cuts him off, flipping both middle fingers in the air.


    ¡°Stop riding my dick, asshole. Every time somethin¡¯ happened to AXIS, y¡¯all fuckers think it¡¯s me!¡± Honestly, I¡¯d be laughing if it weren¡¯t for the fact my mission and life are on the line. ¡°I didn¡¯t kill AXIS, all right? I don¡¯t know how many goddamn times I have to tell you that shit!¡± He pauses for a second, then jeers at the two. ¡°Besides, whoever beat yo ass did a hard service. Now you can pass off as joytoys.¡±


    The buzzcut guard steps closer to Remi, jabbing a finger at him. ¡°Fuck. You.¡± He glares hard, teeth gritted. ¡°You think, you of all people, dare to come here, onto our turf, and then say whatever you wanna say?¡±


    Out of curiosity, I glance back at Blake and his entourage. They remain silent, watching the chaos unfold like it¡¯s entertainment. Part of me wonders why Blake doesn¡¯t intervene to maintain order, but maybe he finds this amusing. If he¡¯s not stopping it, that means he doesn¡¯t see this as serious¡ªyet.


    I snap back just in time to see Remi throw his hands in the air, exasperated.


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, I wouldn¡¯t have beat the shit out of Kevin if he didn¡¯t stop being a little bitch. Besides, he¡¯s fine, you think I¡¯d kill the prick?¡± The dreadhead snarls in response.


    ¡°You don¡¯t just fucking throw several eggs at AXIS and us because you feel like it!¡±


    ¡°HE DESTROYED MY BIKE! ALL BECAUSE I FUCKED HIS EX! IT¡¯S NOT MY FAULT MY DICK IS BETTER THAN HIS!¡±


    Mister tries to calm Remi down, grabbing his shoulder. ¡°Remi ple¡ª¡± But Remi kept going. But Remi shrugs him off and steps toward the fuming gangster.


    ¡°NAH, YOU KNOW WHAT!? I¡¯M FUCKING GLAD THAT AXIS DIED!¡± Remi sniffs the air dramatically and twists his head. Just when we think he¡¯s done, he twists the knife further. ¡°Bro made ass music compared to me, had shit taste compared to me, and LIVED A SHIT LIFE COMPARED TO ME!¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Behind him, I hear Azure stifle a laugh, but she¡¯s probably the only one on the team amused. I, on the other hand, am terrified. Pissing off gangsters in their own home, without any of my main guns? Great plan, so much for diplomacy. I notice the dreadhead slowly reach for his holstered gun. Remi, please stop.


    And, of course, things get worse. Just as the buzzcut thug opens his mouth, Remi throws the final wrench in the works. He points at me, and I feel life drain from my face.


    ¡°Besides, she¡¯s the one who killed him.¡± Remi, you motherfucker.


    The room goes dead silent. All eyes lock on me. My blood runs cold as the agitated guards turn their attention in my direction.


    Internally, I¡¯m screaming and thinking of ways to strangle Remi. I can¡¯t believe he just threw me under the bus. Outwardly, I straighten my posture and lower my voice, trying to deny the claim.


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous.¡±


    But Remi, ever oblivious, frowns. ¡°Wait, the hell¡¯s with your voice, choom? You¡¯re talking all weird.¡±


    I glare daggers at him, barely holding back the urge to throttle him on the spot. My makeup is perfect, done in a way to make anyone second-guess if they saw me earlier today. But Remi, sweet summer child Remi, just had to ruin it.


    The gangsters, thankfully, don¡¯t completely buy it. The dreadhead pulls out a gun I recognize instantly¡ªa revolver, the Smith & Wesson Model 686. He points it at Remi.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got one chance to explain yourself.¡±


    The buzzcut thug steps between me and Remi, glancing at me with suspicion. Shit, he recognizes my voice. But he doesn¡¯t act immediately; instead, he focuses back on Remi.


    Remi smirks. ¡°Damn, you guys always together? You know what people might say about that, right?¡±


    What happens next plays out in slow motion. My senses kick into overdrive as more footsteps echo in the distance. The gangster with the gun tightens his grip on the handle, his finger hovering over the trigger. The closer one¡¯s face twists with rage, his fists clenched tightly. The tension in the air is on the verge of snapping. I quickly scan the exits, mapping out everyone¡¯s positions. If Blake isn¡¯t going to act, then I will.


    ¡°Fuck it,¡± I mutter under my breath. Shock and Tetra glance at me, startled, but I don¡¯t care anymore.


    I surge forward, driving my knee into the nearest guard¡¯s groin. He doubles over with a pained grunt, but I¡¯m already moving. In one swift motion, I snatch the revolver from the other guard, clamping down on the cylinder.


    The first guard collapses to his knees, clutching himself in agony, while the second pulls the trigger in desperation. The revolver clicks uselessly, unable to fire. Before he can react further, I press my pistol firmly under his chin, freezing him in place.


    The room erupts into chaos shortly after as more gangsters rush inside to see what¡¯s going on. I disarm the gangster in one fluid motion, twisting to trap him in a chokehold. The world blurs, and I realize my haste might¡¯ve just escalated everything. But at this point, I double down and take a hostage. He¡¯s bound to be worth something, right? I keep my pistol pressed right under his chin at all times, using him as a meat shield as I edge toward the main doors.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Blake¡¯s loud, gravelly voice fills the room, drawing everyone¡¯s attention. Surprisingly, it isn¡¯t a voice filled with anger but a calm authority. He walks toward us with a drink in hand, towering over everyone in the room at his full height. His amused smirk fades as more Dead Kings flood into the room.


    Blake¡¯s body hums faintly with each movement, his cybernetics emitting a subtle, unsettling whir. With surprising grace, he gestures, commanding the chaos to subside. ¡°Stand down,¡± he says firmly, his gravelly voice cutting through the tension. His glowing red eyes scan the room, briefly landing on each of us before finally settling on me and Remi. ¡°Let¡¯s not turn a conversation into a full-blown combat zone.¡± He chuckles, the sound a low-pitched reverberation.


    Mister steps forward, raising his hands slightly in a placating gesture. ¡°Apologies for the... enthusiasm of my team.¡± I release my hostage with a gentle shove while Mister lightly tugs Remi to step back. ¡°We didn¡¯t come here looking for trouble.¡±


    Blake¡¯s lips curl into a faint smirk. ¡°Oh, I have no doubt that was the intention. But trouble seems to follow you anyways.¡± He lets out a deep laugh as he gets closer to Remi and hands him the drink he poured earlier. ¡°Nice moves,¡± he adds, nodding toward me. I keep my weapon at the ready but slowly lower it.


    The groaning Dead King I kneed earlier tries to rise, but a sharp glance from Blake freezes him in place. ¡°Take him out of here and leave us,¡± Blake orders. Two other gangsters step in to help their fallen comrade.


    Blake then points at the gangster I disarmed. ¡°Take him out too¡ªhe¡¯s had enough excitement for one night.¡±


    The disarmed gangster looks desperate, pleading like a child begging for a toy.


    ¡°But, sir, they¡ª¡±


    ¡°She could¡¯ve killed you. Whatever you¡¯ve got with Remi, we¡¯ll talk about it later. Leave.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    The gangsters exchange reluctant glances before throwing one last look of frustration at me and Remi. But they comply, leaving the room as the heavy doors close behind them. Blake turns his attention back to Mister.


    ¡°Well, you certainly have my attention now.¡± Blake folds his massive arms across his chest. ¡°I apologize. My men have been itching for action all night, and you chose an unfortunate time to visit. I let things play out of curiosity, but clearly, that wasn¡¯t the right move.¡±


    Remi takes a long sip from his drink. ¡°Thanks, boss man.¡±


    Blake chuckles again, breaking into a light cough. ¡°You¡¯re bold. I like it.¡± He gestures for everyone to take a seat in the nearby chairs as his massive form settles back onto the couch, surrounded by his harem. ¡°Now, let¡¯s actually talk business before someone else decides to get creative.¡±


    Shock nudges me with a grin. ¡°Oh my gosh, girl. You¡¯re fast.¡± I nod in her direction and take a seat.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Courtesy of my dad for teaching me that.


    It takes me longer than I¡¯d like to calm down. My heart still pounds softly in my chest, the thrum echoing in my head. I let out a slow and controlled breath, masking my nerves.


    Eager to move things along, Mister wastes no time launching into the purpose of our visit. ¡°As we discussed earlier, Blake, we know the Dead Kings were involved in a deal with an Autumn Blade railgun. We¡¯d like to have it.¡±


    Blake reclines into his seat, stroking his chin while one of the women leans against him.


    ¡°I see. And you said you¡¯re willing to bargain for it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct. I have clients eager for access to it.¡±


    ¡°Hm, you¡¯re in luck, then. The team responsible for securing it went missing after a firefight. They retreated into Surrey, most likely to throw off anyone pursuing them.¡± The combat zone, why?


    ¡°I assume they fell back to your old headquarters?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve done your homework.¡± Mister nods.


    ¡°I have. I also know that it¡¯s abandoned, and they¡¯re on the run from multiple gangs. They won¡¯t make it back without help.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I was thinking of sending some of my men, but you came to me first.¡±


    ¡°I would advise against that. Sending more Dead Kings would only attract more attention from rival gangs.¡±


    ¡°Fair point. So what do you propose?¡±


    ¡°Let my team help in tracking them down¡ªin exchange for the railgun.¡±


    Blake¡¯s face remains unreadable, but his body creaks faintly as he adjusts his seat. ¡°Interesting offer, but I¡¯ve also heard you¡¯re sniffing around for something else. Care to enlighten me?¡±


    Mister nods. ¡°I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re looking to expand¡ªmaybe into something a little less... kinetic. A bar in Burnaby, perhaps? They¡¯re hiring staff and security, and I just so happened to think of the Dead Kings first.¡±


    Blake¡¯s smirk returns. ¡°I see. So you think you can walk in here, almost start a fight, broker a deal for my ¡®merchandise,¡¯ and then pitch me a business venture¡ªall in one night?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the idea¡ªminus the fight, of course. I believe this will greatly benefit you and your crew.¡±


    The tension in the room eases. Blake smiles. ¡°I like a man who knows what he wants. Fine. You find my missing men, bring me the railgun, and we¡¯ll talk more after.¡±


    Mister extends a hand. ¡°Done.¡±


    Blake¡¯s massive cybernetic fingers dwarf Mister¡¯s hand as they shake. ¡°I¡¯d also like to talk more about your crew once you retrieve the railgun,¡± he says, his glowing red eyes locking onto me and Remi. Fuck¡¯s sake, we¡¯re not out of the woods yet. He shifts his gaze back to Mister. ¡°For now, speak to Timothy downstairs, he¡¯ll help you get your search started. You¡¯re free to leave, and I¡¯ll make sure none of my men bother you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Mister rises from his seat and waves for us to do the same.


    I stand up, and my team follows suit. We head toward the exit as Blake¡¯s women resume their chatter, the room returning to normal as if nothing had happened. The doors close behind us with a final thud.

 Chapter 11

    April 15, 2021. 00:35. Vancouver.


    The next few minutes are painfully awkward, at least for me. After leaving Blake¡¯s room, gangsters escort us downstairs. Most of them give me and Remi funny looks, but out of respect for their boss, they don¡¯t do anything more than that. Word spreads fast in the building about what happened earlier. Now, it feels like every pair of eyes is on us.


    I keep my cool, maintaining a confident composure, but Remi? He¡¯s giving everyone the stink eye like he owns the place. Mister leads the way at the front, composed as always, while the rest of us hang back. Not that I blame them. I¡¯d rather not walk too close to Remi either. Thankfully, it doesn¡¯t take long before we¡¯re back outside, the cold air hitting me like a relief I didn¡¯t know I needed.


    Mister stays behind to speak with some contacts, including whoever Timothy is. That leaves the rest of us waiting outside. It would¡¯ve been a good opportunity to relax¡ªif our group didn¡¯t immediately burst into conversation.


    Shock taps me and Remi on the back, her face lit up with a mix of enthusiasm and concern. ¡°Wow! I like totally thought we were gonna get into massive trouble there!¡±


    Tetra leans against a nearby railing, looking thoughtful. ¡°Yeah, so¡­ is this kind of thing normal when working with gangsters?¡±


    Azure shakes her head, arms crossed. ¡°No, it was just Remi being stupid.¡±


    Remi snorts, flaring his nostrils. ¡°Hey! I stood up for myself! Ain¡¯t no way I¡¯m letting those guys walk all over me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just lucky that the solo over here¡±¡ªAzure gestures at me¡ª¡°was there to save your ass.¡±


    ¡°Ey, I won¡¯t lie, she did come in a lil clutch but nothing would¡¯ve happened if none of those fuckers got in my way.¡±


    ¡°Right...¡± Azure chuckles softly before nudging me with her elbow. ¡°Mind showing me that move later?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± I shrug in response.


    Tetra raises a hand like he¡¯s in class, genuinely curious. ¡°Wait, Remi, why did you come in with us? I mean, you didn¡¯t have to.¡± The poor nomad genuinely looks confused about social customs. Depending on how sad this gets, one of us might have to help him get adjusted to living in the city.


    Remi shakes his head. ¡°Aight, choom, lemme tell you something.¡± He gestures Tetra to step closer, which he does. ¡°Ain¡¯t nobody messes with me, and I¡¯m not about to be anyone¡¯s bitch.¡±


    Tetra looks skeptical, tilting his head. ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t know man, I feel like that¡¯s just asking for trouble.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I can handle it.¡±


    At this point, I snort so loudly everyone looks at me. ¡°Dude, you can¡¯t be serious. We almost got screwed over because of your ¡®beef¡¯ with them.¡±


    ¡°Eh, we were fine.¡±


    ¡°Based on what?¡±


    ¡°Just saying, Blake was pretty chill. If the leader is chill then we¡¯re fine.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a massive assumption.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called facts. Anyways, we¡¯ve got a team that can kick ass if things go south.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t seen all of us in action yet.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to. Vibes don¡¯t lie.¡±


    ¡°What the fuck does that even mean?¡±


    ¡°I just got the vibes, choom. You ever look at someone and then know if they¡¯re gonna be chill or a bitch? Yeah, it¡¯s like the same thing.¡±


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that you genuinely believe we could¡¯ve won?¡±


    ¡°Yuh.¡±


    I roll my eyes, giving up on the argument. Tetra looks just as dumbfounded. Shock and Azure, mercifully, shift the conversation to Blake.


    Shock jabs Azure in the side. ¡°So, anyways, what do you think of Blake?¡± She wraps some hair around her finger and plays with it as she speaks. ¡°His face and the way his voice sounds, he¡¯s kind of¡­ hot.¡±


    Azure furrows her brows but nods. ¡°I¡¯m more interested in how implanted he is. The guy¡¯s a full borg, minimum. That¡¯s not stock, it¡¯s a heavily modified General Products FBC. Looks like it started as a construction frame.¡±


    Tetra looks even more confused. ¡°FBC?¡±


    Azure glances at him. ¡°Full-body conversion. Basically, everything from the neck down is cybernetic. And that armour plating? Custom job. No way it¡¯s corporate standard.¡±


    Shock, meanwhile, swoons further. ¡°Do you think he¡¯s¡­ natural down there, or is he borged out completely?¡± She gasps dramatically. ¡°How does he even use the restroom?¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Girl, what do you even see in him?¡±


    ¡°A ride...¡± Shock blushes, avoiding everyone¡¯s gaze.


    I blink, utterly flabbergasted. ¡°I¡­ see.¡±


    Remi shrugs. ¡°Ey, valid, I guess.¡±


    Azure just laughs and shakes her head while Tetra looks like he¡¯s trying to process Shock¡¯s comment. The doors behind us open before the conversation can spiral further, and Mister steps out.


