Midday in the capital was louder than ever.
Tenrihines pulsed with life, air traffic streaking overhead, monorails cutting through towering structures, soldiers and civilians weaving through one another in practiced chaos. Inside STF Headquarters, it was the same controlled disorder it always was.
Ian stood in the Intelligence Wing, arms folded.
"Send Shadow in."
Shadow
Shadow arrived minutes later.
He was young by STF standards, but already dangerous.
A Phantom Specialist in the Nightcrew, masters of infiltration, capable of masking their Kia signatures, impersonating enemies, and disappearing into crowds as if they had never existed. Shadow wasn't the highest rank, and he wasn't the best, but he was precise, disciplined, and quiet.
He wore all black.
A fitted bodysuit traced with subtle purple lining, tactical pants reinforced at the knees, and a battle-worn cape that moved like smoke behind him. A short katana rested across his back. A pistol rode low on his thigh. His helmet sealed shut with an all-black T-shaped visor, unreadable and cold.
He stepped into the Nightcrew room.
Ian sat behind a desk, illuminated by soft holo-light.
"Shadow, I have an assignment for you."
Ian didn't waste time.
"I need you to go to Noctyrr Prime and gather intel. Everything you can."
Shadow nodded once.
"Understood."
Deployment
Shadow geared up in the Nightcrew locker room, running final checks before heading to the hangar. Waiting for him was a jet built by the Support Team, sleek, compact, armed, and deliberately disguised to resemble a civilian urban transport.
No markings.
No signatures.
Forty minutes after engaging hyperspeed, Shadow dropped out above Noctyrr Prime.
He looked down through the canopy.
"Looks normal from up here…" he muttered.
Ground Level Truth
He parked at street level and blended in immediately.
Neon signs flickered overhead. Crowds moved fast but not comfortably. Gangs loitered openly on corners. Private security forces patrolled in heavy armor that bore no Imperial insignia. Shady figures watched everything.
Shadow's stomach tightened.
"This is worse than I thought."
He entered a small convenience store, shelves half-stocked and the lighting dim.
Shadow approached the clerk casually.
"Hey—would you recommend this place to anyone thinking about moving here?"
The clerk didn't hesitate.
"I'd say the opposite. Don't move here. This place is overrun by gangs."
Shadow nodded.
"Good to know. Thanks."
Listening to the City
Shadow walked the streets for hours.
At strategic points, he placed audio recorders, small, untraceable, invisible to anyone not trained to look for them. He left nine across the city: near corporate towers, gang territory borders, security checkpoints, and underground entrances.
When he returned to his vehicle, he listened.
Carefully.
Patiently.
Patterns emerged.
A hierarchy.
Major corporations pulling strings.
Security forces answer to private interests.
The city wasn't lawless, it was controlled.
Noctyrr Prime wasn't abandoned.
It was owned.
Back to Headquarters
Shadow returned to STF Headquarters without incident.
He headed straight to his senior officer.
Renn Varos.
Shadow delivered his findings, concise, precise, unembellished.
Renn listened, eyes narrowing as the picture came together.
"This isn't a single op," Renn said finally.
"This is an entire system."
Shadow waited.
"Tomorrow, we assemble a squad." Renn continued.
"This needs full Nightcrew involvement. We'll move carefully and quietly."
Shadow nodded.
Noctyrr Prime had gone unnoticed for years.
It wouldn't stay that way much longer.