Zoey adjusted the harness around her shoulders, annoyed by the repetitive sounds of her Titan suit's servos. She exhaled sharply, steam drifting through the cold Sigma City night, illuminated dimly by the amber glow of street lamps and neon adverts flickering tiredly above. The contact had given sparse details, unusual even by her standards. A messy file, unclear target profile, and no reason specified. It was sloppy, and she hated sloppy.
She rounded a corner into a narrow alley, the Mantis 8x8 rumbling quietly behind, its engine idling in standby mode as she surveyed the location for any irregularities. The pulse of distant sirens and sporadic chatter over her headset was the city's typical lullaby, no immediate sign of the chaos she expected. Zoey’s gaze flicked to her wrist display, coordinates blinking in sync with her heartbeat. This was the right place, yet everything felt off.
Further down the alley, in the shadow of rusted fire escapes and piles of refuse, she caught sight of a figure, unmistakably Etrius. His hulking silhouette crouched beside a stack of crates, methodically checking the mag well of his pistol. Familiar green eyes snapped up, reflecting sharply in the dim, acknowledging her approach with a slight nod.
"Wasn’t expecting you here, big guy," Zoey commented dryly, stepping closer. "Thought I’d have the dubious pleasure of this fiasco alone."
Etrius stood. He stowed the pistol back into his harness, his mechanical fingers clicking softly against carbon-reinforced steel.
"Strange contract," Etrius agreed quietly, his voice low and thoughtful. "SCSF passed it down, but intel was thin."
Zoey growled softly, a low rumble deep in her chest. "SCDF gave me the same. Barely a name, half an address, and a blank check. That’s usually a red flag."
He inclined his head slightly, processing that information. "Means someone higher up is desperate or careless. Neither inspires confidence."
Zoey gave a snort of amusement, tension briefly loosening her shoulders. "Glad we’re on the same page, at least. You think it’s political?"
Etrius shook his head slowly, considering. "Unlikely. Political hits come with an abundance of caution. This is reckless, careless even."
"Then it could be internal," Zoey suggested, her voice cold again, eyes narrowing. "Cleaning house? Unofficial turf war? Something messy."
Etrius gave a faint grimace, his expression tightening. "Messy feels about right."
Zoey lifted her head, scanning the surroundings once more. The details matched the coordinates, an unmarked building two blocks away, dilapidated facade, multiple exit points. The sort of place ideal for clandestine meetings or hits like theirs. She flexed her fingers, joints smoothly actuating beneath armored plating.
"Target’s a doozy," she murmured, half to herself. "Barely exists, yet everyone wants them dead. I don’t like ghosts. Can’t kill what’s already intangible."
Etrius huffed softly, almost amused by her irritation. "We’ll manage. Keep sharp, don’t trust the dossier."
Zoey rolled her eyes slightly, a faint smirk breaking the otherwise tense expression. "Advice noted. Since we're sharing wisdom, watch your back too. Feels like we're pawns. Again."
Etrius shifted his stance, a subtle sign of agreement. "Move quick, stay silent, figure out why we were both called here."
Zoey nodded firmly, gaze determined. "Agreed."
They started moving quietly, side by side, their footsteps barely audible against the slick pavement. The night was bitterly cold now, their breath misting faintly as they picked their way towards the designated building. Zoey’s mind churned as they approached, unease gnawed at the fringes of her confidence, a vague but insistent warning that something wasn’t right.
Etrius paused suddenly, his enhanced senses sharp enough to make Zoey halt immediately. His nostrils flared slightly, eyes narrowing in concentration.
"What is it?" Zoey hissed softly, ears twitching in alert anticipation.
"Blood," Etrius murmured grimly, low enough that only she heard. "Fresh. Recent. Surprised you didn't smell it before I did."
Zoey cursed quietly, shifting into a more defensive stance. "I've been desensitized. Think someone beat us here?"
He nodded sharply, face shadowed in grim contemplation. "Maybe the client sent more than just us."
They advanced with even greater caution, tension humming between them. The structure loomed ahead, a crumbling edifice that bore every scar and patch of neglect and decay. The front entrance was ajar, splinters littering the threshold as if kicked inward by heavy force.
Zoey raised an eyebrow at Etrius, a silent question. He gestured for her to cover the doorway from the side as he moved swiftly through it, gun drawn. She followed immediately after, rifle ready, eyes scanning the interior rapidly.
Inside was chaos. Furniture overturned, walls peppered with bullets, and a fresh corpse sprawled across the floor, throat cleanly opened. Another lay crumpled nearby, neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
Zoey frowned deeply, ears pinned back. "Someone did our job already."
Etrius was already kneeling, inspecting a scattered set of footprints and smears of blood leading away towards a rear corridor. He inhaled deeply again, jaw tightening.
"One person," he muttered decisively. "Efficient. Professional. No hesitation."