    He adjusts his coat collar and looks at us. ¡°I¡¯m back, and I know where they are now. Did I miss anything important?¡±


    Tetra shakes his head. ¡°Nah, we were just talking about what happened earlier.¡± Yeah, that¡¯s one way of wording it.


    Mister nods. ¡°Understood. I went back to grab Blake¡¯s number in case anything went wrong. Also, the Dead Kings won¡¯t bother us as long as we don¡¯t start anything. You have my word.¡± His head turns to Remi.


    The rocker smirks. ¡°Good. If they don¡¯t start shit with me then I won¡¯t either.¡±


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s move.¡± Mister gestures toward the silver van. ¡°We¡¯re heading to Surrey.¡±


    We all turn and head to the van, leaving behind the bustling hub of activity.


    ¡­


    April 15, 2021. 00:47.


    The van hums softly as we cruise down the highway, leaving the bright lights of Vancouver behind and passing by its neighbour, Burnaby. The ride is mostly quiet. Shock sits near me, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. I clutch my duffle bag, staring out the window at the rapidly changing landscape. Remi sprawls in the back, probably on his phone too, while Azure is silent alongside him, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. Up front, Tetra listens intently as Mister explains the situation.


    ¡°So, to make sure everyone is on the same page. Carl, one of the Dead Kings¡¯ men who was part of the railgun team, retreated to Surrey. They were chased by a bunch of the gangs from Richmond all the way to Burnaby. Getting back to their main base, in Vancouver, was impossible. So, Carl and his team retreated to Surrey as a last-ditch effort.¡±


    ¡°Why Surrey?¡± Tetra asks.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s a combat zone, there¡¯s no law enforcement and it¡¯s overpopulated. The only form of control is found through gangs like the GTown Boys. Whatever happens there, no one asks questions. Vancouver is still rebuilding after the economic crash, and neighbouring areas only recently got the same treatment. Anything beyond, like Surrey, gets little attention.¡±


    Shock glances up from her phone. ¡°Wow, so this place is like¡­ a total dump?¡±


    Mister nods. ¡°Most of it. Burnaby and Richmond get modern expansions thanks to corporate funding, but places like Surrey and Langley are still lawless until Vancouver finishes stabilizing. Beyond that? It gets progressively worse¡ªpractically unlivable.¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Wait, so what¡¯s the whole deal with this ¡®economic crash¡¯? It looks like North America got it worse than us. Back in Europe, we didn¡¯t really have a problem. Once the markets crashed, it took only a few weeks to reset and we¡¯re all brand new.¡±


    ¡°Canada didn¡¯t have the same corporate infrastructure as Europe. The country relied more on traditional industries, and when the crash hit, those industries crumbled and took many cities out with them. Cities like Vancouver were the first to get rebuilt because they were profitable for trade and tech. But cities away from the water and further inland are still on the list of planned fixes. The government just can¡¯t keep up.¡±


    I stare out the window as we pass rows of run-down buildings and flickering streetlights. I¡¯m still listening to the conversation, but I care very little about the financial situation of Canada now. Back then it was a different story of course.


    My eyes catch the glint of broken glass scattered across cracked sidewalks. We pass a damaged sign that reads ¡°SFU,¡± once marking Simon Fraser University¡¯s satellite Surrey campus. I stare at the weathered husk of metal and shattered neon, a hint of melancholy creeping in. Memories tug at me¡ªI used to study here, though at the main Burnaby campus, as a kinesiology student. And now? I¡¯m just a college dropout, forced to leave and make ends meet¡­ illegally.


    The van rolls to a stop on King George Boulevard, a sprawling road cutting through the entirety of the combat zone. Barely maintained apartment complexes and derelict stores loom around us. Faint neon signs buzz, casting uneven light onto the streets. Broken streetlights flicker weakly, illuminating scattered groups of people that walk by.


    Shock wrinkles her nose. ¡°This place is¡­ not it.¡±


    Tetra leans forward, peering out the windshield. ¡°Yeah, no kidding. It¡¯s like the city just gave up on it.¡±


    Mister parks the van and adjusts his coat. ¡°They did, at least temporarily. Surrey was abandoned to prioritize Vancouver¡¯s expansion. The farther from Vancouver you go, the worse it gets.¡±


    ¡°Gestalt¡¯s been ambitious,¡± Azure adds, finally breaking her silence. ¡°He wants to rebuild Canada faster by relying on corporations, but his political rivals think he¡¯s overreaching. The local companies can¡¯t even survive here, let alone make a difference. It¡¯s¡­ complicated.¡±


    I glance at a row of boarded-up storefronts and graffiti-covered walls. ¡°Complicated or not, this place is a shit show.¡±


    Mister cuts in, his tone sharp. ¡°Let¡¯s focus on the mission at hand. This used to be the Dead Kings¡¯ HQ before they moved to a safer location.¡± He points at a nearby derelict building. ¡°It¡¯s been abandoned for a while and most likely ransacked. If Carl¡¯s team retreated here, they¡¯re desperate.¡±


    We step out of the van, the cold biting through the still night air. The silence is broken only by the hum of distant engines and the faint chatter of unseen voices. I grab my duffle bag and haul it over my shoulders, the familiar weight snugly fits onto my frame. Mister surveys the area while Shock pulls out her cyberdeck, scanning for nearby signals.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see if any cameras are still functioning.¡±


    Tetra and Azure pair up, heading toward the building¡¯s main entrance. Azure¡¯s voice carries as she explains something about structural weaknesses and needing Tetra to help out. Whatever that means. The two vanish into the shadows as they scout ahead.


    Mister turns to me and Remi. ¡°Let¡¯s check the perimeter.¡±


    ¡­


    April 15, 2021. 00:53. Surrey.


    We spread out, the tension thick in the air. The once-luxurious towers now stand as hollow reminders of ambitions gone wrong. Glass crunches underfoot as we move, every sound amplified in the quiet. My hand instinctively rests on my holstered pistol, ready for anything.


    Remi, Mister, and I weave our way around the perimeter, keeping a low profile as we take in the area. The ruined buildings stand like grave markers, each one telling a story of abandonment. Some structures are barely standing, their walls cracked and crumbling. Others still cling to some semblance of utility, with faint lights flickering in the windows and distant sounds of movement inside.


    The streets, though quiet, are far from empty. I pick out the figures scattered along the sidewalks and alleyways. Homeless individuals huddle in corners, wrapped in mismatched layers of fabric to ward off the chill. Others, probably ordinary citizens, shuffle past with heads low and shoulders hunched. Then there are the bums¡ªlouder and rowdier types who lean against walls or stumble between streets. God, their voices are so annoying. Their words are slurred as they laugh or argue over nothing of importance.


    But what catches my attention most are the implants some of these guys have. It¡¯s not uncommon to see cybernetics here, there are plenty of cheap ones out there. Sloppy. Ugly. Overdone. I study them with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. Limbs that look like they¡¯ve been haphazardly bolted on, mismatched metals clashing in a garish display. Neural links that spark intermittently, a clear sign of poor maintenance or cheap knockoffs.


    ¡°I¡¯d hate to live here,¡± I mutter under my breath, my tone laced with derision. ¡°This entire place is ass.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯d you say?¡± Remi asks, glancing over at me.


    ¡°This place is a hell hole.¡± I shake my head. As I do, my attention shifts to other men with implants, quickly categorizing each one. I don¡¯t know much beyond basics but it doesn¡¯t take a genius to know these are low quality. But then, I freeze.


    Five men emerge from an alleyway up ahead, their movements sharp and coordinated. At first glance, they blend in with the chaos of the combat zone, but something about them is... off. Their lower faces are entirely cybernetic, metallic jaws and cheeks gleaming under the dim, broken lights.


    It¡¯s not just the implants¡ªit¡¯s their uniformity. Each one of them has the same setup: robotic lower faces, glowing goggle-like eyes that pierce through the dark, and a sense of purpose that stands out starkly in a place where most people wander aimlessly.


    These aren¡¯t just random thugs. They¡¯re organized. I look at Mister and point them out to him.


    ¡°Shit, you see those guys?¡±


    He stops staring at a nearby ruined store. ¡°What is it?¡± Mister asks quietly, his tone clipped but calm. Remi, sensing the tension, stops fiddling with his jacket and straightens up.


    I jerk my chin toward the group. ¡°Over there. Five of them.¡±


    ¡°Ah, Melders.¡±


    ¡°Ah shit, here we go again.¡± Remi¡¯s brows furrowed. He brings his knuckles together and cracks them.


    Mister keeps his voice low as he talks. ¡°They¡¯re way outside their turf, they must really want the railgun.¡±


    I narrow my eyes, my hand instinctively resting over my pistol. ¡°They¡¯re scouting too.¡±


    Mister nods. ¡°It¡¯s probably stragglers. We need to take care of them soon.¡±


    We slow our walking pace and I survey the group of Melders. ¡°Five of them, they all got some iron on them. I tilt my head as I try to recognize the weapons they use. A bunch of Uzi Miniauto 9s. ¡°We can¡¯t leave them alive. Too risky. No gunfire of course.¡±


    Mister nods. ¡°Agreed, we need to do this quietly. Artemis, would you like to take point?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± I focus my senses, my eyes dart from the group to nearby areas I can abuse. Then, I turn back to look at my teammates. ¡°Here¡¯s the plan. I¡¯ll take the first one¡ªthe one on the left, closest to the alley. He¡¯s isolated enough. Mister, you¡¯re next. Quiet takedowns. Remi, you keep an eye on the rest. If things go sideways, distract them.¡±


    Remi grins. ¡°Aight, say less.¡± I hope he doesn¡¯t go overboard.


    ¡°Let¡¯s stay close enough to cover each other, but don¡¯t split too far.¡±


    I shift my weight, checking my gear. Knife? Ready. Pistol? Holstered for now. Utility pouch? A quick rummage confirms a few sound emitters and a small flash charge among other things. It¡¯ll do.


    The Melders are spread out, chatting in low voices, their attention half on each other and half scanning the street. Their glowing goggles flicker ominously in the dim light.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I whisper and slip into the shadows. I effectively cross the distance between me and my first target.


    The first one doesn¡¯t even hear me coming. One quick hand over his mouth, and a knife slices across his throat. I ease him to the ground while making sure none gets on me; blood pools silently beneath him.


    Mister moves next, circling behind another Melder. His movements are slower and less practiced than mine but they¡¯re still effective. A quick chokehold silences the second target, and he drags the body into the shadows. Good enough.


    I quicken my pace and relocate myself. I signal to Remi, my hand quickly flicking towards the remaining three. One of them turns slightly as if sensing something amiss, but Remi steps out of hiding with an exaggerated yawn.


    ¡°Yo, chooms! Lost or something?¡± he calls out, his tone casual but loud enough to draw their attention.


    The Melders immediately react, two drawing weapons while the third shouts, ¡°Who the fuck¡ª¡±


    Remi raises his hands mockingly. ¡°Woah! Bro, relax! Just passing through.¡±


    The distraction works. While the Melders focus on Remi, Mister and I close in, taking out the remaining two with brutal efficiency. The final Melder notices too late, his gun halfway raised before my knife finds its mark.


    The alley falls silent, save for the hum of distant machinery and Remi¡¯s chuckle. ¡°Shiii.¡±


    I wipe my knife on a piece of cloth from the nearby Melder. Mister exhales sharply, checking the bodies for anything useful. ¡°Let¡¯s hope Carl didn¡¯t hear any of that.¡±


    Minutes pass and the entire party regroups at the front of the building. We keep low as we report to one another.


    Shock is the first to speak, her voice hushed but confident. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s all clear. Just the five Melders. No signs of reinforcements for now.¡± Her eyes glow a faint purple and her left fingers tap against the air. ¡°There are definitely Dead Kings inside, though.¡± Her right hand swipes at something invisible. ¡°There¡¯s a few old firewalls and security systems but they¡¯re easy to bypass. I¡¯d give it another ten minutes tops before anyone else catches on.¡±


    Azure crosses her arms, glancing at the building¡¯s crumbling facade. ¡°The whole place is falling apart. The first floor¡¯s got broken windows and doors that barely latch. Breaking in shouldn¡¯t be an issue either.¡±


    Tetra nods, adding, ¡°Yeah. We also took a look at any other ways to get in. But most of them are either boarded up or too risky. There¡¯s a lot of exposed rebar and collapsed sections. The front entrance is our best bet.¡±


    Mister scans the group, his expression unreadable as usual. ¡°Then let¡¯s move. We¡¯ve got the advantage, but it won¡¯t last. If anyone else shows up, we risk losing Carl or running into reinforcements.¡±


    I adjust the strap on my duffle bag, my gaze fixed on the building. Although I doubt my equipment will see use tonight¡ªat least, I hope it won¡¯t¡ªbut I still plan on bringing it in case. I check my knife and pistol one last time. ¡°Ready.¡±


    The group exchanges quick nods, our unspoken agreement settling over us like a weight. The building towers ahead, its broken windows and graffiti-streaked walls a testament to years of neglect. Somewhere inside, Carl and his crew are hiding¡ªor cornered. We slip into the shadows, disappearing into the rundown building as the city¡¯s chaos hums faintly in the background.

 Chapter 12

    April 15, 2021. 00:55. Surrey.


    The party steps into the building¡¯s hollowed-out interior. I sniff the air. It¡¯s thick with the scent of mildew and decay. Crumbling walls stretch into nearby shadows. The moonlight illuminates them faintly through the filter of shattered windows. I take a small step forward and the floor groans under my weight, a mixture of dust and debris crunching under my foot.


    Remi coughs with raised eyebrows and a look of uncertainty on his face. ¡°Yo, this place is straight-up a horror movie. You think there¡¯s a ghost or something?¡±


    Azure snickers, her voice light. ¡°If there is, it¡¯s probably pissed we broke in.¡±


    I sigh, glancing back at them with a hiss. ¡°Keep it down and watch your step.¡±


    Mister nods, his voice low but commanding. ¡°We¡¯re here to get the Dead Kings out, not entertain ourselves. Please stay focused.¡±


    Tetra shifts uncomfortably, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the room. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s uh, not push our luck. This isn¡¯t what I¡¯m normally paid to do.¡±


    Shock fidgets her fingers around aimlessly. ¡°Yeah, same. I¡¯m a hacker, not a fighter.¡±


    I glance at them, noting the tension in their posture. I¡¯m a little annoyed, not gonna lie, but I know better than to dismiss their nerves outright. It¡¯s not their fault this kind of work is new to them. ¡°Alright, listen,¡± I whisper. ¡°Stay light on your feet and follow my lead. Sound carries in places like this. If you hear or see something, let me know immediately.¡±


    I readjust my duffle bag, grateful for having invested in quiet and ergonomic gear. I make sure that each step I take is deliberate, my movements fluid and soundless. The others follow without any objection, albeit less gracefully, naturally. Their collective presence presses through the ruined halls.


    Some time passes by and we successfully wander the desolate halls. Eventually, we run into an old security room, which allows Shock the chance to mess around. She successfully hijacks nearby security systems and then can remotely access them. It doesn¡¯t take her long to confirm that Carl and his men are in the building.


    The only issue was that they were several floors above us, and the only way up to them was through crumbling staircases. Still, even with the awkward environment, we continue moving. We maneuver past collapsed walls and makeshift barricades. Each floor presents new obstacles: jagged metal, debris-strewn paths, and ominous creaks that make us hesitate occasionally.


