The factory floor erupted into a symphony of destruction. My insane gambit, born of pure desperation, had worked better than I could have possibly imagined. The carefully coordinated hunt for me, the game's most valuable target, had devolved into a messy, three-way brawl. The Dominion squad, hearing the firefight break out behind them, was now caught between Anya's sniper fire from one direction and the unstoppable Ghost Enforcer from another. Their perfect pincer attack had collapsed. Their organized advance fell apart into panicked, individual firefights.
The Ghost Enforcer was a whirlwind of metallic fury. Its rage, my own rage, amplified and perfected, was a terrifying thing to witness. It moved with an inhuman grace that defied its size. I watched as it dispatched a Dominion hunter with a single, precise shot from its Phantom SR-90, the bullet cracking through the air. In the next instant, as another hunter charged it, the Enforcer fluidly dropped the rifle on its magnetic back-sling and drew a massive, high-caliber pistol. Two shots, BOOM, BOOM, echoed through the plaza, and the second hunter crumpled to the ground. It was a perfect killing machine, and it was carving a path through the Dominion squad with ruthless efficiency.
I used the chaos as my shield. I was no longer a combatant in this fight; I was a catalyst, a ghost flitting through the fog of war. I weaved through the massive, silent machinery, keeping low, ducking behind giant hydraulic presses and silent engine blocks. My objective was clear: let them weaken each other. Let them burn through their ammo and their numbers. Then, I would get to Anya, regroup, and we would make a final, desperate break for the terminal.
The battle was a swirling, beautiful mess. Muzzle flashes lit up the dark corners of the factory. Red and green tracers crisscrossed the plaza, creating a deadly light show. The Dominion hunters, now fighting for their lives, fired wildly at the Enforcer. The Enforcer fired back, its shots never missing, each one finding its mark with chilling precision. Anya, from her new position hidden somewhere in the labyrinth of the assembly line, took opportunistic shots. The sharp, heavy BOOM of her rifle was a constant, reassuring presence in the cacophony. She was doing her job perfectly. She was a master of chaos.
Then, a new sound joined the chorus. It was a high-powered, supersonic CRACK from high above. It was different from Anya's rifle. Cleaner. Colder. It was one of Seraph's snipers. A Dominion hunter who had flanked my position and was closing in on me suddenly collapsed, his helmet snapping back as a neat, smoking hole appeared in the center of it. He fell without a sound.
Hope, hot and brilliant, flooded my chest. "Seraph! Your team is engaging!" I said into the comms channel, a wave of pure relief washing over me. Maybe she had seen the Enforcer and changed the plan. Maybe her cold, tactical mind had decided we were more valuable alive. "Tell them to focus on the Enforcer! It's the biggest threat! We can win this!"
Seraph's voice replied instantly. But it was colder than ever before. All traces of partnership, of alliance, were gone. It was the voice of an admin about to wipe a server. "My plan has been compromised, Leo. The tactical situation has devolved beyond acceptable parameters. I am initiating a new protocol."
"What new protocol?" I asked, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. Her tone was the voice of a system AI announcing a mandatory shutdown.
"Protocol Scorch," she said, her voice completely flat, devoid of any human emotion. "The terminal is the only objective that matters now. My team's new orders are to sanitize the plaza. Eliminate all hostiles in the target area. Ouroboros Dominion… and the rogue Enforcer. There can be no witnesses. There can be no complications."
I stopped dead behind a thick, metal pillar, my blood running cold. The words hit me like a physical blow. Sanitize the plaza. Eliminate all hostiles.
"Seraph, we're in the plaza!" I yelled, my voice cracking with disbelief and desperation. "We're not hostile! We're your allies! We're on your side!"
"You are an acceptable loss," she replied, her voice as calm and steady as if she were reading a weather report. "Your bounty has made you a liability. Your chaotic actions have endangered my team and my objective. Get to the terminal and scrub your signature, Leo. That is your only path to safety. If you are still broadcasting a bounty signal when my sweep is complete, my snipers will treat you as a hostile target. You have two minutes."
The channel closed, leaving only a dead hiss in my ear.
The betrayal was so swift, so absolute, it stole the breath from my lungs. We weren't her allies. We were never her allies. We were disposable tools. We were bait, and now that the trap was sprung, the bait was going to be incinerated along with the prey.
Another sniper shot cracked from above. This one didn't hit a Dominion hunter. It slammed into the floor just a few feet from me, kicking up a shower of sparks that stung my face. It was a clear, unambiguous warning shot. It wasn't from the Ghost Enforcer. The sound was different, cleaner. It was from Seraph's team. They were bracketing the area, clearing their fields of fire, preparing for a full-scale purge.
My HUD, which was already a mess of cracks and low-health warnings, now displayed a new, terrifying element. A system-level overlay burned itself onto my vision in stark white letters.
[PROTOCOL SCORCH: ACTIVE]
[TIME REMAINING: 2:00]
The number was already ticking down. 1:59... 1:58...
I looked across the plaza. The situation had gone from impossible to apocalyptic. I could see Anya, pinned down by the remaining three Dominion hunters who were now fighting with the desperation of cornered animals. I saw the Ghost Enforcer, having just dispatched another hunter, its red eye sweeping the area, relentlessly searching for me. And high above it all, the invisible, watching eyes of Seraph's snipers, who now saw us all as targets on a checklist.
We had escaped one trap only to find ourselves in a much larger, more deadly one. The terminal, our supposed sanctuary, was now the finish line of a race against death. The Ghost was hunting us. The Dominion was hunting us. And now, our own "allies" had orders to execute us if we didn't reach the objective in time.
We were caught between three different armies, on a battlefield where we were the primary objective for every single one of them. And the sky itself was about to rain down fire.