The central precinct loomed like a gothic fortress in the heart of Ashfall, its stone facade scarred by decades of acid rain and neglect. Gargoyles perched on the cornices, their stone beaks eroded into leering grins. Elara landed on a rooftop across the street, cape settling around her like folded wings, rain hissing off the carbon fiber of her suit. Below, squad cars idled with flashing lights, officers milling about with the tense energy of men who knew something big was coming.
Detective Reed Harlan had texted her coordinates: sub-basement evidence locker, side entrance, midnight. He claimed to have proof—hard proof—of King Crow's bomb placements and the rigged election scheme. But Elara's instincts screamed trap. Reed was clean, yes. Honest in a city built on lies. But honesty made him predictable. Predictable men died first.
She watched through enhanced lenses in her cowl as Reed emerged from the main doors, trench coat flapping, mustache damp with rain. He lit a cigarette, glanced at his watch, then started toward the alley. Alone. No backup visible. Either brave or suicidal.
Elara glided down three stories, landing cat-silent behind a dumpster. Reed froze at the soft scrape of her boots.
"Jesus," he muttered, hand twitching toward his holster before recognizing the silhouette. "You trying to give me a heart attack?"
"You called me," Elara said, voice modulated to a low rasp that sent chills through most men. Reed was made of sterner stuff, but even he shifted uncomfortably.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Not here. Inside. Evidence locker. I pulled strings to clear it for ten minutes."
They moved quickly—Reed swiping his keycard at a side door, Elara melting into the shadows behind him. The corridors smelled of mildew and gun oil, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like dying insects. Officers passed without a second glance; Reed was respected enough that his presence smoothed questions.
In the sub-basement, rows of chain-link cages held boxed evidence from a thousand crimes. Reed led her to a corner cage, unlocking it with trembling fingers.
"I've been building a case," he whispered, pulling out a thick file and a flash drive. "Bomb schematics. Offshore accounts linking Mayor Vance—no relation to Elena—to Flock money. Election fraud blueprints. If this gets out—"
A soft click echoed behind them.
Elara spun, feather blade already in hand.
Too late.
The Whisperer—Lila Thorne—stepped from the shadows, flanked by two Flock enforcers in tactical gear. She wore a sleek black catsuit, hair pulled back, wire-rimmed glasses glinting under the lights. A silencer gleamed on her pistol.
"Detective Reed," she purred, voice honey over broken glass. "Always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."
Reed's face went ashen. "Thorne. You're—"
"King Crow's ears in the DA's office," Elara finished, stepping between Reed and the guns. Her mind raced: how had Thorne known? Hidden mic? Traitor in Reed's circle?
Thorne smiled. "The Raven herself. Victor will be so pleased. He's offering quite the bounty."
The enforcers raised suppressed rifles.
Elara moved first—hurling a feather blade that buried itself in the first man's throat. He gurgled, dropping, blood spraying in a horrifying arc across evidence boxes. Reed dove for cover, drawing his service weapon.
Chaos erupted.
The second enforcer fired—silenced rounds stitching the air where Elara had been. She vaulted over a cage, cape flaring, landing behind him. A brutal Krav Maga strike shattered his elbow; the rifle clattered away. He screamed as she twisted his arm further, bone snapping like dry wood. Her second blade found his heart—precise, merciless. He slumped, eyes wide in frozen horror.
Thorne fired twice—bullets sparking off metal as Elara rolled. Reed returned fire, his shots wild but forcing Thorne to duck.
"Run!" Elara snarled at Reed, grappling with Thorne as the woman lunged with a concealed stiletto.
They crashed into shelves, evidence spilling—drugs, weapons, blood-soaked clothing from old murders. Thorne was fast, trained, her blade nicking Elara's forearm. Pain flared, hot and sharp.
"You're bleeding," Thorne hissed, glasses fogging with exertion. "How many more wounds until you break, little bird?"
Elara headbutted her, cowl cracking against Thorne's nose. Cartilage crunched. Thorne staggered, blood streaming. Elara followed with a Muay Thai knee to the gut, then a chokehold. Thorne clawed at her arm, nails digging through the suit.
"Tell Kane," Elara whispered, tightening her grip, "I'm coming for his empire. Piece by piece."
Thorne's eyes bulged, face turning purple. For a moment, Elara considered ending her—snapping the neck, leaving another feather. But Thorne was valuable alive. A message carrier.
She released, letting Thorne collapse gasping. Then drove a feather blade through her hand, pinning it to the concrete. Thorne screamed—a raw, animal sound that echoed through the basement.
Reed stared, gun still raised, face pale. "Christ… you didn't kill her."
"Not yet." Elara grabbed the file and drive. "We have to move. They'll have backup."
Alarms blared—someone had triggered a silent alert.
They fled up service stairs, emerging into the rain-soaked alley. Squad cars screeched to a halt at both ends, lights painting the walls red and blue.
