The cargo bay rattled as the plane cut through the night air. Every vibration hummed against the metal barrels stacked in neat rows, each one a silent promise of devastation. The central bomb rig loomed larger now, its rail extending like a tongue toward the rear hatch. If the Red Circle succeeded, entire zones would be poisoned.
Kai shifted in the narrow pocket of shadow where he and Matt had hidden. The plane wasn't empty of danger. Four Red Circle members moved back and forth in the bay. They weren't just guards — they were handlers, ensuring the barrels were secure. Each carried a sidearm, though only two seemed alert. The others lounged, lighting cigarettes, joking over the sound of the engines.
"When we dump this load, the whole zone's gonna glow." One handler grinned, blowing smoke into the stale air.
"Boss says people'll think it's the Russians. That's the point." Another laughed, careless. "Let them clean the mess while we make the money."
The weight of the decision pressed down on them. If the crew noticed them, the fight could ignite the entire cargo hold. The barrels were sealed, but sealed didn't mean indestructible. One stray bullet could ruin more than their mission. Precision mattered. Timing mattered.
Matt edged closer to Kai, eyes fixed on the nearest worker. They moved in unison. A shift of shadows, a held breath, and then a silent rush. Flicker cut clean through the first man's throat before his cigarette even hit the floor. Matt dragged another into the dark, muffling his gasp before twisting his neck with a single motion. The bodies slumped behind the barrels, hidden from immediate sight.
Two left.
I ignored the sovereign kill alert I didn't get anything anyway.
The third man turned, blinking at the empty space where his comrade had been. Suspicion narrowed his eyes. He called out over the engine noise.
"Hey! Where the hell'd you go?"
A pause. Then sharper. "Answer me!"
The reply never came. Kai surged forward, silencing him with a strike. Flicker drank deep, humming in satisfaction, while Matt shoved the body out of sight. Only the pilot remained — and the fourth handler, who froze as the truth dawned.
He dropped his weapon and raised his hands. His eyes darted to the barrels, to the bomb rig, to the reality of his own fragility. "Wait—wait, don't kill me. I'll help, whatever you want. I didn't sign up for this, I swear!" He babbled excuses, promises, bargains.
Kai's gaze stayed flat. There was no room for mercy, no room for prolonged threats. Still, leaving one alive had its uses.
The engines deepened their roar. The plane leveled out, climbing steady into the night. Kai and Matt stood among the dead, the air heavy with oil and smoke, the surviving handler trembling before them. They had taken control, but the mission wasn't finished.
The pilot remained untouched in the cockpit. That had been deliberate. Flying a cargo plane wasn't their specialty, and killing him meant a death spiral they couldn't afford. The decision was simple: let him live, but keep him under their control.
Matt's eyes scanned the bomb rig again. The sheer scale of it was grotesque — a rail-fed delivery system designed to poison cities. Dozens of barrels waited for the signal to roll into the abyss. Kai's stomach tightened, the vibration of the engines merging with the pounding in his skull.
"This isn't a weapon," Matt muttered, voice low. "It's a damn plague."
Kai's answer was colder. "And we're sitting on top of it."
The surviving handler slumped against the wall, too terrified to speak further. Kai ignored him, mind already shifting toward what came next. The lawless city had many crimes, many horrors, but this was different. Nuclear waste wasn't a game, wasn't a spectacle. It was a weapon meant to scar the world permanently.
The plane carried its poison through the night sky. Kai and Matt had seized their foothold, but the storm was only beginning.