I crept forward through the dim hallway, each step deliberate, rifle raised. My sensors pulsed at full sensitivity, scanning for heat signatures, movement, or sound—yet the readouts came back empty.
'Strange. No Kaiko guards in sight,' I murmured through the comms.
'Don't relax just yet,' Kathy replied, her voice steady. 'This feels like a setup.'
The passage opened into the main hangar—an enormous chamber with a cathedral-high ceiling. Ramps and docking scaffolds lined the cavernous space, clearly designed for storing and repairing heavy industrial mechas. A cold shiver of relief ran down my spine; thank the stars, none were present today.
'Too quiet… something's off,' I whispered across the link.
Then it happened. My cyberbrain flared a red warning across my vision. Before I could consciously react, my body moved on its own—jerking backward in a fluid, acrobatic twist as a mini-missile screamed past me. It detonated against the floor where I had stood, sending a geyser of flame and shrapnel into the air.
From the smoke, a figure emerged.
Mosta Pasi.
The man was encased in a hulking power-suit armor, its plating bristling with weapon mounts. A rotating Gatling gun whirred on one arm, while a missile pod hissed smoke on the other. The armor's servos growled with every heavy step as he advanced.
All around him, hidden Kaiko members revealed themselves from alcoves and shadows. Dozens of them. Modders with glowing cybernetics fused to their flesh, androids with cold expressionless faces, and cyborgs armed with latest weapons to date.
Mosta's amplified voice thundered through his suit's speakers. "I didn't expect the infamous bounty hunter to be just a lone, cute little lady. Did you think I wouldn't notice you carving through my men outside?"
I smirked, shifting my grip on the APBR as my finger flicked the selector to full-auto. "Cute, huh? Funny, I didn't know fatso like you could even squeeze into a power suit. Why don't you tell me where you got that toy?"
The hangar echoed with his laughter, booming and grotesque. "Fatso? You dare—" He cut himself off with a manic grin. "Enough talk. Kill her!"
At his command, the Kaiko gang surged forward like a tidal wave of steel and flesh.
Before they could even lift their weapons, I hurled a grenade and scattered a handful of micro-bombs across the hangar floor, then dove behind a steel pillar for cover.
The explosions tore through the Kaiko ranks. Those who couldn't dodge in time were shredded by shrapnel and fire. The androids suffered the worst—modified domestic units, sluggish and clumsy, never meant for combat. They went down in heaps of sparking circuitry.
Seizing the moment of chaos, I darted out from cover, APBR raised. My cybernetic reflexes outpaced theirs, my aim sharper, faster, more precise than any of them. In a blur of gunfire, the cyborgs crumpled one by one, heads and torsos pierced by armor-piercing rounds.
Then, with a twisting vault, I slid behind another massive steel pillar just as a hailstorm of bullets slammed into it. The thick alloy rang like a gong, sparks showering as rounds ricocheted harmlessly away.
From cover, I tossed another cluster of micro-bombs. The detonations ripped into the modders. Some fell screaming, mangled by the blasts, while the more agile ones rolled clear.
I launched myself into motion again, a storm of acrobatic precision—flipping, sliding, twisting—firing with superhuman speed. My cyberbrain calculated enemy movement before they made it, and I shot not where they were, but where they would be. Every bullet found its mark. In seconds, the entire Kaiko squad lay scattered across the hangar floor, lifeless.
Only Mosta Pasi remained.
With a roar, his Gatling spun to life, belching a torrent of bullets. I dashed, spun, and vaulted, deflecting the incoming storm with my katana. Steel clashed against lead, sparks spraying in arcs as I batted away round after round.
Vaulting upward, I landed on the massive lock mechanism of the hangar's giant blast door. Mosta aimed and fired again, but I danced along the steel like a ghost, blade flashing, deflecting and weaving through his attacks.
"Impossible!" he bellowed through his suit's speaker.
"Fatso! You'll never touch me with bullets!" I taunted, grinning deliberately to enrage him.
"You arrogant brat—taste this!!" he roared, unleashing a salvo of mini-missiles.
I moved at the last possible second. The barrage detonated against the lock mechanism, the shockwave rattling the entire structure. With a deafening groan, the giant hangar doors partially split open—just wide enough for a car to slip through.
I vaulted clear of the hangar and sprinted into the open yard outside.
Behind me, Mosta thundered in pursuit, his bulky power suit clumsy on foot but propelled by hover-jets that gave him bursts of frightening speed.
'Target in sight. Ready when you are,' Kathy's calm voice chimed through the comms.