    Midway up, we encounter the first trap in a darkened hall. A taut tripwire glints faintly under my flashlight and I raise my hand to signal to the party. ¡°Stop, trap.¡±


    Azure kneels to inspect it, her brows furrowing. She extends her hand out, and her fingers transform into a variety of tools. ¡°Basic sensor rig, gimme a sec.¡± She disables it with a few deft motions, cutting the wire and disarming the attached alarm. ¡°Easy.¡±


    Ahead, multiple traps lie in the hall but Azure quickly deals with them one by one. We walk behind her, keeping an eye out as she gets to work. Her tools glint under the moonlight as she remains crouched to disarm a pressure plate. ¡°Y¡¯know, whoever set these didn¡¯t have much time. It¡¯s kind of sloppy.¡±


    While Azure is reporting her success, a sudden feeling of dread builds up in me. My senses prick at the edges of my awareness, subtle but persistent. A faint sound¡ªlike a shuffle or a distant snap¡ªcatches my attention. I snap my head, to a nearby hallway, my eyes scanning through the dark.


    A flicker of red light? I¡¯m not sure. Something glows faintly in the corner of my vision, vanishing just as quickly as it appears. My hand instinctively rests on my pistol.


    Tetra notices my tension. ¡°Artemis, you good?¡±


    I shake my head, my voice barely audible. ¡°I thought I saw something.¡±


    He frowns, his tone cautious. ¡°Well, if it¡¯s you saying that, it¡¯s worth keeping in mind.¡±


    I stare at the hall for a few more seconds. My grip tightens on my weapon one last time before I let both the pistol and the red light go. ¡°Thanks.¡± Am I just paranoid? I shake my head and follow after the group.


    ...


    April 15, 2021. 01:20. Surrey.


    The remainder of the trip to the seventh floor is just as uneventful as the earlier floors. The hallway is eerily silent, save for the occasional creak of settling metal. Shock directs us to a door marked by fresh scuffs and reinforced hinges, clearly the Dead Kings¡¯ makeshift stronghold.


    Mister steps forward, raising a hand to the group. ¡°One moment, let me handle this.¡± He knocks lightly against the door, his voice calm. ¡°Carl? It¡¯s Mister. We¡¯re here on Blake¡¯s orders.¡±


    Inside, I hear a muffled sound of movement. A gruff voice calls out, laced with suspicion. ¡°Who the hell is Mister? How do I know you¡¯re not lying?¡±


    Still monitoring the hacked camera feed, Shock whispers to Mister. ¡°Careful, he¡¯s got a shotgun at the door.¡± Mister doesn¡¯t flinch and instead remains in place.


    ¡°Blake sent us to get you out of here. The Melders outside are dead. You¡¯re safe to leave.¡±


    Carl¡¯s voice remains wary. ¡°Blake¡¯s orders, huh? Prove it.¡±


    Mister tilts his head slightly, his tone unwavering. ¡°If Blake didn¡¯t send us, would we have gotten this far without him knowing? He wants you back in Vancouver. You¡¯re safe enough to contact him, go on, I can wait.¡±


    ¡°Give us a bit.¡±


    Then, there¡¯s silence that lasts for a few minutes. Eventually, the door creaks open, revealing Carl and his team. They¡¯re armed and visibly worn, their faces lined with fatigue. ¡°Aight,¡± Carl mutters, lowering his weapon. ¡°Let¡¯s go. But if this is a setup, you¡¯re going first.¡±


    One of the other Dead Kings, robust with plenty of tattoos, grunts and carries a large grey case with a handle. The recognition and excitement kick in almost immediately and the team knows immediately what¡¯s inside. He hands us the container. ¡°Careful, it¡¯s the real deal.¡±


    We then split up to handle different tasks. It¡¯s almost unanimous, without any discussion, really. Mister and Remi volunteer to escort Carl and his crew to their car. Meanwhile, Azure and Tetra work together to transport the railgun.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    I stay behind with Shock, scanning the area for any remaining threats with the rest slowly making their way down. Shock leans against a wall as she rapidly jumps between different camera feeds and I quietly walk down the hallway. My senses are still active, and the earlier flicker of red continues gnawing at my mind. Wasn¡¯t there something weird in this part of the neighbourhood? I recall reading a headline earlier today and it mentioned Surrey. But I couldn¡¯t quite remember what it was. As I roam the darkened hallways, my gaze sharpens¡ªand then I see it.


    A faint red glow flickers in the distance, accompanied by the soft hum of something mechanical. My pulse quickens as I step into cover, gun at the ready. I whisper to my nearby hacker with a slightly hurried tone of voice. ¡°Shock, check the corner for me.¡±


    Shock hums, her fingers dancing in the air. ¡°Give me a sec.¡± She chirps away and checks the nearby cameras. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just a busted LED. There¡¯s nothing to worry.¡±


    She says that, yet, I don¡¯t lower my weapon. The glow persists, accompanied by the faintest sound of retreating footsteps. Yeah, no, I wasn¡¯t imagining it. My pulse quickens. ¡°That¡¯s not just an LED.¡±


    Shock looks up and stops typing in the air. ¡°You sure?¡±


    I don¡¯t answer immediately, my eyes still fixed on the shadowy corridor. ¡°We need to go. Now.¡±


    Shock and I break into a pace that¡¯s just shy of a full-on sprint but faster than someone speedwalking. I don¡¯t know what she¡¯s feeling, but I¡¯m somewhat terrified. I hate it when I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m up against. Thankfully, by the time we caught up to the party, they already exited the tower. We regroup outside as the cold night air washes over us.


    We exchange brief words with Carl and his men as they climb into their vehicle, letting them know we¡¯ll return to discuss business with Blake after handling other matters. They nod their thanks and drive back to Vancouver. That just leaves us with the railgun.


    Back at the van, the team exchanges wary glances. While the others climb back in, I linger outside just a tiny bit longer, my thoughts racing. Whatever I saw¡ªor thought I saw¡ªstill lingers in my mind. Just who the hell was that?


    Mister breaks my concentration, his voice steady. ¡°Artemis, we¡¯ve got what we came for. Let¡¯s head back to Vancouver and plan our next move.¡±


    I relent and climb into the van. ¡°Okay, fine.¡± My grip on my pistol refusing to loosen even as Mister¡¯s vehicle hums to life. Surrey fades into the distance, but my unease remains.


    The tension eases as we cut through the dimly lit streets, entering Burnaby. I fall back into my chair while Remi and Shock go back to looking at their phones. It¡¯s Azure and Tetra that keep an eye on the railgun case.


    ¡°I¡¯m just gonna get right to the point. Can we open it?¡± Azure¡¯s voice cuts through the quiet, her tone neutral but laced with curiosity. She looks at all of us as she asks.


    Tetra glances at her, eyebrows raised. ¡°Uh, Is that really a good idea? What if it¡¯s booby-trapped or something?¡±


    I wave a hand dismissively. ¡°Nah, if it was rigged, Carl and his guys would¡¯ve been blown to bits long before we got here.¡±


    Mister glances at the rearview mirror. ¡°If we open it, we need to be careful. No unnecessary risks. Everyone okay with that?¡±


    A round of reluctant nods follows. Azure leans forward, her fingers once again transforming into a series of tools as she holds the case against her. The rest of the party shifts slightly, some out of nervousness, others out of excitement.


    Azure carefully unscrews the safety locks on the crate, her movements precise and practiced. The hiss of depressurization fills the van as the lid pops open, revealing a sleek, angular weapon inside. Even at a glance, it¡¯s clear this isn¡¯t just any weapon¡ªit¡¯s something beyond anything currently on the market.


    I lean in, my eyes narrowing as I study it. Smart weaponry isn¡¯t new, corporations have been working on tracking bullets for years. But, this is something else.


    The railgun lies nestled in its foam casing. The black matte chassis absorbs faint light. The weapon¡¯s sharp angles and smooth contours exude a strange predatory elegance. Pulsing blue lines run along the length of the barrel, faintly glowing with some sort of energy. Azure carefully lifts the weapon from its foam casing, revealing more details to the rest of us.


    The barrel is long and sleek, similar to a sniper rifle of sorts. The surface is lined with subtle grooves, likely designed to aid in heat dissipation. The muzzle flares slightly with a reinforced end cap that bears small vented slits, which I assume is for the immense power generated with each shot. Still, I don¡¯t see any physical bullets or anything of the like anywhere. Could it be that this shoots raw energy?


    Azure¡¯s fingers tap against a small button on the side of the weapon. A holographic display near the top of the gun reveals itself, acting as a scope if this was a regular weapon. It shows simple readouts for charge levels, diagnostics, and remaining shots in a muted blue glow.


    My eyes trail along the grip itself. It¡¯s ergonomic and designed with a wrapped textured material. The stock seems to be adjustable, with minimal decoration. Whoever designed this prioritizes function over form.


    ¡°This thing¡¯s no joke,¡± Azure mutters with a mix of admiration and¡­ frustration in her voice?


    I watch Azure closely. The way she handles the weapon isn¡¯t just professional¡ªit¡¯s deeply familiar. ¡°You know this?¡±


    Azure smirks, not looking up from her work. ¡°What? You think you¡¯re the only one who knows her way around guns?¡± Her words are playful, but something in her body language doesn¡¯t sit right with me. A subtle shift in her posture, a flicker of tension in her voice. She¡¯s hiding something.


    Remi leans back in his seat, whistling low. ¡°Shit, that thing¡¯s gassed out. You think it can take out a tank?¡±


    Tetra scoots closer. ¡°Or a city block?¡±


    Shock tilts her head and coos. ¡°Oh my gosh, the blue lights are so cute though!¡±


    Part of me wants to continue bugging Azure, but I ultimately file the thought away for later. No point in pestering her for now.


    Azure unscrews a few panels on the weapon, revealing its internals. Her excitement dims as she examines the internals. ¡°It¡¯s incomplete.¡±


    I peer over her shoulder, studying the exposed components. ¡°The hell? The firing mechanisms make sense¡ªthe trigger and targeting systems look functional. But¡­¡± And then my eyes notice the center of the weapon, it¡¯s hollow and something is missing.


    Azure points to the hollow space. ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s no power supply.¡±


    Remi leans forward, frowning. ¡°You think Carl or his guys took it?¡±


    ¡°No chance,¡± Mister interjects firmly. ¡°They didn¡¯t even know how to use this thing, let alone modify it.¡±


    Azure nods in agreement, tapping the hollowed section with her tool fingers. ¡°Yeah, this looks intentional. Whoever made this, designed it to use a specialized power source. I¡­ have no clue what it¡¯d be, but I bet it¡¯s something crazy,¡± Azure tugs at the wiring and gently pulls out a small box plastered with electrical tape and stickers. ¡°Seems like it¡¯s using a battery of sorts for temporary power though, probably military grade.¡±


    ¡°Any idea what kind of battery?¡± Tetra asks, tilting his head.


    ¡°Not really, it could be anything,¡± Azure replies, her voice distracted as she continues to inspect the weapon. Her hands pause as she notices a sleek black device tucked into the railgun¡¯s casing. ¡°Wait, what the hell is this?¡± She carefully pulls it out, holding it up to the dim light. The sleek, unmarked device looks harmless enough, but its unexpected presence feels ominous.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Mister asks, his tone sharp as he drives.


    ¡°Not sure,¡± I frown. ¡°It¡¯s some weird black box. Doesn¡¯t look like it¡¯s supposed to be part of the gun.¡±


    Shock pulls out a cable from her computer. ¡°Let me see.¡± She connects to the device, her eyes glow and her fingers rapidly type in the air. Within moments, her eyes widen. ¡°Oh, I see! Uhmmm.¡±


    The rest of us stiffen while Mister calmly asks. ¡°What is it?¡±


    Shock glances up, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. ¡°It¡¯s broadcasting the railgun¡¯s location to someone.¡± Shit.

 Interlude: Erica

    April 9, 2021. 15:20. Burnaby.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, Jamie!¡± Erica repeatedly tugs on her best friend¡¯s sleeve. Her voice is a playful mix of desperation and excitement. ¡°It¡¯s Friday! I¡¯ve been hyped for this all day!¡±


    Jamie sighs, retracting her arm from the relentless pulling. ¡°No.¡± Her reply is both flat and deadpan. ¡°I wanna go home and game.¡±


    Rather than giving up, Erica tightly wraps her arms around Jamie¡¯s torso. ¡°Pleeeeeease?¡± Erica¡¯s cheerful persistence goes into overdrive. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since we hung out!¡±


    The two friends stand in the corner of a bustling school hallway. The afternoon sun streams through the various large windows, long shadows casted along the bustling halls of the building. Neatly maintained brick walls and clean hallways build an atmosphere of a middle-class high school.


    Students hurry past Erica and Jamie, eager to rush to their lockers and out the doors. The noise of conversation between friends walking around the building and the honking of carpool rides flood the ears of Erica. But that didn¡¯t matter, she had one goal for this Friday afternoon: convince Jamie to go shopping with her. And she would not take no for an answer, at least not easily.


    Jamie stiffens under Erica¡¯s enthusiastic embrace. ¡°Shopping is boring,¡± Jamie mutters, trying to peel Erica off her. ¡°It¡¯s all the same.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t mean it,¡± Erica insists, pouting as she holds on tighter. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s Metrotown! I¡¯ll go to your favourite gaming and anime stores!¡±


    As Erica waits for Jamie¡¯s answer, nearby students walk past and wave goodbye to both of them. Jamie rolls her eyes while Erica waves in return.


    A silence then follows. Jamie stares at Erica with disbelief and conflict. Around them, lockers slam shut, with laughter and chatter echoing throughout the entire area. Outside, a faint hum of traffic mixes with the occasional distant shout from the nearby basketball court.


    Jamie¡¯s nose scrunches in annoyance. She brushes back her straight, shoulder-length black hair. Her face is neither beautiful nor ugly¡ªit¡¯s average, while her average-shaped build and height wears a plain white shirt and black sweatpants, with little effort. The shirt is slightly wrinkled as if she couldn¡¯t be bothered to fix it. Her expression remains blank, her eyes dull as if she¡¯s already over the entire situation.


    Erica, on the other hand, radiates energy as she looks at Jamie with a puppy-like innocence. Her clothing choice is immaculate, a pleated navy-blue blazer accompanied by a similarly designed skirt. A vibrant blue bow hangs off of her collar, reflecting her personality. Shiny black hair falls neatly over her shoulders, framing her delicate features. Her polished appearance contrasts sharply against Jamie¡¯s, a visual representation of how different they are.


    A few seconds pass and Jamie lets out another sigh. She resigns herself to the whims of someone she can¡¯t refuse forever. ¡°Fine,¡± she says at last. ¡°I¡¯ll go.¡±


    Erica lets out a happy squeal, practically bouncing on her heels. ¡°YES! I knew you¡¯d come around!¡± She releases Jamie and flashes her a triumphant grin. ¡°Okay, okay, go get ready! I¡¯ll meet you at the front in ten minutes!¡±


    With that, Erica spins on her heels and jogs toward her locker. Along the way, she waves to several groups of nearby friends. Quick conversations are made as the young socialite zooms past many of her friends in the school. As she arrives at her locker to pack up, her phone buzzes in her pocket. Hm? Curiosity pulls at her and she takes out her phone to find a text from her dad. Oh! With eager hands, she reads the incoming text.


    ¡°Be careful, sweetie. There¡¯ve rising cases of cyberpsychosis recently in Vancouver. Stay alert.¡±


    Erica¡¯s smile softens. Her dad¡¯s concern is nothing new, but she loves how much he looks out for her. She quickly types a response.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry!! Jamie and I are going to Metrotown to shop. We¡¯ll be in Burnaby all day! :D¡±


    A response from her dad comes in almost immediately.


