April 15, 2021. 00:55. Surrey.
The party steps into the building's hollowed-out interior.
A sharp breath catches in my throat—the air is thick with mildew and decay. Crumbling walls fade into the shadows, faintly illuminated by moonlight filtering through shattered windows.
Cautiously, I move forward.
The floor groans under my weight, dust and debris crunching beneath my boot.
Remi lets out a rough cough, eyebrows lifting in uneasy amusement. "Yo, this place is straight-up a horror movie. You think there's a ghost or something?"
Azure gives a short, airy laugh. "If there is, it's probably pissed we broke in."
A low hiss escapes me as I glance back over my shoulder. "Keep it down—and watch your step."
Mister inclines his head. "We're here to get the Dead Kings out, not entertain ourselves. Stay focused."
Tetra shifts his weight, eyes darting across the dark corners. "Yeah, let's, uh… not push our luck."
Shock twists her fingers together, fidgeting. "Sameee. I'm a hacker, not a fighter."
I glance at them—tension etched into every stance.
A little annoyed, not gonna lie, but I know better than to dismiss their nerves. This kind of work isn't exactly their specialty.
"Alright, listen," I whisper. "Stay light on your feet and follow my lead. Sound carries in places like this. If you see or hear anything, tell me immediately."
Adjusting my duffel bag, I'm silently thankful for investing in gear that moves without a whisper.
Each step is measured—fluid, precise. The others trail behind, not as smooth, but disciplined enough. Together, we push deeper into the ruined halls.
Minutes stretch into what feels like hours as we navigate the desolate corridors.
Eventually, we come across an old security room—Shock's cue. She gets to work, fingers dancing over decaying controls, splicing into what's left of the system. Within moments, she confirms it: Carl and his crew are inside.
The catch? They're several floors above us, and the only way up winds through half-collapsed stairwells. Still, we keep moving. We snake around debris and toppled furniture, crawl through broken floor sections. Each new level brings fresh danger—jagged metal, rotted footing, the low groan of the structure threatening to give way.
Halfway up, the beam of my flashlight catches a taut wire. My pulse jumps. I throw up a hand. "Stop. Trap."
Azure drops into a crouch, eyes narrowing as her fingers reshape into a set of sleek tools. "Basic sensor rig. Gimme a sec." Within moments, she cuts the wire and the alarm is disarmed. "Easy."
More traps wait ahead—several, by the look of it—but Azure handles them in steady succession. Moonlight glints off the metallic shimmer of her morphing hands as she leans over a pressure plate. "Whoever set these didn't have much time," she murmurs. "Sloppy work."
Watching her work, a sudden chill snakes up my spine. Something's wrong. My instincts spike.
Sound follows: the faint shuffle of movement, a quiet crack echoing from a nearby corridor.
My head snaps toward the side hall, eyes straining to cut through the dark.
A flicker of red light—there, then gone. My hand drifts toward my pistol.
Tetra catches the motion. "Artemis, you good?"
"I thought I saw something," I murmur.
His brow furrows, tone wary. "Well, if you did, it's worth keeping in mind."
I linger a moment longer, eyes on the empty hall. My grip tightens, then loosens. "Yeah… maybe."
Maybe I'm just being paranoid. Either way, I shake it off and keep going.
...
April 15, 2021. 01:20. Surrey.
The rest of the climb to the seventh floor passes without incident, the silence pressing in heavier with each step.
Only the occasional creak of settling metal breaks the stillness.
Shock guides us to a door marked by fresh scuffs and reinforced hinges—clearly the Dead Kings' temporary stronghold.
Mister steps forward, raising a hand to halt the group. "One moment. Let me handle this." He raps lightly on the door, voice calm and composed. "Carl? It's Mister. We're here on Blake's orders."
A muffled stir of movement sounds from within. Then a gruff, suspicious voice replies, "Who the hell is Mister? How do I know you're not lying?"
Still watching the hacked camera feed, Shock whispers, "Careful—he's got a shotgun pointed at the door."
Mister remains perfectly still, helmet angled toward the door. "Blake sent us to get you out. The Melders outside are gone. You're clear to move."
The voice stays edged. "Blake's orders, huh? Prove it."
"If Blake didn't send us, you think we'd have made it this far without him noticing? He wants you back in Vancouver. You can reach out to him right now—I'll wait."
"Give us a bit."
The silence that follows drags on for several tense minutes. Finally, the door creaks open to reveal a small team—armed, exhausted, faces etched with strain.
"Aight, you asked for me?" Carl mutters, lowering his weapon. "Let's go. But if this is a setup, you're going first."
One of his crew, a broad man covered in ink, hefts a heavy gray case by its handle. The sight of it hits immediately—everyone knows what's inside. He passes it over with a curt nod. "Careful. It's the real deal."
Without a word, the group splinters into motion. Mister and Remi take point, escorting Carl's team back to their car. Azure and Tetra handle the railgun transport.
Shock and I stay behind to sweep the area. She leans against a cracked wall, flicking between camera feeds at speed while I pace the corridor, senses on high alert.
The earlier flicker of red won't leave my mind. Something about it nags at me—something familiar.
Didn't I read about an incident in this neighbourhood?
A headline earlier today... something about Surrey. I can't quite recall.
I drift through the dim hallway, the thought crystallizing—then my gaze locks on it.
