11:11 A.M. – Steel Talons Base
The base's fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Jack navigated the narrow corridors, their flickering glow painting his scarred face in uneven shadows.
The scent of gun oil and stale coffee clung to the air, mixing with the ever-present tang of recycled ventilation.
Karen's warning echoed in his skull:
Corporate fingers in this.
His bootsteps slowed near a rusted maintenance panel—the same one Nex had pried open three years ago to tap into the Spire's surveillance feeds.
The memory sat heavy in Jack's chest.
They'd laughed about it then, drinking synth-whiskey as they watched corpo security scramble like glow-rats in a flooded tunnel.
Should've known they'd come collecting.
A passing rookie nodded at him.
Jack grunted in response, his fingers brushing the revolver at his hip out of habit.
The corpos had always been there, moving pieces in the Junkyard's endless war.
But this? Hunting Talons specifically? That was new.
Or maybe just better hidden.
The women's barracks loomed ahead, its reinforced door marked with faded spray paint—a crude talon symbol from when Karen first took command.
Inside, the air smelled of antiseptic and sweat.
Low voices murmured behind curtained bunks.
Second floor.
Third bunk bed from the left.
Sel lay propped up on stained pillows, her leg elevated.
The woman sharing her space—a wiry scout named Cyrille—excused herself with a knowing look as Jack approached.
Sel's eyes tracked him before he reached the bedside. "You look like shit, old man."
Jack dragged a stool across the floor, the screech of metal on concrete making Sel wince.
"Heard you got an up-close look at corpo ops." He kept his voice low, nodding at her injuries. "Wanna tell me why they're suddenly playing out in the open?"
Sel's fingers twitched toward her thigh holster—empty now. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Why ask when you already know?"
Outside, the base's alarm system began its weekly test—three short wails that made the window vibrate.
Just enough noise to drown out secrets.
Jack leaned forward. "Humor me."
Sel's fingers twisted together, the knuckles whitening.
She stared at the frayed edge of her blanket where a loose thread danced in the ventilation draft.
"About a month ago," she began, voice dropping to a whisper, "before that fake Red Dog showed up... there was this customer."
Her thumbnail picked at the thread. "Just ordered Glow and stim-packs. Basic shit."
Jack didn't move.
The stool creaked under his weight.
"Only reason I remember?" Sel's lips curled in a humorless smile. "Guy was wearing a three-piece Spire suit in the middle of the Junkyard. Not some corpo-casual synth-cotton either. Real wool blend."
Her fingers mimed the fabric's texture. "Could smell this distinct perfume from three meters away."
Jack's calloused hand slid across his revolver's grip. "Details."
Sel exhaled sharply. "Sunglasses. At midnight."
She caught Jack's stare and shrugged. "I figured maybe augments. Light sensitivity or some shit. But then—"
Her fingers stilled. "When he leaned in to pay, I saw under the lenses. Both pupils. Solid red. Not bloodshot. Not glowing. Just... red. Like painted glass."
The air between them thickened. Somewhere in the barracks, a faucet dripped into a steel sink.
Jack's voice came out gravel-rough: "And you're just remembering this now?"
Sel flinched. "He didn't do anything suspicious! Just... the way he moved."
Her fingers sketched shapes in the air. "Too smooth. Like his joints didn't bend right. And when he reached for his credstick—"
She shuddered. "—his sleeve rode up. Arm was covered in these... hexagon patterns. Like scales."
A shadow passed over Jack's face.
He knew that particular corporate tells—the ones who practiced expressions in mirrors until they forgot how real humans moved.
The faucet kept dripping.
Sel finally looked up. "You recognize this guy?"
Jack stood abruptly, the stool screeching. "Stay off comms about this."
He tossed a glance at the security camera in the corner. "I'll handle Karen."
As he turned to leave, Sel's voice hooked him:
"His gloves."
Jack paused.
"When he took out his wallet," Sel whispered. "The left glove slipped. His pinky finger... it was metal."
The name hit Jack like a slug to the chest:
Vector.
A corporate's ghost.
***
11:37 A.M. – Steel Talons Briefing Room
The meeting room smelled of stale coffee and gun oil. Flickering lumen strips cast jagged shadows across the steel table where Lucent's fingers moved with surgical precision over his conduit.
Tiny glyphs flickered in the air above the device, their blue light reflecting in his unblinking eyes as he adjusted calibration sequences.
