The warehouse stank of rust and mildew. Dust coated the beams, motes drifting in the lantern light while eight Black Omen operatives cleaned their rifles in silence. The job was finished. They had the CIA documents locked away in a steel case — neat, precise work, the kind Mattethis always demanded. But now he paced.
His men noticed. They always did.
"You want to get your friend out?" the squad's second finally muttered, voice low. "Fine. Two days. After that, he's not our mission."
Matt stopped pacing. "Thank you." His voice was clipped, formal. Gratitude didn't sit easy on him.
Another operative snorted. "Be careful, Matt. This city isn't a joke. People vanish in here like smoke. If your friend's in the Zoo…" He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
Matt pulled his hood up and left.
---
He spent the next day combing bars, bribing bartenders, following whispers. The Lawless City was a furnace of rumor — scraps traded like coin. He kept hearing about a boy. A stubborn one. Refused to sell at the Zoo, obedient after chain. A boy branded with an R. Whatever that means.
By the second evening, Matt pushed through a crowd gathered under the cracked dome of the Slave Zoo's auction floor. Cages rattled on platforms, iron bars thick enough to hold Resonants. The stink of fear and sweat was suffocating.
And there he was.
Kai.
Not the Kai Matt remembered. His hair hung in greasy clumps. His eyes were wide but vacant, pupils blown too far. Drool streaked his chin. A red brand marred his cheek — the letter burned deep into flesh. He swayed on his feet like a puppet with loose strings.
Matt's chest tightened.
The auctioneer slammed his gavel. "Lot Thirty-Five! Zone Alpha stock. Strong frame, obedient disposition."
The bidding began.
Hands shot up. Prices climbed. Kai didn't move, didn't flinch, just stared through the crowd as if he wasn't really there. Matt raised his own hand, voice cold as he called out his first bid.
That's when another voice cut in. A young one. Clear, cocky. Matt turned and saw him — a boy of maybe seventeen, dressed like a prince of the streets, rings flashing on every finger. He grinned like he owned the floor.
They volleyed bids back and forth, the numbers rising absurdly. Matt's jaw clenched. The boy laughed each time he raised him, enjoying the game.
Finally, the gavel fell.
"Sold! To the young master!"
The boy stretched, satisfied, while Kai was dragged from the cage.
Matt shoved forward, hand closing around the boy's shoulder. "He's mine." His voice was low, sharp as a knife.
The boy only grinned wider. "Not anymore. You want him? Pay me double. Or maybe—" he tilted his head, eyes glinting — "fight me for him."
Matt's fingers twitched toward the knife at his belt.
But before either could move, Kai jerked free of his handlers. His eyes lit with a sick hunger, not recognition. The handlers cursed, fumbling for their batons, but Kai slipped past, faster than he had any right to in that state. Gripping the drugs given to the 17 year old
He ran.
Straight into the city.
"Shit!" Matt bolted after him, but the boy only laughed, throwing up his hands.
"You idiot," the seventeen-year-old called after him, voice dripping amusement. "Now he's got the drugs. He'll never come back until he's bled dry. Who the fuck are you anyway?"
His laughter echoed long after Matt vanished into the alleys chasing after Kai.
Matt found him in an alley behind the Gallows Rest, sprawled in a puddle of lamp-oil runoff. Kai's arm was still bent at an awkward angle, a needle lodged dangerously close to his eye, blood crusted around the socket where he'd missed his vein. His chest rose and fell shallow, every breath a ragged wheeze.
Matt's heart lurched. For a moment he just stared — this wasn't the fighter who'd once stared down horrors in the Dead Zone. This was a boy hollowed out by chemicals, strung up on chains not even made of steel.
He shoved the needle aside, checked Kai's pulse, then hauled him up across his shoulders. Kai was lighter than he should have been.
The streets twisted ahead, empty but not silent. Matt pushed hard toward the warehouse. His boots scuffed against cracked tile, sweat stinging his eyes. Every step carried the weight of urgency — get him back, get him safe, lock the world out.
He didn't make it.
Figures stepped out of the shadows at the mouth of the street. Guns gleamed under the dome's sour light. "Set him down," one of them ordered, calm, confident.
Matt froze. Slowly, he turned his head. The seventeen-year-old leaned against a post, casual as if this were a show he'd been waiting to see. Two guards flanked him, rifles steady. The boy's grin was sharp enough to cut glass.
"Put him down," the kid repeated, voice dripping command.
Matt's stomach dropped. He eased Kai off his shoulders, lowering him to the cobbles. Kai didn't stir, head lolling, lips twitching with the faintest murmur that could've been DM, or just delirium.
The boy sauntered forward, crouched beside Kai, and brushed a hand over the branded cheek. "There he is. My stubborn stray." He glanced up at Matt, grin widening. "If you want him… you can have him. But only after he gets me to floor fifty of Azura Tower."
The guards shifted their rifles, silent punctuation to the threat.
Matt's jaw tightened, fury and dread twisting inside his chest. He'd heard stories of the Tower — nobody sane walked past floor twenty. The request wasn't a deal, it was a leash.
And Kai was the chain.
Matt didn't want to give up Kai.
At all but he was at gunpoint and he could do nothing but watch as they dragged him away..
Matt turned the corner activating his burden and then followed them.
Little did he know tonight was a hunt.
And blood would fall and feed the soil below the lawless city.