The drift across Terminal Square had made Marcel a hero.That wasn't the problem.
The problem was: heroes don't get to rest.They get hunted.
Three weeks after the Zero Shift, Marcel Vega sat in the back of a moving cargo rig with the hood of his Skyline pulled open and a circuit board from Adrian's Phantom Unit beating like a heart in his lap.
Ravyn's voice crackled through a handheld unit.
"You're glowing again. Internal temperature rising. You sure you're okay?"
"Glowing's fine," Marcel muttered. "Exploding's where I draw the line."
The city outside wasn't Terminal anymore. It was wider. Wilder.The Dread Wastes.An endless stretch of salt, smoke, and outlaw tech hubs buried under rusted domes. Here, the Syndicate had no presence.
But they had reach.
A warning pulse hit the sensor rail on the trailer wall.
"Incoming," Ayaka's voice snapped over comms. "High-velocity signatures. Seven vehicles. Not ours."
Marcel didn't move.
"Racers?"
"Too synced. Too clean. Syndicate droneship support spotted overhead.It's an extraction squad."
He closed the hood, eyes steady.
"Let them come."
He stepped down off the rig.
In the distance, headlights cut through the haze. The road trembled beneath the weight of machines no one should own.
Marcel adjusted his gloves, climbed into the Skyline, and locked the cockpit.
"Ravyn?"
"Already ahead of you."
"Good. Let's teach the world a new rule."
He shifted gears.
"Legends don't hide.They overdrive."