    ¡°Haha, alright, enjoy your Friday. I¡¯ll be at Metrotown later to pick you up. Wanna get dinner together after? Jamie¡¯s invited of course.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Erica grins and types back. ¡°Sure! See you tonight. I¡¯ll let her know <3¡± She slips her phone back into her pocket and finishes packing up her bag, satisfaction lighting up her face.


    A series of checks is made that is no different than every other day, concluded by a breath of relief. With that, Erica turns back to rejoin Jamie. She zips around several corners back to the main doors, but some students catch her eye.


    They speak in hushed tones and occasionally look over their shoulders. Their heads are either shaved or covered by beanies, and their baggy, scratchy hoodies hang loosely over their thin frames. The look is almost grunge or punk-like; clothing clearly mismatched and worn.


    Erica, ever friendly, waves at them. ¡°Hey, guys!¡± she says cheerfully.


    The group gives her a mixture of wary glances and muttered replies. One of them whispers loudly to another, ¡°Hide the powder, cop girl¡¯s here.¡±


    Erica freezes for a moment, the comment sinking in. What? Her smile falters for a fraction of a second, but she recovers quickly. The friendly atmosphere suddenly disappears, replaced by a sting. Cop girl? It¡¯s not the first time her dad¡¯s job as a police officer made her a subject of suspicion or awkward jokes. Although she¡¯s learned to live with the reputation, it doesn¡¯t make moments like this any easier.


    The sense of isolation cuts deep, an impenetrable wall she can¡¯t tear down. While she has no intention of befriending those involved in illegal activity, she still hopes to make the most of her high school experience. But even so, her love and loyalty to her dad was undeniable. Years of instruction from him warn Erica of not interfering with police business for her own safety and she knows that¡ªnot like that stopped anyone else from assuming otherwise though.


    Instead of ruminating further on her reputation, Erica narrows her eyes. Her smile is steady but anger twists beneath it. And then she notices it¡ªthe small tattoos. They peek out from under the student¡¯s sleeves¡ªsymbols of the Melders gang.


    Her father¡¯s voice echoes in her mind, warning her that the Melders were nothing but trouble. Years spent trying to clean up the streets, and the gangs have been a thorn in the police¡¯s side every step of the way. Sleepless nights, wondering about her dad¡¯s safety, replay in Erica''s mind.


    She frowns slightly but brushes it off. You assholes. Just as she¡¯s about to act, Jamie appears beside her, tugging at her arm gently.


    ¡°Bus is here.¡± Jamie''s voice is as monotone as ever. Air shoots out of Erica¡¯s nostrils and she pouts. Ultimately, Jamie pulls Erica away as she purses her lips.


    ¡°Ah, right. Thanks.¡± She sighs and walks away from the stairwell. The duo goes back to the main doors of the school. The salt still remains in Erica¡¯s system though, and she turns to Jamie. ¡°Those guys are so annoying,¡± She mumbles only for her friend to hear. ¡°Why do they always act like I¡¯m gonna arrest them or something? Ugh!¡± Her hands wave in the air, drawing unintentional patterns.


    Jamie nudges her with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Let it go. It¡¯s not worth it. You don¡¯t wanna be dealing with them anyways.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right.¡± Erica sighs to herself and shakes her head. She pushes aside the feelings of frustration and anger, reaching out to the nearest thing capable of making her smile. She wraps an arm around Jamie and brightens up immediately. ¡°By the way, my dad said there¡¯s an increase in cyberpsychosis cases.¡±


    Jamie doesn¡¯t react outwardly. ¡°Noted, thanks for the warning.¡± She replies with a straight face, but Erica has known her long enough to guess what she¡¯s feeling. Subtle shifts in her tone and the slight flicker of both concern and curiosity in her gaze betray the nonchalant mask. ¡°Oh yeah, my father was planning to get dinner with me later. Did you want to join us?¡±


    ¡°Oh! Really? My dad wanted to take us out for dinner too. Maybe we could combine everything?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Awesome! I should tell my dad then!¡± The two make their way to the bus stop, and as they wait, the two girls pull out their phones. With a lazy series of swipes and taps, Erica¡¯s phone is unlocked. She sends an emoji of a cartoon dog waving enthusiastically.


    ¡°Dadddd. Jamie¡¯s dad is gonna pick her up at Metrotown later too. Can we all have dinner together?¡±


    The roar of a bus is heard in the distance and then the faint outline of it pokes around the corner of a street. Sleek black and red Dodge Chargers, marked by their gang affiliations and obnoxious spray paint patterns on the hood and doors, pull into the school parking lot to pick up the Melders.


    It¡¯s an odd thing to see, but the neighbourhood has its fair share of gang related activity. The two look in the direction of the cars but make no vocal response. Instead they look at each other and Erica just shrugs. I dunno know. A few minutes pass and a response from her dad comes in.


    ¡°Of course! The more the merrier, I¡¯ll see if I can get a reservation going.¡±


    Erica beams and relays the news to Jamie. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re stuck with us for dinner,¡± she pokes Jamie in the side.


    Jamie shrugs. ¡°Fine by me.¡±


    The bus pulls up just in time, and the two girls climb aboard. They settle into their seats together near the back. As they ride toward Metrotown, the city rolls by. The golden light of late afternoon paints the streets in a warm hue. Can¡¯t wait till we arrive.

 Chapter 13

    April 15, 2021. 01:49. Burnaby.


    ¡°Where? Where is the gun broadcasting to?¡± I ask with a low voice. My heart rate soars as the possibilities of who might be listening in skyrocket.


    Shock hesitates, checking the data feed. ¡°Uhh, back to the Richmond docks. That¡¯s¡­ weird. And I think it¡¯s broadcasting our voices.¡±


    The van falls into an uneasy silence as the revelation sinks in. Whoever built this weapon knows exactly where it is¡ªand where we¡¯re taking it.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Tetra asks, his voice breaking the tension. ¡°We can¡¯t just keep driving with this thing¡ª¡±


    ¡°We disable it,¡± Mister states flatly. ¡°Shock, can you shut it off?¡±


    Shock nods. ¡°I can, one sec.¡± She rapidly types in the air, finishing with a flick of her finger. ¡°Done! It¡¯s completely off. Now what?¡±


    Azure frowns, her gaze fixed on the box. ¡°I don¡¯t think¡­ we should let this slide.¡± Her tone has traces of fear, one that hints she is familiar with this. ¡°We need to investigate this.¡± She looks back at us.


    Mister exhales sharply, gripping the steering wheel. ¡°Fine. Artemis, can you let Wissen know about this? We¡¯ll figure out the rest once we¡¯re in Richmond.¡±


    I nod and pull out my phone. ¡°Give me a bit.¡± I set aside my unease and type a message to Wissen.


    ¡°Got the railgun. But there¡¯s a tracking device inside. Investigating it right now. Give us a bit.¡±


    Wissen¡¯s response is immediate.


    ¡°Understood. Meet outside the Dead Kings¡¯ HQ once you¡¯re done. Dante and I will be waiting.¡±


    Satisfied, I set aside my phone. ¡°Alright, he¡¯s been notified.¡±


    Mister nods, his focus shifting back to the road as he accelerates forward. Tension remains in the air, as each member of the group is lost in their thoughts.


    I peek at the railgun one last time. The faint glow of the weapon calls to me. It¡¯s beautiful. The tracking device remains in Azure¡¯s hand for some reason, but I think nothing of it. I tighten my grip over my duffle bag, instincts telling me to prepare for anything. I knew this mission was off.


    ¡­


    April 15, 2021. 02:08. Richmond.


    The van rolls to a stop just outside the Richmond docks. The familiar hum of the engine dies, replaced by an unsettling silence. I¡¯m on edge, yet I make no show of it. I stare out the window, scanning the scene.


    We file out, the party¡¯s footsteps crunching softly against the ground. My hand rests instinctively on my pistol. The docks are eerily quiet, just as we left them. What¡¯s odd, however, is how strangely clean the area is now. The wreckage from before is gone. No bullet casings. No pools of blood. No signs of the chaos that unfolded earlier. Odd, weirdly pristine.


    Shock is the first to break the silence. ¡°Uh, is it just me, or is this place like¡­ way too clean?¡± Her voice is hushed, her usual casual tone replaced with unease. She tilts her head towards a nearby security camera attached to a wall overlooking the parking lot. ¡°Lemme see if I can find out what happened.¡±


    I narrow my eyes. ¡°No, it¡¯s not just you..¡± My gaze flickers to the water, the gentle waves lapping against the docks. No police. No gang presence. Just¡­ nothing. What the hell? The unease is impossible for me to pretend. First Surrey, now this. Azure stands close by, and there¡¯s a strange look in her eye. Her eyes dart around, tension evident in her shoulders. I lightly nudge her in the arm. ¡°You good?¡±


    Azure stiffens before waving it off. ¡°Yeah¡­ let¡¯s just, focus on finding the receiver.¡± She walks past me, towards a nearby warehouse building. Her head occasionally swivels around, looking for something nearby.


    I raise an eyebrow but don¡¯t press her further, but the dismissive answer only deepens my suspicions. I¡¯ve seen this kind of behaviour before¡ªsomeone hiding something, and they¡¯re not doing a great job at it.


    With the snap of her fingers, Shock¡¯s eyes glow and a faint hum emits from her bag. ¡°Okay, the signal¡¯s coming from¡­ there.¡± She points toward the edge of the docks, near the water. ¡°Weird, a bunch of people came here earlier and just took away everything.¡±


    Tetra furrows his brows and shakes his head. ¡°The hell? Wasn¡¯t there nothing there last time? Like¡­ no one?¡± He folds his arms and rubs his hands along his biceps. ¡°Also, what do you mean that a bunch of people came here earlier?¡±


    Azure interjects, her voice much quieter than usual, reduced to a simple whisper. ¡°I think I know why.¡±


    Before she can elaborate, the faint sound of humming reaches my ears. My head snaps in the direction that I hear it from and the group freezes as well. Their eyes locked on to the source of the sound just a few moments after me. We say nothing but I hold my hand, gesturing for them to stay still. Instead, we silently creep forward, inching our way to the sound. The cold wind blasts by us, as if urging us to move.


    Standing at the edge of the docks is a woman, her long, dyed silver hair catching the faint glow of the moonlight. Cybernetic lines run across her pale cheeks, faintly pulsing with light that seems almost alive. She wears glasses, and her calm, casual demeanour is deeply unsettling. She sways slightly as she hums, as if she¡¯s the only one in the world, waiting for something to happen. Weird.


    As if sensing our presence, the woman turns to face us. Her movements are smooth, almost mechanical, and there¡¯s a faint glow to her cybernetics. She smiles warmly at us, an expression that feels out of place in this eerie silence.


    ¡°Ah,¡± she says, her voice soft and melodic. ¡°Hello! Nice to meet you.¡±


    The party tenses, instinctively reaching for their weapons. My hand hovers over my pistol as well, my eyes narrowing as I study the woman.


    Tetra speaks first, his voice uneasy. ¡°Uh¡­ who the hell are you?¡±


    The woman tilts her head, her smile never faltering. ¡°Oh, where are my manners?¡± She adjusts her glasses with a delicate motion. ¡°I¡¯m Jenny. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you all.¡±


    Her calm and polite tone sends a shiver down my spine. There¡¯s something extremely weird about this woman¡ªsomething I can¡¯t quite put into words. My grip on my pistol tightens, instincts screaming at me to be ready for anything. But nothing happens, instead, the docks grow even quieter. Jenny clasps her hands behind her back, waiting patiently for a response.


    We remain silent for a moment, tension thick in the air. Jenny¡¯s calm demeanour annoys me, her smile never faltering as she waits for a response. It¡¯s obvious she¡¯s related to Autumn Blade¡ªto some degree at least, but I¡¯m not sure how to handle the situation. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Mister steps forward, his movements deliberate and controlled, as always. ¡°Jenny, is it? What exactly are you doing here?¡± His tone of voice is even, but there¡¯s a slight edge to it, like a blade hidden in plain sight. I¡¯m certain Mister also suspects Jenny of being an affiliate of some kind but isn¡¯t throwing accusations around for the sake of politeness.


    Jenny tilts her head slightly, her silver hair shimmering in the faint moonlight. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just¡­ enjoying the view. The water is calming at night, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Azure shuffles beside me, her hand brushing against the edge of her jacket as if to steady herself. Just what the hell is going on with her?


    Tetra looks at the water, then back at Jenny. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ ¡®enjoying the view¡¯? At two in the morning?¡± He frowns and his voice is laced with suspicion.


    Jenny chuckles softly. ¡°Mhm!¡± She carefully adjusts her glasses with a delicate motion. ¡°I¡¯m kind of a night owl and someone that isn¡¯t from here.¡±


    ¡°¡®Isn¡¯t from here¡¯?¡± Mister presses on, his tone still sharp. ¡°You¡¯re beyond the local area?¡±


    Jenny¡¯s smile widens, and she brings her hands behind her back. ¡°Yep! I¡¯m here on vacation. Let¡¯s just say I have an interest in your city.¡±


    Shock whispers behind us, and I feel her place a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Y¡¯all, this is getting really weird. Should we¡ª¡±


    Jenny¡¯s voice cuts through Shock¡¯s words. ¡°Oh, and please, let¡¯s keep this civil. I¡¯d hate for things to get messy.¡± She continues that smile of hers while her eyes gleam behind her glasses. For a brief moment, there¡¯s a faint glow to her cybernetics, and I know for sure that isn¡¯t just the moonlight.


    The group tenses instinctively. My hand hovers near my pistol, but something about Jenny makes me hesitate. She exudes a confidence that can¡¯t be found from arrogance, but from knowing she holds all the cards.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Mister says, his tone is steady. He shows the palms of his empty hands to Jenny. ¡°I¡¯d rather not escalate things either then. If you¡¯re not here to fight, then what do you want?¡±


    Jenny¡¯s smile softens slightly. ¡°Honestly, I told you, I¡¯m just here visiting the city. But, if we want to make things a little fun¡­¡± Her eyes dart between all of us. ¡°If you can answer a riddle, I¡¯ll happily tell you everything I know.¡±


    ¡°Sure. What is it?¡± Mister crosses his arms while the rest of us are dumbfounded.


    ¡°Why is it,¡± Jenny begins, her voice dropping to a lower, almost hypnotic tone, ¡°that winter always follows fall?¡±


    The question hangs in the air, and the group exchanges confused looks. The fuck? And then I see it, the pale face of Azure. She takes a step back, her hand gripping her jacket tightly. No words leave her mouth, and her breathing is ever so slightly irregular.


    ¡°What kind of riddle is that?¡± Tetra asks, his brows furrowing. ¡°Never heard of that one before.¡±


    Jenny chuckles again, the sound carrying an unsettling edge. ¡°A simple one, really. But if you can¡¯t answer it, well¡­¡± She spreads her arms in a gesture of mock helplessness. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to leave you to ponder it. Don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯ll be back later.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, Jenny turns and begins to walk toward the edge of the docks. Her movements are unnervingly fluid, like she¡¯s gliding rather than walking. I tilt my head, this mental gymnastics headache is getting to me now. No one in the party dares to stop her, a combination of fear and confusion is what prevents us from doing so. Instead, we watch her step into the shadows of a nearby alleyway, her figure blending seamlessly with the darkness.


    A heavy stillness falls over us, broken only by the faint sound of the water striking against the docks. The party breaks apart, unsure what to do. Remi casually flicks on his phone, Tetra and Shock look around to find more clues, and Mister stares out into the water. That just leaves two of us left.


