The air in the Mission Center always hit me first a cocktail of fried alien spices, synthetic oil, and the faint tang of ozone that always reminded me of bad decisions. I adjusted the strap of my patched armor and scanned the holo-boards above. City-issued jobs, civilian requests, classified jobs glowing faintly like black void pockets daring me to touch them.
I counted the ferrum in my pocket. Again. Fifty-nine… sixty… Good. Enough to eat for a week. One Celestium would make this math laughable, but I wasn't Vidarath, and my bank account wasn't a multiversal joke. Speaking of, he glided past like a silk shadow, tipping a Celestium coin on a meal that probably cost a hundred thousand ferrum. I muttered, "Must be nice…"
The city-issued board blinked at me: reactor patch, patrol, containment. Predictable, boring, but reliable. I tapped the civilian requests. Missing Orowyrm in the eastern sprawl, "urgent but low-risk," it said. Low-risk? Maybe if you ignore the claw marks on the walls and the faint smell of void residue.
"Hey, Voss!" someone shouted behind me. I turned. A kid in a holo-jumpsuit nearly tripped over his own excitement. "Did you see the Jaeger scrap downtown? Entire street gone!" I shrugged. Good for them. For me, it meant cleanup, containment, and possibly a week of scrubbing radiation dust from my boots.
I grabbed a mission packet for the Orowyrm case and strapped it to my belt, jingling the little charms I'd collected from past jobs shard of voidstone, broken Jaeger button, a tiny salvaged emblem. Superstitions? Maybe. Luck? Absolutely necessary.
The vendor by the corner called out, waving a steaming bundle of… something that smelled like Orowyrm eggs. "Snack, Voss? First one's free for a hero like you!" I waved him off. "Not today. My stomach's not suicidal."
I ducked past another row of terminals, nodding at freelancers I recognized some grumbling over pay, others arguing about the best way to handle a rogue prison-realm beast. Their chatter was background noise. I had my own chaos to chase.
Finally, I stepped toward the exit doors, gear ready, eyes flicking over every security drone and exit route. I muttered under my breath, "One mission at a time. One ferrum at a time. One day I won't have to count coins like a madman." But hope was a luxury, and I'd learned long ago that Evolto City didn't hand out luxuries for free.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the sprawl. The city was alive, chaotic, and dangerous and I wouldn't have it any other way.
The eastern sprawl smelled like burnt metal and rain-soaked concrete not that I minded. At least it was familiar. I tightened my armor straps, checked my scanner, and muttered a quick prayer to the void gods that the missing Orowyrm hadn't turned feral.
The alleyways were a maze of stacked crates, broken holo-ads, and flickering neon. My boots clinked against discarded ferrum cans as I crept forward. The scanner beeped faintly Orowyrm signature detected three streets over.
A flicker of sparks caught my eye. Lyra "Quickwire" Dane was crouched under a broken holo-terminal, cables snaking out like angry snakes.
"Need a hand?" I asked.
"Back off, coin-counter!" she snapped. "This AI thinks it's smarter than me. I'm about to make it regret existing."
I muttered to myself, stepping back. But a second later, a barrier blocking a side alley flickered open Lyra's handiwork. I had a clear path. She grinned without looking up. "Go. Don't die."
The Orowyrm's signature was right behind me. I froze as it darted past a stack of crates. Before I could react, a heavy shadow moved. Rax "Brassjaw" Thorne stepped in, swinging a reinforced crate at the scavengers arguing nearby. One of them went down with a yelp, leaving a clear route.
"Go! I've got this mess," he barked, chomping on his protein bar. "Try not to die, Voss."
I lunged after the Orowyrm, weaving through the alleys. Sparks flew from a hacked security drone overhead Lyra again clearing my path with a well-placed disruption pulse. The creature skidded to a stop at the edge of a collapsed street, trapped by makeshift barricades Rax had thrown up.
"Think you can corner it?" I muttered to the Orowyrm as it blinked at me, wariness in its golden eyes.
A whisper in my ear caught my attention Minx Elara, perched on a broken ledge above. "Watch the scanner, coin-counter! That thing knows the alleys better than you. Left turn at the next junction. Don't let it double back."
I adjusted, following her intel. The Orowyrm hesitated, then bolted again straight into the reinforced cage I'd set up near the containment station. I slammed the door shut, heart hammering. Signature stable. Breathing hard, armor scratched, pockets jingling with ferrum not bad for a day's work.
A shadow fell across the cage. Torven "Grimble" Dex leaned on a crumbling pillar, cybernetic eye whirring. "Remember, Voss, city's a chessboard. Even a captured piece can bite you if you're careless. Good work, pawn."
I nodded, still catching my breath. The city hummed around us neon flickering, vendors shouting, and somewhere above, a Jaeger vibrating the ground. Lyra waved from the terminal across the street, Rax chewed his protein bar smugly, Minx disappeared back into the alleys, and Grimble's cryptic grin lingered.
I counted the ferrum again. One-hundred. Enough to survive another day.
And as always, I muttered: "One mission at a time. One ferrum at a time. One day I'll stop counting and start living."