The rain had transitioned from a persistent hiss to a violent, metallic drumming against the rusted corrugated steel of Pier 4. In Sector 9, the night didn't hide secrets; it buried them under layers of smog and acid.
Kael crouched on a rain-slicked gantry, thirty feet above the concrete docks. His breathing was slow, measured, a habit hammered into his soul during the Border Wars. Beside him, Silas was trembling—not from the cold, but from the adrenaline-fueled terror of a man who spent more time fixing pipes than cutting throats.
"They're late," Silas hissed, his knuckles white as he gripped a heavy-duty wrench.
"They're not late," Kael whispered, his eyes fixed on the darkness where the black water of the bay met the concrete. "They're careful."
Suddenly, the low hum of an electric turbine vibrated through the air. A sleek, black barge—unmarked and running without lights—drifted into the berth. Four men stepped off the vessel. They weren't Union thugs; they wore tactical vests with the Syndicate's stylized serpent emblem and carried compact pulse-rifles.
"Kael, those aren't just guards," Silas gasped. "Those are Enforcers. We're outgunned. We should—"
"Stay down," Kael commanded. The coldness in his voice startled even Silas.
In the corner of Kael's vision, a faint, neon-blue pulse flickered.
[System Pulse Detected...]
[Scanning Targets: 4 Enforcers. Level: Low-Threat.]
[Recommended Tactic: Vertical Ambush. Estimated Success Rate: 92%.]
Kael didn't need the system to tell him what to do, but the tactical overlay—highlighting the guards' heat signatures in a sharp orange—made everything feel like a simulated drill. He reached into his boot and drew his combat knife, then gripped the heavy crowbar in his other hand.
"Wait for the lights to hit the crane," Kael murmured. "When I drop, you and the boys move for the blue container. Ignore the shooters. Just get the meds."
"Kael, wait—"
But Kael was already gone.
He dropped from the gantry like a stone. Gravity was his ally. He slammed into the first Enforcer, the weight of his body crushing the man into the concrete with a sickening crunch. Before the other three could even raise their rifles, Kael roared in his mind: Upgrade.
[Energy Spent: 1 Point.]
[Weapon Overclocked: High-Frequency Vibration Mode Active.]
The crowbar in his hand didn't just strike; it shrieked. He swung it in a low arc, the vibrating iron slicing through the reinforced leggings of the second guard as if they were made of wet parchment. A scream cut through the rain, only to be drowned out by the thunder.
"Contact!" the third guard yelled, swinging his rifle around.
Kael didn't retreat. He dived forward, rolling through the oily puddles. He felt the singe of a pulse-round passing inches from his ear. He came up directly under the guard's guard, his combat knife finding the soft gap between the helmet and the tactical vest.
One twist. One kill.
The fourth guard froze. He saw his three comrades—professional killers—neutralized in less than ten seconds by a shadow with a vibrating iron bar. He fumbled for his radio. "We have a—"
Kael's crowbar caught him across the temple. Silence returned to Pier 4, save for the heavy panting of the Union men as they scrambled toward the blue container.
Silas ran up to Kael, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. He looked at the bodies, then at his cousin, who was calmly wiping blood off his knife with the rain.
"Kael... where did you learn to move like that?" Silas stammered. "And that bar... it was glowing."
Kael looked at the crowbar. The light had faded, leaving only a dull, scorched piece of scrap metal.
"The Front changes a man, Silas," Kael said, his voice flat. "Break the seal. Let's see what we're dying for."
They pried the container doors open. But as the interior lights flickered on, the smell that hit them wasn't medicine. It was ozone and old parchment.
In the center of the crate sat a single, silver briefcase with a DNA-lock.
"This isn't antibiotics," Silas whispered, his face turning pale.
Kael knelt, his system suddenly screaming with red alerts.
[WARNING: High-Level Tech-Signature Detected.]
[Item: Classified. Threat Level: Unknown.]
Kael looked back toward the city. The lights of the Inner City felt closer, more predatory. "We need to move," he said, his hand closing around the handle of the briefcase. "Whatever this is, the Syndicate is going to burn the whole Ninth Sector to get it back."