    ¡°Artemis,¡± Azure whispers, her trembling voice audible only for me to hear. She leans in closer, her tone barely audible. ¡°We can¡¯t just let her leave like that. She¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    I stare back, noting the tension in Azure¡¯s features. Her eyes dart towards the direction Jenny disappeared. ¡°And what do you want me to do?¡± I keep my voice low and firm. ¡°Chase her down and start a fight we don¡¯t need?¡±


    Azure¡¯s expression tightens, her eyes sharpen and her lips press into a thin line. ¡°She¡¯s not someone we can just ignore. You saw her¡ªshe¡¯s not normal.¡± It¡¯s weird to see someone so playfully calm turn into someone wreaking paranoia. I snort and brush her concern away.


    ¡°And none of us are either. We¡¯ve got enough problems to deal with. Chasing after her isn¡¯t worth it. Unless you can give me one good reason why I should.¡± I straighten my back and make it clear to Azure that I¡¯m not budging unless I¡¯m given a damn good incentive.


    Azure looks like she wants to argue but stops herself. She exhales sharply, frustration is evident in her voice. ¡°Fine, I just had a bad feeling. That¡¯s all,¡± her gaze drops to the ground. But I catch the flicker of fear in her eyes before she turns away. Liar, you¡¯re scared¡ªreally scared. If she was an actual friend or if this was related to acquiring the railgun, I would¡¯ve asked by now. But it isn¡¯t, and I have no desire to pry further.


    Some time passes by, and the rest of us regroup. We exchange uneasy glances. Nothing else of value has been found. Mister finally breaks the frightening calm. ¡°Let¡¯s head back. We¡¯ve wasted enough time here.¡±


    Reluctantly, we pile back into the van. The engine hums to life and the docks fade into the distance. I sneak one more look at Azure. She sits stiffly, staring out the window, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her jacket.


    Whatever Jenny is¡ªor whatever she represents¡ªhas rattled Azure more than she¡¯s willing to admit. It¡¯s a surprise none of the other party members caught on, but I suppose they were too distracted by everything else. It¡¯s not that they''re incompetent, it¡¯s just that I have an easier time detecting this. But for now, I lean against the nearest window and watch Vancouver return to view.


    ¡­


    April 15, 2021. 03:15. Vancouver.


    The van slows to a halt outside the Dead Kings¡¯ HQ. The building is a welcome contrast to the cleaned-up Richmond docks. Despite the area being riddled with graffiti and scars from countless confrontations, it was a familiar area with predictable people, unlike the complete mystery that is Jenny. The neon lights continue to buzz faintly, casting the same glow I¡¯ve familiarized myself with over the cracked pavement.


    We step out of the van, and I can feel the exhaustion kick in now. My feet ache and I bat away the urge to nap. Fuck, I miss my bed right now. I pinch my thigh as hard as I can. As I do, I notice Azure¡¯s still unsettled look. It¡¯s annoying, but she keeps quiet, her jaw tight and eyes focused anywhere but on the rest of us.


    Wissen and Dante are already waiting by the entrance, their expressions neutral but watchful. Wissen raises a hand in greeting as we approach. ¡°Welcome back.¡± Mister nods and gestures to Tetra and the large case he has in his hands.


    ¡°Sorry we¡¯re late. We took longer than anticipated, but we have the railgun. We tried tracking down the receiver and ended up with a dead end. We met a woman that is related to the weapon but she seemed too much trouble to investigate further.¡±


    Wissen¡¯s eyes move to the case with sharp precision, a hint of approval in his gaze. ¡°You made the right call. Don¡¯t bother with anything else related to Autumn Blade. The complications aren¡¯t worth it.¡°


    ¡°One thing to keep in mind,¡± Tetra strides over to Dante and hands him the case. ¡°The railgun, uh, uses a battery. So, it¡¯s got limited shots.¡±


    Dante slowly nods. ¡°Thank you, I¡¯ll keep that in mind. Was this intentional?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Azure chimes in, her voice dry and lacking in life. ¡°It¡¯s an incomplete weapon. Whatever you plan on doing with it, keep in consideration that this is a prototype.¡±


    ¡°I see, good to know.¡± Dante bows his head and carries the railgun case into Wissen¡¯s limo. There¡¯s a sour expression written on his face. No doubt, he was hoping for a complete weapon. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure my family knows about this¡­ development.¡±


    Wissen watches Dante disappear into the limo before turning his attention back to us. ¡°Do let me know if you need a ride back home or wherever you need.¡± Right¡­ forgot about that. I shake my head and use my phone to recall my vehicle to a nearby street. Mister shakes his head at the offer.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we have a little bit of business left. We promised Blake we would also report back to him.¡±


    Wissen nods and his eyes glow blue. ¡°Alright, then we¡¯ll let you be on your way. Credits will be transferred shortly.¡± He turns around and walks heads into his limo. There¡¯s a slight pause but then he gives us all a wave back.


    I check my account for incoming transfers and I guess my teammates do the same. I get a second wind of energy as the beautiful confirmation of €$10,000 is transferred into my account. It won¡¯t buy anything new, but it¡¯ll keep me stocked on essentials for quite some time. I breathe a sigh of relief, though the tension of the night lingers faintly. At least it¡¯s almost over.


    ¡°See you.¡± I wave at my departing friend, earning a faint smirk from Shock. I raise an eyebrow and all she does is giggle. Wissen¡¯s limo drives off with both him and Dante. I watch the vehicle turn around the corner and then step inside, following Mister.

 Chapter 14

    April 15, 2021. 03:30. Vancouver.


    Blake greets us with open arms¡ªor more accurately, a mechanical facsimile of them. His booming laughter fills the room as we step inside, and his imposing cybernetic frame gently moves his harem aside. The low rasp of his voice, distorted by his augmented vocal cords, grates against my ears once again.


    ¡°Welcome back, my wonderful mercs!¡± Blake exclaims, smiling on his sofa. ¡°Consider me a very happy man. You brought back my boys and even got rid of some Melders too. Well done.¡±


    Mister sits down on a chair across from Blake, and we plant ourselves down as well. ¡°Of course, we¡¯ve delivered as promised. Your men are safe and the railgun has been given to my client.¡±


    ¡°Perfect, then I assume that the whole business is over. The weapon was more trouble than it¡¯s worth anyways.¡±


    My eyes widen at the response. I wasn¡¯t expecting Blake to be so willing to trade away the railgun. My curiosity tugs at me to ask, but I withhold myself from interrupting the business meeting. I¡¯ll probably ask later if the situation is convenient.


    ¡°Correct, and now we can move on to bar opportunity in Burnaby.¡± Mister pulls out his phone, eager to show Blake additional details.


    Blake waves a massive hand dismissively, catching Mister by surprise. ¡°Not yet,¡± Blake¡¯s red eyes focus on me. ¡°We¡¯ll get to that. But first¡­ let¡¯s talk about you.¡±


    I tense instinctively. ¡°What about me?¡±


    Blake chuckles, his metallic rasp sends a shiver down my spine. ¡°Don¡¯t play with me. I know what happened at AXIS¡¯ place. I confirmed it with my men.¡±


    The party looks at me with curiosity but Remi is the only one that nods in approval. He doesn¡¯t even need to say anything but I know it¡¯ll involve something along the lines of ¡°Good, fuck AXIS.¡±


    My stomach churns, but I keep my expression neutral. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°And,¡± Blake lightly taps the nearby table, the wooden surface expresses a faint discontent with the applied pressure. His smile widens and he looks at me right in the eyes, without blinking. ¡°I¡¯m impressed. Didn¡¯t think anyone had the balls to break into that pompous idiot¡¯s apartment, let alone steal his Porsche.¡±


    I sigh, I was hoping he wouldn¡¯t bring that up. I¡¯m basically caught with my pants down and I have nothing but my greed and lack of preparation to blame. Part of me regrets leaving the Dead King gangsters back then alive instead of killing them outright, but I¡¯d rather not have kills added to my collection unless necessary or for money.


    Shock suppresses a childish giggle, her cheeks flushing slightly as she fans herself. ¡°He¡¯s so cool¡­¡± I raise an eyebrow at her. Is she really idolizing the mechanical fuckboy right now? Her excitement doesn¡¯t lighten the mood for me¡ªif anything, it makes the situation even more surreal.


    ¡°Shiiii, choom, why didn¡¯t you tell me you robbed AXIS¡¯ ass too?¡± Remi nudges me with clear approval in his voice but I bat his arm away. I don¡¯t intend on risking another tussle with these gangsters anytime soon.


    ¡°Remi, shut up.¡±


    Blake¡¯s laughter grows louder after hearing our exchange. ¡°Relax, I¡¯m not mad. Honest to God, I couldn¡¯t stand the guy anyway. Always thought he was a pretentious prick. But we needed him for the clout. Now that he¡¯s out of the picture¡­¡± He faces Remi again. ¡°You looking for work, rockstar?¡±


    Remi doesn¡¯t hesitate, he flashes a cocky grin. ¡°Shiii, boss man. What¡¯s the detes? Am I replacing AXIS?¡±


    ¡°More or less, yeah. We need a new artist, someone to be the public face of our new entertainment branch. AXIS was promising, until he became a piece of shit, but by then he was our only option.¡± Blake smirks in my direction before looking back at Remi. ¡°And let¡¯s just say that I heard someone managed to flatline our previous one. Now, we¡¯ve got a spot open again.¡±


    ¡°Say less, choom.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be given the same resources as AXIS. I gave your tracks a listen and they seem promising. I appreciate good rock and rap.¡±


    ¡°Bet, I also got an R&B and pop album cooking right now.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll sign you on immediately.¡±


    ¡°Cool, and I promise to not be a leadhead.¡±


    ¡°Good. As for you¡­.¡± Blake¡¯s gaze shifts back to me; his tone is almost teasing. ¡°How do we make things square? You damaged Dead Kings¡¯ property and injured some of my men. Not to mention, you stole something we gave to AXIS. We¡¯ll just say that someone else killed AXIS, I¡¯m feeling merciful tonight. And besides, I like a woman of your calibre.¡±


    I hesitate for a moment before asking. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±


    ¡°Of course. The man was a piece of shit, you did the community a service. Besides, we can also just say that Remi pointed an impulsive finger at you to get my men riled up. Realistically, no one can actually prove you assassinated AXIS. Of course, anyone with a brain would at least put someone like you on the suspect list.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. I appreciate that.¡± I relax a little, feeling more at ease. ¡°I¡¯m gonna guess you want me to pay it back.¡°


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t have to be through eddies, could be through favours.¡±


    ¡°What kind of favours?¡±


    ¡°Whatever I¡¯d need you to do.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow and glance at all of his women and then at Shock. ¡°Nothing romantic or sexual, that¡¯s off limits.¡±


    The cyborg bursts out laughing, catching everyone by surprise. The coarse sound of gears grinding filtered through a radio box is the closest way anyone can describe what his laugh sounds like. The noise tickles the deepest parts of my hearing. ¡°A shame, but not what I was referring to. I plan on putting you out on a few enforcement jobs. A solo like you is rare to come by, and I¡¯m surprised I¡¯ve never heard of you until now.¡± Ah, so he doesn¡¯t know who I truly am, thank God.


    Shock looks like she¡¯s ready to strangle me for outing her interest but she reigns her impulses in. She purses her lips and glares at me with a hint of red on her face still.


    I bite my lip in thought. ¡°Alright, so it¡¯s either money or working for you.¡±


    ¡°Basically. But, I¡¯m going to take a guess that you stole the Porsche because you couldn¡¯t afford legitimately buying one.¡±


    I pause at his suggestion and sigh. ¡°Damn.¡± Actually, I could, but it would take a lot of time to recover the lost money and that¡¯s too much effort on my end. I shrug while raising my hands out in feigned defeat, an act I¡¯ve only gotten better at using. ¡°How about I pay for all the damage done to your men and only half of the Porsche? I¡¯ll work off the rest.¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°Alright, pass me your contact info. I¡¯ll send you the bill, just did the math.¡±


    I narrow my eyes, tempted to ask if I can just ask for another way to pay back the money but I give up. I¡¯d rather not have a gang leader know my contact info but¡­ I¡¯m too damn tired for this shit. I¡¯ll just pay what I can and then work off the rest, hopefully by doing this I¡¯ll find a balance between not being too indebted to the Dead Kings and not having lost too much money.


    I hold out my black phone and allow Blake to momentarily connect to it. My stomach churns when I see the bill, if I were a cartoon, my eyes would be bulging outward.


    What the fuck, €60,000!? Fuck me. My frugalness kicks in and I let out a low grumble. My bank account app shows the lowering in funds, a bright red, as I transfer the credits without complaint.


    ¡°Pleasure doing business with you,¡± Blake leans back into his plush leather sofa. ¡°But there¡¯s one last thing for tonight¡­¡± His sharp grin widens, his arms folding across his broad chest.


    I cross my arms and narrow my eyes, already feeling the tension coil in my gut. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Ever heard of the Gauntlet?¡± Blake¡¯s gaze sweeps over the room, searching for any flicker of recognition from the group. His tone is casual, but there¡¯s a challenge laced beneath it.


    None of us bite. Mister tilts his head, Azure scowls, Tetra shakes his head slightly, and I glance at Remi, who just shrugs.


    Shock breaks the silence, her voice tinged with curiosity. ¡°Is that some sort of game?¡±


    Blake chuckles. ¡°No, it¡¯s not just a ¡®game¡¯. It¡¯s a rite of passage in the Dead Kings for anyone who wants to be highly respected. You complete it, and we won¡¯t just tolerate you¡ªwe¡¯ll respect you. Anyone that does this won¡¯t necessarily be one of us, but we¡¯ll call you family still.¡±


    The weight of his words hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken.


    Azure shakes her head first. ¡°I¡¯ll pass on this one. I¡¯m not interested in gang politics.¡± She folds her arms, smiling at Blake. ¡°I¡¯m more than happy to have your gang pass by my shop though.¡±


    Mister adjusts himself in his seat, calm and measured. ¡°I¡¯m comfortable just maintaining a professional relationship. I have no need to involve myself further.¡±


    Blake chuckles again, shaking his head in a slow rhythm. ¡°Fair. For most of you, staying business associates makes sense. But for the others¡­¡± His eyes land on Remi and me. ¡°It might be a bit more... important.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because, my ¡®friendly¡¯ solo, entertainment and bravado are what the Dead Kings thrive on. You¡¯ve pissed off some of my boys, yeah? You paid the price already, I¡¯ll let it go. But this is how you remain on good terms with us. And frankly, I¡¯m surprised you even have to ask. Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± His smirk persists, sharp and almost amused.


    Tetra clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. ¡°So, what are the details, exactly? What does this Gauntlet involve?¡±


    Blake grins like he¡¯s been waiting for someone to ask that question. ¡°Now, that would spoil the fun, wouldn¡¯t it? I promise you that the gauntlet will be a lot more¡­ fun for everyone involved if you know very little about it.¡± He taps the side of his cheek in thought, and smiles at us, teasingly so. ¡°But I guess I¡¯ll give you a teaser: it¡¯s physically intense. Hella hard, even for the best of us, especially for those who aren¡¯t chromed out. Most people, if not all, have landed in the hospital from it.¡±


    The room goes silent again. Just what the hell is this?


