12:08 P.M. – Sewers Below Sector 20
The air in the tunnel was thick with the stench of stagnant water and rusted metal, but here—where the runoff pipes curved into an old maintenance alcove—the reek was dulled to something almost bearable.
Flickering bioluminescent fungus clung to the walls, casting sickly green light over the two women.
Pen's fingers worked quickly, peeling back the blackened edges of Mags' armorweave where the drone's hypersonic round had grazed her.
The fabric had fused to the skin beneath, and each tug drew a sharp exhale through Mags' nose—the closest she'd come to a sound of pain.
"Aside from some burn wounds, you're pretty much okay," Pen muttered, though her throat tightened at the sight.
Her gaze caught on older scars beneath the fresh injury in contrast against Mags' pale skin.
Stories without words.
She only heard of her past from someone else.
Pen looked away before the silence could stretch.
She rummaged through her belt pouch, fingers closing around a half-crushed tube of med-gel.
The cap came off with a dry pop.
"Lucky it wasn't a direct hit," she said, smearing the cool gel across the burn. The scent of aloe and antiseptic cut through the sewer stench. "That shit would've cooked your shoulder down to the bone."
Mags didn't flinch.
Didn't make a sound.
But Pen felt the minute tension in her muscles—the controlled stillness of someone who'd learned long ago that pain was just another variable to endure.
The gel hissed as it sealed the wound.
Somewhere deeper in the tunnels, water dripped like a slow-beating heart.
Her dark eyes stayed fixed on the tunnel mouth behind Pen, watching for movement, for the telltale hum of repulsor fields.
Her tanto lay across her knees, its edge still faintly shimmering with the remnants of the Razor glyph.
Pen smeared the gel over the wound, her touch clinical. "You're welcome, by the way. It seems my gift had some use."
A beat.
Then Mags' just nodded and tapped her finger once against the concrete—acknowledged.
Pen snorted.
"Yeah, yeah." She leaned back, wiping her hands on her pants.
The distant drip-drip of water echoed down the tunnels, mixing with the far-off rumble of the Talon trucks regrouping above.
Mags' head tilted slightly—listening.
"Relax," Pen said, though her own grip tightened on her monofilament launcher. "Those sewer grates are older than Jack. Drones won't fit. Probably."
Pen slumped against the damp concrete wall, the day was far from over but her muscles finally registering the exhaustion.
The cold seeped through her jacket as she tipped her head back, letting out a slow breath.
Beside her, Mags mirrored the motion—silent, but the way her fingers flexed around the tanto's hilt betrayed the same weariness.
Then Pen's stomach growled loud enough to echo off the tunnel walls.
She blinked, pulling up the time on her conduit's screen. "Oh shit," she muttered, squinting at the display.
"Was it already lunchtime?" The words came out dry, almost laughable given the circumstances.
Mags didn't respond, but Pen kept talking anyway, filling the silence like she always did.
"We should probably regroup with Rook and the others. And update the base about… all this." She gestured vaguely upward, where the remnants of Cinder's drone swarm still smoldered. "Unless Rook already did it. That guy's weirdly efficient when he's not grumbling about ammo counts."
She tapped her comm unit, switching to the main channel.
Static hissed in her ear.
"Hey, base, this is Pen. You reading me?"
Nothing.
She frowned, cycling through frequencies. "Rook, Rook—can you hear me? Over."
The response was instant, Rook's gravelly voice cutting through the interference. "Yeah, I can hear you. Over."
Pen's grip tightened on the comm. "The main base isn't replying. Did something happen there? Over."
A pause.
Too long.
Then Rook's voice, lower now: "…I also tried to contact them. No reply."
The words hung in the air, thick as the sewer's damp.
Pen's jaw set.
She could feel Mags' gaze on her—sharp, assessing.
The static in Pen's ear crackled like a live wire, stretching the silence between Rook's grim report and the unspoken question hanging in the damp air. Mags' fingers had gone still around the tanto—not tense, but ready. The kind of quiet that came before a blade was drawn.
Then—
A sharp beep cut through the silence.
Pen's comm unit flared to life, Karen's voice slicing through the interference like a knife. "I'm sorry for the late reply."
The words were clipped, breathless. "There was... sudden commotion over here."
Pen's spine straightened. Even Mags turned her head slightly—the barest tilt of interest.
"Commo—?" Pen started, then stopped.
The line was too clean.