'Good. I'll keep him busy—fire when he's locked on me,' I replied.
'Roger.'
"Hey, fatso! Over here!" I shouted, strafing sideways and emptying rounds from the APBR. The bullets pinged uselessly against his armored plating.
"Damn it—AP rounds barely scratch that suit!" I cursed, vaulting out of the way as he unloaded another barrage of bullets and missiles.
Then, a sharp crack split the air. A glowing streak slammed into Mosta's suit.
Kathy's EMP sniper had found its mark.
One round after another hammered into the armor, electricity rippling across its surface. The Gatling sputtered, the missile pod fizzled, and the hover-jets coughed out black smoke before dying completely.
The suit staggered, then froze, locked in place like a dead machine.
With a furious grunt, Mosta yanked a manual release and clambered out, sweat dripping down his fat face. He tried to run.
But I was faster.
Firing my CWL-G1, I ensnared him in the constricting wire. The cord wrapped around his arms and legs, binding him tight. He fell to the ground, thrashing and cursing, utterly helpless.
I approached, each step deliberate, the barrel of my rifle aimed at his head.
There he was—the infamous Mosta Pasi—reduced to a writhing lump of flesh on the floor, struggling in vain against my wire restraint.
"Yo, fatso—where'd you get that power suit? That thing's military issue." I leveled my rifle at his head.
Mosta Pasi stayed silent, lips pressed tight.
"You do see the barrel aimed between your eyes, right? Your poster says wanted: dead or alive. I can drag your corpse in and still collect my credits."
"Better to die in your hands than theirs!" he spat, eyes wild.
"You're that afraid of them, huh?" I crouched closer, voice dropping into a growl. "Tell me—who are 'they'? Is it the ones called Spectre?"
At the mention of the name, his eyes went wide. A shiver rattled through him, but still his mouth refused to move.
"C–call the Bounty Hunter drones now!" he suddenly blurted.
"What?" I snapped.
"Turn me in alive! Call the drones now!" His desperation cracked his voice.
"No. Not until you tell me about Spectre first."
"If I talk… they'll kill me!"
"It's the same if I kill you." My finger hovered on the trigger. "At least this way, your death won't be wasted. I'll make good use of what you give me."
"You're insane!" he barked.
"Perhaps," I said coolly, pressing the muzzle closer.
Just as I was about to pull the trigger, he blurted—
"Y… you move like they do."
I froze. "What?"
"The Spectre—you fight like them." His eyes darted over me with fear and awe.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Ever wonder why a Class-C cyborg like you can take down Class-M units?!" he shouted, his voice breaking.
I scowled. "Fatso, you're making zero sense right now."
"Ask the one who coded your combat program!" His words came out like a curse. "Ask him!"
That was enough. My patience snapped. "I've heard all the slander I'll take against my friend. I'm calling the Bounty Hunter drones right now."
I stepped back, giving space for their arrival, and patched into the guild system. I selected Hunt Complete.
Moments later, a large drone descended, hovering above Mosta Pasi.
"Target confirmed," I muttered.
'Jane… that drone doesn't look like one of the Guild's,' Kathy's voice chimed sharply through the comm.
"What?" My head whipped around.
The drone's belly hatch opened. A Gatling gun lowered, locking onto Mosta.
"Kathy! Take the shot—now!" I barked.
She fired instantly, EMP rounds streaking through the air—but she was too late. The drone roared and shredded Mosta into bloody ribbons before her bullets connected.
Sparks cascaded as the drone staggered, then swung its weapon toward me. Kathy's relentless fire disabled its systems, and it spiraled down, crashing hard. The explosion that followed was far too violent for standard Guild tech.
I barely rolled clear, the blast flinging me across the ground. My HUD lit with red warnings, flashing damage alerts across my AR display.
'Jane, are you okay?!' Kathy's voice cracked through comms.
'I'm fine… just minor damage,' I answered, forcing myself up.
'I'm heading over.'
I narrowed my eyes at the smoking wreck. 'Kathy… are drones supposed to detonate like that when they crash?'
'No,' she replied grimly. 'That was no Guild drone.'
"Ha…" I let out a tired sigh.
Then, like clockwork, three actual Guild drones arrived. They hovered in silent observation over the carnage, then departed without a word.
A message pinged in my system:
[From: Bounty Hunter System
Drones unable to confirm hunt completion. Manual confirmation will be conducted by Guild staff. Your bounty reward is pending until verification is complete.]
I stared at Mosta Pasi's burning corpse, reduced to nothing but smoldering meat scraps.
Another sigh escaped me—long, heavy, and bitter.
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