    Shock¡¯s eyes widen, and her jaw drops. ¡°Hospital? Um, yeah, I think, that¡¯s a no for me.¡±


    Blake raises a hand in mock reassurance. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, sweetheart. I¡¯ll cover the medical bills. It¡¯d be cruel otherwise.¡±


    Remi is the first to break out of the hesitation, his trademark cocky grin spreading across his face. ¡°Fuck it, we ball. I¡¯ll show everyone I¡¯m not a pussy.¡±


    Blake laughs, the sound echoing through the room. ¡°Excellent! That¡¯s the spirit, I knew I liked you for a reason.¡± He gestures for one of his harem members to note Remi down. ¡°You¡¯re gonna love it, kid.¡±


    I roll my eyes, irritation bubbling to the surface. ¡°Are you seriously not gonna tell us anything useful? No rules, no objective?¡±


    Blake leans back again, his grin never faltering. ¡°Oh, come on. Where¡¯s the fun in knowing everything? Let me just say this: your life won¡¯t be in danger. But you¡¯ll sweat. A lot.¡± His grin widens and he winks, as if he¡¯s daring me to say no. ¡°Maybe some bruises here and there.¡± Oh, this smartass.


    I glance at Azure, who looks more annoyed than usual. She leans over to whisper to me. ¡°He¡¯s screwing with you. Don¡¯t do it.¡±


    Tetra speaks up, clear hesitation in his voice. ¡°I¡¯m not sure about this. I have my own loyalties to consider. My family¡ª¡±


    Blake raises a hand, cutting him off. ¡°Say no more, friend. I¡¯d never ask you to compromise that. I respect that even.¡±


    Tetra nods, visibly relieved, and leans back in his chair.


    I exhale slowly, my mind racing with ideas. FUCK. Remi¡¯s already volunteered, but the rest of the party seems content to sit this one out. My instincts tell me to walk away, but Blake¡¯s words nag at me. I close my eyes, attempting to approach the problem practically. For the past few years, I vowed to remain as neutral as possible in local crime, but tonight a lot of things changed.


    Blake chuckles and calls me out. ¡°Well? Miss solo?¡±


    ¡°Give me a minute.¡± I groan and massage my temple. I can feel it, my brain is fucking fried.


    Thoughts of how I ended up in this situation flood my mental space first, and then what I gain from doing this. It doesn¡¯t help that I stole an expensive car and got caught for it, unprepared. I¡¯m luckier still that the suspicion of me being the actual assassin of AXIS is being swept under the rug. I¡¯m already associated with the Dead Kings just by offering my services to Blake to repay the Porsche, even if it¡¯s for a limited time, the other gangs won¡¯t care. I might as well be screaming to other gangs that I¡¯m fucking the Dead King¡¯s leader too.


    The Dead Kings aren¡¯t saints, but at least they stay clear of trafficking and worse. The Melders and Banshees make them look tame in comparison, and while the Velvs might be the ¡°cleanest¡± gang around, they don¡¯t have the resources the Dead Kings or The GTown Boys do. If Blake¡¯s crew expands further into show business, it could even help my modelling career. But mixing identities would be like juggling knives¡ªone slip, and it¡¯s over.


    I open my eyes, noticing that everyone is waiting for my response: my team, Blake, and his associates. Fuck it. There¡¯s a chance to not just fix my reputation but also to boost it with the Dead Kings¡¯ help. Ugh.


    I meet Blake¡¯s gaze, my expression remaining guarded. ¡°So what happens after I say yes?¡±


    His grin turns wolfish. ¡°You¡¯ll be someone we view with high regard. No questions asked. Need favours done? Easy. Get into shit? We¡¯ll come running. Hell, we¡¯d even throw a birthday party in your honour.¡±


    I sigh and check my phone. It¡¯s 4 AM, and all I wanna do is to rot in my bed. But if I back out now, I¡¯ll be closing doors I might need open someday. The rewards outweigh the risks¡ªor so my sleepy thoughts insist. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    Blake claps his hands together, the sound of metal slapping against itself. ¡°Good shit, that¡¯s what I like to hear!¡± He looks back at his women, beckoning a few of them with his finger. ¡°Girls, get these two prepped. Let¡¯s make this a night to remember.¡±


    The harem behind Blake rises and steps forward to escort us, I exchange a glance with Remi. He grins at me, his confidence unwavering.


    ¡°Aight, we¡¯re locked in.¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Right¡­¡± Glad to know that he¡¯s doing fine. Meanwhile, I feel like I just signed up for the worst night of my life.


    Blake watches us with a predatory gleam in his eye. He¡¯s clearly enjoying every second. ¡°I¡¯ll see you in a bit! Don¡¯t chicken out now!¡± His laugh echoes even as we¡¯re led out of the room and down to the elevator, taking us to a new section of the building.


    Shock runs after us while the rest of the party is escorted by another group of people. ¡°Good luck! We¡¯ll see if we can find a place to spectate!¡± She gives us a quick salute and then rejoins the rest of the team.


    As we descend further, distant cheers grow increasingly loud, and a low rumble vibrates through the walls like the growl of a beast. The muffled roars of excited chatter send a chill up my spine. It¡¯s almost celebratory, but there¡¯s an edge to it, like a crowd knows that blood is spilling tonight. Absolute raw, unfiltered energy awaits me down there, and I am not ready for this in any way, shape, or form.

 Chapter 15

    April 15, 2021. 04:00. Vancouver.


    The elevator doors slide open with a ding. Flickering lights illuminate the hallway before us. I¡¯m not sure what it is, but there¡¯s a certain tang of sweat and adrenaline that clings to the cool air down here. The kind of smell that clings to people who bleed for sport.


    Our collection of guides wears heels that click softly against the concrete floor. They wear a variety of designer outfits¡ªclearly dressed to impress. Sharp lines and dark colours define their dresses, jackets, and pants, accessorized by silver jewelry gleaming at the edges. One woman¡¯s gaze moves between me and Remi, curiosity and mischief dancing in her eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t wanna back out?¡± she smirks, her voice a mix of mockery and admiration. ¡°Haha, I tease. Gotta say though, I respect it.¡±


    My expression doesn¡¯t change, except for my narrowing eyes. ¡°So what¡¯s gonna happen down here?¡±


    The woman laughs at my question. She throws her head back like she just told us the funniest joke in the world. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be fun if I told you, now would it?¡± She winks. ¡°Just¡­ stay sharp and try not to cry when you¡¯re thrown in the ring. You¡¯ll do fine... maybe¡­ probably.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Real comforting.¡±


    ¡°Nah, we got this.¡± Remi nudges me on the shoulder and continues walking down the hallway.


    Eventually, the women lead us into a stark locker room before heading back. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a pale glow on nearby Dead Kings guards lingering in the corners. Their eyes jump from Remi to me, and then back to Remi.


    There is tension in the room, one born from unknown faces and uncertain feelings towards both parties. Are we still enemies? Does Remi¡¯s ridiculous ego-laced hate boner still drive this relationship? I have no damn clue. The guards exchange glances and low murmurs with one another. One of them is a wiry man with a scar slicing through his eyebrow. He snorts softly and wraps his hand around another¡¯s ear.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t think Remi was actually for real. Guess I was wrong.¡± His voice is faint, but just audible enough that I can still hear him despite the ridiculous noise above us.


    Another Dead King, broader than the others, smiles politely and steps forward. His smile is one of approval and he quickly nods at me and Remi. ¡°Highkey respect. No one¡¯s done this in a while. Good luck, you¡¯re gonna need it.¡±


    Remi folds his arms and flashes a cocky grin. ¡°Nah dawg, we got this in the bag.¡±


    I roll my eyes but say nothing, my focus is instead on the body language of the guards. There¡¯s no malice, no hidden threat¡ªjust a mix of respect and amusement. Odd, considering how earlier tonight we almost flatlined each other, but Blake¡¯s word is the law here.


    The broad guard reaches into a nearby cooler and pulls out two cans. Familiar brightly coloured labels stand out in the grim surroundings as he holds them out for us.


    ¡°You¡¯ll want these. Trust me.¡±


    Remi snatches one without hesitation. He pops it open with a hiss and takes a long drink before throwing it away. ¡°Shit broski, don¡¯t gotta tell me twice.¡±


    I eye the can warily. I only drink these when I¡¯m in dire need at the gym or on the job. ¡°You¡¯re giving us an energy drink¡­ at four in the morning?¡± My initial thoughts suggest they want to poison us, but the absurdity of the situation makes me dismiss the idea almost instantly. ¡°What the fuck¡­¡±


    The guard chuckles. ¡°It¡¯ll keep you on your feet. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s clean. But if you skip it... well, don¡¯t complain when you drop in the first ten seconds.¡±


    My brow furrows. ¡°First ten seconds?¡±


    ¡°The gauntlet is gonna hit you fast and hard. You¡¯re gonna need all the help you can get.¡±


    I hesitate, glancing at the can in his hand. It¡¯s morning, I¡¯m tired as shit, and caffeine may be entering my system. Just how bad is the gauntlet? Then again, I¡¯d rather have a slightly messed up sleep schedule instead of a trip to the hospital. ¡°Fine.¡± I grab the can, crack it open, and take a sip.


    And then, my senses kick into overdrive, my head simultaneously clearing and filling with a buzzing noise. ¡°OH FUC¡ª¡± The taste is sharp and artificial. It¡¯s like someone blended citrus with battery acid. I cough and my eye twitches. ¡°This tastes like shit!¡± I shudder with newfound energy.


    ¡°Better shit than injured or dead.¡± The guard quips, earning a laugh from his peers.


    ¡°What the hell did you mix with this?¡± I stare at him in disbelief. ¡°There¡¯s no way this is from the store.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s our secret mix.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fucking gasoline.¡± I stick my tongue out and fight the urge to retch. ¡°Do I smell¡­ pre-workout?¡± I blink and sniff my can. Did these dumbasses mix some unholy abomination in this basement?


    ¡°Anyways, once you finish that, pass us your gear.¡± The broad Dead King offers us his hand, beckoning for our equipment.


    ¡°Wait, you want our gear?¡± I freeze in place, my free hand gripping my duffle bag tightly.


    ¡°Gauntlet rules. No weapons or gadgets.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me.¡± I finish my can and throw it in a nearby garbage bin.


    ¡°Nope, we¡¯ll make sure your gear is here. Trust me, Blake won¡¯t let us screw this up.¡±


    My eyes narrow, scanning him for any sign of deceit. Calm expression and firm tone. The other guards nod in agreement, their confidence unwavering.


    ¡°This is bullshit,¡± I mutter, my grip tightening on my drink. ¡°So I bring in absolutely nothing?¡±


    ¡°Rules are rules, miss.¡± The guard¡¯s tone is even and his stance remains solid. ¡°Trust me, you¡¯ll get why once you¡¯re in there.¡± Either they¡¯re decent at lying or they¡¯re serious, there¡¯s nothing about their body language that tells me of obvious lying or ulterior motives. In either case, I¡¯m not exactly in a position to argue.


    Remi shrugs and sets his things down. ¡°Aight, no big deal.¡± He hands over several pocket knives.


    I sigh as Remi surrenders his items temporarily. Reluctantly, I set my bag, pouch, and other items down. My jaw tightens as I remove my knife and pistol, my last remaining defence. I gently arrange everything into a neat pile on the side of the room. One of the Dead Kings whistles a low tune, eyeing my inventory.


    ¡°This better be worth it.¡± I glare at the Dead Kings and then step away from the pile. ¡°Touch any of my shit and I cut your fucking balls off.¡±


    The guards laugh, a mixture of mostly humour and a little fear. They shuffle aside and gesture toward the other side of the locker room. Remi and I move past them, making our way to the exit doors. They offer parting words laced with a mix of encouragement and teasing.


    ¡°Good luck out there.¡±


    ¡°If you make it through, drinks are on us.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be waiting!¡±


    I scowl, but Remi gives them a thumbs-up. ¡°Appreciate it, chooms!¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°If my gear gets stolen, I swear to God¡­¡± I mutter under my breath while shaking my head. We enter a corridor that is almost entirely dark, except for a massive light at the end of the tunnel. Chanting and cheers mask any noise the doors make as the Dead Kings behind us close them.


    Remi leans close to me, cupping his hands around his mouth. The noise of the area ahead is so loud that I can barely hear him shouting. ¡°I bet it¡¯ll be like an obstacle course! Shit like, making us run through fire or dodge bullets¡­ or something like that! That¡¯d be hella sick!¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°There¡¯s no way it¡¯s gonna be that simple!¡± I attempt shout-replying in return, hardly able to hear my voice as we approach the light.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, whatever this is, it¡¯s gotta mean somethin¡¯ crazy! Word¡¯s got history¡ªlike Middle Ages knights or some shit! Trial by combat and all that stuff!¡±


    I blink, genuinely surprised. ¡°Since when did you read up on history?! Didn¡¯t think you to be a history guy!¡±


    Remi smirks, clearly pleased with himself. ¡°Hey, gotta know some words to write good lyrics! Can¡¯t spit bars if I don¡¯t got bars, feel me?¡±


    ¡°What the hell does ¡®don¡¯t got bars¡¯ even mean?!¡± I look at him with confusion but we arrive at the end of the tunnel before we can continue.


    We step out into an arena that immediately takes me aback. Huge blinding spotlights overhead flood a sand-filled arena with harsh light while a sea of bodies on the bleachers screams their lungs off. I squint, shielding my eyes as I take in more of the scene: stone walls arranged like cover in a war zone, battered old cars scattered around with dents and scrapes, and jagged terrain.


    ¡°The hell!? This is straight-up a battlefield!¡± I shout, walking toward a man in a suit and tie waving at us standing in the middle of the area. And a massive marshmallow¡­?


    Remi trails after me, looking around the area. ¡°Ayoooo, they went all out! That¡¯s crazy, dawg!¡±


    As we get closer, I¡¯m left speechless, mouth wide open. What the hell? It¡¯s not the terrain that confuses me or the setting¡ªit¡¯s Blake, he¡¯s standing in the center of the arena, except he¡¯s no longer the black mechanical hulk of power. Upon closer inspection, his cybernetic frame is decked out in comically oversized white padding, duct tape holds layers of foam and rubber in place over his body like a DIY suit of armour.


    Remi and I get closer to Blake, my mouth is finally able to form words. ¡°What in the actual fuck am I looking at?¡±


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± Remi breathes, eyes wide. ¡°He¡¯s the challenge?!¡±


    Blake grins at our expressions, his red cybernetic eyes glowing faintly under the spotlights. ¡°What, expecting something else?¡± His booming laugh echoes through the arena as he takes a heavy step forward, to us. ¡°Bet you weren¡¯t expecting me to be the boss battle, huh?¡±


    Blake stops a few feet away from us. He looms over us like a damn titan. ¡°Rules are simple. Two minutes. All you gotta do is survive without getting knocked out¡ªor better yet, get me to tap out. That¡¯s the gauntlet.¡±


    Remi takes a step back, confidence faltering as he glances around the arena. He looks at Blake from head to toe, taking in the sheer size and strength of difference. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah. Sure. Easy.¡±


    I don¡¯t respond immediately. Instead, my mind is already racing as I study the terrain, noting potential hiding spots and cover. Two minutes. That¡¯s¡­ a long time.


    Blake taps his cushioned fist against his body. ¡°To make it fair, I¡¯ve padded myself up. Can¡¯t have you two dying on me, now can I?¡± His gaze then flicks to me, his grin widening. ¡°By the way, I don¡¯t think I ever caught your name.¡±


    I stop analyzing the area, freezing on the spot thanks to the question. Gina is clearly a no, but if I gave him Artemis¡­ no, that¡¯s going to complicate my work as a freelancing assassin. I rake my memories for anything to use as inspiration. Think, think, think¡­ what can I use¡­ OH! After a brief moment of hesitation, I smile and answer, ¡°Lily. Let¡¯s just use that, for now.¡± My mother¡¯s favourite flower.