No background noise.
No distant shouts or gunfire.
Just Karen's voice, tight with something that wasn't quite panic but wasn't calm either.
A beat.
Then Karen continued, slower now: "Status report."
Not How are you? Not Where are you?
Status report.
Mags' eyes met Pen's.
The message was clear.
Something's wrong.
Pen exhaled sharply through her nose, fingers tightening around the comm unit.
The damp tunnel walls seemed to press closer as she spoke, her voice stripped of its usual sharp-edged humor.
"We just confronted Cinder," she said, the words like gravel in her throat.
"Alone, but—" A pause.
The image flashed behind her eyes again—Kass's body standing for those three terrible heartbeats, headless, finger still on the trigger. "She took down seventeen Talons in one sweep. Maybe more. We lost count in the retreat."
Static hissed on the line.
Then Karen's voice, low and controlled: "Go on."
Mags shifted beside her.
The tanto's edge caught the sickly green light as she turned the shrapnel fragment in her fingers—showing Pen the etched sign again.
Pen's jaw clenched. "They've got corporate tech. Not just scraps—real fucking hardware."
The memory of the sky rippling with cloaked drones made her stomach twist. "Cinder had hundreds of them. Each one armed with conduit-grade glyphs. Not jury-rigged. Not scavenged. Factory-made."
Pen ripped open the protein bar with her teeth, the crinkling wrapper echoing sharply against the tunnel walls.
She took a savage bite—chocolate-flavored chalk that stuck in her throat—before continuing.
"We managed to bail underground," she said around the mouthful, dusting crumbs from her lap.
"Sewers are holding. Regrouping at Point Sigma with whatever's left of the squad." The words tasted bitter.
Sigma was their fallback, their last resort marker.
They'd never needed it before today.
Across from her, Mags moved with silent precision.
The tanto slid into its sheath with a soft click, her free hand already digging into her own waist pouch.
She produced an identical protein bar—standard Talon field rations—but peeled the wrapper back slowly, methodically, like she was disarming a bomb.
The contrast was stark: Pen's jittery energy versus Mags' glacial calm.
Both chewing the same bland survival food, both listening to the same distant drip-drip of water that might or might not be just water.
Pen swallowed hard.
The protein bar turned to lead in Pen's gut. She stared at the comm unit, fingers tightening around it as Karen's words sank in.
"So how about there?" she'd asked, almost casual. "What was the commotion about?"
The pause that followed was just a half-second too long.
Pen could hear Karen weighing the cost of truth—the sharp inhale, the quiet click of her augmented fingers tapping steel.
Then the verdict:
"...We just found out Flick was a traitor."
Pen barked a laugh before she could stop herself. "Woah, wait a minute."
The wrapper crumpled in her fist. "Isn't that supposed to be good news?"
She wasn't close to the guy—hell, she'd mocked his shiny augment just yesterday—but catching a mole should feel like a win. Right?
Mags had gone perfectly still beside her.
Not shocked.
Waiting.
Karen's voice came through strained, like she was speaking through clenched teeth: "I guess? But the worst part is he died before we could get any intel. And he died here, in the cafeteria. We're... handling the aftermath."
The subtext hissed in Pen's ear like steam: There's blood on the floor. Rookies are panicking.
Mags' fingers twitched toward her tanto—not drawing it, just checking.
A habit.
A comfort.
Pen swallowed.
The taste of chocolate and bile clung to her tongue.
***
12:08 P.M. – Steel Talons Base Cafeteria
The air in the cafeteria hung thick with the metallic tang of blood and gunpowder. Most of the commotion had died down—voices lowered to murmurs, chairs righted, the body covered with a stained tablecloth—but the tension remained, coiled tight like a spring.
Kai and Lucent sat with their trays untouched, the food congealing in front of them.
Even Kai, usually quick with a joke or a jab, stayed silent, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the table.
His eyes flicked between the covered corpse and the small, huddled form of Lily, still trembling near the coffee machine.
Lucent's gaze, however, never wavered from Jack.
The old man knelt beside Lily, his usual gruffness softened into something unfamiliar—his calloused hands gentle as he pressed a damp cloth to her forehead, his voice low and steady.
Nearby, Karen and Vey stood in hushed conversation, their postures rigid.
Vey's augments whirred faintly as he gestured sharply, his ruined face twisted in a scowl.
Karen's jaw was set, her prosthetic hand flexing at her side.