"Trap," Reed muttered. "They used me as bait."
Elara scanned—three cars, eight officers. Some clean, some dirty. Impossible to tell.
"Split up," she said. "Head for the cathedral. Alex will guide you."
"I'm not leaving you—"
"Go!" She shoved him toward a side street, then vanished upward, grappling line firing into the darkness.
Gunfire chased her—bullets sparking off brick as she climbed. One caught her cape, tearing fabric. She reached the roof, heart pounding. Failure clawed at her: Reed exposed, Thorne alive and vengeful, evidence in hand but at what cost?
Her comm crackled—Alex's voice frantic. "Elara! Reed's en route, but there's chatter—Flock mobilizing. And… something else. Dr. Eclipse's lab just went dark. All signals cut."
Elara's blood ran cold.
Eclipse's lab was in the old sewer system beneath the university district—a gothic nightmare of rusted pipes and forgotten tunnels. The mad scientist had been King Crow's pet monster-maker for years. And now, silence.
She changed course, gliding across rooftops toward the university. The rain intensified, turning streets into rivers. Her wounds burned—shoulder, ribs, forearm—but pain was fuel.
The lab entrance was a maintenance hatch in an abandoned lot, hidden beneath graffiti-covered concrete. Elara descended into darkness, the air growing thick with chemical stench and something worse—ozone and blood.
Emergency lights flickered red. Bodies littered the corridor—lab techs, throats torn out, chests crushed. Not blades. Something bigger.
She moved silently, feather blades ready.
In the main chamber—a cavernous space of operating tables and glass tanks—she found Dr. Helena Voss. Elara's estranged aunt stood before a massive containment cell, white lab coat stained crimson, cybernetic eyes glowing in the dark.
"Hello, niece," Eclipse said softly, voice echoing. "You're late."
Behind her, in the shattered cell, something massive stirred.
The Bison Beast—Harlan Graves, once a simple janitor—rose to his full seven feet. Fur matted with blood, horns curved like scimitars, eyes burning with animal rage and human pain. Tubes hung from his arms where Eclipse had pumped the final dose of Crow's Blood.
"He's magnificent, isn't he?" Eclipse murmured, almost tenderly. "Stronger. Faster. Obedient. King Crow wanted a weapon. I gave him perfection."
The Beast roared—a sound that rattled Elara's bones—and charged.
She dove aside as massive fists pulverized concrete where she'd stood. The fight was brutal, primal. Elara's skill against raw power. She slashed at tendons, blades drawing black blood, but the wounds closed almost as fast as she made them.
Eclipse watched, laughing softly. "You can't win, Elara. You're human. Flawed. Weak."
The Beast caught her mid-dodge, hurling her across the room. She crashed through a tank, glass exploding, chemicals burning her skin. Pain exploded white-hot. Failure loomed—she was outmatched.
But she saw it then: the agony in the Beast's eyes. Not just rage. Recognition.
"Harlan," she gasped, rising. "You were a janitor. You had a daughter."
The Beast hesitated, massive chest heaving.
Eclipse's face twisted. "Don't listen! Kill her!"
Elara hurled a feather blade—not at the Beast, but at the control panel behind Eclipse. Sparks flew. Containment fields flickered. The Beast roared in confusion, clutching his head as conflicting commands warred inside.
Eclipse screamed, lunging for a console. Elara intercepted, tackling her aunt to the ground. They grappled—family blood against family blood. Eclipse's cybernetic arm whirred, strength enhanced, but Elara was faster. She drove a blade into Eclipse's shoulder, pinning her.
"This ends," Elara hissed.
Eclipse laughed through bloodied teeth. "You think killing me stops him? The formula's complete. Kane has dozens more."
The Beast charged again—this time at Eclipse. Massive hands closed around her throat.
"No—" Eclipse choked.
Elara watched as the monster she'd created crushed the life from his creator. Bones snapped. Eclipse's eyes bulged, then went dull.
The Beast turned to Elara, breathing ragged. For a moment, she thought he'd finish her.
Instead, he collapsed to his knees, a broken sound escaping his throat—half roar, half sob.
Elara approached slowly, blade lowered. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "For what they made you."
He looked up, eyes clearing for one heartbreaking moment. "Kill… me…"
She couldn't. Not yet.
She fled as sirens wailed above—police or Flock, impossible to tell. The lab burned behind her, chemicals igniting in chemical green flames.
Failure tasted like ash: Eclipse dead but her work complete, the Beast loose and suffering, Reed exposed.
But she had the evidence. And a new, terrible purpose.
In The Nest hours later, Reed stared at the flash drive like it was cursed.
"What now?" he asked.
Elara cleaned blood from her blades, face hidden in shadow.
"Now," she said, "we burn it all down."
(End of Chapter 4)