    Blake tilts his head slightly, confusion written on his face because of how long I took to answer, but he nods in the end. ¡°Lily, huh? Fair enough. You¡¯re mysterious¡ªI like that.¡± He waves over a few Dead Kings standing nearby, who quickly exchange words and spread out across the arena.


    Blake then strolls back to the other side of the arena, far away from us. The Dead Kings¡¯ MC steps forward, holding a microphone that crackles slightly as he speaks with intense enthusiasm.


    ¡°Alright, chooms, listen up! Tonight¡¯s entertainment is gonna be legendary! You know what time it is, and you know what you came for! So let¡¯s get right into it!¡± The crowd explodes into cheering that I thought couldn¡¯t get any louder. Guns fire off in the distance and I¡¯m pretty sure fireworks are exploding somewhere in the upper floors.


    Not letting the hype die, the MC points over at Blake and the lights focus on him as the introduction commences. This is fucking ridiculous, it¡¯s like I¡¯m watching a boxing match. ¡°On one side, we¡¯ve got our fearless leader, the one, the only, the founder of our happy family¡­ Blake Cunningham!¡± The crowd erupts into cheers. ¡°Long may he reign!¡± Blake smirks at both me and Remi, lightly smacking his padded fists together. ¡°It¡¯s been months since someone decided to enter the gauntlet, and for good reason! It¡¯s the best way to end up in a wheelchair!¡±


    With a smirk and a flex of the robot-padded biceps, Blake furthers the crowd hype. ¡°Baby, you know it!¡± He points at the crowd and does another ridiculous superhero-esque pose.


    ¡°And on the other side¡­¡± The MC gestures dramatically toward myself and Remi, the lights immediately jump from Blake to us. ¡°We¡¯ve got a challenger duo! First up, you know him, you ¡®love¡¯ him¡ªthe man who¡¯s about to fill AXIS¡¯s shoes: Remi!¡± Remi kisses his fist and sticks it out into the air. Jesus Christ, save me. ¡°And boy, do we have some heated history with this young buck! Like, seriously, pissing off AXIS and practically throwing fists at everyone he can see! The balls of this young Vancouverite! But tonight, things are gonna change, and we¡¯re all for it, if he can handle the consequences!¡±


    The crowd cheers and boos at Remi, which only furthers the excitement. Remi strikes a peace sign into the air and waves it at those who cheer, while his other hand forms a middle finger to those who disapprove of him. The MC laughs and coughs into the microphone momentarily at the display of audacity and then points to me.


    ¡°But alongside the blabbermouth, we have a mysterious new gunwoman! Someone, who has already impressed Blake with her lightning reflexes, and disarmed one of our soldiers in one move! A cunning and dazzling sassy beauty in that hoodie! A woman that no one here knows at all! Going by a mysterious name and not much else to work off of, please welcome¡­ Lily!¡± The crowd cheers and claps in my direction. Though I try to keep my face neutral, my lips twitch involuntarily. Internally I¡¯m cringing, I love being admired and all, but this isn¡¯t my preferred field of fame.


    Remi nudges my side. ¡°C''mon, brah! Smile!¡±


    ¡°Hell no,¡± I glance at him, arching a brow. I allow for little expression on my face and speak with a low tone, wary of this possibly being live-streamed all over the media. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± I just hope this won¡¯t be enough to screw me over in the future.


    ¡°Aight, suit yourself!¡±


    The MC leans into the microphone, a grin audible even through just his voice. ¡°Contestants, any last words before we start?¡±


    Blake waves from his corner. ¡°Hah! Good luck, you¡¯ll need it!¡± He winks at us, and I roll my eyes in return.


    Remi grins, his confidence slowly returning. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, big man! We¡¯re winning this!¡± Remi then quickly grabs me by the shoulder, rasping into my ear. ¡°Oh, by the way, you got a game plan? He seems kinda big, ain¡¯t no way he moves well, right?¡±


    I simply nod, my lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Yeah, someone of his size and bulk¡­ he¡¯s gotta have issues maneuvering around. I got an idea.¡± The confidence is clear in my voice. With what I know from Azure and my brief self-study of cybernetics in the past, I should be able to at least hold on for a bit. Truth be told, I¡¯ve never actually fought a cyborg, so this is gonna be a first, even for me. But surely it won¡¯t be that bad, I think.


    ¡°Sick, I¡¯ll follow your lead.¡±


    The MC smirks at us. ¡°Alright, you two, whatever you¡¯re planning, hopefully, it works!¡± He laughs wholeheartedly and then gestures at the rest of the crowd. ¡°And folks, you heard it here first! They¡¯re ready to go! Now, as a reminder for all! 2 minutes to either survive Blake¡¯s onslaught or to get him to tap out! With that being said¡­ let¡¯s get this show on the road!¡±


    The MC pulls out a phone and taps once on the screen. ¡°ANDDDDD, GO!¡± Horns blare, drowning out everything but the deafening cheers and screams.


    I take in a deep breath and ready myself for Blake¡¯s¡­ heavy footsteps¡­ thudding against the sand at surprising breakneck speed. Oh, he¡¯s fast¡­ WAY TOO FAST FOR HIS SIZE. Panic quickly sets in my caffeinated system and I urgently grab Remi by the arm, screaming in his face. ¡°REMI, I MADE A MISTAKE!¡±


    ¡°Wait, what? I thought you said we had a plan!?¡± Remi looks at me, absolutely dumbfounded.


    Before I can respond, Blake closes the distance in seconds. He looks at us with a crazed look in his eye. He winds up his left arm, readying himself as he¡¯s about to swing. ¡°Helloooo!¡± His face is demonic, and I realize I¡¯ve severely underestimated him.


    Fuck.

 Chapter 16

    April 15, 2021. 04:25. Vancouver.


    ¡°MOVE!¡± I shove Remi out of the way just in time as Blake barrels forward. I launch myself to the right while Remi sprawls to the left. The ground trembles with thundering steps. Cybernetic fists slam into the empty air.


    The MC¡¯s voice thunders over the chaos. ¡°Ohhhh, what a dodge! Lily and Remi showing some serious reflexes out there!¡±


    The crowd erupts in laughter, some jeering at Blake for missing. ¡°C¡¯mon, Blake! What are you doing?¡± someone shouts. Another chunk of the crowd chant our names while others just scream.


    Blake skids to a halt and sand sprays up in all directions. He straightens up, shaking his head with a low chuckle. ¡°That¡¯s it? Where¡¯s all that bravado, you two? Hope you¡¯re better at coming up with plans on the fly, you¡¯re gonna need one.¡±


    I scowl, backing away slowly. My mind races as I read his movements. ¡°Yeah, well, give us a sec.¡± Sarcasm oozes from my voice.


    Remi cracks his neck and circles Blake¡¯s rear. His eyes focused on Blake¡¯s large backside.


    Except, he¡¯s not so stealthy with it, especially in the open. Blake¡¯s eyes glint with amusement, his head swivels to Remi, and he suddenly swings one of his padded arms. ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to try better than THAT!¡± Blake swings his arm and it slams into Remi¡¯s side, sending him flying into the sand.


    The crowd cheers as Remi crashes into the ground. He groans on the floor. ¡°Oh, fuck...¡± He rolls onto his side, curling himself up into a ball.


    The crowd collectively winces. ¡°OHHH! That¡¯s gotta hurt!¡± the MC yells. ¡°Twenty seconds in, and Remi¡¯s already eating sand, folks!¡±


    ¡°Remi, what the hell?!¡± My jaw drops in surprise.


    He stumbles to his feet, legs trembling madly. ¡°Aight¡­ warm-up is over, bro.¡± He gasps for air and coughs twice before standing upright.


    Blake smiles and plants his fists on his hips. ¡°Take five, rockerboy. I¡¯ll give you two a moment to figure something out¡ª¡±


    I charge forward, leaping onto Blake¡¯s back. I¡¯m not letting this opportunity go to waste.


    Blake laughs and swings wildly behind him. ¡°Oh?¡± I cling to his upper back, slipping past his arms and evading his grasp with subtle movements. Every so often, I shift myself onto another part of his shoulders, just staying barely out of reach. He nearly yoinks me off several times, but I keep holding. Let¡¯s try something else.


    I lock my arms around his neck and yank with an aggressive chokehold, but then feel his armoured plating effortlessly resist. Fuck, should¡¯ve known it wouldn¡¯t be that easy. Just as his attempts get a little too close for comfort, I flip off his back and onto the sand. I need a new plan. The crowd cheers and I sprint toward Remi, who¡¯s groaning and coughing. ¡°Alright, tough guy, we need to move!¡±


    Remi nods and points at a nearby ruin of bricks and stone. ¡°There!¡±


    ¡°Screw it! Go go!¡±


    We run toward the makeshift building. Blake trudges to us, slowly, but nonetheless entertained. Must be nice being the boss battle, huh? Each step he takes is the equivalent to a damn elephant and part of me regrets signing up. But at the same time, Remi would¡¯ve been doing this alone and I wouldn¡¯t be gaining anything either.


    Blake chuckles and calls out to us. ¡°You think hiding in a corner is gonna save you? Come on, show me something real!¡±


    I growl and bite my lip, pride fizzling under my panic. If I just had access to my armoury or even Azure and Shock, I¡¯m confident it would be easier. But instead, I get nothing but myself and Remi. We duck behind the wall.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how long Blake plans on giving us mercy, but we need to make this count.¡± I glance at the debris around myself and Remi¡ªbroken cars, chunks of stone, scattered junk. ¡°Direct combat¡¯s suicide,¡± I turn back to Remi. ¡°He¡¯s faster than I expected, but he¡¯s still just a padded bulldozer. We need precision.¡±


    Remi wheezes, leaning against the wall. ¡°What now?¡±


    I look around frantically for a solution and then spot it, a four-door red sedan. ¡°We¡¯ll use that car over there.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Remi¡¯s voice cracks. ¡°You¡¯re insane! What if there¡¯s no key?¡±


    ¡°Trust me, they don¡¯t leave cars around for a reason, they probably left the keys,¡± I shove him toward the car. ¡°Get it running and ram him. I¡¯ll keep him busy.¡±


    Remi hesitates. ¡°This is a terrible idea.¡±


    ¡°Just do it!¡± I sprint back out as Blake rounds the corner.


    His red eyes curl, and he licks his lips. ¡°Hope you got a plan!¡± He then swings his massive fist, narrowly missing me as I duck and weave. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back either! The crowd gets bored easily!¡± Sand clings to my hair as my hood falls off, but my eyes maintain contact with Blake¡¯s. Oh, trust me, I won¡¯t. Another mechanical kick comes flying my way. I drop down to the ground, rolling behind and staying within my opponent¡¯s blind spot.


    Finally, I leap onto his chest, wrapping myself around him like a gorilla. I rip off my hoodie and pull it over his head. Blake laughs, thrashing and stumbling as I relentlessly punch his face, landing blow after blow. I can feel my fists collide against flesh more than metal. Finally!


    ¡°YES! This is what we wanted!¡± Blake bellows, his voice muffled under the fabric. HOW THE HELL IS HE ENJOYING THIS? ¡°Great usage of your clothing!¡± This guy is a total fucking maniac.


    ¡°Yeah, it looks good on you!¡± I quip and tighten the fabric, gripping it like reins. I slam my free fist into his temple, over and over. Each hit makes him stumble, the force finally starting to show.


    The sound of an engine cuts through the chaos. The crowd gasps, spotting Remi behind the wheel of a car, his face pale but determined. He screams at me as he speeds toward Blake. ¡°MOVE, CHOOM!¡±


    The car crashes into Blake, the force pushing him against the stadium wall with a deafening crash. I leap off Blake just in time to avoid the collision, and I land hard, rolling across the sand. My muscles scream in protest and I spit sand out of my mouth.


    The crowd loses its collective mind. Some cheer wildly, chanting, ¡°Lily! Lily!¡± while others scream in disbelief. The MC practically loses his voice. ¡°ARE YOU SEEING THIS?! THEY JUST RAMMED BLAKE INTO A WALL! THIS IS INSANITY!¡±


    For a moment, silence hangs over the arena, broken only by the sound of creaking metal. Then, Blake¡¯s maniacal laughter returns. Slowly, he pushes the car away, the tires squealing as they scrape against the sand. The hoodie still blinds him, and he struggles to yank it off with his padded hands.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Is he¡­ lifting the car?!¡± the MC exclaims, the crowd gasping in awe.


    Blake doesn¡¯t just tip the car onto its side, no, he grabs it with one hand and is about to throw it. Remi scrambles out just in time, clutching his arm as he collapses in the sand. The car is then thrown across the other side of the arena. We¡¯re so screwed, if this was serious, he could easily kill us.


    My chest heaves as I watch Blake rip my hoodie off his head. His face is a mess of blood and sweat. He grins and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡± His chest rises and falls with an amused huff.


    The crowd explodes into chaos, the MC¡¯s voice booming over the speakers. ¡°One minute and twenty seconds left! Lily and Remi are putting on a SHOW, folks! Can they actually pull this off?!¡±


    I pull myself up, my body battered and bruised. I lock eyes with Blake, his face is a bloodied mess, but his smile is wide and manic.


    ¡°Feeling the fun yet?¡± I smirk and raise an eyebrow.


    Remi collapses nearby, gasping for air. ¡°Bruh, I can¡¯t take this anymore.¡±


    I rush over to Remi, helping him sit upright. I analyze his convulsing form, eyeing his limbs and torso. ¡°You¡¯re not okay, you just took a bad hit.¡±


    ¡°Nah. What¡¯s the plan now though? The car is gone.¡±


    ¡°Dude, you¡¯re not in good shape.¡± I glance around, spotting a nearby stone structure. ¡°Hide under the rubble. I¡¯ll keep him busy.¡±


    Remi protests weakly. ¡°That¡¯s a dumb plan. What if he crushes you?¡±


    The idea of using Remi as a distraction or meatshield crosses my mind, but I decide to not endanger him any further. ¡°Then you win by default. Congrats,¡± I snap back, and drag him toward the debris. ¡°Just stay down.¡±


    Blake shakes his head in amusement, quickly looking at the MC and then back at me. ¡°Got another plan?¡±


    I face him with clenched fists. The caffeine in my bloodstream keeps me awake, but I know I¡¯m running on fumes. ¡°I got plenty.¡±


    The screaming of the crowd is deafening. This damn gauntlet is getting to me. The MC shouts, ¡°WHOA, folks, this is it! Lily versus Blake! No tricks, no backup¡ªa pure, one on one! Is Remi down for good!?¡±


    Blake¡¯s voice echoes through the arena as he wipes the blood streaming from his nose, but his grin remains. ¡°Please tell me Remi is alive, at least.¡±


    The MC¡¯s voice cuts through the chaos. ¡°Sixty seconds left, folks! Can Lily survive, or will Blake take her down for good? Clock is ticking!¡±


    I try stepping forward, but my legs shake more than I¡¯d like. I kneel on the sand, gasping for air as the overexertion kicks in. ¡°Ugh¡­¡± Sixty seconds left, c¡¯mon! Damn it! My head feels like it¡¯s spinning and my muscles ache.


    Blake steps closer, shaking his head in mock disappointment. ¡°Guess you weren¡¯t cut out for this after all.¡± He launches forward with a padded fist, preparing to end the fight.


    I dodge, but it¡¯s not fast enough. The edge of his padded fist clips my side, and I wince in pain. Pain explodes through my ribs as I¡¯m violently launched into the sand. FUCK, I AM NOT LOSING LIKE THIS.


    The crowd erupts into wild applause. ¡°Lily¡¯s down!¡± the MC shouts. ¡°But is she out?!¡±


    My body twists and I plant my hands in the sand, pushing myself with everything I have.