Across the table, Cale disassembled his pistol with ritualistic care. Each component clicked against the stained metal surface—barrel, slide, recoil spring—all methodically cleaned and oiled before being reassembled.
His calloused fingers left smudges on the table's surface, dark fingerprints overlapping older ones in a history of similar preparations.
Kai watched them both, his own conduit resting at full charge on the table. The lack of anything to do made his fingers twitch.
He'd already checked his gear three times. The pistol Jack loaned him sat heavy in its holster, still unfamiliar against his thigh.
Lucent spoke without looking up.
"Install this."
A data chip slid across the table, stopping precisely in front of Kai.
The matte-black rectangle bore no markings, but the edges gleamed with fresh laser scoring—custom work.
Kai picked it up, feeling the slight warmth of recently compressed data.
His conduit's port hissed as the chip slotted home.
A cascade of folders unfolded in his vision:
>> Mobility-Class Apps
The Rank 1—Shift glyph promised explosive bursts of speed, though Kai could already imagine the muscle strain from sudden acceleration.
Rank 1—Crawler's surface-adhesion enchantment caught his eye—perfect for vertical escapes, if you had the leg strength to push against unaltered gravity.
Rank 2—Grav Redux's gentle descent control would pair well with it, turning deadly falls into controlled glides.
>> Defense-Class Apps
Rank 1—Shellcode's description warned of "temporary epidermal hardening" with a footnote about potential capillary damage from overuse.
Rank 2—Shadow Frame was more intriguing—a projected decoy paired with milliseconds of true invisibility, though the notes cautioned about energy spikes during phase transition.
>> Offense-Class Apps
Rank 1—Frostbit's numbing sting could disable limbs for precious seconds.
Rank 2—Neuropulse went further, its neural interference patterns capable of triggering full-body spasms in organic targets.
But the Rank 3 selections gave him pause: Sonic Crush's atmospheric compression wave could liquefy inner ears within its dome radius, while Ruin Thread's technical readout bore Lucent's notes—"Forces hostile spells to unravel catastrophically. Works best against corporate signature casting. Requires precise timing during target's casting sequence."
The last line was underlined twice.
Cale whistled low through his teeth. "Damn. Giving the kid the good stuff?" His fingers paused over his pistol's firing pin. "Those Rank 3s'll fry a standard conduit after two uses."
Lucent finally looked up, his gaze locking onto Kai. "They're modified." A beat. "Don't waste them."
The door hissed open, cutting through the low hum of conduits charging.
Karen stepped inside, her silhouette framed by the corridor's flickering lumen strips.
Nex's pulse rifle arm—a monstrous hybrid of steel and glyph-carved plating—rested against her back, its aether core throbbing faintly like a second heartbeat.
"Sorry, I'm late," she said, voice rough with exhaustion.
She shrugged the rifle off her shoulder with a grunt, its weight making the steel table groan as she set it down.
The weapon dwarfed the scattered data chips and other things littering the surface.
Kai's fingers froze mid-adjustment on his conduit.
Cale's pistol slide slipped from his grip, clattering against the table.
Both stared at the rifle like it had crawled out of a pre-Aether nightmare.
"Woah." Cale leaned forward, eyes tracing the rifle's reinforced barrel vents—each one wide enough to fit his thumb. "Boss, where'd you even get that?"
Karen wiped grease from her cheek with the back of her wrist, leaving a smudge across her scarred jawline. "Nex's personal stash. Mags showed me the vault."
She tapped the rifle's housing, where Nex's initials were scratched beneath layers of carbon scoring. "Technically 'borrowing' it."
Cale whistled. "Why's this the first time I'm seeing it? Nex never brought this beauty out for show-and-tell."
"Because it'd dislocate your shoulder on the first shot." Karen flexed her augmented left arm, the servos whining under the phantom memory of recoil. "Nex dual-wielded these things like a madman. Last time he test-fired both? Knocked him flat on his ass and cracked two ribs."
Kai reached out, fingers hovering over the rifle's cooling vents. "Can I…?"
Karen smirked. "Sure. Just avoid the glyph matrix near the stock—Lucent's modifications are still stabilizing."
Kai's touch was cautious, as if handling live ordnance.
The metal was colder than he expected, the grooves along the barrel worn smooth from use.
His thumb brushed a line of tiny notches near the trigger guard.
