Zoey Arc Chapter 7: Blood Debt

Etrius knew he’d stepped in shit this time. Slumped against the cold, reinforced concrete wall of a cell, he kept his breathing steady, though the dull ache in his ribs wasn’t doing him any favors. The rival mercenaries had tried everything to make him talk. Now, they'd given up on finesse and were gearing up to break him down—force by force, pain by pain.

He closed his eyes, letting a calm focus wash over him, though his ears caught every distant scrape of footsteps, every click of a door, every rattle of a weapon being prepped. He’d known this was coming when he’d refused to give up Zoey’s location. She was the one person he trusted in this world, maybe the only one he’d die for. But damn, it looked like it might come to that.

Another clang broke the quiet. He opened one eye as a bulky enforcer stepped into the cell with a malicious grin. “Ready for round two?”

“Just get on with it,” Etrius muttered, voice low, his stoic mask slipping as a spark of anger lit his green eyes. He could handle pain, he could handle blood, but he was done playing nice.

Meanwhile, far from the cell, Zoey’s Mantis growled as it tore through the countryside at top speed. The instant she’d gotten word that Etrius was captured, she’d slipped on her Vulpes Titan suit. A muscle tensed in her jaw as she gripped the steering wheel, the armored vehicle crunching through gravel and debris as she raced toward the mercenaries’ base. Her blood ran cold, adrenaline flooding her system. No one got away with touching her kitten.

“Hang in there, stripes,” she muttered, her voice deadly calm. Her fingers itched to pull the trigger, to feel the satisfying kickback as she tore through the ranks of those who dared to harm him.

The Mantis screeched to a halt outside the mercenary base, its tires kicking up a cloud of dust and debris that hung like a storm on the horizon. Zoey leaned forward, her breathing steady, her eyes fixed on the compound. It was heavily fortified, with snipers posted on watchtowers, a guard rotation at the front gate, and more mercenaries scattered across the perimeter.

They were prepared for an army, but they weren’t prepared for her.

Sliding her helmet over her head, she felt the suit whir to life, syncing perfectly with her body. Her vision sharpened through the visor, every structure in the compound outlined, every heat source pinpointed. The Vulpes Titan suit settled over her like a second skin, amplifying her already staggering strength and shielding her in thick, impervious armor. She reached first for the machine gun strapped across her back. This wasn’t the time for subtlety.

Zoey moved forward, and her footsteps were like thunder. The guards at the gate turned, but before they could lift their weapons, she leveled the machine gun and squeezed the trigger. The air exploded with gunfire, and bullets rained down on her, bouncing harmlessly off the Titan suit’s armor. Zoey walked through the hailstorm of gunfire, her sights steady on her targets, tearing through them like paper.

The compound erupted into chaos. Mercenaries scrambled, shouting orders, ducking behind cover, but it was no use. Zoey’s advance was unstoppable, her steps relentless, each one bringing her closer to the center of the compound. She spotted a sniper on the watchtower—a well-placed burst from her machine gun sent him tumbling down in a shower of blood and splinters.

A group of mercenaries rushed her, trying to flank her on both sides. She caught a glimpse of them through her visor and snarled, spinning to meet them. Her arm swung out like a battering ram, sending two of them flying before she pinned the third against the wall with bone-crushing force.

"Ihr seid alle tot!" she screamed, her voice carrying across the compound. 

Her words were met with shouts and scattered gunfire, but she hardly noticed. Her focus was singular—finding Etrius. And woe to anyone who stood in her way.

Inside the cell, Etrius was battered but listening. He could hear the faint echo of gunfire, a sound like thunder drawing closer. His heart pounded as he lifted his head, a small grin tugging at his bloody lip. He knew that sound.

“You're screwed,” he muttered, just as his guard’s face went white, realizing the same thing. “Hope you said your goodbyes,” he growled to the guard, his voice thick with satisfaction. "She’s coming for me, and I’m sure she won’t leave anything of you to be remembered."

Zoey didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Every breath was filled with the shake of adrenaline and the pulsing need to tear this place apart, piece by piece, until she had Etrius back. Her steps shattered the concrete beneath her, each stride eating up the distance between her and the mercenaries' main barracks.

