The streets of CryNet City were bathed in the sterile, pale blue glow of induction lamps. It was midnight. For the thousands of summoned civilians and technicians, it was a time for rest, but for the Nanosuit operators, "sleep" was a luxury replaced by the suit's Neural Efficiency protocols.
The Aen Seidhe slipped through the shadows of the residential sector until they stumbled upon a lone man sitting on a bench, a half-empty bottle of summoned ale in his hand. He was a civilian maintenance worker—one of the thousands pulled across the void by the Crysis System.
The elves moved like lightning, surrounding him before he could shout. A bone-handled blade was pressed against his throat.
"Speak, dh'oine," the lead elf hissed. "What is this place? Who is your master?"
The man blinked, the alcohol clearing from his head. He knew exactly what this place was. He remembered the white light of the summoning and the digital voice that had brought him here. He knew about the System, but he wasn't a fool. He didn't tell primitives about the engine of the universe.
"We're... we're just people," he stammered, raising his hands. "We come from a land far from here. We built this city to know about this land—to study it. We don't want your territory. We don't want a war. Just leave us be, and we'll leave you be. We only fight if we're attacked first."
The lead elf looked at her companions. The man's words were heavy with a strange, tired sincerity. She nodded, slowly lowering her bow. "He speaks with the honesty of a man who has lost his home. We have seen enough. Let us go before the 'Iron Golems' wake."
But one elf, his eyes burning with the bitter hatred of a century of human persecution, didn't move. "They are humans," he spat. "They build walls. They grow. And then they kill. I will not leave a witness to tell them we were here."
He lunged. His dagger flashed in the blue light, aimed straight for the man's jugular. His comrades shouted for him to stop, but it was too late.
The blade stopped an inch from the man's skin.
The elf's arm froze in mid-air, held by an invisible grip that felt like a hydraulic vice. He looked up, but there was nothing there—just a ripple in the air, a shimmering distortion like shattered glass.
Then, a heavy, metallic punch buried itself into the elf's stomach with the sound of a closing vault door.
The air fractured. A Nanosuit 1.0 operator decloaked directly in front of him, the suit's Cryofibrils hissing as they dumped Maximum Strength energy. The elf wheezed, collapsing to his knees as the soldier's visor glowed a cold, predatory red
"Target neutralized," the soldier rasped.
All around them, the "empty" street began to tear apart. One by one, then by the dozens, then by the hundreds, the Cloak Mode disengaged. Rooftops, alleyways, and balconies were suddenly teeming with armored giants. The Aen Seidhe found themselves in a 360-degree kill-zone, surrounded by a battalion of silent, glowing hunters who had been watching them since they crossed the perimeter.
At the end of the street, the heavy thud of boots echoed. Robert Taylor walked out of the shadows, his Nanosuit 2.0 towering over the elves. He didn't draw a weapon; he didn't need to. He looked at the trembling elves, then at the soldier holding the aggressive one.
"You were given a chance to leave," Robert said, his voice a deep, synthesized rumble that vibrated in their chests. "My man told you our law: we don't harm unless attacked. You just tried to murder a civilian."
The lead elf dropped her bow, her face pale as she looked at the army of "ghosts" surrounding them. "We... we did not seek a massacre."
"Then you should have kept your friend on a shorter leash," Robert replied, his visor scanning their heart rates.
Robert looked down at the kneeling elf, whose breath was still coming in ragged, painful gasps. The silence in the street was absolute, punctuated only by the low, electronic hum of three hundred Nanosuits holding their position.
"Let him up," Robert commanded.
The Nanosuit operator released his iron grip, and the elf slumped into the snow, clutching his stomach. Robert stepped forward, his Nanosuit 2.0 plates shifting with a sound like grinding stone. He loomed over the lead elf, his visor glowing a piercing, oceanic blue.
"I'm letting you go," Robert said, his voice vibrating with a synthesized weight that made the elves flinch. "But understand this: my people are off-limits. If you, or any of your kin, ever turn a weapon against one of our civilians again, the mercy you see tonight ends. We are willing to trade. We are willing to talk. But if you choose to be our enemies..."
Robert paused, his Tactical Visor locking onto each of them in turn, marking their biometric signatures in the city's permanent database.
"Then there is no forest deep enough, no mountain high enough, and no place in this entire world that will be safe for you. We will find you, and we will erase you."
He stepped back and made a sharp, dismissive gesture with his hand.
"Now take your friend and scram. All of you."
The Aen Seidhe didn't wait for a second order. They scrambled to grab their downed companion, their legendary elven grace replaced by the frantic, stumbling movements of terrified prey. They sprinted toward the gates, casting glances back at the rooftops where the shimmering ghosts of the Nanosuit battalion watched them go. They ran as if the very air behind them had turned into a predator—which, in a way, it had.
Robert watched them vanish into the dark treeline. Behind him, the Cloak Mode hummed as the battalion vanished back into invisibility, resuming their silent vigil.
"Commander," Prophet's voice came over the encrypted link. "You think they'll come back with a merchant or an army?"
"If they're smart, a merchant," Robert replied, turning back toward the Command Center. "If they're like the humans I remember from home? Probably an army. Tell Lockhart to double the perimeter sensors. I want to know the moment a blade of grass moves within five miles of these walls."