Cale craned his neck. "Hold up. You're seriously using this now? With Blaze out there?"
"Lucent tweaked the recoil dampeners." Karen tapped the rifle's side, where fresh glyphwork pulsed blue beneath a layer of transparent alloy. "Only reduces kick by 40%, but it's better than tearing my arm off."
Lucent, silent until now, didn't look up from his conduit. "It'll hold for three shots. Maybe four. After that?" A shrug. "Hope you like shoulder dislocation."
Kai's gaze flicked between them.
The unspoken tension hung thicker than the gun oil in the air.
"So," Cale drawled, picking up his pistol again, "we're all just ignoring the fact that our boss is strapping on a weapon that literally broke Nex?"
Karen's grin was all teeth. "What's the matter, Cale? Don't trust me to handle it?"
"Oh, I trust you." Cale spun his pistol on his finger. "It's the laws of physics I'm worried about."
Then Kai, still tracing the rifle's scars: "Think I could try firing it?"
The room went still.
Karen and Lucent shared a glance—something unspoken passing between them.
"Kid," Karen said slowly, "let's get you through today without shattered bones first."
Karen's augmented fingers drummed a slow rhythm against Nex's pulse rifle.
The weapon's aether core pulsed in time with the flickering lumen strips overhead, casting jagged shadows across the gathered faces.
"Let's get to the heart of it," she said, voice cutting through the hum of charged conduits.
Her thumb brushed the rifle's serial number—filed off years ago, the metal worn smooth from use. "This isn't a debate. We're walking into a furnace, and Blaze is the match."
She hefted the rifle, its weight making the table creak. "Kai's observation holds—energy attacks might slip through that bastard's barrier. This pulse rifle's got enough juice to crater concrete. If anything can punch through, it's Nex's old toy."
Lucent didn't look up from his conduit. "And if it doesn't?"
His fingers tightened around the device, the cracked screen reflecting in his dark eyes. "What's Plan B? Or are we betting everything on a weapon that nearly killed its owner?"
The silence stretched.
Karen exhaled through her nose. "Then you do what only you can."
She met Lucent's gaze, unflinching. "We both know what that means."
Kai's hands twitched against his thighs.
He remembered the lab—Lucent's rawcasting tearing through the air, the way his veins had lit up with aether corruption.
The price written in the blood dripping from his nose.
Cale broke the tension with a sharp laugh. "So the kid plays spotter and I'm... what? Bait?"
His pistol spun across his knuckles, the motion too casual. "Gotta say, boss, I expected something with more explosions."
"Observational duty," Karen corrected.
Her prosthetic finger tapped the holomap between them.
Blue light shimmered across Kai's face. "From the lab to Sector 23, you've got an eye for weaknesses. Blaze's barrier flickers when he attacks—that's your window."
She turned to Cale. "And you keep him alive while he's looking. Blaze wants Lucent, but he'll crush anyone in his way." A pause. "You're fast enough to dance with fire. Most of us aren't."
Cale's grin didn't reach his eyes. "Flattery'll get you everywhere, boss."
Kai leaned forward, his chair scraping against concrete. "What about the others? Mags, Echo—"
"Mags has her assignment. Echo's running recon." Karen's jaw tightened.
"We don't have the numbers for a straight fight. This only works if we're surgical." Her augmented hand clenched. "Blaze dies fast, or we all burn."
The rifle's core hummed louder, filling the silence.
Lucent slipping his conduit into his coat. "Then we move before they expect us."
His gaze lingered on Kai. "Watch his left hand. The tattoo pulses when the barrier's active."
Kai nodded, fingers brushing the unfamiliar weight of Jack's pistol at his hip.
The metal was still cold.
Cale cracked his neck. "Guess I'm buying the first round after we torch that pyro bastard."
Karen's smile was all teeth. "Make it two. You'll have earned it."
The lumen strips flickered again as the meeting broke up, casting their shadows long against the wall—hazy and wavering, like flames already licking at their heels.
***
11:57 A.M. – Steel Talons Base Cafeteria
The cafeteria smelled of synthetic protein sizzling on hot plates and the sharp tang of over-brewed coffee.
The air hummed with the low chatter of Talons grabbing a quick meal before deployment, the clatter of trays and utensils blending with the occasional burst of rough laughter.
Vey's squad filed in, their boots scuffing against the worn concrete floor.