A group of guards, desperate and trembling, threw themselves into her path, rifles blazing. She laughed—a low cackle that sent a shiver down their spines. With a flick of her wrist, she raised her machine gun and opened fire, a relentless hail of bullets cutting them down where they stood. Blood splattered across the ground, the walls, her visor. Zoey waded through it, merciless.

One guard managed to get close, swinging a heavy blade at her with all the strength he could muster. She sidestepped, grabbing his arm in one fluid motion and twisting it back with brutal precision. The bone cracked with a sickening snap. She tightened her grip, a feral smile flashing behind her visor as she flung him across the hallway like a ragdoll. He hit the wall, his scream cut short by the impact, sliding down in a limp pile.

Another pair rushed her from the side, thinking they could overwhelm her if they hit fast. Zoey caught one by the neck mid-sprint, her grip tightening as he clawed at her armored hand. With a guttural growl, she yanked him forward, driving her fist into his stomach so hard that she felt his spine shatter. She violently tossed him aside, just as his partner raised a grenade launcher, his face twisted in fear.

“Tu es, verdammt noch mal!” she sneered, staring him down as he pulled the trigger.

The grenade hit her square in the chest, and the explosion rocked the hallway, smoke billowing out in all directions. The mercenary squinted, searching for a glimpse of her through the haze, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

That hope vanished as Zoey stepped out of the smoke, unscathed and more furious than ever. Her suit was still smoking from the blast, but she barely noticed. She grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground as he choked and kicked, his hands scrambling against the unbreakable grip of her armor. With a single squeeze, she crushed his windpipe, his lifeless body crumpling to the floor as she continued her rampage.

Up ahead was a reinforced door, labeled as the entrance to the barracks where more mercenaries waited. Zoey’s snarl turned into a wicked, evil grin as she stormed up to it. She planted one hand against the metal and dug her fingers in, the hydraulics of her suit groaning. With a screaming roar, she ripped the door off its hinges and threw it across the room. It slammed into two guards with a sickening crunch, pinning them against the wall, the sheer weight and force squashing them like flies.

“Don’t just stand there!” one of the mercs screamed at his men, his voice tinged with panic.

They scrambled, grabbing whatever they could—rifles, batons, a few pulling out knives in a desperate last stand. Zoey let out a low, mocking chuckle, knowing exactly how this would play out.

"Glaubst du, diese Spielzeuge werden dich retten?" she taunted, her voice dripping with venom. Her machine gun clicked empty, so she tossed it aside, raising her fists instead. “Fine. Let’s play.”

She swung forward, her first punch landing square in a mercenary’s chest, and his body folded backward, spine snapping. Another came at her from the side, and she pivoted, slamming her elbow into his face with the force of a battering ram, sending teeth and blood spraying against the walls. She seized his limp body, using it as a shield as a hail of bullets tore through his back before she tossed him at his comrades like a wrecking ball.

The few that remained exchanged terrified glances before fleeing, but Zoey was already charging after them. She plowed through a concrete wall as if it were paper, shards of stone and dust exploding outward. The mercs ran, desperation pushing them to find the nearest exit, but they barely made it down the hall before she was upon them, tearing through them in a flurry of bone-shattering blows and primal fury.

She grabbed one of them by the skull and closed her fist, spraying her chest and visor with viscera. Blood smeared the floor, the walls, the very air around her. Each wild strike was fueled by the rage of someone who had tasted hell and wasn’t afraid to bring it upon anyone who got in her way.

One last door stood between her and Etrius. She didn’t hesitate. Her fist connected with the lock, splintering the frame as the door swung open, and she stepped inside, her gaze sweeping the room with a predator’s intensity.

The room fell silent as Zoey stormed inside, her hulking, armored form casting an imposing shadow across the dimly lit chamber. At the far end, a figure emerged from the gloom—the leader of the mercenary gang, a tall, scarred man with a twisted sneer and a brutish, his own armored exosuit that gleamed under the flickering lights.

He stood there, cracking his knuckles as if he actually believed he had a chance.

“So, you’re the infamous Warlord,” he sneered, eyes flicking over the bloodied, gore-splattered plates of her Vulpes Titan suit. “I heard a lot about you. Didn’t believe you’d come all this way over one scrawny cat.”

Zoey’s lips pulled back in a feral grin. “That kitten is worth more than your entire operation, you fucking piece of shit. You made a mistake taking my cat from me.” Her voice was steady, laced with a fury so cold it burned. "You think that armor is going to save you? I hope you've said your prayers, because they're about to go unanswered."

