The address Sarah provided led them far from the sterile glass of OmniCorp. The Ossuary was a high-end, dimly lit lounge tucked away in the Meatpacking District. Inside, the air was a thick, cloying mixture of expensive bourbon, expensive cigars, and an underlying current of ancient, stagnant magic—the kind of magic that felt like damp earth and old bones. It made the hair on Chase's arms stand at attention.
Rixsa walked beside him, her hand resting habitually on the hilt of a concealed blade beneath her leather jacket. She sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "This place reeks of the Grave-Lands, Chase. If this is a trap, I'm melting the floor and everyone on it."
"It's not a trap," Chase murmured, his eyes scanning the velvet-swathed booths. "It's a performance. And we're the intended audience."
In the furthest corner, seated behind a table of polished obsidian, was a young woman who looked barely twenty. She wore a sharp, modern power suit that screamed "Wall Street," but her eyes—milky white with pinprick pupils—belonged to someone who had watched empires turn to dust.
"The Surgeon and his little shadow," the woman said, her voice a melodic rasp that sounded like dry leaves skittering on a tombstone. "You've filled out that human skin well, Chase Vance. Though you look a bit... civilized for my tastes."
Chase slid into the booth across from her, his expression a wall of granite. "Vora. Or should I call you the Corpse Stealer? Word in the Spire was that you died when the God-Core collapsed. I see you found a younger model for this world. Tell me—is that a stolen shell, or did you finally learn to use a corpse without making it look like a puppet?"
Vora let out a silver-bell laugh, leaning forward until the obsidian table reflected her pale features. "Oh, Chase, always so suspicious! No, this is the body I was born into in this world. Purely biological, I assure you. Death is such a temporary inconvenience for a woman of my specific talents." She winked, a playful glint in those milky eyes. "I sent those notes to Lilith knowing your 'Lead Strategist' ego wouldn't let the inconsistencies slide. I needed to see if you were still as sharp as the day you cut the God-Core, or if you'd turned into a soft, corporate house-pet."
"You have my attention," Chase said, leaning back. "Now tell me why you're leaking classified history to a human corporation."
"I didn't leak it for the game, you brooding statue," Vora chirped, tapping a manicured nail against her chin. "Think of it as a very expensive, very loud resume. I work for a special private firm sanctioned by the government: The Aegis Group. We're the premier bounty hunting outfit for the hidden elite. We track, capture, and contain the things that slip through the cracks of the Lattice. Monsters, defectors, and idiots who think they can hide from the law of this world."
Chase scoffed. "I'm retired, Vora. I've done enough hunting for ten lifetimes."
"Not this kind of hunting, darling," Vora countered, her tone turning enticingly playful. "I'm not asking you to storm trenches or execute peasants. I need your brilliant, surgical mind. I want you to hunt the 'Least Dangerous but Smartest' targets. The architects, the scholars, the clever little rats who think they can outrun the law with logic and math. The pay is astronomical—far better than Lilith's crumbs—and the equipment is state-of-the-art, forged from Ether-silk and Void-steel. Plus..." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You'll finally be able to use your strength without restriction. Your body looks like you haven't been refining it lately, Chase. A little field work would do those muscles wonders."
She paused, glancing at Rixsa with a knowing smirk. "And you can bring the wife. It's safe, high reward, and very low physical risk. Think of it as a violent vacation."
Chase shifted, his mind already calculating. The offer was tempting. It would allow him to stay in his element, keep his skills sharp, and protect his new home without being shackled to a desk.
"And who would I be working with?" Chase asked. "I don't play well with others. You know this."
A shadow detached itself from the corner of the booth. A man stepped into the dim light, dressed in tactical gear that looked like it belonged fifty years in the future—all matte black plates and humming fiber-optics. He had a mechanical patch over his left eye that pulsed with a low, crimson glow.
"Still as grumpy as ever, Surgeon," the man said. His face was a mask of dead calm, a legendary coldness that suggested he could hunt a god and never blink.
Chase's breath hitched. "Blood Eye? You're alive?"
The former elite assassin, a man Chase had served with in the bloodiest sectors of the Marches, gave a slight, emotionless nod. "Vora pulled me out of a bad spot in Berlin. I've been her lead enforcer for a year. I handle the muscle and the wetwork; you handle the strategy and the extraction. Just like the old days, Chase... but with significantly better coffee and no mud."
Chase looked at Blood Eye, then back at Vora. The idea of returning to the field made his blood simmer with a familiar, dangerous heat—the "Warrior's Wake" responding to the call of the hunt.
"Chase," Rixsa said, her voice uncharacteristically serious. She leaned into him, her hand covering his. "You should do it. You're going stir-crazy sitting in that study looking at spreadsheets. You'll have a professional like Blood Eye watching your back, and he's an old friend. Plus..." She gave him a slow, wicked wink. "I wouldn't mind seeing you in that Aegis gear. I imagine it fits quite well."
She saw the truth in his eyes—he needed this. He needed a purpose that wasn't just managing Lilith's digital fantasies.
Chase looked at Blood Eye. The assassin offered a mock, two-finger salute. He looked at Vora, who was already sliding a high-tech tablet across the table with a contract shimmering on the screen.
"Fine," Chase said, his voice heavy with a reluctant, yet undeniable acceptance. "But I set the parameters. No collateral damage. No civilian involvement. And Rixsa is always on the comms."
"Deal," Vora purred, her smile widening to show just a hint of her true, ancient nature. "Welcome to the Aegis Group, Surgeon. Don't get too comfortable—your first target is already on the move. He calls himself 'The Alchemist,' and he's currently trying to turn the city's water supply into liquid Essence. A very smart boy... but not smart enough to beat you."