The briefing had run long, and the tension still clung to them like gunpowder residue.
"Alright, listen up," Vey growled, slamming his tray down hard enough to make the plastic utensils jump.
His augments whirred as he leaned forward, his ruined face twisted into its usual scowl. "We go over this one more time. Ember's fast, she hits like a freight train, and those tattoos of hers? They're not just for show. They heal her."
Rex, another mountain of muscle and hydraulic plating, dropped into a chair that groaned under his weight.
He cracked his knuckles. "So we hit her harder than she can heal. Simple."
"Yeah, real simple," Brin muttered, stabbing his fork into a slab of grayish protein. "We've got all the firepower with these." As he showed at the table a bunch of charges the demolition squad made.
Vey's augments clicked as he flexed his fingers. "That's why we're not playing fair. Rex, you're on suppression—keep her busy. Brin, you and the rookies lay down the covering fire. If she gets close, disengage. We're not winning a fistfight with that freak."
One of the unit—Avira, her hands still shaking slightly, swallowed hard. "And if she just… ignores the bullets?"
Vey smirked, a deformed, unpleasant thing. "Then we switch to plan B."
He jerked his chin toward the far end of the cafeteria, where a heavy crate sat under guard.
"Incendiary rounds might not burn a Scorcher, but they'll slow her down. And if that doesn't work?" He patted another of his creation at the table. "We blow the bitch sky-high."
Across the room, another squad—Echo's scouts—glanced over, their conversation dying mid-sentence.
The unspoken tension between the groups was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Brin leaned in, lowering his voice. "You really think this'll work?"
Vey took a long swig of his beer, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Doesn't matter what I think. We do the job, or we die trying."
He slammed the bottle down. "Now eat up."
The clatter of trays and murmured conversations died momentarily as Karen's team pushed through the cafeteria doors.
The air, already thick with the scent of overcooked synth-meat and stale coffee, grew heavier with unspoken tension.
Vey spotted them first.
He raised a hand, the motion sharp against the dull hum of the room.
"Oi! Boss!" His voice cut through the noise like a shotgun blast. "Plenty of seats over here!"
He jerked his thumb at the empty benches around his squad's table, where half-eaten rations and dented drink cans littered the surface.
Karen paused at the threshold, her pulse rifle still slung across her back.
Her eyes flicked from Vey's expectant grin to the silent faces of his squad—Rex's massive frame hunched over his tray, Brin picking at his food with restless energy, Avira gripping her fork like it was the only solid thing left in the world.
A beat passed. Then Karen nodded. "Move over, then," she said, striding forward.
The scrape of benches followed as Vey's squad shuffled to make room.
Kai hesitated near the back, his fingers twitching toward the pistol at his hip—old Spire instincts clashing with the Junkyard's brutal camaraderie.
"Relax, kid," Brin muttered around a mouthful of protein paste. "We don't bite. Much."
Cale slid into the seat beside him, already reaching for an abandoned stim-can. "Speak for yourself," he said, cracking it open with a hiss. "I'm starving."
Karen dropped her tray with a clatter, her augmented fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the tabletop. "Final checks done?" she asked, her gaze locked on Vey.
He shrugged, wiping grease from his chin with the back of his hand. "As much as they can be. Rex's got the heavy ordnance prepped, and the others…"
He glanced at Avira, who stiffened under his scrutiny. "Well, they'll learn fast or die faster."
A shadow passed over Karen's face, but she didn't argue.
Instead, she nudged her ration pack toward Kai. "Eat," she ordered. "You'll need it."
Lucent, silent as ever, took the seat at the far end of the table.
His conduit lay between his palms, its cracked screen flickering with dormant glyphs.
For a moment, the only sounds were the scrape of utensils and the distant thrum of the base's generators.
Then—
"So," Vey drawled, leaning forward. "Who's betting on Blaze screaming like a glow-rat when we torch him?"
Brin snorted. "I'll take that action. Ten credits says he goes down begging."
"Twenty says he laughs while burning," Cale countered, grinning.
Karen's fingers stilled. "Save the jokes for after," she said, her voice low. "This isn't a game."
Karen raised her mug.
The coffee inside was bitter, lukewarm, and probably brewed yesterday.
Outside, the sky darkened.
Storm coming.
Or maybe just smoke.
In the Junkyard, it was hard to tell the difference.