The Sprawl wasn't quiet anymore. It breathed.
Every block of Halo District 9 pulsed with voices, arguments, and gunfire. Gangs fought gangs. Authority squads dragged bodies into trucks. Revenant scraps twitched in the gutters, glowing faint red like dying embers.
Jack moved through it like a knife in smoke. His coat clung heavy with rain and blood. Victor stayed close, rifle slung tight, scanning rooftops.
Whispers followed them through the alleys.
"King."
"Monster."
"Ghost."
Jack ignored them, but he felt every stare like heat crawling under his skin. Some eyes feared him. Others wanted to follow. None of it mattered yet.
He stopped under a half-dead holo ad that flickered static red. Marcus's grin flashed between frames before the light died again. Jack's jaw tightened, but he didn't say a word.
Victor finally broke the silence. "We need a place to hole up. You're running on fumes."
Jack didn't answer. He was staring at the cracked glass of a storefront window. His own reflection stared back—then rippled, just for a breath, into Marcus.
He blinked hard. The glass was empty again.
"Jack." Victor's voice cut sharper this time. "I said you're slipping."
Jack dragged his eyes away. "Slipping would mean I had ground to stand on."
Victor studied him for a long second, rain streaking down his face. He didn't push it. He just led the way into a gutted factory, its roof half-collapsed and walls tagged with crowns in spray paint.
Inside, it was all rust, shadows, and dripping pipes. They moved through the dark, rifles raised, until they reached a corner lit by the glow of a broken generator.
Jack dropped against the wall, breathing slow but ragged. The Blood Oath still hummed under his skin like a fever. His blade leaned across his knees, black ichor dried along its edge.
Victor crouched in front of him, close enough that Jack could see the exhaustion in his eyes. "You're burning out."
Jack smirked faintly. "You've said that already."
"This isn't a joke." Victor's voice cracked sharp. He grabbed Jack's face suddenly, tilting it toward the light, scanning his pupils. His thumb brushed close to Jack's mouth, too close. "Your eyes keep flickering red. Like his."
Jack didn't flinch, but his chest tightened. For a second, he wasn't sure if Victor was looking for Marcus—or for him.
"Maybe it suits me," Jack said flatly, though the corner of his mouth curved.
Victor's hand lingered a beat too long before he pulled it away. He turned, muttering, "Don't say that."
Silence hung thick between them.
Somewhere outside, voices rose—scavengers arguing, then a gunshot cutting it short. The city never stopped. But in here, it felt like time had slowed, just the two of them breathing in the dark.
Jack leaned his head back against the wall, eyes half-closed. "Tell me, Victor. You follow me because you believe I can kill Marcus… or because you're scared of what I'll become if you don't?"
Victor froze. His grip on his rifle tightened. He didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost hoarse.
"If Marcus kills you, we lose." He hesitated. "But if you become him, we still lose."
Jack's eyes opened again. He studied Victor's face, the tension there, the way the words sounded heavier than loyalty. He almost smiled. Almost.
"You'd put me down?" Jack asked.
Victor's gaze didn't waver. "If I had to."
Their eyes locked—too close, too sharp. For a moment, neither of them moved. The generator hummed faintly, and the rain outside kept falling. Jack felt the tension like static, a wire pulled tight.
Then the world intruded.
A screech cut through the factory. Metal claws against concrete. Jack was on his feet instantly, blade in hand, as shadows spilled through the broken windows.
Revenant Constructs, smaller than the Harbinger but faster, skittered into the room. Their eyes burned red in the dark.
"Figures," Jack muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Can't even get a moment."
Victor raised his rifle. "Welcome back to reality."
The first Construct lunged. Jack met it head-on, blade flashing, sparks showering the walls. Victor's rifle cracked sharp behind him, dropping another.
They fought side by side in the dripping dark, shoulders brushing, breath ragged, until the last Construct twitched dead on the floor.
Silence again. Just blood, rain, and the hum of dying circuits.
Jack stood over the corpses, blade dripping. He didn't look at Victor, but his voice carried low, raw.
"Next time you grab my face like that, make sure you mean it."
Victor froze mid-reload, his eyes snapping to Jack. His breath caught, just for a heartbeat.
But Jack was already moving, stepping deeper into the shadows. "Come on. Marcus won't wait."
Victor followed. He didn't say a word, but his pulse was louder than the rain.