The sirens of Sector 9 didn't wail; they shrieked—a dissonant, bone-chilling sound that vibrated through the metal marrow of the city. Within minutes of the Enforcers falling, the dock's automated defense grid had flipped from amber to a blood-red lockdown.
"Kael, we're dead. We're so dead," Silas whispered, staring at the silver briefcase like it was a ticking nuke. "The Syndicate... they've never sent the 'Wraith' drones for a simple dock theft."
High above, a rhythmic, mechanical thrum-thrum-thrum grew louder. A swarm of triangular drones, their lenses glowing with predatory crimson light, began to descend through the acid rain.
[WARNING: High-Altitude Surveillance Detected.]
[Status: Target Locked.]
[Recommendation: Deploy Countermeasures or Seek Structural Cover.]
Kael didn't panic. He grabbed Silas by the shoulder, his grip like a vice. "Listen to me. If we run for the main gate, we're target practice. The Union men—tell them to split the blue container's actual medical scrap. Throw the bandages into the mud. Create a crowd."
"What?" Silas blinked, confused.
"Chaos is our only cover," Kael snapped. He looked at the other Union workers, who were frozen in fear. "Pick up the loose supplies! Run in different directions! If the drones have too many targets, their logic processors will prioritize the largest group. Move!"
The men, driven by Kael's command, grabbed handfuls of bandages and medicine bottles, scattering into the dark alleys like rats.
"What about us?" Silas asked, clutching the silver briefcase.
"We go through the Ash-Vents," Kael said, pointing toward a massive, steaming exhaust pipe that led directly into the city's sub-level.
They dived into the shadows just as a drone's spotlight swept over their previous position. The heat from the vent was searing, the air thick with the smell of sulfur and ancient grease. As they crawled through the narrow, vibrating duct, Kael's vision flickered again.
[System Analysis: Unknown Device in Proximity.]
[DNA Lock: Level 5 Encryption.]
[Trace Signal Detected: The briefcase is broadcasting a low-frequency beacon.]
Damn it. Kael stopped mid-crawl. "Give me the case."
"What's wrong?"
"It's a tracker," Kael muttered. He didn't have the tools to break a Level 5 lock, but he had the System. Upgrade: Signal Jamming.
[Processing...]
[Insufficient Energy Points. Current: 0.5.]
[Alternative: Masking. Spend 0.2 Energy to coat the case in a localized electromagnetic field?]
Do it.
A faint ripple of static washed over the silver surface. The red light on the briefcase's handle flickered and died.
"They'll lose our exact position, but they know we're in this sector," Kael said, his voice echoing in the metal tube. "Silas, who was the buyer for those antibiotics? The one who told the Union about this shipment?"
Silas wiped sweat from his scarred nose. "A middleman named 'Vane.' He works out of the Neon Bazaar. He said it was an easy score."
"Vane set you up," Kael said coldly. "He knew this wasn't medicine. We were the distraction, or the sacrificial lambs."
They kicked open a rusted grate and dropped into a flooded basement. This was the 'Gutter'—a place where the city's waste settled. Above them, they could hear the heavy thud of Syndicate boots on the pavement.
"If Vane betrayed us, we can't go back to the Union house," Silas realized, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. "We have nowhere to go."
Kael stood up, the filthy water swirling around his boots. He looked at the silver briefcase, then at the glowing lights of the Inner City towers in the distance.
"We don't go back," Kael said. "We go to Vane. If he wants to play the Fox, he's about to find out what happens when the Hound stops chasing the bone and starts chasing the hunter."
At that moment, the basement door at the top of the stairs was kicked open. A silhouette stood there—slender, wearing a high-tech tactical visor that cut through the darkness. She didn't carry a pulse-rifle. Instead, a pair of mono-molecular blades slid out from her gauntlets with a lethal shink.
[THREAT DETECTED: Syndicate Assassin – 'The Silver Widow'.]
[Estimated Survival Rate: 15%.]
Kael tightened his grip on the rusted crowbar. The System's warning turned his entire field of vision a violent, pulsing red.
"Silas," Kael whispered, not taking his eyes off the woman. "When I move... run."