Lucent tried to read their lips, but their words were lost in the murmur of the room.
Then Cale leaned in, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
"Seems they're talking about Flick being the traitor."
The words landed heavily.
Kai's fingers stilled.
Lucent's eyes narrowed.
Cale smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Guess that explains why Jack put a bullet in him."
A beat.
Then the scrape of a chair as Lucent stood, his movements deliberate.
"We're done here," he said, voice flat.
Kai didn't argue.
He pushed his tray away and followed, leaving the cafeteria—and its ghosts—behind.
The scrape of chairs echoed as the trio stood, but Karen's sharp gesture stopped them mid-step.
Her fingers flicked once—come here—and they obeyed, weaving through the scattered tables toward the uneasy huddle near the corpse.
Lucent's gaze locked onto the augment the moment they got close.
It lay severed on the floor, fingers still twitching in sporadic, mechanical spasms.
Hydraulic fluid seeped from the ruined joint, mixing with the bloodstains in viscous black streaks.
Karen exhaled through her nose. "Have you all managed to eat?"
Cale's laugh was brittle. "Really? That's what you're going to ask us?"
"Just basic decency," Karen shot back, but her eyes lingered on Kai—on the way his fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides, the pallor beneath his tan.
The kid had seen corpses before, but not like this. Not one of their own, executed at lunch.
Lucent didn't acknowledge the exchange.
He crouched beside the augment, tilting his head to study the exposed wiring. "That thing," he said, pointing without touching. "May I take a look at it?"
Karen's attention snapped to him. "You're going to hack into that?"
Lucent's fingers hovered over the sparking circuitry. "If it still works."
A pause.
His thumb brushed the Myriad logo etched near the wrist joint—almost thoughtful. "From the looks of it, the old man was too accurate. Don't expect anything grand."
The augment's index finger jerked suddenly, scraping against the tile with a sound like nails on glass.
Kai took an involuntary step back.
A sharp burst of static crackled from Karen's comm unit, cutting through the heavy silence.
"Hey, base, this is Pen. You reading me?"
Every head in the group snapped toward Karen.
She didn't flinch—just pressed two fingers to her temple, exhaled hard through her nose, and stepped out into the corridor without a word.
Vey watched her go, then turned to Kai with a grunt. "Hey kid," he said, his voice uncharacteristically lacking its usual bite. "You alright?"
Kai stared at the bloodstain on the floor where Flick had fallen.
His fingers twitched at his sides, restless. "I'm sorry," he muttered, more to himself than to Vey. "I thought I was already supposed to be numb to this kind of thing. But it doesn't seem so."
The admission hung in the air, raw and unvarnished.
Vey's augments whirred as he shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the sudden vulnerability. "Tch. Nobody's supposed to be numb to watching a guy get shot over lunch."
He crossed his arms, glancing at the covered corpse. "Hell, if you were numb to it, that's when I'd be worried."
A beat.
Then, quieter: "First time seeing one go down like that?"
Kai didn't answer.
The silence stretched—just long enough for the hum of the overhead lights to feel oppressive.
Then, from the corner of the room:
"Kai."
Jack's voice was gravel wrapped in smoke.
Kai and Vey turned in unison.
The old armorer sat near the coffee machine, one hand resting on Lily's shoulder.
The girl had stopped trembling, but her eyes were red-rimmed, her fingers clutching a half-crushed protein bar like a lifeline.
Kai scanned the room.
Cale had already drifted to Lucent's side, both of them hunched over the sparking augment like scavengers picking at a corpse.
Lily blinked up at Jack, surprised but silent.
She knew better than to question him when he used that tone.
Jack tapped the seat beside him. "Come sit here."
No request.
No explanation.
Kai hesitated—just a fraction of a second—before obeying.
Vey followed, dropping onto the bench beside Lily with a grunt.
The moment his weight settled, Lily's face twisted.
Vey noticed. "You got a problem, kid?"
Lily didn't flinch.
"Yeah," she muttered, wiping her nose with her sleeve. "Your face."
A beat.
Then Vey barked a laugh—sharp, unexpected. "Tch. Fair."
He leaned back, the tension in his augments easing just slightly.
"At least mine ain't leakin' like yours." He tossed her a rag from his belt.
Lily caught it, scowling, but didn't throw it back.
Jack watched them both, silent.