The leader chuckled, clearly trying to keep his bravado intact. He raised his hands, calling her forward. “Shut up and hit me already.” He flexed his armored fists, stepping into a combat stance.

Zoey lunged at him, closing the distance in a blink. Her fist slammed into his chest with a concussive boom, sending him staggering back. He barely caught his footing, the breath forced from his lungs. He swung a gauntlet at her, but she sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing his wrist mid-swing. With a savage grin, she twisted it back, shattering the metal plating with a shriek of protesting steel. The man screamed, his arm contorted in her iron grip.

“I'm sorry, does that hurt?” Zoey mocked, her voice slipping into something unhinged, deranged, even. She yanked him forward, her other fist crashing into his jaw so hard that blood spattered against her visor.

“Fucking pathetic,” she growled, shoving him back against the wall. Her hand reached up, tearing his exosuit’s chest plate with a brutal wrench. He gasped, clutching at the gaping hole in his armor, his face twisting in horror as he watched her dismantle his prized suit with the ease of a wild fox tearing into a chicken.

In a desperate attempt, he fumbled for a concealed blade, a short, viciously serrated knife, and lunged at her. The blade connected with her armor and shattered, splintering into shards that ricocheted back at him. Zoey laughed, a harsh, wild, deranged sound that echoed through the room as she reached forward, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground.

“You should have prayed harder,” she whispered, her grip tightening as he gasped, his hands clawing at her armored gauntlet. His face flushed, veins popping as he struggled, his eyes rolling back as her grip threatened to crush his windpipe.

But she wasn’t done.

With a brutal shove, she slammed him to the floor, sending cracks spiderwebbing out from the impact. She placed her boot on his chest, pinning him down, and leaned forward, the weight of the Vulpes Titan pressing into his ribcage until he gasped and writhed beneath her.

“Let me guess,” she hissed, her tone mocking. “You thought you’d rough up my kitten a little, use him as bait. Maybe make me beg?” Her voice dropped, her eyes blazing with a fury that was more animal than anything. “I don’t beg. I break.”

She drove her fist down, caving in his shoulder armor with a sickening crunch. The man screamed, and she watched the light in his eyes flicker to panic, his bravado splintering apart.

In a last act of desperation, he threw a wild punch at her head, his fist colliding with the side of her helmet in a pitiful thud. Zoey didn’t even flinch. She caught his arm, twisting it until the bones splintered beneath her grip. He howled in agony, the sound tearing through the room.

“Tell me something,” she said, her voice deceptively calm as she leaned in close, her helmet inches from his blood-splattered face. “How does it feel to be helpless?”

The man whimpered, his breaths rasping as he struggled to breathe under her weight. His body went limp, his face paling as he realized there was no mercy, no reprieve from the judgment he had earned.

Zoey lifted him, her grip ironclad, and with one final, violent motion, she drove his head into the floor, his helmeted skull shattering on impact. Blood pooled beneath him as he went still, his body a broken, twisted mess at her feet.

For a moment, she stood over him, her breath heavy, her heart pounding in her ears. The room was silent, save for the faint crackle of the suit’s power core and her own steadying breath.

She glanced up, her gaze shifting to a small door in the back of the room. She knew where it led.

Zoey stalked forward, her heavy breaths echoing in the silence that followed the carnage. Blood soaked the ground around her, but she hardly noticed as her eyes locked on the door at the back of the room. She knew that behind it, Etrius was somewhere waiting, maybe injured, maybe worse.

Her jaw clenched as she ripped the door off its frame, tossing it aside with more force than necessary. Her vision was blurring now, but not from exhaustion—her emotions were hitting her like a tidal wave. Beneath all the rage and brutality, she was angry with him, angry that he’d gone off on his own, angry that she had to tear down this entire compound just to drag his ass back out.

But she was even angrier at herself for caring this much.

She stepped into the cell, eyes scanning the dimly lit space until they settled on Etrius. He was slumped against the wall, bruised and bloodied, but conscious. His green eyes met hers, and despite his state, he managed a small, lopsided grin.

“Hey, Zo,” he rasped, his voice rough but steady. “You look like shit.”

