---
The trigger pulled—
BANG
Devon moved.
The bullet sliced past his face—
—and in the same motion, he threw his backpack straight at the assassin.
The impact wasn't strong—
but it was enough.
The gun slipped.
Clattered to the ground.
That was all Devon needed.
He rushed in.
No stance. No technique.
Just rage.
His fist slammed into the assassin's jaw—
then another—
then a knee straight into his ribs—
Devon didn't stop.
Punch.
Elbow.
Kick.
A raw combo, messy but relentless, forcing the assassin back step by step.
"You think you can just—"
Another hit—
"—walk in—"
A kick to the chest—
"—AND KILL THEM?!"
The assassin's expression hardened.
Enough.
In a split second, he shifted.
His arm shot out—deflecting Devon's next punch—
His body twisted—
And in one clean motion—
He broke out of the chain.
Fast.
Too fast.
Devon barely saw it—
A flash of steel—
The assassin drew his katana—
Chrome energy surged over the blade—
And with a single swing—
CRASH
The glass window behind them shattered as Devon was forced back, barely avoiding a clean cut.
He hit the ground hard—
rolled—
—and saw it.
The gun.
Right there.
Devon didn't think.
He grabbed it.
Raised it.
Pulled the trigger.
BANG
The bullet hit.
Dead center.
The car engine behind the assassin.
For a split second—
Nothing.
Then—
BOOOOM
The explosion tore through the street.
Fire engulfed the assassin completely, heat blasting outward as metal twisted and collapsed in on itself.
Devon staggered back, shielding his face.
Breathing hard.
"…Stay down…"
The flames burned.
Seconds passed.
The assassin stepped out.
Alive.
Barely.
His body was covered in burns, skin charred—but chrome energy reinforcement still held him together.
Devon's eyes widened—
"No way—"
The assassin raised his katana again—
but slower now.
Damaged.
Devon didn't hesitate.
He fired again.
BANG
The bullet tore straight through—
This time—
He couldn't dodge.
The shot hit clean.
The assassin's body froze—
Then dropped.
Dead.
Silence.
Devon stood there, shaking.
Breathing uneven.
He didn't celebrate.
Didn't speak.
He just walked forward.
Picked up the gun.
Then the broken katana.
Blood still dripping from his hand.
"…Stay down."
A voice behind him.
"Not bad."
Another.
"But you're done."
Devon turned.
Two more hunters.
Standing in the shadows like they'd been watching the whole time.
His chest tightened.
"…You've gotta be kidding me…"
One stepped forward.
Chrome energy flickering faintly.
"You just got lucky."
The other cracked his neck.
"Let's finish it."
Devon raised the gun again—
Hands shaking.
Body burning.
No stamina left.
Then—
The lights died.
Everything.
Streetlights.
Buildings.
All gone.
Darkness swallowed the area.
"…What?"
A low mechanical hum filled the air.
Then—
Drones.
Multiple.
Descending from above.
Red sensors glowing in the dark.
One of the hunters reacted instantly—
"Interference—"
The drones fired.
Not to kill—
To overwhelm.
Rapid blasts forced both hunters back, disrupting their footing, breaking their advance.
Devon didn't move.
Couldn't.
One drone stopped in front of him.
A calm voice came through.
"Devon. Move."
He didn't ask who.
Didn't question how.
He ran.
Behind him, the drones intensified—pressuring the hunters, forcing them to defend instead of pursue.
Devon stumbled through the dark streets, vision blurring, breath breaking.
His body was giving out.
"…I can't…"
"Continue," the voice said.
"You are not safe."
He pushed forward anyway.
One step.
Then another.
Until—
Voices.
"—Devon?!"
Tango.
Tim.
They rushed toward him.
"What happened to you?!"
Devon barely managed to speak.
"…more… coming…"
Tango's face hardened.
"Then we don't stay."
Tim nodded quickly.
"Where do we go?!"
Tango didn't hesitate.
"…Pluto."
---
The scrapyard came into view.
Rust. Metal. Silence.
Tango slammed his fist against the garage door.
"PLUTO! OPEN UP!"
Nothing.
Again.
"PLUTO—HE'S BLEEDING OUT!"
Cameras shifted.
Watching.
Scanning.
A speaker crackled.
"…Why are you here."
Then—
A pause.
"…Why is Devon about to die."
The door opened immediately.
"Get in."
---
Inside—
Chaos.
Machines. Wires. Screens.
And Pluto.
He took one look at Devon—
And moved.
"Table. Now."
No jokes.
No attitude.
Just focus.
They laid Devon down.
Pluto grabbed tools—fast, precise, controlled.
"Atlas."
"Vitals critical. Blood loss severe."
"I know."
Pluto got to work.
Hands steady.
Eyes locked.
"…Don't die on my table."
Devon's vision faded.
The last thing he heard—
Metal shifting.
Machines humming.
And a voice—
Calm.
Cold.
Precise.
"You will survive."
Then—
Darkness.