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Pahanin rolled his sleeves and pulled the micro-lathe to the light. The ring's inner throat spun above the bench in a pale projection; he matched real steel to ghost lines, chalking tolerances on brown paper.
Kaviss took the logistics board and started up the equipment. A foundry coil warmed. The smell of solder and oil thickened.
Void watched long enough to be sure the spark had caught, then turned away.
—
[Hangar, Thieves' Landing]
His jumpship sat with its nose toward the starry sky. He climbed the ladder and pulled the hatch behind him. Obsidian floated up from the console and lit the boards with a gentle pulse.
"Boot sequence green," Obsidian said. "Where to?"
"Hold," Void said. He strapped in, "We'll need to decide what to do first."
«The Stranger named the black heart», Zamyr said, voice quiet and close. «If you want it, you will need a Gate Lord.»
"Which is the problem?" Void replied, looking at nothing. "Finding a Gate Lord is pure fantasy. That stuff doesn't just happen."
"Which means we must look for other routes," Void said. "Gallida and Taeko know the Vex well. We can probably try to use the Vex network to locate a gate lord, or better yet, find the location of the black heart."
Obsidian nodded. "Good. I'll keep an eye out if we ever hear back."
«And while we wait,» Zamyr prodded, «We can gather those people. The ones Pahanin named.»
"Exactly." Void leaned forward and tapped the console. "Run a pass. City channels. Private boards. Anything with dust on it. Names: The Stoic. Wen Jie. Marcus Ren."
Obsidian's iris tightened. Lines chased each other across the display, then fell away. "Stoic is a ghost. No tags. Wen Jie… nothing that isn't at least twelve years old and redacted to bones." He paused, "Marcus Ren, though."
Void sat up, a touch. "What about him?"
"Month-old transport logs. Records say he was ejected from the Foundry after a Hakke test went wrong enough to blow up two of their factories. Petitions were filed. Access revoked. He walked out with a box and a grin."
"Manufacturers run that floor," Void said. "You don't win an appeal there."
"Last clean sighting puts him in Old Chicago," Obsidian continued. A map flickered open, washed green with old utility lines. "Leaving a Hakke sub-facility by the river. After that, the trail fades. No City transponder pings. No requisitions. He… fell off."
Void rubbed his jaw, thinking of the rot and iron of that place. Old Chicago was thorny ground, water-logged bones of towers, rail lines like ribs, fog that tasted like coins. And the kind of men who liked to settle in it.
'It's Shin Malphur's country', Void thought to himself.
Obsidian's light dipped. "Not a lot of City presence in Chicago. At best, we've got the Hakke industry at its edge. But that's it. Place is as uncharted as it comes."
Void stared through the glass at the bad shine of the Shore. "Marcus is important. If we act too late, we might never track him down."
"I think we should go after this lead, no matter how unlikely it is," Void said. He set his palms on the throttle.
"Got it, I'll route us," Obsidian replied.
Void nodded; a part of him was tense. Meeting Shin Malphur wasn't something he was looking forward to, but considering he was the one stepping into the lion's mouth, he couldn't do much.
But that was one more thing that concerned him.
'Shadows of Yor'
If Shin Malphur were running Old Chicago, would the shadows operate nearby? Or had he stationed them elsewhere? He didn't know for sure.
The ship rose on a low hum and slid into the dark.
—
[Old Chicago, Approach]
A thick and dense curtain of fog draped over Old Chicago. One that seemed to never roll back.
They came in above a bruise-coloured lake. The Jumpship quieted, its thrusters softened as Void took control, piloting it gently near the surface.
He looked down and spotted only a rusted Ferris wheel that pierced through the thick mist.
"Marking the Hakke site," Obsidian said. A pale dot pulsed on the map, halfway swallowed by marsh. "Old foundry annexe. One tower, three low sheds, a drowned loading yard. No active grid. Heat signatures… faint. Could be rats. Could be people who like to be thought of as rats."
"Set us down a kilometre east," Void said. "Behind that half-eaten stadium."
"Copy."
The jumpship knifed through low cloud and took the wind sideways with its wings. The next second, Void transmatted out.
He appeared at the centre of the stadium.
Obsidian hovered near his shoulder. "I can throw a decoy ping from a relay to draw eyes west. Pretty sure we sent out a wide transmat signature to anyone with a decent scanner."
"Keep it. If someone really bothers to track me down, it's probably someone useful who can help." Void said. "No sense in declining that invitation."
«And the dragon,» Zamyr asked, amused, «stays in its sheath.»
"For now," Void smirked. He rested his hand on the Ahamkara hilt. The pale along the edge breathed and went still.
"Not every problem needs you. Think of yourself like an ace in the hole."
«Flattery, fine, it'll work this time, O brother mine», Zamyr said, satisfied.
Void walked out of the stadium's exit, onto the waterlogged streets. He stepped out, and stagnant water pooled around his feet.
