Preparation
Night pressed down on New Syndralis like a living thing.
The storm rolled in from the coast, swallowing neon light and city noise beneath sheets of rain that hissed against the warehouse roof. Inside, Jace sat alone beneath the blue glow of his holographic table, maps and dossiers floating before him like ghosts of the lives they represented.
Every gang. Every leader. Every threat.
He rubbed a thumb over the edge of Six Pack's severed cyber-arm lying beside his notes. The cold metal still bore scorch marks from their fight—a reminder that power in this city didn't fade; it just changed hands.
The meeting tomorrow would decide whose hands those were.
He exhaled slowly, forcing focus. The families will come armed and paranoid. If I want to survive that room, I need to control it before I walk in.
The faint flicker of a holo-screen showed Kaia's encrypted message feed.
Kaia: "You sure about this, Jace? Walking into a pit full of vipers is suicide."
Jace: "If I don't, someone worse will. HexGate's waiting for them to tear each other apart."
Kaia: "Then at least come back breathing."
He muted the feed but her voice lingered in his head. She was right—this wasn't just strategy; it was survival.
Rain drummed harder. He zoomed in on a sector map of the meeting zone—an old freight hub built over buried data conduits. He marked every entry, exit, and roof vent, running potential escape paths in sequence.
A flicker of unease rippled through him—his AI-Assisted Intuition whispering, a quiet tug in his chest. Something about the northern approach felt wrong. He couldn't see why, but the instinct was enough. He rerouted his plan instantly, trusting the gut that had saved him too many times to doubt now.
He slid the smart pistol into its holster, adjusted the nano shield weave under his jacket, and palmed the EMP clip Kaia had left him.
When he finally rose from the table, the storm had turned the city into liquid glass.
"Tomorrow decides everything," he said to the empty room. "Time to choose who controls the game."
---
Approach
The streets were drowned in neon reflection.
Jace's chopper cut through the wet darkness, tires hissing over slick pavement. Every streetlight that passed threw his shadow forward like a warning.
He parked a block away from the meeting site—a sprawling freight warehouse crouched behind a fence of rusted steel and electric wire. Surveillance drones patrolled overhead, their lenses sweeping arcs through the rain.
He crouched beside a drainage pipe, checking the perimeter. The damp stank of oil and ozone, and the hum of buried power lines vibrated faintly under his boots.
"Hack," he whispered.
[Hack — Grade III (Optimized)]
Target Acquired: Perimeter Security Grid
Firewall Integrity … 47 %
[Override Pathway Established]
He piggy-backed a dormant maintenance signal, slipped through the system, and rerouted sensor loops until the drones above flickered and drifted off course.
[Hack Successful — Duration 03:00 Minutes]
He vaulted the fence, landing in a crouch among stacked cargo. The Temporal-Enhanced Nano Suit shimmered as it engaged, blending him into shadow. Water beaded across the surface, sliding off like quicksilver.
A guard ambled past, muttering into a comm. Jace moved with the rain, steps silent, heartbeat steady. A faint pulse of instinct made him pause. Wait. The guard turned suddenly, scanning the darkness behind him. After a moment, he shrugged and walked away.
Only when the sound of boots faded did Jace breathe again. "Still got it."
---
Inside the Lion's Den
The freight hub's main hall was cavernous, the air thick with machine dust and the tang of old metal. Dozens of figures crowded around a holographic projection of New Syndralis glowing in crimson and gold.
From his perch on a catwalk, Jace studied them.
Each leader was a world unto themselves.
Moira Vale of the Devils Daughters—sharp suit, sharper eyes—spoke with the poise of someone used to commanding a room.
Stonejaw Mako of the Titans leaned against a crate, massive arms folded, his grin hiding impatience and violence.
Roscoe Venn, the Southern Mob strategist, stood quiet at the back, watching everything but saying nothing.
And there were more—each representing a faction built on fear and blood.
His AI-Assisted Intuition stirred again—small warnings, pricks at the edge of awareness. A gesture here, a whisper there. He couldn't explain it, but he felt the rhythm of distrust between them, knew who might draw first blood if the wrong words were spoken.
Moira's voice cut through the noise.
"Six Pack's fall leaves a hole in our operations. Without leadership, the streets will eat us alive. We either claim his ground or lose it to HexGate's dogs."
Mako slammed a fist on the table. "And who put you in charge of dividing what's ours?"
