The city didn't welcome her back.
It recoiled.
Netoshka emerged from the slums like a walking aftermath—boots soaked dark, coat torn at the hem, blood dried into cracked geometry along her gloves and throat. Fires still burned behind her, low and smoldering, the kind that didn't spread but refused to die. Smoke drifted upward in lazy spirals, merging with Cerevra's polluted skyline as if the city itself was trying to forget what had just happened.
She didn't look back.
She never did.
The rendezvous point lay beneath an abandoned transit interchange—an old sub-rail hub swallowed by concrete rot and obsolete signage. Once a commuter artery. Now a dead artery. Perfect.
Inferius Squad was already there.
They felt her before they saw her.
Circe's drones twitched mid-hover, recalibrating threat profiles that made no sense. Rue stiffened, hand drifting toward her weapon before logic caught up. Lyra turned fully, eyes narrowing—not in fear, but recognition.
Netoshka descended the cracked ramp in silence.
Every step echoed.
Spectr was the first to speak, voice low.
"…You're late."
Netoshka stopped three meters from the group.
"I said an hour didn't i?."
Surgien glanced at his chrono implant, then back at her.
"You took fifty-two minutes."
A beat.
"Good," Netoshka replied.
"Means I didn't hesitate."
No one argued.
They didn't ask where she'd been.
They didn't ask how many.
They could smell it.
Zev was restrained near the far wall—sedated, wrapped in thermal dampeners, chest rising unevenly. The sleeper serum still held, but barely. His vitals flickered unstable across Circe's projected HUD.
Netoshka's gaze lingered on him for half a second.
No judgment.
No comfort.
Just acknowledgment.
Lyra stepped closer.
"…Did you find them?"
Netoshka nodded once.
"Yeah... They won't hurt anyone again."
That was all she said.
Spectr exhaled through his teeth.
"Then it's done."
"No," Netoshka corrected.
"It's compromised."
She moved past them, kneeling beside a holo-map Surgien had already laid out—Western Cerevra's core district glowing red with layered security zones.
The Main Building loomed at the center.
A vertical wound in the city.
Synarchy architecture—brutalist, ceremonial, deliberate. Not built for efficiency, but dominance. Every line screamed authority. Every surface watched.
Rue broke the silence.
"Secret Police activity spiked while you were gone. Synarchy soldiers are locking down entire blocks."
Circe added,
"Pattern matches pre-extraction containment. They're preparing for something big."
Netoshka's fingers traced the building's perimeter.
"They're preparing for us."
Spectr frowned.
"You sure they know?"
"They always know," Netoshka replied.
"They just don't always understand."
Lyra studied her face.
Something was wrong.
Not rage.
Not bloodlust.
Something colder.
"Netoshka," Lyra said carefully.
"You're… quiet."
Netoshka didn't look up.
"I've said everything I needed to say back there."
She stood.
"We move now."
INFILTRATION PREP
Inferius Squad shifted into motion instantly.
Weapons were checked. Runes activated. Suppressors calibrated. Neural dampeners synced to Netoshka's glitch signature.
This wasn't a stealth insertion.
This was a forced entry.
Surgien approached Netoshka as she locked her gauntlets.
"Zev isn't stable," he said.
"Even sedated, his neural lattice is—"
"I know," she cut in.
"but, If he wakes up—"
"He won't," Netoshka said.
"Not before we finish this."
That answer unsettled him more than anything else she could've said.
Spectr tapped the map.
"Three Synarchy platoons confirmed. Special Attack Unit likely deployed inside the building."
Lyra stiffened.
"The SAU?"
Netoshka finally met her gaze.
"Yes."
Rue swore softly.
"These aren't street enforcers. These are—"
"Execution assets," Netoshka finished.
"I've killed them before."
Circe blinked.
"Plural?"
"Barely," Netoshka replied.
She turned toward the tunnel exit.
"Which is why we don't stall."
THE APPROACH
They advanced through sub-level access corridors—forgotten arteries beneath Cerevra's polished tyranny. Every step brought the city's pressure closer, heavier, like gravity increasing by degrees.
Above them, Synarchy soldiers marched in precision lines.
Below them, something watched.
Netoshka felt it again.
That presence.
Not Lyra.
Not the Wire.
Something older.
She ignored it.
At the final access hatch, Spectr raised a hand.
"From here on, we're loud."
Netoshka's lips twitched—not quite a smile.
"Good."
She placed her palm against the sealed hatch.
Reality stuttered.
The metal screamed.
And then—
BREACH.
ENGAGEMENT: SYNARCHY SOLDIERS
The world above exploded into motion.
Synarchy soldiers reacted instantly—disciplined, synchronized, lethal. Pulse rifles came up. Defensive fields snapped into place.
Too late.
Netoshka surged forward, glitching between frames of existence, her body tearing through probability like it was wet paper.
The first soldier died without realizing he'd been touched.
The second screamed.
The third never finished turning.
Inferius followed like a stormfront.
Rue's rounds punched through shields. Lyra carved glowing arcs through armored throats. Spectr's cloak flickered as he dismantled firing lines from impossible angles.
Surgien worked behind them, efficient, grim, dragging wounded allies clear while administering stimulants mid-firefight.
Circe screamed warnings.
"SAU inbound! Top floor elevator descending!"
Netoshka looked up.
The building loomed.
She felt her heartbeat slow.
"Good," she said again.
ASCENT
They entered the Main Building through force.
Glass shattered. Columns cracked. Alarms wailed—not panicked, but controlled. Ritualistic.
Synarchy didn't fear invasion.
It welcomed it, confident it could crush whatever dared enter.
Netoshka advanced at the point, each step warping space just enough to stay ahead of targeting solutions.
She could feel it now.
The thing growing inside her.
Not power.
Permission.
Lyra stayed close.
"You're slipping," she warned quietly.
"No," Netoshka replied.
"I'm focusing."
They reached the central atrium.
That's when the lights died.
And the Special Attack Unit descended.
Black armor. Red optics. No insignia.
No humanity.
Spectr whispered,
"There they are…"
Netoshka stepped forward alone.
Her voice echoed.
"Hm... it seems that Malicer guy sent you guys huh?."
No response.
She nodded.
"Figures."
Reality screamed again.