Zoey approached, eyes flickering over the bodies quickly. "And the target?"
He looked up, confirming her suspicions with a single shake of his head. "Dead. Clean kill."
She huffed, irritation growing. "Then who-"
Before she could finish, Etrius’s head snapped up, body instantly alert. Without a word, he surged forward, a sudden blur of speed and motion leaving Zoey momentarily stunned.
His footsteps echoed lightly on the concrete, rapid and precise. Etrius’ vision tunneled, narrowing down to the faint, metallic scent lingering in the air—sharp, edged with gunpowder and traces of synthetic lubricant. He darted past shattered door frames and scattered debris, his cybernetic legs propelling him faster through the dark hallways and out into the maze of alleys behind.
The shadows flickered ahead, shapes forming and dissolving at the edge of his perception. The scent grew stronger, guiding him relentlessly onward, his breathing steady despite his pounding heart. For a split second, a blur of black armor slipped across an intersection ahead, catching his keen eyes.
He increased his pace, each footfall like a muted thunderclap reverberating in the narrowing passages. Whoever this operative was, she moved with frightening efficiency and discipline, no wasted motion, no hesitation.
Another brief glimpse, clearly armored, sleek and geometric. The silhouette flickered into view beneath the pale sodium-yellow street lamps, briefly highlighting the sharp angles and contours. A rifle caught his eye, slung diagonally across the operative’s back. Even in motion, the weapon stood out distinctly, gold frame, large magazine, and a massive compensator borrowed from a shotgun.
Etrius’s thoughts raced, confusion gnawing beneath his focused exterior. Who in Sigma City carried something so unique and audaciously conspicuous?
He pressed harder, muscles straining as he closed the distance. Each turn tightened, each glimpse shorter. His adversary knew the city intimately, guiding him into convoluted paths, doubling back and spiraling inward, closer to the city's chaotic core.
She took a sharp right down a narrow corridor. Etrius lunged, skidding slightly as he maneuvered sharply around the corner. He caught a clearer view now, the sleek, dark armor precisely fitted and articulated, helmet faceted sharply to obscure identity completely. The weapon's details were unmistakable, the carbon fiber skeletonized stock gleamed slightly under a passing neon sign, the massive compensator aggressively protruding from the barrel's end.
Etrius growled in frustration as she vaulted smoothly over a fence, disappearing momentarily behind stacks of industrial crates. He leapt over the barrier, landing heavily on the other side. She was already twenty yards ahead, sprinting smoothly without faltering, an effortless glide through obstacles and shadows.
His breath came sharper now, a surprising tightness in his chest beginning to form. Whoever she was, she was as quick as him, perhaps quicker, and far better at navigating the twisting urban terrain.
He pushed on regardless, determined to bridge the gap. He caught a last definitive glimpse of her poised on the edge of a rooftop above, standing still for a fraction of a second. The visor of her helmet tilted downwards slightly, seeming to meet his gaze across the chasm of alley and shadow.
He paused, bracing against the concrete wall to regain his breath as she vanished into darkness again, this time for good.
The world seemed unusually loud for a moment, the background hum of city life rushing back into his consciousness. Rain began to fall softly, tiny droplets peppering his synthetic skin and matting his fur as Zoey’s heavy footsteps finally echoed behind him.
She skidded to a stop, hydraulic actuators in her Titan suit faintly whirring with effort, helmet tilted slightly with irritation.
“You alright?” Zoey asked cautiously, eying his posture warily. It wasn’t common to see him winded.
Etrius straightened slowly, expression hardening again as his breathing steadied. "Lost her."
Zoey growled, frustrated, her stance shifting aggressively. "Who was it?"
Etrius shook his head slowly, irritation clear. "No idea. Armored, masked. Had an unusual rifle, gold-framed, carbon fiber details. Compensator was oversized, designed for a shotgun."
Zoey tilted her armored head skeptically. "Never heard of anyone with a rig like that. You think they’re Sigma?"
Etrius frowned slightly, uncertainty darkening his voice. "I honestly don’t know. But they're professional, fast, and thorough."
Zoey flexed her armored fingers restlessly, her visor shifting as she looked back towards the scene of carnage they'd just abandoned. "Means we’ve stumbled into something bigger."
Etrius glanced upwards, the city’s oppressive skyline towering overhead, shrouded by thickening clouds. "Agreed. This wasn't just a miscommunication."
Zoey turned slowly, armor glistening softly under the newly forming drizzle. "Whoever orchestrated this either wanted chaos or expected at least one of us to fail."
He nodded solemnly, tension creeping into his posture. "Which means we're already on someone's board. And we don’t even know who’s playing."
The rain began to fall harder, dampening the echoes of their conversation. Without another word, they moved deeper into the city, determined to unravel the web they'd become unwillingly tangled within, one shadow at a time.
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