The nauseating smell of wet iron, old mould, and a hint of burnt solvent rose. The haze wasn't any better. The fog obscured sound and sight. Like a veil pulled over one's senses. Despite that, one could still hear the bones of the City creaking, like a rotting concrete jungle, breaking down one pebble at a time.
Void moved along a drowned tram line, quietly and with purpose. Just slow enough to draw attention, yet just slippery enough to lead them on.
The purpose?
To announce his presence to the right ears.
He walked to the end of the drowned tram line, hopping from the roof of one cart to the next till he reached the fence of the Hakke industry.
Ahead, the Hakke annexe walls were stamped with a logo the rain had half-chewed away. One roll-up door sat crooked on its rails. Someone had put a broom handle through the latch. The lights were dead.
Void crouched at the fence and listened. Rain ticked. No voices. He slid through the cut and crossed low to the door.
"Obsidian, anyone following us?" he whispered.
"Not sure. Fog's obscuring my scans." The Ghost's iris narrowed. "Thermals do show some movement, but it's not clear."
Void gently pushed the door open, and the foundry floor spread ahead, machine beds under tarps, a crane track, a wall of discarded jigs like a cemetery of errors
Void stood in the centre of the dead foundry and let the room breathe. Rusted crane rails cut the ceiling. A line of rain crept through a seam and ticked into a bucket that had lost the habit of being useful.
Someone was on his line. He had felt the tail three blocks ago, a presence in the alleys that kept pace with him and never made the mistake of hurrying. You were never alone here unless they wanted you to be.
The door rasped.
A man stepped through the gap, donning a long coat that was damp at the hem.
Void glanced at him, and his eyes widened.
The tag above his head read his name
'Callum Sol'
Right hand to the man with the golden gun.
The two of them stopped at twenty paces. Their hands moved without noise. Void's hand cannon came up with the same calm as Callum's did, sight lines crossing and holding.
They measured.
Void blinked once. "You might shoot first," he said, voice even. "But it won't kill me."
"Instead, you'd start a fight you cannot hope to win." Void lowered his gun with ease and calmly holstered it.
A small frown touched Callum's mouth, but it vanished right away. He chuckled, holstered on a clean draw, and eased his stance without losing any of the room.
"I didn't expect the great Ghostsword to come visit our little scrap heap," he said.
"Didn't really come visit you guys," Void replied. "I'm looking for someone."
"What a coincidence," Callum said, amused. "So am I."
The foundry listened. Water kept ticking into the bucket.
"Then?" Void said.
Callum shook his head. "You come with me."
"Can't let you go without proper hospitality."
Void nodded. "I knew I wasn't going to step past Chicago without meeting him."
Seeing him willing to meet, the respect in Callum's look wasn't soft.
He tilted his chin toward the gap.
"Walk."
They left the Hakke shell behind and slid into the city's ribs. Void matched Callum's pace, and the two hunters flickered through the city.
They reached the north quarter as the colour fell out of the day. The bunker sat under a hill chewed by roots, a concrete mouth with a steel tongue for a door. No lights. No markings. Only a line of worn stone where boots had stepped.
Callum stopped with one hand on the handle and looked back to Void like a last check.
"Some privacy, please", he smiled.
Void lazily put a hand over his eyes. "Yeah, sure."
Callum thumbed in a code onto a rusted numpad. A moment later, the lock thumped. The hinge breathed. The door opened.
"After you," Callum said.
Void stepped through the door and spotted a set of stairs that led downwards. Callum turned, signalling him to follow down, and Void obliged.
The room at the bottom of the stairs was small.
There was a square table at its centre, with chairs on either side. A lamp was placed on a steel barrel and poured a circle of warm light over the table.
A man stood at the edge of it, a man who did not need an introduction.
The moment Void saw him, he could almost swear he saw a flicker of golden light trace his fingers.
Callum moved to the side and set his shoulder against the wall. "Got a surprise for you."
Void met the gaze that met him.
He didn't flinch.
He was no longer the foolish newcomer. No longer the weakling. He was a man who had slain dragons, clashed against a prince and stood tall against a King.
"Shin Malphur", he said, steady.
"Kid," Shin Malphur answered with a smile, "I suppose now that you've grown, I should call you with your proper name. Isn't that right?"
"Ghost sword." Shin chuckled. He pointed towards the table, dragged out a chair and sat down.
"You came a long way."
"I came to find a man called Marcus Ren," Void said. "And because I knew you were between him and me."
Shin's eyes thinned a fraction, interested. "And you came anyway."
"I don't know another road that gets me where I'm going."
Shin nodded, "Brave. Or was it reckless?"
"Only time can tell." Void took the chair and sat down.
"Marcus Ren. A hunter from the City. Blew up some factories in the City. Caused quite the commotion." Shin glanced at Callum.
"That he did." Callum chimed in.
"And?" Void frowned.
"Looks like you did your research." Shin shrugged. "I know where he is."
Void sighed again. He set his hands on the table.
"Fine. What do you want?"
Shin smiled again.
"Let's talk."
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