The hum of the Core filled the chamber—low, almost alive, like a heartbeat buried beneath layers of metal and code. 24's pulse matched it as he stepped forward, eyes locked on the swirling energy of the EGI nucleus.
Then the lights flickered.
Three figures dropped from the upper gantry in near-perfect sync, landing with the silent grace of predators. Black armor gleamed under the pale blue glow, each bearing the same insignia on their shoulder: the serpent coil of Specter's sigil.
24 froze.
He recognized it instantly.
Specter's personal trainees.
Each of them had trained under the same brutal system that made him what he was.
Each of them had survived.
The one in front spoke, his voice filtered through a modulation mask.
"The runaway finally returns. The Master said you'd crawl back here someday."
24's knife tightened in his grip. "Guess he didn't mention I'd be leaving again."
The lead trainee tilted his head. "You won't."
Then they moved.
The first lunged low—fluid and fast. 24 sidestepped, blocking the blade with his forearm guard, sparks flying as steel met steel. The second came from the flank, spinning a short staff charged with static energy. 24 ducked, kicked the first into the second, and slashed upward, his knife cutting deep through armor plating. Blood sprayed.
The third didn't waste time. She drew twin curved blades and charged.
24 parried the first strike—but the second sliced across his ribs. He grunted, twisting away, blood seeping through his shirt.
The first trainee—still alive—snarled and lunged again. 24 met him head-on.
A flurry of strikes, each faster than the last.
Elbow—knee—block—counter.
Then 24 slammed the hilt of his knife into the man's throat, spun behind him, and buried the blade straight into the base of his skull.
The trainee's body went limp.
One down.
The others paused, reassessing. The woman stepped forward, fury in her eyes. "He was my brother."
24's breath was heavy, shallow. "Then you should've stayed out of his way."
She screamed and launched herself at him. Blades crossed in a blur. The clang of metal echoed through the chamber, sparks scattering across the polished floor. 24's movements grew desperate, slower. His left arm was numb from the earlier plasma hit. He ducked a swing, kicked her knee sideways—heard it crack—but the other trainee swept in, driving a charged baton across 24's shoulder.
Pain seared through him. His knife dropped.
He barely dodged the next strike, rolling across the floor and snatching up a fallen drone piece. With a flick, he jammed its live wire into the floor grid. Electricity arced outward. Both trainees stumbled as static shock surged through their armor.
24 didn't hesitate—he drove his knee into the nearest one's gut and uppercut the other, sending her crashing into a control console. Sparks burst across the chamber. Warning sirens blared.
CORE BREACH DETECTED. LOCKDOWN INITIATED.
He glanced toward the main reactor sphere—cracks of red light forming along its containment lines.
He could destroy it now…
But so could it destroy him.
"Damn it." He staggered backward. His vision blurred from blood loss. The surviving trainee raised her weapon again, limping but relentless.
24 hurled a flash charge at the glass column. The explosion lit the room white, blinding everyone. He dove through the smoke, grabbed his fallen blade, and sprinted for the maintenance hatch.
Bullets tore through the haze behind him—one grazed his leg, another clipped his jacket—but he didn't stop. He burst through the hatch, slamming the seal shut just as the inner chamber went up in a pulse of blue flame.
He fell into the service corridor, coughing, clutching his ribs.
The Core still pulsed behind him—damaged, but alive.
He'd failed to destroy it.
But he was alive.
And that, for now, would have to be enough.