Silence.
The air in Sector 28 was thick with it.
It was a cold, metallic silence, tasting of rust and ozone and the patient, predatory stillness of a trap waiting for its prey.
For thirty agonizing hours, we waited.
My true elite force, my 'Dagger' team, was hidden amongst the labyrinthine tangle of rusting, behemoth-sized pipes and shadowy metal catwalks of the industrial cavern.
Chloe was a phantom, perched on a high, dark beam, her form melting into the gloom until she was nothing more than a whisper of deeper blackness.
Fenris, my loyal Werewolf, lay coiled in the darkness, a low, barely audible growl the only sign he was even there.
Grunt, the Kobold Warlord, stood as still as a stone gargoyle in the mouth of a dark service tunnel, his new war maul, Earthshaker, resting on his shoulder.
And I sat on a makeshift throne of stacked, rusted metal crates, my long coat draped artfully around me, watching the live feed from Isabelle's decoy operation on my phone.