Roscoe's measured tone followed. "Better her than HexGate. You saw what they did to the East Sector crews."
Tension crackled. Every faction had something to gain—and more to lose.
From above, Jace whispered, "Time to move."
---
The Claim
He reached into his Stash.
The metal arm of Six Pack materialized in a shimmer of blue light, still bearing the scorch from their fight.
He dropped down from the rafters, boots hitting concrete with a dull thud.
The room froze. Weapons snapped upward.
He raised the arm high.
"I claim what I've earned."
Gasps and curses rippled through the crowd.
"Who the hell are you?" Mako barked, stepping forward.
"Someone who took down your strongest. And someone who knows HexGate's already marked you for extinction."
That silenced them faster than any gunshot.
He walked toward the table, eyes steady.
"You're all fighting for scraps. HexGate's controlling supply lines, weapon contracts, data routes. You think this meeting's secret? They're watching right now."
Moira frowned. "You have proof?"
Jace tapped his temple. "Enough to know their network runs through your communications hub. You want to survive? Unite—under one command."
Laughter erupted—angry, derisive, afraid.
Roscoe raised a brow. "And that command would be you?"
"If it keeps you alive, yeah," Jace said evenly. "I don't care who wears the crown, only that HexGate doesn't."
A pause. The storm outside thundered, echoing the tension within.
Then, somewhere deep inside him, the Intuition flared like static along his spine—danger.
He shifted without thinking, eyes scanning the rafters.
A shrill beep cut through the air.
---
Interference
[Alert: External Signal Detected]
Source: Recon Drone — Inbound]
Glass exploded above.
A drone crashed through the skylight, rotors howling, guns lighting the room in streaks of plasma.
Jace dove as bolts seared across the floor. His Nano Shield flared, absorbing the first blast before flickering dangerously.
He rolled behind a crate, drew his smart pistol, and fired three rapid shots—clean, silent. Two rounds hit the drone's stabilizers, the third ricocheted off its hull.
"Stay down!" he shouted, though chaos drowned his voice.
He focused. "Hack."
[Hack — Target: HexGate Recon Drone]
Firewall Resistance High … Bypass 81 % … Success]
The drone seized mid-air, weapons twitching. Jace redirected its targeting systems, turning its guns on the entrance.
The doors burst open—more drones pouring in—and his hijacked unit opened fire, shredding them before erupting in a sphere of blue fire.
When the smoke cleared, silence fell. The floor was littered with scorched debris and the metallic smell of ozone.
Jace stepped from behind cover, eyes burning. "That's HexGate's response. They're watching every one of you. Keep fighting each other, and you're next."
No one spoke.
Only Moira, voice cold but steady: "Then perhaps you've just made yourself useful, stranger."
Jace gave a faint nod. "I'll be in touch."
He backed away, cloak re-engaging, vanishing into shadow as sirens wailed faintly outside.
---
Aftermath
Outside, the storm had turned violent.
Jace crouched beneath an overhang, catching his breath. The wreckage inside still burned blue against the rain.
He studied a piece of drone plating he'd snagged on the way out—the HexGate insignia etched beneath a serial code he didn't recognize. They're escalating.
The city's glow stretched before him like veins of light under skin. Somewhere out there, HexGate's eyes were already recalibrating, adjusting for the interference he'd just caused.
He holstered the pistol, the weight of the night settling heavy on his shoulders.
I just turned the underworld into a powder keg.
The thought didn't scare him—it focused him.
He mounted his chopper, engine growling against the storm, and sped into the labyrinth of streets. The neon skyline reflected in his visor like fractured glass.
---
System Update
[Mission Complete — "Shadow Game"]
[Primary Objective: Survive the Syndralis Crime Summit — SUCCESS
Reward: New Ability]
[New Ability Unlocked — Network Walking (Debug)]
[Description: Allows user's consciousness to enter and navigate local data networks undetected.]
[Secondary Objective: Prevent Faction War—SUCCESS]
[Reward: Instinct +2 Stat Increase — Reflexive awareness enhanced; AI-Assisted Intuition responds faster to subconscious danger signals.]
Steal Count: 11
[Cadet Tier Synchronization Progress: 10%]
Next Unlock at 30 % Synchronization
The rain swallowed the last of the city's echoes.
Jace looked toward the skyline—steel towers shimmering through the storm.
"First they watched from the shadows," he muttered. "Now I watch back."
The chopper roared to life, and he disappeared into the night—toward whatever came next.