    Blake casually walks over to me, his shadow swallowing my battered form. ¡°You put up a good fight,¡± he says, raising his foot. ¡°But this is where it ends.¡±


    I roll at the last second, Blake¡¯s foot stomping into the sand beside me. Sand shoots up in front of me and I waste no time scrambling to my feet. But then I feel Blake¡¯s hand latch onto my arm, mid-dodge. NO. He lifts me by the arm, like a rag doll, and then slams me into the ground. I cough violently, wind knocked out of me, and hear the telltale pop of dislocation before the pain kicks in.


    The audience screams and the MC¡¯s voice rises with excitement. ¡°LILY IS TAKING A BEATING! CAN SHE EVEN STAND AFTER THAT?!¡±


    Blake drops me and then turns to the crowd. ¡°Is this the best they¡¯ve got?! Aren¡¯t you all disappointed?!¡±


    The crowd roars in agreement, chanting our names. For a moment, I notice a hint of concern on Blake¡¯s face. But it disappears once he notices that I¡¯m still breathing.


    I groan and hug my dislocated arm. ¡°Motherfucker¡­¡± The pain is intense¡ªbut it¡¯s nothing I haven¡¯t learnt to handle before. I grit my teeth, keeping my jaw locked in place.


    I shift my weight, planting my knee into the sand. Son of a bitch. I brace my forearm against my thigh and control my breathing. Then I drive my shoulder forward and twist.


    A fresh wave of pain shoots through me, but the relief that follows is almost dizzying. ¡°FUCK!¡± I gasp for air, my breath ragged. The joint is back in place, though I know it¡¯s still weak.


    All eyes are on me as I flex my fingers, testing for any sharp pain while the nausea disappears. Good enough. I roll my neck, shaking out my good arm. I look up at Blake, teeth bared. ¡°That all you got?¡±


    The audience goes feral.


    Then suddenly, the nearby rubble shifts. Remi bursts out, gripping a jagged piece of debris. His eyes lock onto me. Don¡¯t do it. I meet his gaze with a massive look of disapproval.


    ¡°EY, BOSS MAN!! My turn, choom!¡± Remi slams it against nearby stone, the clang echoing through the arena.


    The crowd erupts into cheers, their energy surging back. ¡°Remi¡¯s back! He¡¯s not done yet!¡± the MC yells.


    Blake freezes, his fist still raised. He turns toward Remi, his grin widening. ¡°You two got guts and bravado. I respect that.¡±


    With Blake distracted, I make a mad dash for another car. Desperate and weak, I dive into the driver¡¯s seat. The key is on the dashboard, thank God. The adrenaline masks my pain and I start the ignition. The car roars to life, and I plant my head against the wheel. ¡°C¡¯mon, girl, I need to survive this.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re down to the final seconds, and it¡¯s anyone¡¯s game!¡± The MC yells into his mic and the crowd is losing it.


    As Blake pivots around to notice me, Remi lets out a battle cry. He runs at Blake, pouncing onto his legs and then climbing up, repeatedly bashing everywhere with his pipe. Blake snorts, trying to get Remi away from anywhere close to his face.


    I press my foot onto the pedal, driving forward. Blake raises out one arm and stops the incoming car while the other poorly attempts to get Remi off.


    Blake stumbles through our combined efforts, his coordination and footing shaky as he tries to deal with both attacks at once. The tires screech and then I feel the car tipping over.


    ¡°C¡¯MON!¡± I repeatedly slap the steering wheel.


    ¡°TEN SECONDS!¡± the MC yells. The crowd is on their feet, screaming as the timer ticks down.


    Remi successfully climbs onto Blake¡¯s back, swinging the pipe with all his might. The blows bounce harmlessly off Blake¡¯s padded chest and back, but each one edges closer to his head. ¡°Alright, playtime is over,¡± Blake smirks, swatting Remi aside. Remi crashes into a nearby wall, coughing and groaning. But his concentration is shattered¡ªfor a fraction of a second, he shifts his weight. And that¡¯s all I need.


    ¡°FIVE SECONDS!¡± the MC shouts. The crowd is on its feet, screaming in anticipation.


    The car goes further, slamming into Blake¡¯s side and disrupting his stance. He grunts and the car regains its hold on the ground, pushing Blake into nearby stone. The crowd loses their minds, and Blake thrashes wildly, surprise written on his face.


    ¡°THREE SECONDS!¡± the MC yells.


    Blake spins, his mechanical body twisting to escape, but his movements are too slow. His footing slips, and he falls over from the awkward balance, crashing onto the ground as the car pushes him. He raises out his free arm and shields his head from incoming debris.


    I scream and jam my nails into the steering wheel. ¡°YEESSSSSSS!¡± Smoke envelopes the area as Blake is rammed into stone ahead of me¡ªbut then I feel the car being lifted, and a red mechanical glow cuts through the grey haze. ¡°NO NO NO!¡±


    The horn sounds, cutting through the chaos. ¡°TIME¡¯S UP!¡± the MC shouts, his voice cracking with excitement. ¡°WE HAVE A TIE!¡±


    Time slows down for me, my mind barely registering the MC¡¯s words. Is it finally over?


    The car is gently lowered, and then I hear Blake¡¯s laughter booming. The smoke clears and he sets my ride down carefully, shaking his head with a grin. ¡°Damn, Lily. Not bad.¡±


    The crowd explodes, chanting their names as the MC continues. ¡°WHAT A FIGHT! Lily and Remi may not have taken down Blake, but they¡¯ve done something not many can do¡ªsurvive! Let¡¯s give it up for these legends!¡±


    Medics rush into the arena as Blake waves to the crowd. His face is a bloody mess, but his grin remains. He makes his way over to Remi, patting his beaten and bruised body. ¡°Not bad, Kid. Not bad at all.¡±


    I stumble out of the car and spot Remi cracking a faint smile, his voice hoarse. ¡°You hit like a truck, dawg.¡±


    Blake chuckles. ¡°And you¡¯re damn a tank. Welcome to the family.¡±


    I watch the medics check on Remi first, and then spot a few more running to me. I sit down on the sand, letting gravity do the rest, and flop onto the ground.


    It¡¯s over. Finally.

 Interlude: Liam

    April 9, 2021. 18:40. Burnaby.


    Today was a busy day. No, it was more than just busy¡ªit was absolutely exhausting. A surge in cyberpsychosis cases, a gang war brewing in the lower mainland, and a new street drug circulating the underworld? Any person following the news would be concerned¡ªunless you were Liam, the chief of the Vancouver Police Department, then, it was more than just a concern. It was a logistical nightmare with far too few officers to handle.


    The hum of a crowded mall buzzed around him¡ªneon advertisements flashed across digital billboards, vendors shouted out deals, and the scents of deep-fried street food and overpriced coffee mingled together. The noise was just enough to keep Liam from dozing off, but not enough to distract him from his aching muscles after a long shift.


    ¡°Where is she?¡± Liam sighed and leaned against a wall of a restaurant, rolling his stiff shoulders. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he had a proper night¡¯s rest, and his body made sure he knew it. Exhaustion was written all across his middle-aged Caucasian face¡ªdark circles under tired brown eyes, a short but unruly beard from skipped shaves, and shoulder-length brown hair that had gotten long enough to be a nuisance.


    A faint scar traced from just above his forehead to the metallic bridge of a cybernetic nose. The nostrils were still organic and so was the majority of his face. What once was a close call is now merely a reminder of a long-past incident.


    Liam closed his eyes, rubbing the area where his flesh met metal. ¡°Maybe I should book a haircut.¡±


    His stomach growled in protest. Right¡ªfood. That was why he was here, waiting for everyone. But he had no clue when they would arrive.


    A vibration went off in his pocket, a noise all too familiar to Liam. He sighed again and pulled out his phone, swiping through his notifications. The screen lit up with breaking news articles, each headline more aggravating than the last.


    GANG TURF WAR INTENSIFIES IN METRO VANCOUVER¡ªBURNABY SEES SPILLOVER VIOLENCE.


    Swipe.


    VPD STRETCHED THIN¡ªCHIEF LIAM WOODS FACES CALLS FOR EXPANSION INTO SURREY.


    Another swipe.


    NEW SYNTHETIC STIMULANT ¡®SYNTHCOKE¡¯ LINKED TO RISING CYBERPSYCHOSIS CASES.


    Liam''s jaw tightened. The VPD was barely keeping Vancouver and Burnaby under control as it was. And Mayor Gestalt¡¯s idea of expanding operations into Richmond and Surrey? A beautiful but difficult ideal. The manpower just didn¡¯t exist right now. Hell, patrols were already spread too thin in Vancouver districts.


    Liam exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. ¡°What the hell am I supposed to do?¡± he muttered under his breath.


    ¡°Rough day?¡± A calm voice cut through Liam¡¯s thoughts.


    Surprised, Liam twisted his head, turning toward the source.


    A man stood next to him¡ªwhite, average build, medium height, dark hair, and a kind but weathered face. The type of man you wouldn¡¯t look twice at in a crowd. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, the other tucked in the pocket of a well-worn jacket.


    There was a pause, a brief moment of hesitation, and then the man offered a small smile. ¡°You¡¯re Chief Woods, right?¡±


    Liam raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I keep up with the news,¡± the man added quickly. ¡°And you¡¯ve been in a lot of it lately.¡±


    Liam sighed, slipping his phone into his pocket. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯d be me.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to intrude, you just look like you could use a distraction. Mind if I offer some unsolicited advice?¡±


    Liam studied him for a second. Normally, he wouldn¡¯t entertain random advice from strangers, but something about this guy was disarming. Maybe it was exhaustion lowering his guard, or maybe it was just the way the guy carried himself¡ªrelaxed and observant, with no hint of judgment.


    With a tired chuckle, Liam leaned back against the wall. ¡°Sure. Not like I¡¯ve got anything better to do right now.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The man nodded, taking a sip of his coffee before speaking. ¡°It¡¯s a mess out there, huh?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it.¡±


    Liam wasn¡¯t about to start rattling off classified details, but he didn¡¯t need to¡ªthe public already knew enough. Between cyberpsychosis spikes, gangs getting bolder, and the city¡¯s police force stretched across too many fronts, it wasn¡¯t hard to guess the kind of stress he was under.


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± the man continued, eyes scanning the mall crowd as he spoke. ¡°Too many problems, and not enough hands to help out.¡±


    Liam smirked dryly. ¡°You a detective?¡±


    The man chuckled and shook his head. ¡°Just a guy who pays attention.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re not wrong. We¡¯re holding the line, but it¡¯s... thin. And everyone wants us to do more. Expand further, cover more ground, stretch even thinner.¡±


    ¡°Ah, into Surrey and Richmond, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯s been a goal for a while.¡± Liam tilted his head while looking at the man, curiosity written all over his face. ¡°You ever seen something like this elsewhere?¡±


    ¡°I work in logistics,¡± The man shrugged. ¡°Different field, same problem, I guess¡­¡± He also leaned against the wall, mirroring Liam. ¡°Too many demands, not enough resources. You¡¯re never gonna satisfy everyone.¡±


    ¡°Hah¡­ ain¡¯t that the truth?¡±


    There was a beat of silence, but it wasn¡¯t an uncomfortable one. Liam found himself relaxing¡ªnot something he did often outside of his own home. But then a question formed in his head, one where he was curious about the man¡¯s response.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me asking, what do you think is the biggest priority right now? The gang wars, the cyberpsychos, or SynthCoke?"


    There was a pause, the man froze in thought for a second before sipping his coffee. "The drugs. Hands down."


    "Really? Not the cyberpsychos? Or the gang war?¡± Liam raised an eyebrow. He wasn¡¯t expecting any particular response, but he was interested in the man¡¯s reasoning. ¡°I''d think those are more urgent."


    "Yes, they''re dangerous. But let me ask you¡ªwhat do you think parents worry about the most?"


    "All of them, no? Gang wars drag in kids, cyberpsychos kill people at random, and SynthCoke¡ªwell, we know how bad that is, just take a look at the articles."


    "A fair point, but let me present you with a differing perspective. Yes, cyberpsychos are dangerous, but they¡¯re an occurrence within trending locations. Most people figure, ''Avoid the hotspots, stay indoors, and we¡¯re fine.'' Gang violence? It¡¯s a similar idea. Parents assume ''My kid isn¡¯t in a gang, so they won¡¯t get pulled in.'' But drugs?"


    "Drugs are different?"


    ¡°They¡¯re everywhere, unlike the other two. You can tell your kid to avoid a bad neighbourhood or to not get involved with gangs. But you can¡¯t control what they see at school, even if it¡¯s enforced. Someone will sneak it in. You can¡¯t stop their friends from trying it. You can¡¯t guarantee some dealer won¡¯t slide them a sample at a party. It¡¯s not just some far-off thing¡ªit¡¯s already inside their world."


    ¡°Hm¡­¡± Liam let the thought roll around in his head. He folds his arms, tapping his fingers against his elbows, carefully considering the man¡¯s words before responding.


    The man continues to drink his coffee, watching Liam carefully. "Now, I¡¯m not saying that the other two aren¡¯t important, I¡¯m just telling you my thoughts as a parent. You can fight a gang war, and people say, ''It¡¯s just criminals killing criminals.'' You can stop a cyberpsycho, and they¡¯ll say, ''Well, that¡¯s one less lunatic on the streets.'' But if you can take down the drug trade, you don¡¯t just make people feel safer. You actually make them safer. Cut off the supply, and you hit gangs, reduce street violence and maybe even prevent cyberpsychos from going off the rails."


    "So you¡¯re suggesting that by taking out SynthCoke, the other problems could be hit at the same time?"


    The man finished his cup and threw it into a nearby trash bin. "At the end of the day, you¡¯re the cop and I¡¯m not,¡± he shrugged. ¡°But if I were in your shoes? I¡¯d start with the thing that¡¯s already in people¡¯s homes first."


    "Not a bad answer. I appreciate the perspective." Liam chuckled, his head gently rocking forward and back. ¡°While I can¡¯t guarantee that what you said will happen exactly the way you described, just know that I¡¯ve had similar thoughts. Thank you for hearing me out.¡±


    "Of course, just speaking from experience. Solving issues like these isn¡¯t as black and white as people make them out to be." The man smirked and extended his hand. ¡°My name is John, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Liam."


    The two men then shook hands.


    Before either of them could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the noise. A voice that instantly made him feel at peace.


    ¡°Dad?¡±


    Liam turned, spotting Erica standing just a few feet away. Her expression flickered between confusion and mild amusement. Next to her, Jamie looked equally surprised.


    ¡°You¡¯re late, slowpoke,¡± Liam teased, an eyebrow raised in mock disappointment. ¡°What took you so long?¡±


    ¡°We got sidetracked,¡± Erica laughed sheepishly, before glancing between him and John. ¡°¡­Wait. You two know each other?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ no, we just met.¡±


    Jamie¡¯s head tilted at Liam, and then she waved at John. ¡°Hi, Dad.¡±


    Liam¡¯s brain stalled. ¡°¡­What?¡±


    John grinned, returning Jamie¡¯s wave. ¡°Hey, kiddo.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re Jamie¡¯s father?!¡± Liam¡¯s jaw dropped, and the realization hit all at once. The shock was visible all over his face.


    Erica burst out laughing, clapping like she was watching a performance. ¡°That¡¯s HILARIOUS. Oh my God!¡±


    ¡°Small world, huh?¡± John smirked and nudged Liam. ¡°Shall we head in for food?¡±


    Liam blinked between Erica and John before pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Right.¡± He closed his eyes and sighed before leading everyone inside.


    Dinner just got a lot more interesting.