Far ahead, a faint red glow flickers, accompanied by the low hum of machinery.
What the hell is that?
My pulse picks up; I slip into cover with my gun already up. "Shock, check the corner for me," I whisper.
Fingers drifting through the air, Shock hums as she taps the feeds. "Hmmm… gimme a sec." After a moment she murmurs, "Oh—it's just a busted LED. Nothing to worry about."
Still, I don't lower the weapon. The glow lingers, and the faint scrape of retreating footsteps follows it. Nope—I wasn't imagining it. "That's not just an LED," I say.
Shock freezes mid-gesture, then looks up. "You sure?"
I keep my eyes on the shadowed corridor a second longer. "We need to go. Now."
We move at a pace just shy of a sprint—quick enough to cover ground, slow enough to stay in control. Unease claws at my chest. By the time we catch up, the others have already cleared the tower.
The night air hits cold and sharp as we regroup outside.
Carl and his men climb into their vehicle while we exchange terse words about meeting Blake later. They nod, start the engine, and drive back to Vancouver, leaving the railgun with us.
At the van, cautious glances ripple through the team.
Everyone files in while I hang back a beat, the image of that light still nagging at me.
Mister's steady voice snaps me out of it. "Artemis, we've got what we came for. Let's head back and plan our next move."
I climb in, pistol still taut in my grip. "Yeah, fine."
Surrey falls away in the rearview, unease trailing close behind.
As we slip through Burnaby's dim streets, the tension finally starts to ease.
I fold into the seat while Remi and Shock drift back to their phones; Azure and Tetra keep watch over the railgun case.
"Alright, screw it—I'm just gonna get right to the point. Can we open it?" Azure blurts, curiosity bubbling through her voice.
Tetra arches a brow. "Is that really a good idea? What if it's booby-trapped?"
I wave the thought off. "If it were rigged, Carl's crew would've been vaporized before we showed up."
"Checking it might not be a bad idea," Mister says, glancing at the rearview. "If we're opening it, just be careful. No unnecessary risks. Everyone good with that?"
Reluctant nods ripple through the van. Azure leans forward, fingers shifting into tool-forms as she cradles the case on her lap. Around her, the team shifts—some with nervous energy, others with barely-contained excitement.
She works with steady hands, unscrewing safety locks with practiced precision.
A hiss of depressurization fills the air; the lid pops open to reveal a sleek, angular weapon.
Even at first glance it's obvious this isn't standard-issue. Woah, this is something far beyond what's on the market.
I lean in, eyes narrowing.
Smart weaponry isn't new; corporations have chased guided rounds for years. This, though, feels different.
The railgun rests in custom foam, its black matte chassis eating the low light. Sharp angles and smooth contours give it a predatory, functional beauty. Thin pulsing blue veins run along the barrel, humming faintly with stored energy.
Azure lifts it out and we all get a better look.
Long and streamlined like a sniper's silhouette, the barrel bears subtle grooves—probably for heat dissipation. The muzzle flares into a reinforced end cap with vented slits, clearly built to channel enormous force. No physical rounds are visible.
Could this fire raw energy?
Azure taps a tiny button on the side. A holographic scope blooms near the top, bathing the interior in a muted blue readout: charge levels, diagnostics, remaining shots.
My attention drifts to the grip. It's wrapped and ergonomic; the stock adjusts with a clean, utilitarian design. Whoever made this favored function above flair.
"This thing's no joke," Azure murmurs, equal parts awe and something like frustration.
She handles it with a familiarity that's almost intimate. I study her. "You know this?"
Without looking up she smirks. "What, you think you're the only one who knows her way around guns?" Her tone is light, but a tension in her shoulders tells me she's holding something back.
Remi whistles low. "Shiiiit, that's serious. You think it could take out a tank?"
Tetra scoots closer, eyebrows raised. "Or level a city block?"
Shock clucks, all wide-eyed delight. "Ooooooh, the blue lights are so cute!"
I want to press Azure, pry whatever she's hiding loose, but I tuck the curiosity away for later.
She removes a few panels, exposing inner components. Her excitement dims fast. "Huh. It's… incomplete."
Peering over her shoulder, I frown. The firing mechanisms look intact—the trigger, targeting arrays—but the center is hollow. Something's missing.
Azure taps the empty cavity. "There's no power supply."
Remi leans in. "You think Carl or his crew swiped it?"
"No chance," Mister replies, voice firm. "They didn't even know how to use it, let alone modify it."
Azure scavenges at the wiring and eases out a small, tape-wrapped box. "Looks like it ran on a temporary battery—military-grade, probably."
"Any idea what kind?" Tetra asks.
"It could be anything," she says, distracted, fingers still in motion. Then her hands stop cold. For a heartbeat, something shifts in her expression—a flicker of confusion, maybe even unease—before she slowly pulls a sleek black device from a hidden compartment.
"What is that?" Mister asks, tone tightening as he drives.
"Not sure." Azure tilts her head, studying it. "Doesn't look like it belongs."
Shock unspools a cable from her rig. "Lemme see!" She leans in, plugs it in, eyes darting across data streams as her fingers trace commands in the air.
A moment later, her expression falters. "Uh—" Her voice drops. "Oh."
My stomach tightens, curiosity mixing with unease. "What is it?"
"It's broadcasting the railgun's location to someone."
Silence coils in the van.
Shit.