Word of Elias's unnatural combat abilities has reached a dangerous ear. Commissar Hendryk Vael begins his move. As the PDF squad regroups and prepares to escort Elias deeper into the hive, orders arrive — Elias is to be brought in for "evaluation." Fira knows what that really means. Elias is running out of time.
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The corridor seemed smaller now.
After the ambush, after the flames, after the bodies stopped twitching… the quiet was heavier than before.
Elias stood beside Fira in the half-lit chamber, both of them staring at the vox-unit on the wall — the one that had just spoken the words that turned the air colder.
"This is Commissar Hendryk Vael. I want the anomaly brought in. Alive. For now."
Alive. For now.
That was the part that stuck.
Elias said nothing. He didn't need to. Fira's expression had gone flat — the kind of blank that soldiers wore when thinking too fast to speak.
Sergeant Kael returned seconds later, flanked by two troopers and dragging a wounded cultist by the collar. The man was half-conscious, mouth muttering some low, ecstatic prayer.
Kael threw him to the ground and nodded toward Fira. "Patch him up. Interrogators'll want him in one piece."
Fira didn't move.
Kael noticed.
He followed her gaze — to Elias.
Then to the vox.
His jaw clenched. Not in surprise. Not in sympathy. Just calculation.
"You heard him," Kael said.
Fira stepped forward, not quite between Kael and Elias, but close enough to matter.
"Commissar wants him?" she said calmly.
Kael nodded. "Apparently. Must've got word through the backchannel. Intel saw the report from Brann. Something about... impossible movement."
Brann — the wiry soldier with the twitchy eye — stood nearby, avoiding Elias's gaze.
Fira didn't blink.
"And you're going to turn him over. Just like that."
Kael looked at her, expression unreadable. "We follow orders, Vorn. We're not in the business of debating them."
"Since when?" she asked, voice flat.
Kael stepped toward her, his voice lowering. "You think I like this? That I want to hand over some wild-card mutant to a black-coat and hope it doesn't blow back on the whole squad?"
His eyes flicked to Elias.
"But I've lost thirty-two men in two weeks. We're eating recycled rations and scraping laspacks like tech-thralls. You think I can afford ideals?"
Silence.
Fira didn't answer.
Kael sighed. "We move in thirty. Vael's team will intercept at Sub-sector Delta. You can play medic or make this harder. Your choice."
He turned and walked off.
Fira stood still for a long moment.
Then she spoke, quietly, without looking at Elias.
"You need to leave."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "I thought that was the plan. Then the guy with a chainsaw for a personality decided I needed to be interrogated."
"You don't get it. This isn't Earth. The moment Vael touches you, you're either recruited, lobotomized, or executed."
"I figured."
She finally looked at him.
"You want to survive in this galaxy, Mercer? Never let anyone in a black coat know what you can do."
He smiled — not from amusement, but something bitter.
"I'll add that to the growing list."
They sat together briefly in silence, behind the same half-collapsed kiosk, away from the squad's chatter.
Fira handed him a ration bar. He didn't ask what it was.
"You don't have a plan, do you?" she asked.
"Nope."
"You're dangerous without one."
"I'm dangerous with one too. Just a little more organized about it."
She smirked. Just barely.
"Look. If we get to Delta and Vael's men are there, you'll need to disappear. You won't get another shot."
He looked at her carefully. "You're really helping me?"
Fira shrugged.
"You saved my life. And for some reason, you haven't snapped yet. That makes you unique on this planet."
Fifteen minutes later, the squad was moving again. Tight formation. No idle chatter. Brann wouldn't look at Elias. Kael marched at the front, vox hissing with static as he coordinated the rendezvous.
The corridors were wider here — less debris, more architecture. Massive stained glass panels, shattered but still visible, depicted saints Elias didn't recognize. The Emperor was always at the center. Always faceless. Always golden.
There was a story here. A religion. A nightmare.
He didn't have time to read it.
At the end of the corridor, a massive gate stood open.
Beyond it, a landing platform bathed in sick yellow light. Rusted servitors buzzed in place, and a group of soldiers in clean black armor stood in a half-circle — waiting.
At their center stood a man in a crisp Commissar's coat, capped, gloved, polished. His eyes were hidden behind a black augmetic monocle.
He wasn't speaking.
He didn't need to.
As the squad stepped onto the platform, the air grew colder.
Vael stepped forward.
Elias felt every muscle in his body go tense — not from fear. From something deeper.
Something instinctive.
The same feeling you get when the predator finally notices you.
[END OF CHAPTER 2]