Here is the continuation translated into English, preserving the original text, style, structure, and details without any changes or additions:
The beam slid across Gideon's back. He spun while running, fired from the pistol, blue discharges lashed through the air like lightning.
The drone jerked, spun in the air, propellers sparking. It crashed into the wall with a crack, fell into the water, hissed, and went dark.
"One down!" Gideon shouted without stopping.
"But there's a whole swarm! Three or four on our tail!"
But there were more.
A second one emerged from the side out of a narrow side branch, narrow as a crack. Straight at Ethan. The drone was smaller, a fifth-model fly with a 360-degree camera, propellers inside protective rings. It hovered in the air, blinked red target lock.
Ethan instinctively raised his arm, shielding himself from the drone.
"No, not like that! Hit it!" Flash growled.
But at that moment Flash leaped over him like over a parkour barrier. A precise kick with the boot straight to the center of the body.
The drone flew off into the wall, the casing cracked with the crunch of plastic. Flash landed on his feet, grabbed Ethan by the collar of his jacket and dragged him onward.
"Don't stop!" he hissed.
"They're transmitting coordinates in real time. We need to reach the jamming zone, closer to the river there's electromagnetic noise from old cables there."
They burst into a wider collector. Here it already smelled of the river, wet concrete, fuel oil, freedom.
The ceiling was higher, walls cracked, water knee-deep. Ethan felt his legs burning from cold and exhaustion.
"Just a little more, I don't want to end up in a cell. I'm not weak, come on!"
From above headlights, distant but approaching. Not drones apparently vehicles. Someone on the surface already knew where they were heading: black vans with tinted windows, electric engines, silent.
Gideon cursed louder:
"They're blocking the exits! Two vans on 4th and 3rd Street, one at the intersection. They've called backup…"
Flash didn't answer.
He only quickened his pace, breaking into a run. He pointed to a side tunnel on the left:
"There! Let's play hide-and-seek, throw your scarf in there, they'll bite on the residual heat."
Bruno tore the gray scarf from his neck, soaked with sweat, and hurled it into the side passage.
It fell into the water with a splash.
"Good," Flash nodded.
"Now right. Don't let them predict our moves."
Ethan ran, feeling his breathing falter.
"Who the hell are these guys anyway? They do everything so confidently, like this is their everyday life…"
Behind them came a new whistle, another drone flew into the wide collector.
This one was larger, with four 10 cm propellers, aerodynamic body, equipped with a net gun, a device that could fire webbing to capture.
"Left!" Bruno shouted.
Gideon fired again, the discharge went into the ceiling, but the drone dodged, looping in the air. Bullet leaped, but the drone climbed higher.
"Damn, it's maneuverable!" Gideon growled. "Flash, plan B!"
Without stopping, Flash pulled a small metal sphere the size of an egg from his pocket.
"Throwing!"
He hurled the sphere backward. It fell into the water, hissed, and exploded in a flash of electromagnetic pulse, invisible, but the drone jerked, propellers slowed. It crashed into the wall, spun, and fell.
"Whoa!" Ethan exhaled.
"Damn! This is straight-up illegal, where the hell do they get these gadgets?!"
But the hum from above didn't die down. Two more drones dove into the tunnel flying in a pair, synchronized: one scanning, the other covering.
"Split up?" Bruno suggested.
"No!" Flash cut him off.
"Stay together. Ethan, run ahead with Bullet — we'll cover."
Ethan shook his head, but his legs were already carrying him.
"No, together! I'm not leaving you!"
Ahead appeared a grated hatch rusty but unlocked. Bullet jumped first, squeezed through the bars, growling.
Flash slammed the grate with his shoulder. Metal screeched, bars bent.
It opened.
Fresh air slapped him in the face.
Middle of the night and rain lashing his face.
They tumbled out onto the street wet, filthy. Ethan fell to his knees in a puddle but jumped up immediately. The street was narrow, an alley between old warehouses, cracked asphalt, dim streetlights one flickering.
But above the rooftops silhouettes were already circling black, no lights, only the faint glow of heated engines. Three drones in triangular formation, altitude 50 meters.
They were descending.
"Into the alleys!" Flash shouted.
"Zigzag through the yards, avoid open spaces. Bruno, lead to the blind guy shortest route, but with cover."
Bruno nodded, pointing left:
"Through this yard, then right behind the containers. There are dumpsters there we'll hide the heat signature behind metal."
They ran on into the labyrinth of alleys, under the rain that washed away the dirt.
Under the gaze of invisible eyes, toward the only person who could hide them.
Toward that very blind man.
Ethan ran, feeling the rain drumming on his head.
"Just a little more! I've got no one else to trust, damn you all they even took my house!"
Gideon glanced back:
"One drone on us! Descending!"
Flash grabbed a fist-sized stone from the ground and hurled it upward. The stone hit a propeller. The drone wobbled but stabilized.
"Run faster!" he barked.
They dove into the next yard piled with crates, low roof. The drone followed but caught a wire , sparks and fell.
"Two left!" Bruno shouted.
Ethan smiled for the first time that evening.
The third drone, the largest of the remaining ones, emerged from behind the corner of the warehouse, hovered at two meters altitude like a bird of prey.
This wasn't an ordinary "Whisperer" — this was something more serious: elongated black matte body, six propellers in protective rings, each 15 cm in diameter, spinning at a frequency that made the air vibrate.