Then he pushed himself up from the bench with a grunt and moved to the coffee machine—an ancient, dented thing that had probably survived more battles than half the Talons.
He didn't look at Kai as he spoke. "Coffee or tea."
Kai blinked. "Are you asking me?"
Vey snorted. "Of course, kid."
He jerked a thumb at Lily. "This one hates both. So yeah, he's askin' you."
Lily nodded emphatically, wrinkling her nose. "Tastes like burnt dirt."
Kai hesitated. "Oh—no, I don't need one right now."
Jack didn't pause. "So tea it is, then."
Kai's face twitched—caught between protest and resignation—but he didn't argue further.
The old man worked with mechanical precision: scooping grounds for his own cup, then digging out a tea bag from a tin that looked older than Kai.
The machine hissed and sputtered, filling the silence with steam and the bitter scent of over-brewed caffeine.
When he handed the tea to Kai, the cup was scalding hot.
No sugar.
No milk.
Just dark amber liquid that smelled faintly of pine and something earthy.
Jack didn't explain.
Jack took a long sip of his coffee, his gaze drifting back to the augment on the floor—and the bloodstain beside it.
Kai stared into his untouched tea, the steam curling into the air like a ghost.
The last time he'd seen a life end so abruptly was that Hollowed woman—the one who'd still clung to shreds of humanity before Lucent put her down.
He could still hear her voice, ragged but grateful: "Thank you."
Then there were the Nimbrix Black Unit operatives, swallowed whole by the writhing shadows Lucent had summoned from his conduit.
But they'd been hunting him.
That was different.
That was survival.
This?
Flick had been sitting at a table, eating lunch one second, dead the next.
No monstrous transformation.
No grand last stand.
Just a traitor's execution—swift, clinical, ordinary.
Jack's voice cut through the silence. "Do you want to talk about something?"
Kai's fingers tightened around the cup. The heat seeped into his palms, almost painful.
"I can't understand," he muttered.
Jack waited.
"In my mind, this should be normal. Just another day in the Junkyard." Kai's throat felt tight. "But—I can't figure out why I'm so... anxious."
The word tasted strange in his mouth.
Anxious wasn't quite right.
It was something deeper—something about the way Flick's body had crumpled, the way Lily had screamed, the way the augment kept twitching like it didn't know its host was dead.
Jack studied him over the rim of his coffee cup.
"Because it wasn't normal," he said finally. "Not for you."
Lily had been quietly nibbling the frayed edges of her protein bar, her scuffed boots swinging a few centimeters above the floor. The rhythm faltered when Kai spoke—just a hitch in her chewing, the barest tilt of her head to show she was listening.
She didn't look up at first. Instead, her finger traced the wrapper's creases, following the folds like a roadmap. The silence stretched, thick with the scent of blood and coffee, until she finally said:
"Violence isn't the only thing that exists here."
Her voice was startlingly clear, devoid of the waver it had held earlier. The kind of blunt truth only children could deliver without pretension.
"You think that just because we live in the slums, that's all there is." She took another measured bite, chewing slowly. "It's just that we had no choice."
Her eyes flicked to Jack, seeking—not quite approval, but acknowledgment. When he grunted into his coffee, she turned her gaze to the stained floor where Flick had fallen.
"It hurts to watch," she said simply. "Even when it happens."
Then she shrugged, as if she'd commented on the rain or the rations, and went back to her protein bar.
The simplicity of her words hung in the air, sharper than any blade.
Vey leaned back against the bench, the servos in his augments whirring softly as he crossed his arms.
His ruined face twisted into something between a smirk and a scowl.
"Kid's got a point," he rumbled, nodding toward Lily.
"Difference between cappin' some corpo bastard in a firefight and watchin' Jack put one between Flick's eyes over breakfast." He scratched at the scar tissue along his jaw. "One's war. The other's... hell, I dunno. Housekeeping?"
Lily wrinkled her nose. "Ew. Don't call it that."
"What? It's true." Vey's grin showed too many teeth. "Traitors are like roaches. Gotta stomp 'em quick before they breed."
Jack shot him a look—just a slight narrowing of the eyes—but Vey either didn't notice or didn't care.
"But hey," he continued, nudging Kai's untouched tea closer to him. "If it makes you feel better, Flick was probably already dead before he hit the floor. That shit in his arm?" A jerk of his chin toward the twitching augment. "Corpos don't leave puppets with much wiggle room."
The words landed like a stone in still water.