Zoey let out a sharp, humorless laugh, the sound breaking through the tension in her chest. “Look who’s talking,” she shot back, though her voice wavered, betraying the swirl of emotions surging through her. Her hands shook as she removed her helmet, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy clunk. She crossed the small space, kneeling down beside him, and for a moment, her fingers hovered just above his face, afraid to touch, afraid that he might dissolve, that he might vanish if she didn’t keep a tight grip on her own spiraling emotions.

“Why the fuck did you come here alone?” she demanded as she undid the chains holding him to the wall, her voice low, but raw with barely contained anger. “Do you have any idea how close...how close you came to getting yourself killed?”

Etrius’s smile faded, his expression softening as he looked at her, really looked at her, beneath the armor, beneath the fury. “Didn’t think they’d hit me this hard,” he murmured. “Didn’t want you to get dragged into it. Figured I’d be in and out.”

Zoey scoffed, her voice thick with frustration. “That’s the problem with you, you stubborn idiot,” she muttered, fists clenching as she spoke. “You think you’re invincible, that you can handle everything yourself. You’re...you’re not invincible, Etrius.”

Etrius’s gaze softened, and he reached up, his hand resting against the cool surface of her armor. “Neither are you, Zo. But here you are, covered in blood, breaking down walls for me.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through her anger, hitting something raw and tender inside of her.

She swallowed, her chest tightening as the reality of it all sank in, as the adrenaline that had fueled her rampage began to drain away, leaving only the shaky, vulnerable mess beneath. “I just...I thought I was too late,” she admitted, her voice cracking despite herself. “I thought—” She stopped, biting her lip hard to keep from letting the flood of emotions spill over. The thought of him lying here, lifeless, because she hadn’t been fast enough was a fear that clawed at her heart in a way she didn’t know how to handle.

“I knew you’d come,” he said quietly. “Even if I got in over my head. I knew you wouldn’t leave me here.”

She closed her eyes, letting herself lean into his touch for just a second, allowing herself to feel that reassurance. She hated that he was right, hated that he knew her so well, knew how fiercely she’d fight for him. And she hated herself for caring so fucking much, for feeling like this for him—this helpless, consuming need to keep him alive, to protect him at any cost.

“I’m still furious at you,” she muttered, though her voice had lost its edge, softening under the weight of her relief. She opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his. “But I’m...I’m glad you’re okay. Just...don’t make me do this again, Etrius.”

A faint smile pulled at his lips, tired but genuine. “I’ll try. No promises, though.”

She huffed, but a small, reluctant smile crept onto her own face. “Stubborn to the end.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them easing as the fear and anger bled into something else—something gentler, something unspoken but understood. She stayed close to him, her fingers lingering just near his shoulder, still shaking, still raw, but finding a quiet strength in his presence, in knowing that for now, he was safe. That she’d done her job, and they’d survived another hell together.

“Let’s get you out of here,” she murmured finally, her voice barely a whisper, as if speaking any louder would shatter the fragile peace between them. She helped him to his feet, supporting him as they made their way out, step by step, leaving the blood and wreckage behind.

"Good evening. Our top story tonight—police are baffled after an infamous mercenary company operating out of the city outskirts was found completely annihilated in what authorities are calling a “scene of unprecedented violence.”

Reporters on the scene have described the aftermath as nothing short of catastrophic. Blood-streaked walls, bodies unrecognizable, doors torn from their frames with what appears to be inhuman force. This mercenary group, known for their ruthless tactics and illegal weapon trade, has long evaded the law. But it seems their luck finally ran out—at the hands of someone whose identity remains unknown.

Our sources inside the police department report that the massacre’s sheer scale and brutality have left investigators questioning if it was an act of organized infighting, an internal betrayal gone wrong, or something even darker. None of the nearby security cameras recorded anything substantial, and initial forensics have found no conclusive evidence pointing to a specific individual or group. Weapons were scattered among the wreckage, untouched, and—strangest of all—several reinforced walls seem to have been smashed in.

With the mercenary group’s leader among the deceased, the group is officially disbanded. The police have urged any witnesses or informants to come forward, though as of now, it appears that whoever left this bloody mark on the city remains in the shadows.

For now, it’s a mystery. But one thing’s clear: the city may have one less gang to worry about, thanks to a force that left destruction in its wake. Whether that force is friend or foe? Well...that remains to be seen.

Stay tuned as we follow up on this story in the coming days. This is SCNN Nightline. Goodnight."